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myownwholewildworld · 1 month ago

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WHEN THE GRIEF HOWLS ― a javier peña's autumnal oneshot (pt.2)

main masterlist | read part 1 | read on ao3 pairing: javier peña x f!reader (same couple as "when the moon howls"). can be read as a oneshot. summary: javi and you go back to yours after your idyllic pumpkin patch date and he stays over. you comfort him when his demons catch up with him. a/n: hiya! i OBVIOUSLY do not know what "oneshot" means??? bahhaha. this is another entry for @goodwithcheese and @jolapeno's jolabrew + withcheese fall challenge because i'm just so inspired by it all and javi has me on a chokehold. i promise this is my last entry. also thanks to sweet jo because she kinda sowed the seed and here we are! any notes you may wanna leave to keep me motivated are most welcomed c: take care lovelies <3 x warnings/tags: 18+, mdni (no smut here, but still). very mild/veiled allusions to intimacy. post season 3 of narcos, canon-deviating as javi is not hailed a hero upon his return to laredo, but quite the opposite. fluff - they are madly in love y'all. domestic bliss. angst. a smidgen of hurt, loads of comfort. description of a panic attack and vivid nightmares. mentions of ptsd and therapy. halloween/autumnal vibes. nightmare before christmas is mentioned because duh. both javi's and reader's povs (that's more like it). no use of y/n. no description of reader (moodboard is only for aesthetic purposes). unbeta'd, soz. w/c: 4.7k divider by @saradika-graphics

Sunday, 1st November 1998.

2:53 AM.

The bodies just kept piling up in front of his eyes.

Every person whose death he had witnessed.

Every body who had been hung off bridges.

Every person who had died because of a decision he had made.

Every soul he himself had extinguished.

The innocent bystanders, other governmental agents, politicians who had tried to fight the drug lords.

The 1989 Avianca flight that was brought down by a bomb planted by the Medellín cartel. Flight 203 had reaped the lives of one hundred and seven blameless lives ―one hundred and ten, he corrected himself― just because Escobar had wanted to eliminate his political opponent, César Gaviria Trujillo, who, by a fateful twist of the universe, never ended up boarding the flight.

The pictures of such tragedy still stuck with him, burnt into his retinas like a photo negative ― every time he blinked, the colours would pour into the frame, the vision grotesque and gut-turning.

Every single one of them was a failure Javier could not elude, could no longer bury in the most godforsaken drawer of his brain. A failure that would haunt him, would become corporeal in his vivid nightmares.

With the eyes of his dreaming imagination, he could see every one of them souls in front of him ― judging him, blaming him, eyes full of hatred. Accusatory fingers pointing at him, as if it was his Day of Reckoning.

All this piteous death, all this mindless suffering ― for naught.

He had made no true, tangible difference. He had fallen short.

And he was failing all over again in his lucid dream. Unable to stop them from dying, he saw each one of them perish in front of him until a heap of foul death surrounded him.

Javier finally felt it, even welcomed it ― the Grim Reaper’s noose loosely wrapping around his neck. Then taut and firm, a tight caress ghosting his skin. There was no going back, but there was no more guilt either. A bittersweet yet soothing balance, one that could only be served by the Ghoul’s scythe.

And then Death lifted him up, the hanging rope coiling on the tree branch ― suffocating him as his averted eyes watched the scene unfurl underneath him. A snarled mess of bodies, some hands reaching up to him. He would ―should― join them, after all.

A purposeful man would have struck back ― kick his feet, unfettered from his restrain.

But he didn’t fight back. He didn’t have it in him anymore. He got exactly what he deserved.

Javier startled awake, panting and sweating from such terrible nightmare. His heart was pounding against his ribs, his breathing accelerated causing him a painful stitch. He felt his chest caving in with all the panic that had slowly but steadily built up inside him.

His reaction was so severe, he had sprung up and sat up on the mattress. All he could hear was his blood heavily flowing through his eardrums; all he could see was darkness; all he could smell was the lingering stench of death; all he could taste was his remorse; all he could touch were dead, cold bodies.

Javier bent his knees, soles against the bedsheets, and leaned forward with his head buried between his knees. Eyes closed, he had to concentrate on his breathing and slowing down his racing heart. Otherwise, the panic would only grow and grow and grow until madness took over him.

Then a soothing, grounding hand slithered under the back of his tee shirt, a warm touch against his cold, damp skin. Only at that point did he remembered he wasn’t at his dad’s place, wasn’t alone either. His strained muscles visibly relaxed without him even trying.

“Javi,” your sleepy voice prevailed over his drowning anxiety. “It’s alright, I’m here.”

He still didn’t know what he had done to deserve you, to have you by his side, strong and unyielding ― ready to fight his demons for him if necessary. You loved so fiercely, so deeply, at first he tried to fight it. To spare you.

But how could he? You were the moon that imposed the perfect cadence on his tide, calling him home at night. The moment he had landed his eyes on you and your orbits had crashed, he was a lost man ― lost to you, to your smile, to your unquivering positivity, your calmness, your ease to listen, to give advice, to help without asking for anything in return.

But how could you? Even when his grief was howling loud and clear, you loved him. Despite all his flaws and faults, his obvious defects, you saw past it all ― even past the rumours that flew around in Laredo about him. He knew you had heard all the gossip, how people talked about his fictional shenanigans with the drug lords, a willing participant in their endeavours. How he did drugs on the job and sold some of it back to the narcos. Javier had been deaf to all of it ― he didn’t care for what people were saying. Didn’t even bother to put a stop to it, because he had enough open fronts to fight as it was.

Even his childhood friends had turned their backs on him. But not you. Never you. Not even when he had shared his darkest secrets with you over a pumpkin spice latte and a slice of pumpkin cake. Instead of withdrawing from him, you held his hand as he had talked with a heavy heart and short of breath. The flashes coming back to him, you soothed by the mere caress of your fingertips.

You had touched his core ―just as you were touching him now―, kneaded it until it softened like clay on the hands of an expert ceramist. Javier didn’t think himself worthy of love, not after everything he had done and seen. Colombia had shattered him ― Javier had lost all hope in humanity.

The life he had sustained in Colombia had finally caught up with him, destroyed the person he had been prior to all of it. Once a womanizer, he had no longer found respite in laying with his informers. Had even quit smoking, only to go back to it a few weeks later ― the crushing anxiety pushing him back to the stale taste of tobacco. He had cut down on the black coffee too.

In spite of that, he was far from being a reformed man. He even doubted he could ever be a normal civilian. The trauma that haunted him had a tight grip on him, hefty shackles wrapping around his wrists. And his heavy breathing and sweating were a testament to his struggles.

“Javi?” You called again, your tone delicate and heartening.

Slowly Javier came out of his sluggish haze ― your palm rubbing his spine, beckoning him to come back to reality.

Lifting his head up, elbows on knees, he looked at you over his left shoulder.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to wake you, pequeña (little one).” His hoarse voice felt unlike him, so he cleared his throat.

You sat back up on the bed, your hand wrapping around his waist until the palm flushed against his tummy under his tee. You kissed his shoulder and then his lips.

“You should have woken me up earlier, Javi. I want to be by your side when your nightmares startle you. I wanna help you, I wanna be there for you. Always.” Your words tugged at his heart, knowing full well you truly meant them.

A weak, crooked smile took over the muscles of his mouth. How easy you uprooted a grin from him ― you were so effortless to love, to care for, it felt as natural as breathing.

“Old habits die hard.” Javi muttered, bowing forward a bit seeking your warm, welcoming lips.

He had bottled all his suffering up for months now, years. It was hard to let go ― one of the main reasons he had signed up for therapy.

You smiled into the kiss, your fingertips lightly stroking the sensitive skin around his belly button.

“Baby steps.” You pressed a few consecutive pecks on his lips.

Javier sighed, visibly relaxing now as his body released the tension under your attention. He then laid flat on his back again, dragging you with him until your cheek was pressed against the centre of his chest. After, you buried your face in the crook of his neck while your left hand wiped the pearly drops of sweat off his forehead before raking his untamed hair back. That same hand quickly burrowed under his tee shirt, rubbing his clammy skin ― you didn’t seem bothered by his perspiration.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, your lips brushing his jawline.

“It’s just the same nightmare I always have. I was being hung off a tree, dead bodies piling up beneath me.” He struggled to say out loud, unconsciously reaching for his neck where the imaginary noose had tightened.

Your fingers forced his to move to one side so you could kiss his Adam’s apple ― the feeling of the rope around his neck replaced by the calming flick of your mouth.

Javier closed his eyes, his bad dream gradually fading away.

“Did you fight back?” He had told you that was what the therapist had recommended he tried if the nightmare was vivid enough ― that he attempted to regain control.

“No, I couldn’t. Not yet.” He murmured; a tad ashamed of himself.

“That’s okay, Javi.” You reassured him, feeling his vulnerability, as your hand caressed his tummy. “Baby steps”, you repeated.

Javier nodded, turning his face to you so he could press a kiss to your forehead. You snuggled a bit more into his side.

“Go back to sleep, pequeña.”

“Only if you do.” You challenged him with a smile.

Javi let go of a snort, unsurprised by your stubbornness.

“Alright, let’s go back to sleep then, both of us.”

6:14 AM.

The thumping rhythm under your fingertips alerted you to Javi’s awakening. Or perhaps he had been subtle enough this time not to wake you up. His heart pumped so hard, you could count his every heartbeat. With your hand still under his tee shirt, lazily resting on the middle of his chest, your thumb traced his sternum a few times.

“I thought you said both of us?” You muttered light-heartedly, your lips brushing his earlobe.

Javi inhaled and then steadily exhaled, his pulse slowing down.

“I just woke up a couple of minutes ago.”

You didn’t know if he was lying or not, but you believed him. Every word he said, you knew to trust. The last few weeks you had unearthed the real Javi, had dusted off so many secrets and emotions, you just knew he had no need to lie to you. There was really no point.

It was weird to think that yesterday you believed this impossible. Your friendship with Javi had developed so fast, you didn’t even have a chance at confessing your true feelings for him. You thought you concealed them well, afraid of losing him ― because you rather had him as a close friend, than not having him at all. A coward maybe, but a coward with him by your side.

You had not planned to fall in love again, not after your last breakup. However, Javier was so different, so down to earth and as broken as you were, you had fallen for him before you even gave yourself a chance at love again. Perhaps you had been putting his pieces back together and thrown yours in the puzzle too ― to the point that your stitches ended where his began.

Unbeknownst to you, Javi had been harbouring feelings for you too. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have thought he would be the one to take the risk. You had melted at the first touch of his lips, as if that was exactly where you belonged. As if all experiences up to that point had led you to his arms. You were meant to be ― two broken soul pieces that fit together perfectly.

Last night had been the best one of your life, no doubt in your mind. Hidden under the linen, you had silently played a new version of “trick or treat” together ― where there were no tricks, but many treats. With the language of your hands, you had read the braille on every groove of his skin. He had mapped you out in return too ― hungry, needy hands making you shiver.

You could still feel the warmth, the love, his scarce yet reassuring words.

‘There are no better toasts than those made by your eyelashes’, he had told you in whispered bliss.

You smiled at the memory ― a heavy, comforting sensation wrapping around your heart, blanketing your whole being.

“What’s on your mind, cariño (honey)?”

You didn’t want to press him, just wanted him to open up if he felt the need to. Javier stirred to lay down on his side ― his forehead against yours, the tips of your noses nuzzling. The intimacy of his closeness made you swoon, but his words wore you down ever so slightly.

“Judy Moncada. Los Pepes. The CIA. The newspaper. All of it, really.” You felt the pain in his voice as your own.

You knew how hard he had worked, for all of it to be taken away so quickly, so dismissively. He had been the scapegoat, and it almost ruined him. No wonder why he took a step back and returned to Laredo.

It still made your blood boil how the town had received him, how they treated him like a pariah. But it was their fucking loss. If they were too blind to see Javier Peña for who he really was, then Javi had not really lost much. You were just glad you had not listened to Alejandra the first day you met him ― otherwise it would have been a great loss to you.

You kissed his forehead, his closed eyes ― his eyelashes tickling the fragile skin of your lips. Then you pressed a chaste peck on his mouth while he enveloped you in a tight embrace.

“Life’s so unfair, I wish I could make them see. See who you really are, Javi. But some people are too stubborn. It’s easier to believe lies rather than the truth. It’s their loss.” You spoke softly, understanding where his train of thought was going.

Javi didn’t reply ― he just kissed your neck in silent gratitude, the hairs of his kempt moustache making you feel ticklish.

“Since last night we were― uhm, busy,” to put it mildly, “I was thinking that today we can do what I had planned for last night.” You suddenly said to distract him.

You couldn’t see, the darkness enveloping you both, but you knew his brows were knitting in confusion.

“What had you planned?” He asked, curiosity staining his question.

You smiled.

“Well… Since you don’t know, it’ll be a surprise.”

7:46 AM.

“Is it really broken?” You pouted from the other side of the counter, walking around to meet Javi.

He had a handheld mixer and was insistently pressing on the button to turn it on to no avail. He clicked his tongue.

“Yeah, it ain’t working. Gonna have to mix all of this by hand, ain’t I?” You laughed at his frustration, as you took the device from him to inspect it.

Yes, it was broken alright. Damn.

“I’m afraid so.” You removed the whisks and handed them to him. “Unless you’re not up to the task?” You cocked a challenging brow.

Javi scoffed, rolling his eyes and snatching the tools off your fingers.

“Please. I think I can handle a pumpkin cake.”

His offence was faked, and you couldn’t help but giggle. He quickly followed as he started battering everything by hand.

“I’m already done with the cheese frosting. So once you’re finished, we’ll leave it to bake for forty minutes.” You explained, leaning against the counter to watch what he was doing.

“And after?”

“Don’t be so impatient. You finish off here while I go look for… something.”

Javi squinted his chocolate eyes and pouted, shaking his head. He was not going to get you to talk.

“Stay here, and don’t come looking for me!” You threatened, burying a finger in his chest, before running away, smirking.

Two minutes later you were deep down in your closet, searching for the boxes labelled “Halloween decorations”. You had only planned to be in Laredo for a year, but that did not stop you from bringing with you all your seasonal décor. And All Hallow’s Eve, being the peak of your favourite season, had to be celebrated properly.

So, you dragged the two boxes out and then dived back in. On your tiptoes, your fingers brushed the rectangular box you were trying to reach for on the top shelf. But as much as you tried, you were not tall enough to get to it.

“Need a hand there?”

You quickly turned around ― Javier had sneaked behind you and scared the shit out of you.

You slapped his shoulder, and he cackled.

“Don’t do that! Almost had a heart attack!” You joked, although your heart was really pounding against your ribcage.

“Let me help with that.” He offered.

Javi easily reached for the box and took it down.

His brows touched each other when he saw what the box was. Then looked back at you with question marks dancing in his pupils.

“I think I got the wrong box.”

You shook your head no, suppressing a laugh.

“No, that’s the right one.” You curled your fingers, your palm extended towards him, asking for the box.

Javier reluctantly gave it to you.

“I don’t get it. You’re like almost two months off?”

You chuckled again, pushing the tall box to your chest as if hugging it. “Can you carry those two boxes to the living room for me, please?”

He obliged, albeit the confusion was still painted on his gorgeous face. You led the way with Javi on your heels. Once you both settled everything on the floor, you spun around to glance at him with puppy eyes and hands laced in a prayer.

“Don’t judge me, okay?” You started off, fluttering your eyelashes exaggeratedly. “I’ve been doing this since I was a kid. It’s what my family call a Hallotreen―”

“A Hallo-what?” He interrupted you, a grin fighting its way to the outside.

“Hallotreen. It’s a Halloween tree! Like a Christmas tree, but with spooky decorations! I usually put it up on Halloween night, so it’s ready for All Saint’s Day and All Soul’s Day.”

You extended your arms at your revelation, as if to say, “Isn’t it obvious?!”.

Javi first looked at you blankly, and then erupted in laughter. You couldn’t help yourself but join him as he took a step forward to drape his arms around you, his comforting hands landing on the small of your back.

“God, you’re so full of surprises. I love it, I love you.” You could tell it had slipped from his tongue by mistake, because his fun expression quickly darkened.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sudden confession. You leaned back a bit, studying his beautiful face, and tilted your head to one side while you considered his words.

“Do you mean it?” You cooed in a hush, feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

Javi’s eyes locked on yours for a never-ending minute. Then they slowly drifted down to your parted lips and nodded as he, unhurriedly, bowed down towards you.

“Yes, I do. I do mean it, pequeña.” He purred, no joking timbre in his words.

Your heart contracted and then expanded in an outburst, your lungs filling up with his minty breath as you tiptoed to meet his mouth before you hummed, “I love you too.”

When your lips crashed, the tenderness pouring from his mouth into yours soothed any lingering doubt. Although sudden, your love was true. You were not imagining it ― Javi felt the same way. You never believed in the tales of love at first sight, but now that you were the protagonist of such story, you definitely did.

The kiss naturally came to an end and Javi pressed his lips against your forehead, holding you still in his hug for a sweet moment. How you wished you could stay between his arms forever.

‘Maybe we do have forever.’ That thought made you slightly emotional. You could see Javi by your side until the end of days. With a family of your own. It just felt natural.

“Alright, let’s do this then. So we put the tree up first?” Javi asked, amused.

You laughed as you took a step back and knelt down to open the box the Christmas tree was in.

“Yeah, and let me tell you. It’s a big one. Seven feet of pure bliss!” You laughed while unpacking it, Javi soon on his knees helping you out, chuckling too.

Ten minutes later, the tree was up, and you both had started to sort out all the Halloween decorations that came in the plastic boxes. There was a big assortment of different bits and bobs, and you directed Javi to get all pumpkin-shaped trinkets sorted first.

Once you had a healthy pile, you both hung all the decorations on the tree with no real pattern. You peppered some pumpkins here and there; some autumnal, plastic leaves to make the tree look fuller and fluffier. You also had some Halloween-themed baubles ― one with a witch inside, other with a pumpkin patch, another one with a murder of crows floating inside. You also dotted some stringed pinecones around the tree.

You had been curating your collection for so long now, you had way too much stuff, and Javi quickly picked up on it.

“What are we going to do with the rest? There’s so much here, I’m starting to think you have a problem?” He joked, sinking a finger on your side, tickling you.

You chortled, trying to avoid his tickling attack. Javi grabbed you by the elbow and forced you to slam against his chest.

“Well… I must confess. If you think this is a lot, it’s because you have not seen my Christmas collection.”

His eyes widened in feigned horror, and then laughed.

“Can’t wait for Christmas then.”

You smiled at him before gently kissing his collarbone. Then you faced the Hallotreen, holding his hand in yours.

It was a masterpiece. The perfect balance of different hues ― oranges, browns, reds, dark greens and some black dotted around. It looked perfect with all the trinkets filling it.

It made you so happy, you clapped your hands before turning to look at an enlivened Javi.

“It’s just missing the final touch.” You announced as you rummaged through one of the boxes and took out the best piece of them all, presenting it to Javi as if it was the Holy Grail. “Ta-dah!”

It was a figurine of Jack Skellington, from one of your favourite movies ― The Nightmare before Christmas. Jack was on a sitting-down position, perfect to crown the tree.

“It’s a Jack tree-topper. I almost fainted when I first saw it a few years ago. It cost me $100, but it was worth every. single. penny”, you punctuated ― you would smack him if he said otherwise.

Luckily, Javi agreed with you with a pleasant hum and a crooked smirk.

“Let’s put it up then, the King of the Pumpkin Patch needs to have a good panoramic view of his kingdom.” He jested and you were so happy with the reference, you could only love him a bit more ― if that was even possible.

Out of nowhere, Javi knelt down in front of you, his back towards you. He looked over his shoulder at you, brows furrowed, when you didn’t move. Javi lightly patted his shoulder.

“C’mon, up.”

“What? You want to carry me on your shoulders?” You asked, confused.

“Yeah, how are you gonna reach the top if not? That’s seven feet.”

You took a step back, gripping the tree-topper tight between your hands and let go of a guffaw.

“Nope, not happening. I’m gonna crush you! I’ll get a―”

A perfect eyebrow raised into his forehead, and he scrunched his lips, his moustache moving from side to side with disapproval.

“I said up.” His tone was commanding ― Javi would not accept no for an answer. “Come on, don’t make me make you.”

With a sigh, you let go of your insecurities and ended up sitting on his shoulders. Javi’s firm hands rested on your knees as he slowly stood up, keeping a perfect balance.

You chuckled nervously as he walked to the tree. Trying to find your own balance, you planted your left hand of Javi’s forehead. Or what you thought was his forehead, because he then complained.

“Hey, I can’t see!”

You looked down ― you had covered his eyes by mistake, so you quickly lifted your hand up and placed it on his forehead.

“Sorry!”

Javi laughed in reply. Reaching up with the hand holding the figure, you were finally able to set it down without breaking it.

“Yay! Done!”

He knelt down again, releasing your knees from the prison of his hands, and your feet finally rested against the wooden floor. When Javi got up, you both took a step back to admire such work of art.

“Dare I say myself? This looks amazing, the best Hallotreen I have ever had!” You screeched with excitement, almost jumping in place.

When Javi didn’t respond, you glanced up at him. His eyes, darkened with something deep and warm, were intently studying your face. His expression was so relaxed, so at peace, you knew the nightmares were now a forgotten memory ― at least until tonight.

Knowing you could be a balm to his emotional wounds made your heart twist with longing. You wished you could take it all away, that you could take his place and suffer it all for him, so he didn’t need to. You loved him so dearly, you promised yourself that Javi would never have to go through such trauma ever again.

He lifted one hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear ― such a loving gesture, your heart melted for him.

“What?” You asked, timid, with a nervous laugh.

“Nothing.” He buzzed, hugging you close to his torso.

The kiss started off soft and tender, a mere graze of his lips against yours. And before it became sultry and demanding, the oven’s clock started beeping.

Javi grunted and you grinned. Grabbing his hand, you dragged him to the kitchen.

9:22 PM.

“Oh, somewhere deep inside of these bones an emptiness began to grow. There's something out there far from my home. A longing that I've never known…” Jack was lamenting on the background.

Javier couldn’t help but look at you over his mug of hot chocolate. You were laying down on the couch with your back against his chest, tightly gripping your mug and buried under a fleece blanket. The living room was dark, only two sources of light: one was the TV playing Tim Burton’s Nightmare Before Christmas, and the other was the string of lights wrapping around the Hallotreen.

He could grow used to this, to you. Jack’s Lament somewhat resonated with him ― there was a longing in his heart he had never known before. And that longing now had a name ― yours.

Javi had to suppress a lopsided smirk when you kept on mumbling the lyrics of the song. You knew all the dialogue, all the songs, every single scene. And he let you talk throughout the movie, because he loved listening to all the comments you needed to let out. You were far too excited ― and so was he.

Yes, he could definitely get used to this. To you.

If you didn’t mind, he’d like to join you by your side.

Where you both could gaze into the stars and sit together, now and forever.

For it was plain, as anyone could see, you simply were meant to be…

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alvojake · 5 months ago

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#WIP : Thorns and Venom | L.HS

「pairing」 : heeseung x fem!reader 「word count」 : TBD

「synopsis」 : all you wanted was to get out of this hellhole that you call your life. then just when you finally thought that you got the chance to leave it all behind, you're proven wrong yet again. you were a rare case the heeseung has never seen before, he couldn't take your soul with him. confused and annoyed he has no other choice but to take you with him to the underworld to figure out what the hell was going on, only to realize that it wasn't as simple as it seems.

「genre」 : DARK CONTENT!!, smut, enemies to lovers, grim reaper!heeseung, angst, horror/thriller, dark romance

「warnings」 : MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!, cussing, mentions of suicide, death, talk of religion, underworld/hell, slight violence, petnames (princess, brat...), multiple(?) unprotected sex scenes, biting/marking, supernatural abilities, supernatural beings, (will add more as I write)

「notes」 : I want to start this off by saying thank you all so so so much for 2k followers!! as a thank you, I have pulled together this idea (also thank you, emi... ik you see this). I can't wait to get this written and out for everyone. however, this is going to be my first official story (besides tmh) that will have quite a lot of darker themes, so viewer discretion is advised! again, thank you all, and I hope that you all enjoy this!! <33

「finish date」 : TBD

「current word count」 : 0

「taglist」 : OPEN

please send an ask or reply to this post if you would like to be added to the taglist after this fic is finished. 18+ ONLY, you must have your age visible on your blog. any blank blogs and MINORS will NOT be added!!!

also, if you are on my perm. taglist, you will automatically be added to the taglist, so you do NOT have to ask to be added!! <33

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beefboyandbabygirl · 1 year ago

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Good Luck, Fermata Tower (18+)

pairing: fire-lookout!seungcheol x female!fire-lookout!reader

genre: firewatch au LMAO, smut (MDNI), soo much angst, COMFORT, fluff

description: after the death of your roommate you have to find a greater purpose to life. what better way than to became a fire lookout with a surprisingly charismatic neighbour tower?

warnings: this fic is a lot, please read ALL warnings. SUICIDE, implied suicidal thoughts, major character death 2x, reader goes through grief, so does seungcheol, AGE GAP, RADIO SEX??? LMAOOO, dirty talk, petnames, cockwarming, pentrative sex, strength kink, f. and m. masturbation (mutual?), PINING TO THE HIGHEST DEGREE, MENTIONS OF DOING DRUGS/DOING SHROOMS, talks of drowning, if u know the game i think you'll be able to visualize the beauty of this way more, intensive writing on the scenery and the emotions, LMK IF I FORGOT ANYTHING PLEASe

quotes from babygirl (@joshibambi): "im getting out lana", "im just gonna be making animal sounds", "can we make this into a play so i can perform this?", "OF ALL THE THINGS THAT COULD MAKE ME CRY IT WAS THE DESCRIPTION OF HIS HOT ASS FACE"

wordcount: 13.9k

a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEUNGCHEOL. i love this fic. the writing is a little novelly for a fic, but i was so passionate ab this whole firewatch thing and i got SO INTO the arcs and their personal losses and i just really love yn and seungcheol. i hope this was worth the wait and i apologize for not finishing sooner. all my love, beefboy

You and Mingyu meet at college at some parkour club that you’d both joined to make friends. You face-plant into the pavement and knock out a tooth and Mingyu takes you to a nearby hospital. You click instantly.

You and Mingyu spend every moment together - you help him and he helps you. Mingyu is smart, you realize. He knows all the formulas in your mathematics course by heart. You tell him he’s smart and he says that no one else seems to think that.

You and Mingyu are best friends. You have matching necklaces that complete a heart.

You and Mingyu party together and when you get too drunk, he carries you down the halls, home. Sometimes at night he sleeps in your bed.

Your friend group thinks you’re dating, but you think you and Mingyu are something much more earnest than lovers. You think Mingyu is your soulmate.

You piggy-back ride Mingyu at graduation and you give him a peck on the cheek when he shakes hands with the dean.

You and Mingyu become roommates. You binge-watch terrible movies together and hold drinking games. It’s hard to admit some of your favorite memories are from watching the Alvin and The Chipmunks trilogy.

The night before it happens you and Mingyu eat dinner together that he cooked. You see his snaggletooth every time he smiles.

You’d almost lived together for two years that morning. He usually wakes earlier than you, but he is nowhere to be seen. The apartment is oddly still. You feel trapped.

You enter Mingyu’s room.

You think he’s asleep. You leave him alone.

Two hours later you grow worried. You enter his room to find him in the same position. You shake him. Mingyu doesn’t wake.

The doctors say a case like Mingyu’s is extremely rare - he was in great shape. You’re not sure if that’s supposed to make you feel better.

Mingyu’s funeral is grim. His death is so terrible, says the pastor, because it’s so domestic. You think it’s terrible because he is - was - the brightest, most amazing person to walk the earth. His parents want you to hold a speech, but you can’t find the words. You think you might sob if you go up there. You sob anyway. The flowers form a ring on the floor of the church and your soulmate is dead.

You can’t sleep anymore. You imagine him dying, left arm numb, alone in the dead of night and choking out your name, reaching for the thin wall that separated you. You cry for a whole month. The apartment is cursed so you live with your parents.

One day, you see an ad for a job in the paper.

You take it. _____________________________

“Hello?”

Static stormed the tower-house when the other end cut off.

“Are you there?”

Your eyes frantically darted around the cabin. It was no more than a 13 foot rectangle and yet your tired eyes couldn’t find the radio, churning out a gruff voice.

You’d just arrived, barely turned on the generator to allow light in. It was nighttime. The park’s dips and peaks were veiled in blue; the silhouettes of the trees, forking out in long, thin spikes, were navy and the lake Fermata was the brightest, glittering pearl from the moon above. Stars twinkled knowingly at you.

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side.

“Yeah, hi, I’m here,” you breathed out tiredly. You let go of the button and a small bit of static spoke back to you.

“Y/n?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m Seungcheol. I’m in Bay Valley Tower. It’s to the east. Saw your light turn on,” His voice was gruff, laced with sleep. It had a rasp at every vowel, strings of vocal chords straining to spit out the words in between sticky ropes of bile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You had nothing else to say. The flimsy, one person bed beckoned to your tired body. You moved, like a doll, one limb at a time, into its harbor, collapsing into the thin mattress. You laid on your side, moonlight shining in from the window by the door.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, carelessly. Impatient in tone, you imagined he’d probably been through this a hundred times before. “So,” he sighed out, deeply. “What’s your problem?”

“Hm?”

There was a shooting star, dancing across the sky in that moment. You watched it, shuffling onto your back with half-closed eyes. Stardust sprinkled from it on the open, empty sky.

“People here are all running from something. So what’s your deal?”

You sighed, watching the star’s open path. It could go anywhere, you thought. Then you moved your arm, holding the receiver to your mouth.

“Listen, Seungcheol. I’ve been hiking for two days, so I’m gonna go to bed now, okay? Hopefully you’ve found some manners by the time I wake up,” you mumbled, then let go of the button (it had a harsh, grainy texture for some reason), and laid your hand, radio in it, limply at your side.

You heard a raspy chuckle from the other end. You had no energy to be angry.

“Alright, Fermata Tower,” there was a smile in the anonymous man’s voice.

There was a pause. The sound of the fierce breeze carried whiffs of autumn, as it lulled you to sleep. You had almost fallen into a black, snow-buried slumber when you heard the radio crinkle again:

“Fermata, do you see that shooting star?”

You had no energy to respond, radio spewing static in your open hand. Thankfully, Seungcheol seemed understanding.

“That’s good luck. So...”

A moment. You and Seungcheol watched the sky-dancer, apart.

“Good luck.” _____________________________

“You’re awake!”

It was Seungcheol’s voice. Transformed by the orange hues of daytime, he sounded much more alive than the night prior.

“I can see you sitting at your desk.”

Indeed you were sitting on your desk - a flimsy wooden thing, which looked like it had come form a yard sale - studying the map of the massive park. There were simple cartoonish figures to indicate stresses of trees and drops in the terrain, and rock quarries and waterfalls and lakes. You’d delicately pointed out your own position with red marker, scribbling ‘me’ by it with a heavy child’s hand.

It was cold - the thin boards did not do much to ward away the heavy wind, hooting creeping in the cracks. It smelled like pine needles and tea, as you’d just boiled a lavender on the kettle. IT sat, heating your fingers where it rested beside them in a mug left behind by the previous firewatchman (it read: “don’t talk to me before I’ve had my coffee”).

The radio clattered against the wood when you clumsily picked it up.

“Didn’t know when I signed up for this that I would be dealing with a stalker,” you joked, smiling small when you heard the man on the other end let out a hearty laugh.

“Hey, don’t go labeling me just yet, kid.”

“Kid?!” you said incredulously, dropping the marker that you had been so diligently using to scribble excellent comments on your map (latest was: “maybe cute bears”). “How old are you?!”

“I’m 37,” Seungcheol said.

“Oof.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding!” you laughed, dropping your pen and leaning back in your seat. The view was beautiful. You could see the lake, surrounded by a rippling sea of trees, each top reaching for the sky, like you. “I’m 27, I’m getting up there with you.”

“Just a small decade.”

“I’m mature for my age.”

Seungcheol chuckled on the other end of the radio. You spun around in your chair (it creaked horribly - it sounded like a pig at the sight of a cleaver) surveying each square of the forest from your windows. You narrowed your eyes, trying to spot his lookout tower.

“How come you can see me but I can’t see you?” you mumbled, now standing to try and see, but it was drowned out by the sheer volume of pinewood. Seungcheol grumbled on the other end: “I should be East.”

“Yeah, fuck, I forgot to tell you, I think I dropped my fucking compass on the way here,” you ran a hand through your hair and frown.

“Uh, shit, you’re gonna have to pick up a new one, bud,” he said and you slumped. “Well, if you’re facing the lake - Fermata Lake, I mean - I should be to your left.”

You followed his instructions. You faced the lake, then took two loggy steps to face left, then squinted incessantly at the horizon. Not dissimilar to a crowd in Times Square, the trees stood toe to toe all across at every inch you spied. The pines zagged upwards like Giza, and culminated into the biggest mountain in the park, just under the sun. The mountain loomed overhead where you finally spotted the lookout tower, like a monster crouched over its prey. You tried to shake off the thought and focus on the lone, floating tower in the pit of pointy trees.

“I see you, Bay Valley,” you breathed into the radio.

The tower looked much more lonely from so far away. It was different when you were in it, but with the miles-long stretch between you two, you found it looked so small and feeble. You could make out the light turned on within it, a rectangle of burning orange. The shooting star must’ve crossed directly between your two towers.

“Attagirl,” Seungcheol smiles. “Do you see me waving?”

“No, what the fuck.”

“I got binoculars.”

“Ew, you are a stalker!”

“It’s for bird-watching!” Seungcheol informed you, offense in his tone. You cackled into the radio. “I like watching birds, thank you very much.”

“Jeez, can’t believe what this job does to people.”

“I liked bird-watching before I got this job,” Seungcheol said.

“You’re so white,” you grinned.

“I’m not even white!”

You and Seungcheol both laughed, joyous hiccups interrupted by bursts of static and 3 miles of rocky terrain and pine needles. You squint at the sun, traversing and dipping under the jagged hedges of the tree-line.

Your head lolled over to spot between the desk and doorway, where you’d dropped your orange backpack (a peculiar color, come to think of it - same color as the lifejacket they deploy on airplanes when everything has already gone wrong). Now it was flopped onto its side, zipper ripped open and knick knacks and crumbs at its mouth, spilling onto the floor.

“Where do I get a new compass?” you asked, looking at a yellowed book sat beside the backpack.

“Uh, shit, gimme a sec,” Seungcheol mumbled, and before his radio cut off, you heard, briefly, the itchy scrambling of papers, and the sound made him seem a lot more real. “We have these, uh, supply boxes scattered around. ‘M readin’ this, uhhh, fuckin’ info-thing.. Should say which of them supposedly has a compass.”

“Sounds like you really know your stuff.”

“Get off my ass, Fermata.”

You heard papers rustle again and a small bump before the radio cut off, as if he put the radio down on the table. You awaited, arms crossed over your pink and gray striped hoodie, and staring at sundown. Orange flooded the sky, as if it were all engulfed in flames and this was really hell.

“Uhhh, okay, I got it! There’s one down at Eleison Valley? The code is 1-2-3-4. That’s actually the code to all of them.”

“Secure.”

“Shut up.”

“Well, I can get some exploring done, at least,” you frown, spying a not-so-casual hike on the dotted surface of your map, when you tangoed back to the table, fiddling with the edge of the paper.

“Yeah. You should probably do it tomorrow though. Sun’s coming down.”

“Yeah. Can’t believe I slept that long.”

“Don’t feel too bad about it, kid. I was knocked out for, like, two days after the hike out here. It’s a miracle you’re already awake.”

“Thanks, Bay Valley,” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with some strained shuffling. You watched, eyes half-lidded as the sun fully disappeared behind the curtain of the park. Its light still roamed the sky, where it hid. Half dark blue, half red, the sky twinkled at you and your insignificance brilliantly. You tried not to think about how lonely and floaty your lookout tower must look from afar. Everything feels big when it’s close enough.

“You’re welcome, Fermata.” _____________________________

“You think I could eat any of these mushrooms, BV?”

“BV?”

“Bay Valley.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol sighed on his end of the radio. You were trudging through the undergrowth in your new hiking boots, lifesaver-colored backpack on the plates of your back, weight pushing through the fabric of your jacket. “No, I don’t think that would be wise.”

“Damn it. Was gonna get hella high,” you joked, eyeing another cluster of snow-white mushrooms under the shade of a tree, sloping along a gnarly root. Your crunching steps in the loose dirt came to a halt - there was a dropoff. The cliff cut off like a broken chocolate bar and a sharp rockwall supported it to the next layer of earth.

The path was snaking down towards the lake. You’d circle around and climb up towards Tri Forks Tower, where eventually the climbing heights would bowl into Eleison Valley - a flower field, supposedly (in the map a little flower icon alerted you of this).

“If I die from this rockwall, please, tell my family I love them,” you grumbled, fetching an itchy, frayed rope from the depths of your backpack. Squinting at the high sun, pale drops of sweat forming around your forehead, you slung it over the hook. The park was littered with these - rusted old things that were leaning forward from years of heavy hikers’ tugging. This one was particularly bent.

“You’re so dramatic,” came Seungcheol from the speaker.

“Am not, man, these rocks are like fucking knives!”

“Such a drama queen. A real Primadonna.”

You huffed and puffed as you lowered yourself down the cliffside. Your boots pressed flat against the jagged rock, biceps burning as you held yourself up and walked down the side of it. The whole world was with you, sideways, and you would’ve stopped to appreciate it were you not sure you would pass out doing so.

“Holy shit,” you said to yourself when you were finally on stable ground and not spider-manning the mineral deposits of the park. You put your hands on your hips and squinted at its imposing open jaw.

“You down yet, Queen B?”

You panted, grimacing, when you tugged the rope hard and it leapt down like a flying snake: “Yeah, I’m down.”

You continued padding through the forest. The earth was dry and it was summer, but the wind was harsh and it cooled your stovetop-skin as you walked along a rock quarry, Fermata Lake hiding behind the covers of huge, flat bulwark. You listened to the cacophonous call of the forest: rustling leaves and birds.

“I had a friend - uh, friend of a friend, actually - who, like, got high as fuck off mushrooms and had a bad trip,” you said, mouth to the mic of the radio, as you studied the cover of the leaves.

“Yeah? What happened?” Seungcheol hummed.

“She said that, like -- fuck,” you breathed, scrambling over a particularly rocky rock. “She said there was, like, like her house flooded. Like, water just came gushing in and the whole house was, like, underwater suddenly and she.. She thought she was gonna drown. And her fuckin’ kitchen turned into, like, a coral reef or some shit, I don’t know.”

“Shit,” Seungcheol seemed much more alert now. You heard him put something down on his table (you imagined it was just as shitty as your own). “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“It’s fucking crazy. Don’t do drugs, man.”

You turned past the quarry and was met with the sight of the huge, gaping hole of Fermata Lake. Strangely oval, the lake was flanked on all sides with thick pineland, except for a slight angle where grassy hills turned upwards towards Tri Forks Tower.

The water was much more green up close. Algae sloshed up the side of the gravel-earth, willing you into the murky depths.

You stared at it for a while. You thought maybe you could make out someone standing at the bottom of the bowl-shape.

“I’m at Fermata Lake,” you said then, and then started walking again.

“Good job! And you haven’t even died at a drop off yet,” Seungcheol joked and you laughed.

“God, you’re such a jerk. I bet you’re fuckin’.. Watching birds right now like a nerd.”

“Okay, rude-”

“Why don’t you go outside and be productive?”

“I’m looking for fires,” Seungcheol snarked back. “The binoculars are multi-use.”

You let the conversation die down for a bit, focused on the walk. It was peaceful when you let it be, but at times you came to feel like you were being swallowed alive, or like the looming figure of Aluralura Mountain was pressing its boulder-brawn in between your shoulder blades. The air in the forests was thicker, so you stayed persistent in your path, as you climbed up the clearings and spotted Tri Forks in the distance.

“Hey, uh, Y/n?”

The sudden intrusion of Seungcheol on the radio had you jolting, dropping the radio into the earth (thankfully it was fine - here the earth was softer and it dipped under your boot and water pressed out from the mull). You bent over and picked it back up.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” you scolded, wiping mud off the yellow plastic of the radio.

“Oh, uh, sorry..”

It was only then that you noticed a meekness in Seungcheol’s voice. You, of course, had not the furthest idea what he looked like, but he sounded like he was holding a knife behind his back. You furrowed your brows and stared down the radio, as if it would give you answers. There was dirt clamoring the yellow, where your fingers had held on.

“What’s up?” you said and sounded fakely bright.

“Well, I just-” he cut himself off with a cough, one that reached those stringent, thinning vocal cords and brought back the rasp. “I wanted to apologize. For the other night. I mean, when you came to the tower.”

You didn’t respond, only furrowed your brow and looked out across the sun-lit moor. There was a deer traversing across the grass.

“Uhm. Because. I was- I was kinda drunk, uh, when you came, and I know I was kinda pushy about, you know, why you came out here and all that.”

“OH!” you exclaimed and the noise ended in a laugh. “Please, Seungcheol. Don’t worry about that. It’s fine.”

“Okay, good,” he mumbled.

The flower field came into view after climbing a particularly steep hill and it was a flower field - not just cartography myth.

It was all sunflowers and catmint - a huge, long stretch of purple and yellow splotches, stemming from green, untamed grass - stretching as far as you could see, disappearing into a hill at the far horizon. You were sure the smell of pollen went for miles, flowerdust sprinkling the air in heavy coats. The path you were following split the field in two, a dry, boring gravel streak, but you saw, faded from sunlight, a once deep, now light, ashy brown box at the right side.

“I found it!” you shrieked into the radio, a newfound strength gearing your legs into a sprint. “Fuck, yes!”

“Good job, Fermata!” there was a smile in his voice.

“Thank you!”

You were also smiling, when you went up to it. It was rectangular and made of planks, held together by a metal loop and a padlock. Like everything else, it was dirty and ravished, and you felt a faint worry at the sight of scratch marks on its side. You clicked in the code: 1-2-3-4.

The interior of the box was mostly empty. To your horror the first thing you saw was a porn magazine, which you did not dare to touch; then you saw a granola bar, which you did touch and stash away in your backpack, without any regard for how old it may have been; then came the compass, small and cheap metal and pointing out that you were, in fact, facing Northwest.

There was another item in the box. You did not initially see it, as it was taped to the interior of the lid, but when you raised your eyes, you saw it. It was a piece of paper - a note.

Grimacing, you ripped it off where it was blowing violently in the wind, holding it tight between your fingers and smudging dirt along the untainted white.

It read:

‘Hey, Cheol. If you head up the path there’s a family of raccoons! I left this granola bar here so you could feed them! From Jun.’

“Hey, Seungcheol?” you said absently, staring over the blue, scribbled ink, worn out from months of rainwater dripping in through the planks. He hummed on the other end of the line. “There’s a note here for you. From a, uh, Jun?”

“Oh.”

There was a pause that you couldn’t decipher - maybe you could have, had you been there with Seungcheol. Maybe if you could read his face, his body, you could’ve known what it meant. But for now you just stood in the breeze. It was picking up, getting angrier, hurling at your clothes and hair, banishing you from the field. The flowers dangled uselessly.

“Do you want me to read it to you?”

Silence.

“No, not really.”

“Oh, okay. Uh, who’s- who’s Jun?”

Silence.

“The guy who used to work in Fermata Tower. Before you.”

“Oh.”

Every second was longer than the last. You wish you knew what it all meant, but you sensed in Seungcheol’s curtness that he was not taking questions currently, and so you looked around the quickly graying sky and the suddenly spiteful wind and folded the note away in your jacket pocket.

“I’m gonna head back now,” even your voice was rocked by the wind.

Seungcheol didn’t respond.

You left Eleison Valley alone. _____________________________

This was where it was supposed to be - greatness. Not success, but something greater, larger, more alive than you could ever be. You thought you’d find it in the mountains, the valleys, the lakes and the forests and maybe that had been naive of you - to think that nature and earth could give any sort of meaning that death had taken away from you. These shadowed parts only served to make you feel smaller, you realized. The mountains glared at you, the forests swallowed and spat you out.

You couldn’t sleep. The image of Mingyu’s outstretched hand was back and you could almost see him from your flimsy bed, lying on his back with a tanned hand out for you. You left him alone, just like you always had.

Burrowed under the veil of your thin blanket, grabbing at it with clumsy hands, you turned your back to Mingyu’s corpse on your floor.

A prickle sauntered up your back. It was that emotion that something was creeping closer, something was out to get you. That you would feel a cool, dead hand on your back and when it would spin you around his face would be there, and he’d look nothing like himself; he’d be pale and purple around the mouth and his eyes would be sunken and dark and all the glitter he possessed - that he used to possess - would be gone and something menacing, like a hungry mountain, would have replaced it.

You thrashed, suddenly, to look back at the corpse. It was still there. Hadn’t moved an inch. Deja vu.

Thoughtlessly, desperately, you fumbled for the radio wrapped up the sheets of your bed. Your fingertips found the plastic hardware, and it bounced at your eagerness, before you pulled it along the sheets and up to your mouth.

“Seungcheol?” you gasped.

When did you start crying? You decided you must’ve been crying all night and maybe you’d cried so much that your brain had stopped registering the feeling of wet tears.

There was a pause. A long one. So long, you started to really become aware of the cries of the wind, the patter of the rain and the endless mumbling of the trees (and the gargled, bubbling blood rising from Imaginary Friend Mingyu’s half-open mouth). Then static spoke back to you:

“Yeah?” his voice was so raspy, you registered that you must’ve awoken him from his sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your nails dug into the radio and you pressed it into your chest, holding on tight.

“I can’t sleep,” you whispered, words full of shaky air. There was another pause and for a second you feared that Seungcheol might’ve gotten angry and gone back to bed. But he spoke again.

“Are you okay?” You heard rustling on his end, and you imagined him standing up from the bed, looking out at your lonely island of a lookout tower. “Do I need to trek over there?”

“No!- no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” you protested, then trailed off.

“... Are you crying?”

You squeezed your eyes shut: “I just- d’you remember what I said? About my- my friend’s friend who- who had a bad mushroom trip?”

“Uh, yeah, I remember. Her- Her house flooded, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was tainted with thorough confusion, but not annoyance. Never annoyance.

“Well, I just-” you sputtered and sighed. You almost wanted to stop talking and give up when Seungcheol stayed quiet on his end and drew the words forward: “It’s so stupid. Sometimes I just- I just feel like that. Like you’re drowning, everywhere you go. You know?”

Your voice was stringent with nervousness, and you picked at your nail, wrapped around the radio in the shallow dark.

“It’s not stupid, sweetheart,” he mumbled. It was amazing to you how gruff and tough Seungcheol turned soothing and caring so fast. The nickname felt like a warm hug, and you almost didn’t register the sound of fabric rustling once more. “I’m coming over.”

“N-No!” you gasped sharply. Your eyes flickered down. Mingyu watched from the floor, eyes glazed over from death. He smelled foul.

“Can you.. Can you just- talk to me?” you whispered helplessly, and Seungcheol quieted down, seemingly weighing your proposal.

“Okay. Okay, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you,” Seungcheol whispered soothingly, and for God’s sake, you didn’t even know what he looked like, but the rasp in his voice, and the comfort and warmth that sung out the speaker of the radio had your heart clenching in your chest. “What do you wanna talk about?”

“Um, I don’t know,” you sniffled. Seungcheol only softened his voice and sat, awake in the middle of the night, comforting you.

“Can I tell you about birds?”

He told you about birds for 45 minutes before you fell asleep (something he had predicted would happen); he told you about how pheasants are known for their striking colors and how they have excellent eyesight; he told you how he saw a nightjar just before going to bed that night, and how they’re incredibly hard to spot; he told you about Barrow’s Goldeneyes, and how they’re the funniest little guys, and he loves them, because they glow purple in the sunlight; he told you about g…

Oh. You must’ve started dozing off. _____________________________

You weren’t sure when it changed, but at some point you looked out the window, and the mountain looked a lot more like yourself.

You were getting better, happier, you were waking up with more energy, you were bubblier. You weren’t entirely sure you could blame it on the park though. For two months you’d had your job and for about two months, every once in a while, you’d radioed Seungcheol at night, and without any question, he’d tell you about birds.

It sounded stupid the more you thought about it, but his voice lulled you into a comfortable sleep even on Mingyu’s most insistent nights.

You’d wake up and patrol your area, then you’d settle back in for a couple of hours, watching out for fire hazards and guests in the park, before you’d patrol one more time. Then you’d go to bed.

This was not the type of job you took to make friends, but somehow Seungcheol had become the reason you woke up everyday. Everyday you looked forward to walking through the woods with his voice on your radio, and you looked forward to making him laugh and him making you laugh.

“Seungcheol, I’ve got eyes on what I’m pretty sure is a Red-breasted Merganser, come in.”

This morning you were up extraordinarily early - for you, that is. You weren’t certain what exactly prompted this early rise (maybe you were finally sleeping right thanks to a certain rough-throated man?), but nonetheless you’d enjoyed the view of dawn along the undergrowth and had eaten half-warm oatmeal in bed with an open book. Now you were bored and craving the attention of your only forest-companion.

Seungcheol didn’t respond like you were expecting though. When the radio crinkled in response, you heard him panting on the other end and thumps, like he was picking it up off the floor.

“That’s… That’s great, Fermata. I’ve gotta get my.. My binoculars out,” he heaved for air and fumbled clumsily with the sensitive mic. You cringed at the sound.

“What are you doing? Why are you so out of breath?” you asked. A twinge of worry slipped out in your tone. Was he okay?

“I’m, uh, working out,” Seungcheol chuckled, and he seemed to finally regain composure, clearing his throat sheepishly. “You’re not usually awake to hear it.”

“You work out every day?”

“Sure do - gotta be prepared to knock out a grizzly,” he grunted.

You leaned back in your seat, a less than amused expression on your face, because a twirling strand of fire danced up your chest and settled into your cheeks. Why was it suddenly so hot? Fire spread across your nerve endings and twinged you red in the apples of your cheeks. You ran your hands over your face to soothe the sizzling.

This was ridiculous, you thought. Seungcheol was not making you blush. You didn’t even know what he looked like! He might as well have had an eye patch and a mohawk. But even as you halfheartedly scrutinized yourself, your thoughts clouded over the idea of sweet, attentive, raspy Seungcheol with big arms and thighs and a sculpted chest and-

“Are you- are you, like, buff?”

The question left your lips before you could stop it. Your voice broke halfway through the sentence and you let go of the button with an embarrassed hiss, like a kettle huffing out air. The embarrassment, that was potent and squeezing at your chest, worsened when you heard Seungcheol’s throaty chuckle on the other end, limp and dry.

“You’re curious today, aren’t you?” he mused then, smirk clear from the tone and pronunciation of the words, and you squeezed your eyes shut because why was his voice and the thought of him and the warmth coming through the radio speaker suddenly bothering you so much?

The truth was you hadn’t masturbated in months. With everything going on, you simply hadn’t felt the urge or the want. But, it occurred to you, now that you were slowly becoming a functioning human once more, the urge was returning hot and fast in your core, and, of course, your only companion with the raspy voice and the attentive words and the apparently muscly body was bringing forth this urge with ease.

You pressed down the urge, taking a deep breath before you pressed the button once more. You were not going to masturbate to the thought of Seungcheol - not Seungcheol who you only knew by voice, who had been nothing but caring and sweet to you. You could not corrupt the preciousness of your companionship with your lewd, depraved thoughts.

“I’m just curious what you look like. Unlike you, stalker, I don’t have binoculars!” That sounded a lot more like the you that had not just gotten wet at the thought of Seungcheol’s bulging muscles.

“Hey! The power of the binoculars is limited. I can only really see your silhouette, nothing fancy,” he defended and then right as you were about to respond, he knocked the wind out of you again: “And yes, I’m pretty buff, if I do say so myself.”

Ugh.

You went the rounds that day and got through another day without having to complete fire protocol, ending out the evening with a pack of instant noodles your family had so graciously sent you (Seungcheol scolded you: “That has no nutrients!”). However each step through the forest and each slurp of noodles and page of your book was plagued by the latent fire inside you. A burning occupied your abdomen fueled by the echoing morning voice of Bay Valley Tower.

By nightfall you gave in. You were only a girl. This didn’t have to change anything, you thought, as the park turned plum purple. You settled into bed in your pajamas, sitting upright against the frail wood wall and letting your hair bunch on the rattling plate of glass. Your eyes moved to and fro, bouncing over the now lived-in cabin and taking in the dark void of the farest corner.

Briefly, you fiddled with your radio in your palm. You could call Seungcheol and- wait, why would you do that? No, no. You packed away that wicked thought - it only served to make you feel more guilty. No, instead you slid down the wall to lay in your pillow, now positive you were alone.

An owl hooted outside and you slipped your hand into your underwear.

It was surprisingly easy to surrender your consciousness to the lust (and you had, God bless your soul, stayed wet throughout the entire day). It clouded you over, as you began rubbing up and down your pussy, ghosting over your clit to dip down to your glazed slit. Your eyes squeezed shut and you conjured your best doll-replica of Seungcheol.

In your dream he was a faceless mist, but he had a carved upper body, and from the fog surrounding his head spewed his voice - dripping in warmth and comfort, as you imagined it was his toned arm reaching between your legs and pumping into you.

Your other hand snaked down to your clit, where your hips canted off the bed. In the whirl of thrusting into yourself and rubbing tight circles in your clit, you realized, lip bitten raw under your prying teeth, that there was no reason to hold back your moans. It was only forest and wasteland for miles - and surely Seungcheol would not hear you in his floating snow globe.

“A-ah, Seungcheol,” you wantonly murmured, burying your head in your pillow and sighing lazily. A flush had crept up your neck, where your chest expanded to allow for air. The pleasure was immense - probably more intense, since it had been quite a while - warmth spreading in your lower stomach and culminating at your throbbing clit. Recklessly, you moaned and thrashed as you fucked yourself on your fingers, hiking towards your orgasm. “Seungcheoool-”

“Y/n?”

You froze.

Maybe you’d imagined it. Still, your fingers were stopped in their tracks, simply resting on the warmth of your folds, itching to continue. You sat up in bed and tried to ward away the creeping panic. Your heart began to gallop to the beat of a siren.

The air had been starched when you finally pulled your hand out of your underwear, hot cheeks and glistening hands all over, when you began searching for the radio.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You had your back hunched over the edge of the bed, searching for the little yellow receiver, when his voice came again in a thick forest of static. You snapped your head to under your comforter, where the noise was slightly muffled.

In a blurred panic, you threw the comforter off of you and spotted the small radio by your calf, and you scrambled to pick it up. When the dirty plastic touched your cheek, you stopped, sighed a shaky, hot breath, and closed your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m, uh, I’m fine. What’s up?” you let go of the button and cringed at your own disheveledness, the breath and shake in your voice. You pressed your forehead radio-front in a silent prayer.

There was a hesitance to Seungcheol when he spoke next: “... You were calling for me, you sounded in pain?”

This was certainly the worst thing he could’ve said. You would’ve rather he told you he spotted a bear at the foot of your tower, trying to eat you! You must’ve accidentally kicked the radio and hit the button, you decide, and you damn yourself for keeping it in the bed - of course, shit like this would happen!

“I was…-” (If only you were a better liar), “- pranking you…”

Seungcheol huffed out in amusement on the other end and you wanted to jump off the railing to the lookout tower and break your neck. “You were pranking me?”

You gulped with a decidedly dry mouth. “It was a bear attack prank.”

Seungcheol was smiling: “Yeah?”

You were not: “Yeah.”

There was an entropic silence, where you thoughts came rambled and pleading in your head: Please, just let this go, please, just let this go, let’s pretend it never happened, let’s-

“You wanna know what I think you were doing?”

Seungcheol’s voice had dropped an octave. The smile in his voice was gone and there was something menacing and commanding about him now. In the moment, overcome with a cocktail of guilt and shame, you could not discern if this was anger or lust - the first seemed fitting.

“I think you were fucking your little fingers thinkin’ about me,” he hummed and in response you whined and squeezed your eyes shut. The shame encapsulated you. “Shh, shh, calm down, I’m not mad, honey.”

Blinking through rapidly forming tears, you opened your eyes to stare, dumbfounded, at the radio (as if it were Seungcheol and you were not several miles apart). “Really?”

“Not mad at all. Jus’ think you should’ve told me if you wanted my help,” he tutted on his end and, God, he was so nurturing and comforting and he knew it, and it was so sexy. Your pussy, which had vaguely throbbed from the negligence throughout, was now screaming for your attention, hole clenching sadly around nothing.

“I thought you wouldn’t want-”

“You’re crying again, baby,” he must’ve noted from the hoarseness of your voice and the sniffles that accompanied every syllable.

“Just want you so bad,” you sobbed, now shamelessly slipping your hand back into your underwear and sighing dazedly in relief when you touched it again.

“Need Seungcheol to take care of you, huh?” The smile in his voice was back.

“Yeah.”

“Bet you don’t want me talking about birds now, hm?” he chuckled (at his own joke), voice low and raspy. “Are you touching that pretty pussy?”

“Mhmm,” you responded lazily, floating high on the sound of his voice and jolts of electricity they sent as you worked up a pace on your clit once more. The pain of the interruption ebbed away.

“Good girl, hm?” He knew. “Getting off to the sound of my voice, eh? Don’t even know what I look like.”

“Hng- k-know you’re b-buff,” you gritted out, voice coming in sharp breaths. Your body moved languidly, back arching off the bed and hair coming out in choppy strands on your pillow. Seungcheol scoffed out a laugh: “Like knowing I could just fold you in half? Fuck you into tomorrow? Hm?”

You let out a loud, dumb whine of his name. It was a total inability to get over his words; how melodious it was, and yet, how contradictory the smoothness of his words were to the strained nature of his thrumming voice. And the worst of it all was how confident he was - you supposed hearing someone else masturbate to you would be a confidence boost - and how the arrogance swelled out in the most comforting, nurturing way. Each word felt like a hand on your body, like a caress that sent shivers down your spine.

“Fuck, princess, say my name like that again. Please.”

“Seungcheol!” you obliged mindlessly, legs shaking on either side of your glistening hand.

“Shit, I-” he grunted, and you heard a fumbling of fabrics on his end. Your nerves spun in excitement at the thought of him getting hard at your voice. “Can you put two fingers in the pretty pussy - it’ll feel like one of mine, baby.”

You cried out when your fingers entered yourself, pads of your fingertips rubbing against your walls. Outside of the windows, the park was an empty wasteland of mauve and orchid, and the Fermata lake was brilliantly alive and dipping under the three-quarter-moon.

“Wish it was your pussy wrapped around my cock right now,” he grunted, and he’d lost breath and composure and if you knew what his face looked like, you would imagine it sweaty and twisted up and a red-lipped ‘o’ letting the jaw slack.

Resuming your earlier motions (double-handing your own kitty), you felt your orgasm lurking in the pit of your stomach, a tight-wound knot being ripped apart. You were panting into the cool air, creating silver-clouds in your tower-home. “A-ah, want you inside me so bad, Cheol- shit! Gonna- gonna cum-”

“Yeah? You gonna cum thinking about my cock inside you baby? Thinkin’ about me just bouncing you up and down like my little fuckdoll?” His speech ended in the prettiest moan you’d ever heard, and you imagined every well-defined, flexed muscle under the moonlight and the thought had your whole body jerking and shaking and when you closed your eyes the stars stayed with you, white and glimmering under your eyelid.

The strangled moans of your orgasm sent Seungcheol over the edge - at least from what you could tell. His dirty talk turned into strings of curses and moans and grunts until the radio went dead, and all you could hear was your own labored breaths and the faraway hooting of a horned owl.

The silence flatlined the excitement into nervousness. Your lip was almost automatically caught in your teeth and you glanced over the radio beside you through your lashes.

Oh shit. What the fuck had you done?

“Uh, did you-” the smell of sweat shot up as you shuffled in your sheet to grab the radio once more. “Did you, uh, cum?”

Oh fuck. You just made it way worse.

The silence from the radio was much louder than any response, but when the receiver did finally crinkle with static, the sound of laughter exploded from it.

“Don’t fucking laugh at me, BV,” you scolded, but you were smiling and relief flooded you like water overflows Fermata Lake during heavy downpour.

“I’m sorry,” he hiccuped on the other end. “It’s just-.. ‘DID YOU CUM?’”

“Alright, I’m going to bed now. You suck,” you quacked, and even though you were alone you thought to suppress the gentle tugging at your lips into a sharky smile.

“DID YOU CUM?”

He sounded pretty when he laughed. _____________________________

“I can’t believe I have to hike down here to confiscate some fireworks.”

Your grumble came from the forest beside Fermata Lake. You were walking down a patch of dirt revealed from years’ of trampling feet, dewy sprigs of grass arching into the mud. A group of (presumably) teenagers were firing fireworks down near the edge of your assigned territory.

“They’re a fire hazard!” Seungcheol squawked obviously, and you huffed in your boots, preparing to climb down a rocky slope.

“I know that! It’s just everywhere - the website, the signs - don’t use fireworks!” you complained. Seungcheol hummed absently on the other line: “Go teach those suckers a lesson, Fermata!”

“I will,” you said, agitated.

“Just don’t fuck with their personal belongings. Last thing we need is a lawsuit. Again.”

“I won’t,” you said, deflated.

Even in your most angered moments, you could hand yourself over to the gentle forest. No longer were you protruding into a bubble, straining to get through a barrier that was urging you out, but you were absorbed into it, like you were one of its own.

The forest was lush with pines and brown and green moss painting bark and rocks, and the grass leapt higher than your knees, as you trudged further and further in.

SWOOOOSH!

A firework propelled into the sky about 100 meters away, and you watched its ignited trails of smoke before it exploded into a fest of sparkling blue and gold. You huffed out in anger at the sight. The sky wasn’t even fully dark - it was merely a muted blue evening.

“Did you see that?” Seungcheol came from the radio-speaker.

“Yeah, I’m right with them.”

As you padded closer the smell of wet pine cones and coltsfoot accompanied the sound of distant voices - indeed, they sounded juvenile. You could make out at least two girls and at least one boy, although their voices were hard to distinguish, the way they echoed in between the grid of trees.

“Hey!” you yelled, as you creeped just close enough. Their voices hushed and you saw their frightened faces lit by handheld, Target-bought flashlights when you peeled back the screen of a bramblebush. They were gathered together amongst a tent, flashlight lighting the plates of the faces ablaze in cool white.

“Cut it out with the fireworks, alright?” you huffed and your anger melted a little when you saw that they were indeed just kids - maybe 19? They seemed to have nothing to say, and so you scanned the beer cans and the scattered backpacks and finally caught sight of a bundle of rockets in the grass. Your brows furrowed, and you picked it up with a sternness.

“Hey, that’s ours!” one kid chimed, but he made no move to stop you, really, as you trudged angrily back to the bush you had come from.

“Not as long as you’re in our park, man. It’s a fire hazard.”

“We’ll take them back home-”

“Goodnight!” The desperate plea fell on deaf, tired ears. You just wanted to eat dinner, so you disappeared out on a trail of pine needles and valiantly ignored the trail of curses and insults following you. You could care less.

“I got the fireworks, Seungcheol,” you sighed tiredly and your eyes were dark pits and your face was relaxed, if only to conservative energy.

“Good job, Fermata.”

You were not in the talking mood. Maybe Seungcheol could tell by your tone of voice; maybe he could hear it in your sigh; but Seungcheol piped up again: “You know, if you need some energy for the hike back, there’s a supply box - uhh, 52? - if you head upwards instead of towards Fermata Lake.”

You wanted to be grumpy, you really did, but the thought of a salivating, expired, delicious, out-of-date granola bar had you changing course to the slowly gaining hill of the forest.

It was weird. This was probably the closest you’d ever been to Seungcheol’s tower. Under the prickly cover of pine some mile in the distance, you could see a glowing square, perched over the treetops by long, wooden pillars, support beams crossing the middle. You couldn’t help but wanna go up to it. There had been an unbearable magnetic pull to his tower ever since that night however long ago. You decided to stay the course for Supply Box 52.

“I can practically see you from here,” you commented, and the tower was becoming a beacon as the evening mulled darker and darker by the minute.

“Really? Hang on,” he did not let go of the radio-button, and so you had the pleasure of listening to the ruffling of fabrics and thumps on the floor. “Can you see me flexing in the window?”

“You’re such a dork,” you laughed, and the sound bounced off the pines and traveled up to the rock of the nearby Aluralura Mountain. “No, I’m not quite that close.”

“Damn it!”

“Yeah, it‘s a real shame,” you muttered, smiling, and then you caught sight of the supply box up ahead. The hill flattened out once more (to which you breathed a sigh of relief) and the box was perched on the edge facing the path that began onto the cliffs. This was Seungcheol’s territory - cliff sides and all. “I think I see Supply Box 52.”

“Open that bad boy up.”

You entered the code, scrolling the mechanisms one by one until the numbers read 1-2-3-4 (you still thought this combination was ridiculous), and when you opened the lid it creaked horribly, worn from the weather.

The wind was harsh that day, and a note, identical to the one you’d found at Eleison Valley, broke off its tape from the mean pushes of the wind. Instinctively, you grabbed it as it started to fly off, and your hand closed around it and crinkled it under your fingers. You looked at it with knitted brows.

Wordlessly, you tucked it in between your side and your arm, redirecting your attention to the goodies in the supply box. 52 held a rope and a map and another directory for supply boxes and, to your exhausted delight, a box of grandma-looking caramels. You took the whole thing and stuffed it into your bag.

As you shuffled, you put the note between your lips, stuffing the plastic container of gold-wrapped, sugary candies in between your rope and your own map and a coat for possible rain. When you zipped it up, the fabric of the bag warped grotesquely to fit the various items you’d brought.

You pulled the note back out from your lips. A small wet patch of spit lingered on the paper, as you unfolded it.

It read:

‘Hey Seungcheol,

If you find this, I gotta go be with my mom now. I’ll miss you forever.

From Jun.’

The wind blew kisses on your back like the presence of a ghost.

“You find anything good?” Seungcheol’s voice peeked through the static of the radio. It had been quiet for a while. You couldn’t take your eyes off the letter. The ink was smudged and slurred.

“Uh, caramels, actually,” you said, eyes dancing over each slope of ‘forever’. “Like, granny caramels.”

You put the letter away. _____________________________

A week later and you were looking out of the window at pouring rain. The sky was smothered by a duvet of dark gray clouds, and the rain was coming harder than you’d ever seen. It was like thousands of bullets pelting into the ground and turning it soft and muddy, and the drops hit your roof like the nonstop click of a keyboard.

"Rainy season, huh?” your mouth was to the radio.

“Yeah. We’re gonna be staying up all night to watch out for lightning. Fire hazard.”

“Shit, I should make coffee.”

“I’m way ahead of you.”

The lightning came and thunder followed. The sound was enormous and terrifying. It grumbled like a hungry beast and the sound bounced off of every mountain-wall and echoed from all sides. You felt very small, wrapped up in a blanket at your desk, a steaming cup of coffee by your side and your fire extinguisher evacuated from its holder to stand beside you, all red and shiny aluminum and rubber nozzle.

“Did that look like it hit a tree?” you asked after seeing a zig-zagging bolt of lightning hanging a little too low over the crowns. Your voice was louder than usual - this night was a game of overpowering the screaming rain. It was some 1 AM.

“Uhhhhh, shit. Maybe. We’d see the fire, but it’s possible it’s at the root.”

“Fuck,” you whispered. “Was that yours or my area?”

“Uhhhhh-”

“I’m gonna check it out.”

Determined, you let the radio fall on the table, as you fumbled for another sweater. The knitted fabric slipped over your other sweater, and then you were wrapping yourself up in your raincoat.

“Maybe I should go - it’s slippery right now, it’s dangerous as fuck. You could fall and hit your head, you know. I think it was closer to me anyway, so--”

“Seungcheol, I already have my coat on, I’m going!”

And indeed you were going, despite the grumbled protests of Seungcheol. Your coat blew in the hurricane wind as you stood atop the cliff, looking down at the cascading water, that’d all race down to the sinkhole that was Fermata Lake. Through the clouds, there were no stars to trade glances with, not even ghosts.

You fought headwind the entire way, your hair flowing wildly and your coat threatening to unbutton at the will of the blasts. The ground under your rainboots had become mud and the further you trudged into the forest, the more the mud crept up your yellow shoe, slinging over you like liquid ropes.

“I’m going down the drop off again!” you were screaming to overpower the wind, radio to your mouth before you dropped it into your pocket and retrieved your bag to regather your rope.

“Be careful!” Seungcheol commandeered bitterly, muffled from your pocket. “It’s slippery as shit! Radio me immediately when you’re down, so I know you’re okay.”

Even as your face grew wet and sore from the whipping rain, you scoffed. A gloved hand shoved into your pocket, brought the radio back up to your red lips: “Stop being such a pussy!”

“Say yes, Y/n!”

You rolled your eyes. “Aye, aye.”

“... I’ll take that, asshole.”

Wet as a wipe, you slung your rope over the hook and prepared it in a slew of motions you’d by now memorized. Although, you noted your movements were awkward, somewhat impaired by the layers of fabric that encased you. Stubborn, you stood before the hook, grabbed onto the rope, and began walking backwards.

Your booted foot curled around the edge of the cliffside, and with the tightened rope you began your careful horizontal walk. Raindrops pelted your face like a clenched fist, but you only blinked away the water and tried to focus on stepping carefully down the side of the rockface.

KRRRRRRRRKKKKKK!

You screamed girlishly when your rope snapped from the hook, and you watched it come flying out over the ledge, before you realized, horrifically, you were already falling.

It was barely a second, just one blurry image of the weeping sky, before you were on the ground, groaning in pain. A pulsing ache creeped up your spine, and you twisted your body in the mud to put the weight on your side. You sighed into the mud, dirt on your squished cheek.

The rain was uncaring of your unfortunate situation, as you laid pathetically in the dirt, body scrunching up like an elastic, while your shadow was cast by sudden bursts of lightning. Panting, you pushed yourself up by your arms and felt blindly for your-

Where was your radio?

Your pocket was deflated and empty, and you scrambled in the dirt, desperately, pushing yourself up completely to scan the area. You noted how the pain subsided into a small, dwindling soreness, thanking whatever God for your layers of clothing and the softness of the earth.

There. A flash of yellow in your blurred vision, aided by another strike of lightning atop Aluralura Mountain. You picked up the worn, dirty radio in your heavy hand, pressing at its side.

“Hello? Seungcheol?”

There was no static to indicate your message had been relayed, and the usual red digital numbers telling you what channel you were on was gone, a simple, black screen remaining, mirroring your muddied face, twisted in anguish.

“Fuck this,” you hissed, standing up on two legs. You looked back up to where your lookout tower was still ablaze, a yellow box in the heights. The rope was fucked. You had to go down anyway. Huffing, you started walking.

You marched through the undergrowth, crossing through unpathed forest to reach the destination. It was near a hollow marked on your map, and so the expedition, although scarier, more empty and dark without Seungcheol's warm voice, was mild.

Wet petals brushed your face from rows of bushes, and even through your gloves the cold left your fingertips numb. You sniffled in the dark.

You found the hollow, then you found the tree. There was, indeed, ash going up the side of it, seemingly stemming from a smaller bush in the clearing, but the fire had been long put out by the insistent rain, and partially you felt disappointment that you’d trekked all the way out here, only for there to be no real danger.

Heavier than ever, you turned your gaze to the glowing hut in the distance.

You almost wanted to go back to your own hut, to turn your back to Seungcheol’s glowing tower and forget this ever happened. The anticipation of seeing him - of him seeing you - was a tall wall to overcome. But, you realized, not only was his tower closer; you also needed help.

Your radio was fucked, your rope was fucked and moreover, you needed to be sure you hadn’t done irreparable damage to your back. With water dripping over the ledge of your hood, you began walking towards Seungcheol.

Rainwater cascaded off the edge of the trees and the consistent dashed dots looked like tiny glass orbs in the light of Bay Valley Tower. It was intensely quiet for a while - it seemed like every bush-tailed critter of the forest had scuttered away to hide from the rain and the echoing growling of the sky.

“Y/n!”

You were so tired you almost could’ve missed it. Each layer of fabric weighed you down and the dirt smearing your cheeks and hands and fabrics could’ve melted you right into the earth. But indeed, a voice - so familiar it almost hurt - was calling to you in the dead of night.

“Seungcheol?” your first call was not a call, but a whisper, as you peered into the thick grooves of the forest. Then, your senses returned to you and you screamed as loud as you could: “Seungcheol!”

“Y/n!”

You and Seungcheol called for each other, syllables echoing off the huge, towering presence Aluralura Mountain. Getting closer and then closer, and then you could see the figure of another raincoated person, shaded by a hood.

“Y/n? Oh, thank God!” He ran to you, swimming in the rubber of his red coat and pink lips peeking over the closed hood.

It was a little paralyzing. He was so beautiful, you didn’t even know which speck of his shadowed face to look at. Tan, wet skin and big eyes from which the longest, blackest lashes you’d ever seen sprung. Most notable were his fuzzy, blocky eyebrows sitting over his brown eyes, fine wrinkles springing from the corners (you’d like to think you’d helped create some of those). His lips were big and bright and pouty, but it was wiped away when he smiled at the sight of you, and you could die, because a dimple indented itself in his cheek at the motion.

“Are you okay?” his smile faded when you said nothing, only stared at him, and then stared at where his thick fingers wrapped around your arm. He leaned into you and God, you hadn’t seen him before this very moment, and now he was leaning over you and he was so close and he smelled like pinewood, and you were pretty sure you smelt exactly the same.

You lowered yourself from your daze, trying to follow the pattering of rain atop both of your hoods. “Uh,” you gulped, finding his eyes, “yeah, I jus’... I thought you were joking when you said you weren’t white.”

His laugh. His laugh was even prettier in person and it had the same rasp and the same disapproving hint to it that it had had at all your other jokes. “You’re unbelievable, you know that, Fermata?”

“Bird watching is crazy, man.”

He smiled and studied your face for a moment, still leaned over you and thoroughly ignoring the rain and the thunder and the dirt on your boots. Then the smile faded, just a little: “What happened to your radio?”

“Oh- oh my God! Do you- do you remember my first day? The drop off! I fuckin’- fell down, my rope came undone on the hook! My radio was knocked the fuck out, it was crazy, I’m gonna need a new one-”

“Are you okay? You fell?” Seungcheol’s strong eyebrows became furrowed and the sight was so utterly mesmerizing to you. You waved him off: “I’ll be fine, please, I just want to get out of this weather.”

Seungcheol did not seem to entirely believe you, but nonetheless he grabbed your hand - in his own rough, used one - and started leading you upwards (“If I don’t hold your hand, how can I be sure you don’t fall down another drop off?”).

Time was not as agonizingly slow by his size, and the tower seemed to propel towards you and the hands on your wristwatch seemed to move backwards. Not before long, you were climbing up the stairway with Seungcheol’s iron fist on your wrist, so as to prevent you from falling down something else (you had a feeling that he would not let this go).

“I’m gonna make us some tea,” grumbled Seungcheol when you arrived.

“Yes, please,” you murmured. Your coat was folded beside you, starry raindrops soaking into a blanket thrown over his bed.

It was warm in Seungcheol’s tower house - he had half a brain to put an electric heater in the corner of the room, unlike you - and it was only the sudden embrace of warmth that had you looking out into the park and realizing you would have frozen to death if you’d stayed.

There was a warm glow from a naked bulb in the ceiling (you guessed Seungcheol had put it up himself), an old rug full of sand-corns, and a shelf with various books. Seungcheol also had a small kitchen, a desk and a bed, just like you. The layout was exactly the same, but sitting down on Seungcheol’s bed, you noted he must’ve made some alterations. Your fingers pulled at the white of the mattress - it was his own and it was much softer.

When the electric kettle (a rusted, iron old thing) was cooking, Seungcheol turned to you sheepishly and unzipped his coat. You waited in secret anticipation for his supposedly smoking-hot bod, but were disappointed to see another sweater underneath it.

Seungcheol stopped the kettle and took two large mugs from his cupboard. These, he placed on a carved tray (you thought he might have made it himself from pinewood), and then from a small, wooden tea box on his countertop, he produced two bright yellow tea packets, which he gently placed in the mugs. Then he poured in the water, steam traveling up to open his pores and whatnot.

“Do you want anything in yours?” he asked, not really looking.

“Uhm. No, no, thank you,” your hands were folded in your lap.

He only grunted in response and left one tea untouched, then took a clear, plastic container of honey from an array of unrefrigerated condiments, and squirted half the bottle into his tea. He sniffled when he was done, grabbing the tray and turning to you. Tonight, Seungcheol was uncharacteristically nervous.

“Can you-?”

“Hm?”

“That little- little table over there-”

“What?”

“Can you grab it?- For- for the tray?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.”

The tea sat on the tray and the tray sat on the foldable table and you and Seungcheol sat before them on the edge of his bed. You took the hefty mug in your hand and took a slurp, looking over at him from the rim. Seungcheol looked at you awkwardly. He did not move for his tea.

“I should take a look at your back,” he said.

“What? Why?” you quacked disapprovingly. “You fell on it,” Seungcheol reminded you.

You shook your head silently. “I like your hut. It’s way better than mine.”

“I’ve been here longer,” Seungcheol shrugged. You looked at him and he seemed displeased - this would not have been a big deal were you speaking to him on the radio, but his aura was much more commanding in person - something about his eyes, you thought. You had to look away, settling on your mug again (there was a cartoon dog on it).

“I suppose that’s true,” you murmured. Seungcheol stared into the side of your face and his obvious concern for you weighed down at your muscles.

A gentle pause where rain pattered his roof.

“Are you okay?”

You glanced over, nervously: “Tired.”

He bit his lip: “Maybe I should’ve made coffee... Can we put instant coffee in tea?”

“Seungcheol, I wanted to ask you something,” you said and put your mug down on the tray again with a small ‘clink’. Seungcheol rubbed his hands over his trouser-clad thighs, nodding, maybe more nervous than you. The warm glow of the bulb made him even prettier and all was warm and dry in the hut, even though rain was falling down in thick curtains just outside by the troughs. “It’s just..” you began, “you’ve been so avoidant about this.. Jun guy..”

Seungcheol’s sigh interrupted you before you could finish: “He was just the guy that worked here before you.”

“I found another letter.”

Seungcheol’s furrowed expression softened and he looked at you with big, glassy brown eyes, hidden under a waft of choppy bangs. What was that in the shine of his pupil? Fear? Vulnerability? Sadness?

“It was about- it said he was gonna go be with his mother and that- that he would miss you,” you explained and your voice was snotty and throaty, and your eyes averted to a folded napkin beside a half-eaten slice of bread. A fly circulated it hungrily.

Seungcheol’s lips made a tight line, dimples poking out pathetically. He cleared his throat and you heard the strain in his vocal chords once more (and it was so real because there he was - right beside you).

“Me and Junhui came here together. We’d just finished college and we didn’t want-.. We didn’t want to be adults yet. Like, an office job, wife and kids,” he began and there was a tremor about Seungcheol tonight. “I don’t think he was made for a job like this though. I think the loneliness got to him.. Think he just lived with it ‘cause he could tell I liked it.”

You nodded along until he wasn’t speaking anymore. Then a thick silence absorbed the two of you, a patch of moss drowned in the downpour.

“His mom was dead, so..” he whispered. Tears gathered at his waterline like a string of stars. “So, yeah, he went to.. To be with her.”

“I’m so sorry, Seungcheol,” you whispered and the echoing whispers of the storm bouncing off the rock faces of Aluralura mountain beckoned your hand onto his woolen sleeve. “I had no idea.”

“They never found his body, you know? He’s just out there, somewhere,” both you and Seungcheol turned your heads out to the pitch black expanse of the massive park. Your mind wandered to every crook and crevice you’d seen out there, wondering if a dead body had hidden behind a quarry rock. “Fuckin’ terrified I’ll find him one day. Just… Rotten.”

You didn’t know what to say. What do you say? Even though you’d stood in a similar situation - losing a friend - you couldn’t find anything that could ease his pain, the pain that was now tinting the light blue and dulling the sound of the rain. The whole room was pulsating. Luckily, it seemed Seungcheol had something more to say. You watched his lips pucker as the words tried to leave his tongue, then watched them draw back.

“He used to.. He used to say this thing. It reminded me so much of what you- you said that night about, uhm, your friend’s friend. He used to say that- that sometimes he’d wake up in the middle of the night and he’d just be.. Totally.. Convinced that he was at the bottom of Fermata Lake and he was drowning,” Seungcheol’s voice broke one too many times and his jaw clenched. “God, I was so worried. Jus’ thought I couldn’t- I couldn’t be the reason that happened again.”

“I…” A tear slipped down your face and your hand left Seungcheol’s arm to wipe it, furiously.He turned to you pitifully, the broad width of his shoulders hanging low. “I’m sorry- you weren’t meant to feel that way-”

“It’s okay. I wanted to help,” Seungcheol grabbed your hands in his, a deep frown on his lips.

You stopped the tears, face burning hot and wet when you looked up at him again, calmed. His thumbs stroked over the backs of your hands. The pads were rough and beaten.

“Y’know it was sort of the same for me,” you said. Seungcheol waited for you to talk patiently and with a small, encouraging smile, as warmth streamed from his hands into yours.

“Yeah, my- uh roommate - best friend - died. And I couldn’t stop thinking about how I found him, like, his hand was just outstretched towards- towards the wall to my room, and he must’ve just lied there while his heart was giving out and I wasn’t there-... And I found him the next morning like that and I thought he was asleep and I left him there. Again. And I just can’t stop seeing him everywhere and for a while I was afraid that he would move, you know, like, start crawling towards me or some shit, but I think now I’m actually more afraid that he’ll never move. I think that’s the joke or whatever, he just won’t move, he’ll just be there the way I left him- and I guess- I guess, I thought I could find some sort of higher purpose out here, but I just can’t.. I feel more as though.. Like, it was these things that took him away from me, these fundamental parts of- existence. Like all the cliffs have evil faces and they want to take me too, and maybe I did want them to take me, but not- not anymore. I don’t know if that makes any sense?”

You peered up at Seungcheol through your lashes, wet and heavy. He was frowning, hands gripping yours tighter.

“You don’t want them to take you anymore?” he asked quietly. You shook your head. “How so?”

“Honestly, I don’t think it has much to do with me or the park. I think-” you gaze flitted to Seungcheol and he smiled knowingly. You scoffed and smiled too.

Although you both were fully clothed (Seungcheol annoyingly so), it felt as if all the layers had been stripped away one by one; sweaters and trousers, skin and meat and bones. All there was left were two brightly glowing hearts in front of one another.

“It’s okay,” he whispered then. “You don’t have to say it.”

You rolled your eyes: “I think it’s because of you.”

He grinned, wrinkles crinkling the corners of his eyes and cheeks bunching up in shiny, red fat. You poorly suppressed your own grin and the two of you leaned into each other when your eyes hooked, laughing into each other's shoulders.

“You’re so dumb,” you complained, forehead scratching against the stiff, knitted threads in Seungcheol’s shirt.

“I think- I think we both jus’ get dumber together,” you could feel his smile into your neck and the hot stream of air that bounced against the skin.

Right as you were about to pull away, Seungcheol’s arms wrapped around your back and pushed you back into him. You giggled at the motion, but with little thought your own arms wrapped around his back too, and your knees clashed where they met.

“Seungcheol?” your voice was muffled by his neck. His only response was hum, that ruminated from deep in his throat right by your ear. You pulled away until you were staring at his face.

Each thick stroke of eyebrow hair, each long, black eyelash and each mole dotted on his softly aging skin was crystal clear then. Your hands wrapped around his biceps and felt your heart buzz at their pronounced carvings under the wool. Seungcheol smiled down at you in a sort of adoring way.

“I think-” you began, then felt stupid, then felt idiotic and cowardly. “I don’t know- I think we should kiss now?”

It came out as more of a question than a statement.

Seungcheol gravelled a laugh and his eyes became all squinty and he pursed his lips as if it concealed his amusement in any way at how you squirmed beneath him and your face heated up.

“I think you’re right,” he nodded and you could barely register the feeling of joy that exploded in your chest, before Seungcheol’s pillowy lips crashed into yours at the same instance as a crack of thunder.

The lightning was a flickering show to the performance of yours and Seungcheol’s passionate kiss. His lips molded to yours and yours to his, warm and chapped and your hands couldn’t help but wrap around the soft planes of his cheeks - to pull him further, to keep him with you.

Seungcheol grappled for your hips, and you moaned in a sort of discombobulated agreement, as he, with shocking ease, pulled you into his lap. His hands on your body, stroking and pressing into the meat, left a burning ghostly trail behind it.

“Can I be honest?” you mumbled in between bitten kisses and panted breaths. “You’re hotter than I imagined.”

Seungcheol smiled into the kiss at that: “You too, baby. Now you get the real thing, hm? After fucking your sweet pussy thinking about me?”

You whined in response, hips canting down into his and head dropping into the warm crook of his neck. You licked mindlessly at the skin, rolling your hips into his. Seungcheol groaned and steel hands halted your eager core.

“Desperate so quick?” he quirked, and you cried out because how could even begin to describe how hot it was that he could entirely still your movements so nonchalantly? You swallowed before you tilted your head from the safety of his neck.

“I have waited so fucking long for your cock, Cheol. I need it inside me now,” you said seriously, and it was his turn to swallow the rising viscous in his throat, before he nodded and pushed you off his lap to remove his trousers.

You saw the way the metal of the belt reflected the light, as he (almost angrily) began journeying it off his middle, and you took the hint, beginning to discard your clothes. Your first sweater fell to the floor, then the next followed, and then you were stomping the floor to rid your soaked trousers. Another article of clothing that was soaked - your panties! And embarrassingly so, you thought, watching the slick, wet patch as you lowered the material to the floor.

Only then did your attention return to Seungcheol, now fully naked in his hut with windows on all sides, and you audibly gasped.

His torso was one huge slab of muscle and meat. The skin was relatively pale, pronounced pecs and his arms were like tree trunks at his sides. His thighs were fucking huge, indentations of muscles peering through his skin, as he impatiently worked his boxers off.

He halted though at your gasp, smirking cockily before returning to his work.

“Is it as good as you imagined when you came thinkin’ ‘bout me?” he muttered as his boxers slid down his calf. Too busy staring at his girthy, leaking cock sprouting between his legs, you neglected to answer and Seungcheol continued in a deliberately raspy tone: “Jus’ thinking about your pretty moans, my cock’s aching for you, princess. You’re not gonna come warm it up, beautiful?”

“Yes-” you stumbled over a treacherous boot, “yes, I am!”

“Good girl,” Seungcheol rumbled, bemused, as your knees floundered into the mattress and back into his lap. Seungcheol seemed to have other plans, however, because as soon as you had found your footing, and his warm hands were sliding up your back and his neck was craned up to you, breath hitting your breasts, he raised you and flipped you over, so you were digging into the mattress and he was above you. The shadows only served to define the chisel of his arms further.

His hand slid down your soft thighs, settling in between your legs to run two fingers through your folds.

“Your pussy is so pretty,” he whispered, somewhat mesmerized at the slick coating his fingertips. You squirmed impatiently and he shushed you, ever so gently: “Shh, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

Immediately following up on his promise, the two fingers snaked down to your sensitive, pulsing hole, prodding gently. You wiggled and whined, one of your hands (which had been gripping his bedsheets) stopped him at the wrist. He stopped, eyes flitting up to your flushed, shiny face questioningly.

“I wan’ your cock now. No prep,” you scowled, strands of hair sticking out messily. Seungcheol frowned.

“I need to-”

“I’m wet enough, please, been thinkin’ ‘bout this since-..” you cut yourself off with a frustrated sigh, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. Seungcheol couldn’t help but smile at how fucked out you were already, so precious, all beautiful and naked and womanly.

“You sure?” he asked, voice matching the depth of the thunder. You nodded eagerly: “Please, please-”

“Okay,” he murmured, sticky hand leaving your burning pussy in favor of pressing it against the underside of your thigh. At the command of his strong hands, your body folded in half and the realization of your position had you crying out pathetically. “Anything for my beautiful baby.”

My. His. The word choice had you clenching around nothing, all spread out for him while he lined his pretty, red cock up with your entrance.

“Gonna feel real full in a minute, yeah?” he said absently, watching intently at how your pretty pussy was splayed out and ready and aching for him, mind reeling at the sight of you and the smell of you and how you felt under his hands.

And suddenly it was there - a mountain of pressure building around the head of his cock as it pushed inside, bursting when he pushed in a little further, until he was fully nestled inside. Seungcheol was not unaffected, body curling over yours animalistically with a deep, throaty groan. You, too, had to squirm and moan wantonly, as your body shone under the bulb.

“You’re so tight, pretty,” Seungcheol managed, face scrunched up, as his pelvis met your pubic bone. His hands gripped your shaking legs once more, fully folding you in half and you cried as the movement invited him further inside, feeling him brush the spongy spot inside you.

“Feel s’good!” you moaned, even as he hadn’t moved yet, and Seungcheol’s hands squeezed you in response.

Experimentally (perhaps fearful, as you had rushed into it without preparation), Seungcheol thrust shallowly and was pleased at your broken cry, so he did it again and then again, and then he was building up a rhythm and your sultry moans were slipping through the cracks of the hut and bouncing off the walls of Aluralura mountain and echoing twenty times over.

There was nothing sweet about the pace of Seungcheol’s hips. He was pistoning in and out with an impressive agility, huffing over your folded body. It was desperation; the way your nails raked over his back and his sloping arms, and sweet, little whimpers and your pussy choking his cock.

“Sweetest, prettiest-” he squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, stomach caving inwards and clenching. “Fuck, cutest, little princess being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Love your cock,” you babbled, “Love- love your cock, love you.”

The words slipped out as if they were nothing, but their meaning was solidified by your raking hand sneaking up to his neck and pulling him down into another sloppy kiss. Tongues melding and spit trickling down your chin as he hummed into your mouth in the most wonderful way.

“Love you, too. Pretty, funny, sweet girl-”

“A-ah, ‘m gonna cum soon,” you warned, voice nothing but a breath, and your face pleasured, scrunched up in the dead of night. Your stomach was a well of pressure.

“I know, baby, I know. Squeezing me so tight,” he soothed, hands running up and down the plush underside of your thighs, as his hips continued their unrelenting pace. “Come on, cum on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Seungcheol-” a string of curses and his name followed as your pussy clenched one last hard time and your cum seeped out around his thick, veiny length.

Holding his own orgasm at bay, he clenched his jaw and gritted out: “Where d’you want my cum?”

“Inside!” you mewled, overstimulated and sore, and legs still pressed to your chest, clammy and slick.

Seungcheol would’ve made a snarky remark was he not already cumming at your words, white seed painting your insides and spilling out around his softening length. He thrust a couple more times, relishing in the sounds of your fucked-out moans before he’d emptied himself, and he dropped down beside you.

Due to the nature of a one-person bed, you and Seungcheol were both pressed close to one another, covered in sweat. Your panting, huffing breaths synchronized and you stared into each other's eyes, all wild and blushed.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, brought back to reality by a distant calling owl. You were still in the park, you realized - not some other pleasure dimension like one may have thought. Seungcheol smiled giddily.

You looked out into the wasteland, and your eyelids and limbs (draping over Seungcheol’s big, pretty body) were suddenly heavy. You yawned.

“D’you think we have to stay up anymore?”

Seungcheol watched you gauging the pinelands with starry eyes. “You can go to bed,” he offered gently, “I’ll stay up and make sure the storm’s over.”

“Are you sure?” you mumbled, but you were already settling into the domes of his chest, closing your eyes. Seungcheol looked at you and thought you were adorable.

“Yeah.”

“Can you stay here?”

“Yeah.”

“Can your dick stay inside me?”

This prompted a laughter blooming all the way from his chest, where your cheek bunched up against the skin. His arm was wrapped around your back.

“Sure, baby.”

You mumbled something like ‘okay’ or ‘good’ or ‘thank you’, and you drifted off into sleep with his arms around you, and when Seungcheol was certain the storm had passed, he nuzzled his head into your hair and dozed off himself.

At the swimming red sky of dawn, your eyes pried open to see Seungcheol already awake, still wrapped around you.

Nonchalantly (that is to say: as if your chest was not bursting with glee), you nodded your head over to the window behind him:

“Is that not a black-billed cuckoo?!”

And Seungcheol thought that maybe you and him could find birds together elsewhere too.

#svt smut #seventeen smut #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #seungcheol angst #svt angst #seventeen angst #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol smut #svt x you #seventeen x you #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x y/n #angst #smut

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the-lonelybarricade · 9 months ago

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TheLonelyBarricade Feysand Masterlist

All works excluding drabbles are avilable on AO3

🌶️= Smut/Works with explicit content

A Court of Faded Dreams Masterlist🌶️ - acotar rewrite/timetravel fic. (WIP)

Darling, Let's Run 🌶️ - Cat!Rhys and his general trickery (Completed)

As the River Flows Masterlist 🌶️ - Regency Feysand with a magical fated mates twist (completed)

Till Death Do Us Part Masterlist - A slice of life chronicalling the adventures Grim!Rhys and his reluctant wife Feyre (WIP)

Queen of Thieves Masterlist 🌶️ - Con-artist Feyre makes an ill-placed bet with the High Lord of the Night Court (WIP)

Take My Hand, Wreck My Plans Masterlist 🌶️ - Modern AU where Feyre gets pregnant from a one-night stand with a violet eyed stranger (WIP)

We Bleed the Same Masterlist 🌶️ - An acotar retelling where we cut out the feylin love story entirely (WIP)

The Other Side of the Apocalypse 🌶️ - A canonverse AU following human Rhys and Feyre as they journey through all seven courts (WIP)

Canon:

Hate Me If It Helps 🌶️ - Feysand angsty sex pollen fic.

The Most Magnanimous High Lord 🌶️- Rhys gives Feyre a reading lesson

Five Times the Beast Was Subdued (and the One Time It Wasn't) 🌶️ 🌶️ - Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 - Feysand beast form, monsterfucking, breeding kink filth

ACoMaF Wedding Scene - Canon compliant Feysand wedding scene.

The Chains That Bind Us - Feysand are married and Rhysand’s mating bond snaps w/ someone else.

When The Glass Shatters - Feysand are married and Feyre’s mating bond snaps w/ someone else.

A Conversation At Dawn - Rhys takes a quiet moment to reflect with his mother.

Just Can't Prove It - Feyre meets a stranger on a flight

All By Design - What if Isaac Hale was Rhys all along?

AU:

It’s Nice to Have a Friend 🌶️ - part 1 ⟡ part 2 - Modern AU best friends to lovers/accidental kiss.

Ten Past Five 🌶️ - plotty Feysand NYE meet cute

Snow on the Beach 🌶️🌶️ - Daddy kink, Feysand join the mile high club

Can’t Keep My Hands to Myself 🌶️🌶️ - Part 1 ⟡ Part 2 - Feysand Sugar Daddy AU

The Music of the Night 🌶️🌶️- Demon!Rhys visits Feyre in her dreams (dub-con)

Violent Delights 🌶️🌶️ - Feysand vampire smut (dub-con)

Be a Doll, Darling🌶️🌶️ - Feyre's Sex Doll comes to life (dub-con)

Cakes & Cupid - Birthday party meet-cute. (Modern AU)

Scaring Is Caring - Halloween themed meet-cute. (Modern AU)

Arrowmusings B-day Present - Lucien x Rhys x f!reader fluff (Modern AU)

Long Story Short - Feyre gets stood up in a restaurant. (Modern AU)

The Dating Game - Modern fake couple AU. (Modern AU)

The Outlier - part 1 ⟡ part 2 - Timetravel fluff / university AU. (Modern AU)

A Letter Never Sent - Christmas fluff (Modern AU)

Caught Up In You - Rhysand Celebrity AU (Modern AU)

Don't Be a Jerk (It's Christmas) - Coffee Shop Christmas fluff (Modern AU)

Down the Water Well - Eldritch Horror Vibes AU

if you ever think you got it wrong - modern hurt/comfort friends to lovers

Good Morning, Darling - Feysand & baby Nyx fluff

Behind You - Batboy Snowball fight featuring Nyx

Like An Illyrian - Rhys and baby Nyx fluff

No One Has to Know What We Do - vaguely smutty angst

Every Time I Look at You, It's Like the First Time - Feysand fluffy proposal

Guess I’ll just stumble on home to my cats - Feyre drunk at a party

#Woke up and decided to clean up my masterlists #if I missed something please let me know haha #feysand #feysand fic #feysand fanfic #feysand fanfiction #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre

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tootoomanycats · 5 months ago

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CHAPTER 1 - That Bastard (A Kakashi x Reader Romance)

Summary: Kakashi is tasked with investigating a visitor whose peculiar behavior reveals deep grief over Jiraiya's recent death. Over three days, Kakashi discovers you are the beloved author of a series he has eagerly awaited updates on for over a year. Struggling with writer's block since losing your friend, the unexpected interaction sparks a connection that rekindles inspiration. As you both navigate the shared sorrow and newfound romance, its stands to be realized that healing and creativity may be closer than you imagined.

Warnings for THIS chapter: None

Master List

Pairings: Kakashi/Reader hinted at past Jiraiya/Reader

Word Count: 1,965 Words

Ao3 Link

Warning for this Story:

Reader is a smutty romance author

There will be smut

There will also be hate on Icha-Icha, trust me its for the plot

Please note that mention of Jiraiya's death is talked about, but its not super angsty. Think more comedy and light heartedness.

It is not specified what sexual power dynamics will happen during the smut.

Authors Notes: I want to start off by saying that the death date for Jiraiya is not something I just randomly chose, but is the date that “Episode 133: The Tale of Jiraiya The Gallant” was release on October 29th 2009 for viewers to be absolutely heart broken over. As hard as I tried to hunt for a last name, it seems that The Great Toad Sage was appropriate at coming up short for a real last name. Secondly yes there is smut in this story and it will have its own entire chapter. I am practicing on writing short stories and I hope to make this story happen in three chapters! So hold on to your hats folks because chapter two is where the fun and tension begins! Also please remember that fanfic authors live off of Likes, Kudos and Comments filled with conversation and praise. Have you fed your author today?

Chapter 1 - That Bastard

The receptionist nervously pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, the lenses reflecting the harsh fluorescent lights of the office. Her fingers trembled slightly as she handled the certificate, her eyes darting between the official document and your anxious face. The confused expression you wore made it clear that the news you were about to receive was entirely unexpected.

“I’m sorry, miss,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sympathy. “He passed just last year.” With a sad sigh, she extended the document towards you, her gaze dropping to avoid your eyes.

You scoffed in disbelief, gripping the certificate tightly, your knuckles whitening as you shot an exasperated look at the young woman behind the desk. Sure, it had been months since you last received a letter from him, but for him to go through all this just to avoid his work and you? It seemed absurd, even for him. He had always been elusive, skirting responsibilities and commitments, but faking his own death? That was a new low. You could already imagine the confrontation: finding him and giving him the earful of the century for this elaborate ruse.

But as your eyes drifted down to the neatly typed words on the paper, a chill ran down your spine, freezing you in place. The breath caught in your throat, and the room seemed to blur around the edges as you read the stark, unyielding truth.

There it was, in bold, unforgiving letters accompanied with the coroners official stamp sealing the grim reality:

Jiraiya ‘The Great Toad Sage’

Birth: November 11 Death: October 29th

You read it, and then reread it.

Your hands clenched the edges of the stiff paper, the rough texture and filigreed corners confirming its authenticity. The coroner's red stamp and the doctor's signature beneath it further solidified the harsh reality. Desperately, you scanned the document for any clue, any sign that it wasn't real, that this was some elaborate mistake.

In the end, it was fruitless.

He was gone.

Your muscles twitched, starting with your upper lip, causing the skin on your nose to wrinkle slightly. Your eyebrows furrowed harshly, deepening the lines you so hated in the middle of your forehead. The sound of your teeth clenching and the click of your jaw echoed through your head, reverberating painfully in your mind. In a swift motion, you looked up at the ceiling, refusing to let the stinging tears fall. As the square and dotted ceiling tiles came into focus, you took a long, deep breath before screaming out.

"THAT BASTARD!"

It was the receptionist's gasp that jolted you back to reality. A quick glance over your shoulder revealed a line of people had formed, their shocked expressions mirroring her own. Embarrassment burned at the tips of your ears as you handed back the paper, mumbling a quick apology before turning to leave the office building. If asked, you would lie and say you walked calmly to the doors you had entered through, but the truth was you ran so fast you were sure an outline had been left behind where you had stood.

The sliding doors opened to reveal a sun glaring down from its high, centered position, large, beautiful white clouds climbing into the stratosphere and sprinkling across the sky. A cool, light breeze carried the scent of blooming wildflowers planted around the streets, where butterflies fluttered lazily. It really was the most perfect-looking day.

"What a shit day to find out your friend’s dead," you grumbled, kicking at a loose pebble on the sidewalk. "Should be raining, dark, and freezing cold. How is someone supposed to mourn in this?"

—

It had been hours since you found out he was gone, and in that time, you had managed to get quite a few steps in. You walked the entire perimeter of the village three times, wandering into multiple retail shops like an apparition. Dragging your feet around and back out to the streets, you missed the uncomfortable glances from shop workers each time you reentered, your pale skin, swollen eyes, and red nose telling the story of your grief.

It was only when the ache in your feet grew too loud to ignore that you finally looked up from the ground. The moon had started to rise, casting a soft glow as the sky darkened into night, and a few stars blinked into view, timidly announcing their presence. Throughout the long walk, you had oscillated between softly sniffling and bawling your eyes out, depending on how populated the area was around you.

A particularly large sniffle brought a warm, aromatic smell wafting into your numbed senses, causing a growl to resonate from your stomach. With that one sense coming back to life, it felt as though the rest of your body seized the opportunity to make its grievances known. A headache, born of dehydration and hunger, throbbed from the base of your shoulders up into the juncture where your neck bones met your skull. The pressure in your sinuses only added to the headache's intensity. Your knees creaked with each step, and sharp pain shot through your shins.

Turning your head, you followed your nose toward the source of the enticing smell. You found a small ramen stall with only six bar seats, all of them empty. Your body moved before your mind registered what was happening, and you found yourself sitting in the low light of the intimate stall. The ache in your feet lightened as you settled onto the soft, well-worn cushion of the seat, the leather creaking gently under you as your hips adjusted to a more comfortable posture.

Having a moment before someone from the back noticed a customer, you took the opportunity to lean both elbows on the bar and unceremoniously plopped your tired, puffy face into your open palms. A groan formed in the back of your dry throat as the pressure from your hands helped alleviate some of your persistent headache. You rocked your skull up and down, the motion dragging and pulling at the overly tight muscles of your brow, cheeks, and jaw, coaxing them to relax slightly.

“Welcome In!”

An overly cheerful voice caught you off-guard. Peeking between your index and middle fingers, you saw a simple menu being held out for your perusal. It listed only three basic ramen bases, accompanied by a longer list of sides and extras that could be added on. Sitting up straight, your back popping and cracking as it straightened, you gently reached out to accept the menu and examined it further. Glancing up at the older gentleman who had handed it to you, you offered a grateful nod. It must have been painfully obvious how exhausted you appeared, judging by the sympathy in his smile before he turned back to his ingredient preparations.

Returning your focus to the menu, your shoulders slumped at the reflection staring back from its laminated surface. Raccoon-like makeup streaked from runny mascara, with red, puffy eyes peering out from beneath the smudged lines that once neatly adorned your eyelashes. Lips cracked and parched from dehydration framed a deep-set frown that seemed permanently etched on your face. Dear god. Even the meticulously styled hair you had spent hours on that morning now resembled a rat's nest.

You were definitely not looking forward to trying to untangling that later.

Another growl rumbled from your stomach, louder this time, making its presence known to those nearby. Sitting down seemed to intensify the sensation of hunger, especially being so close to the source of that tantalizing aroma, which only amplified your craving.

Turning back around, the worker asked if you were ready to order, and without hesitation, you placed your order: an extra-large bowl with double portions of ramen, soaked eggs, cheese, and noodles. The man nodded approvingly and swiftly went to work, knowing you needed the food desperately.

Once the steaming bowl of nourishment was placed in front of you, you attacked it with ferocity. The hot broth warmed your insides, and the new influx of calories and nutrients began to revive your depleted body. As you ate, tears welled up once more, dripping into the broth below, mixing with the savory flavors.

Kakashi remained perched in the tree just behind Ichiraku Ramen, silently observing the individual he had been ordered to track. The briefing with Tsunade had been brief and to the point, providing minimal information gathered so far. A few shop workers had voiced concerns about a suspicious person entering their shops multiple times throughout the day, raising fears of a potential thief. Additional updates from the front gate security confirmed sightings of a woman walking the village perimeter around the same time as the suspicious guest at the shops.

With most other ninja occupied on missions or assisting with preparations for a possible attack, there were only a few available to gather more intelligence and determine whether this person posed a threat to the village's safety. Kakashi sighed, recalling how the Hokage had emphasized his role in handling this assignment. The others available were still in training, yet to embark on their first mission.

So far, the person in question had appeared to be a mess, but Kakashi had yet to observe any signs of truly worrisome behavior other than the constant crying.

Even while eating.

Kakashi watched from his perch as you placed a significantly larger sum of payment onto the table, easily three times the price of the meal. You were speaking with Teuchi, the owner of Ichiraku Ramen, who bowed repeatedly and tried to return the excess money. With an exhausted smile, you shook your head and instead asked a question that the ninja couldn't make out. Teuchi responded while pointing in a specific direction, waving kindly as you began to walk down the empty, dimly lit street as directed.

The night had settled over the village, casting long shadows and a quiet stillness broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. The usual night time sleepiness made itself know as he adjusted his position in the tree, body starting to protest keeping still for too long. All while keeping a careful eye on you.

The empty streets amplified every sound – the soft shuffle of your footsteps, the distant hoot of an owl, the creak of a sign swaying in the breeze. Kakashi shadowed you discreetly, blending into the darkness with practiced ease. He noted the way you glanced around nervously, as if expecting shadows to come to life.

As you turned another corner, Kakashi's keen senses picked up on a faint murmur of conversation ahead. He narrowed his visible eye, maintaining a safe distance while ensuring he didn't lose sight of you. Whatever your mission was, Kakashi knew he had to remain vigilant. As odd as this stake out was becoming.

Following closely behind, he watched as you turned back and forth through multiple blocks until you came to a stop in front of one of the few hotels in Konoha. Ringing the front desk bell, you completed the transaction with the attendant and received a key. Luckily it was easy to observe through the few windows of the stairwell as you ascended to the top floor. Luck again on his side as the windows of the room you had chosen, faced the tall tree where Kakashi was already positioned.

Entering the room in total darkness, it was easy to follow where you walked inside when a lamp was turned on next to the single bed. He chuckled when you unceremoniously fell onto the bed, passing before your head even hit the pillow. The bedside lamp, clothing, and shoes were still on as you drifted off. Peacefully unaware, the ninja outside disappeared from thesite for the evening.

#kakashi smut #kakashi x reader #kakashi sensei #hatake kakashi #kakashi hatake #kakashi

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dazed--xx · 2 years ago

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One More Time Masterlist

Post date: April 7, 2023

Member: Felix x reader

Trigger warnings: toxic relationships, ANGST, break up, death in many forms, suicide attempts, Groundhog Day effect, smut, strong language, mentions of vocal nodules, grim reaper, etc(more will be added as the story progresses)

A/N: so I absolutely love the Kdrama One More Time and this is 100% based on that. It’s also called the day after we broke up. Please watch the show it’s really great honestly it’s like really raw and angsty and just my cup of tea anyway I hope you guys anticipate this coming out soon. Also it’s not my line divider I did not make it and I reblogged the creators post with the one I used so please like their post please.

What happens when you fall out of love with the one you loved the most? Lee Felix’s star is rising, but his love for his band is fading. He’s growing more and more tired of his girlfriend, and is excitedly prepared to breakup with her when something happens that changes their fate. As Felix wakes up the next day things begin to seem oddly familiar, from the telemarketer call to the slight run-in with his landlords thugs, He quickly realizes that October 4th is happening all over again. Using the opportunity to his advantage Felix spends his repeating day, basking in the glory soon he misses the band he once found happiness with and wonders what becomes of his girlfriend he continuously broken up with during his time warp. When Felix soon discovers his girlfriend’s fate at the end of each day, his world shifts and the once happy free memory of the time warp becomes a slow personal hell for him. As the torturous day continues to repeat itself all Felix can wonder is will he ever get to see October 5th?

Episode Guide

Character list

Episode 1: Lee Felix, vocalist of the band, One More Time, prepares to confess his love to his girlfriend Y/N. Seven years later, he’s bored, broke, and annoyed by it all; luckily, he’s found a way to get everything he’s ever wanted

Episode 2: From the spam phone call to the meeting with an entertainment company representative, everything seems to be an odd repeat of yesterday for Felix.

Episode 3: After countless days of excessive spending, partying and gambling, Felix finally begins to wonder how his other band members and Y/N are doing.

Episode 4: Determined to change how the day ends, Felix tries to avoid anything that could go wrong and decides it’s a perfect time to take Y/N on an sporadic adventure

Episode 5: Seven Years Ago, Felix and his band have their first public performance when Y/N becomes their first audience member. Meanwhile, Y/N contemplates her relationship with Felix.

Episode 6: Y/N makes a deal with the grim reaper, Felix continues to try to change how the day ends to no avail, leaving him defeated and devastated

Episode 7: Y/N grows ever more tired of Felix’s stoic unloving attitude toward her and walking on eggshells until he eventually breaks up with her. Felix decides he’d rather die than watching Y/N suffer once more. The grim reaper tells Felix how he can stop the time warp.

Episode 8: Again and Again Y/Ns heart gets broken, while Felix continues to work on his surprise to make Y/N happy once more.

#lee felix angst #stray kids angst #skz angst #felix fluff #stray kids smut #lee felix smut #lee felix fluff #Felix series #felix x reader #lee felix x reader

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eilaafterhours · 11 months ago

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Take a Picture [Grim | Casper]

Content: AFAB Reader, Lingerie, Men in Lingerie, Banter, Nude Photos, Dom/Sub Undertones, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Smut, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None (AFAB)

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Remember:I’ll block you if I catch your ageless or under age (not 18+) ass in my activity :)

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries.

You and Casper had a very active sexual life. Once he was here, and once you had your hands on him, well—Simply put, the two of you got your fill of each other, and yet it was never enough.

This, however, was new to the two of you, and you're very interesting on learning just how this thought got into Casper's head.

You ran your fingers over the mesh fabric, then paused as they caught onto some loose ribbon. A smile slowly crept across your face.

"Prefect..." A wonderful plan had devised itself, and you were absolutely ready to enact it.

All you had to do was hold out and wait your turn.

Which proved to be harder than you imagined.

After you had put the outfit on and did a little bit of dolling up, you exited the bathroom. Of course, you knew that he'd also be dressed up—that was the whole point of this.

The outfit was simple—so very simple. It was a black halter dress with an open back and very high slit on both sides, the thin straps of a black thong peaked through the slits, and you added a black leather garter belt for one of his thighs.

But gods, you always seemed to forget just how beautiful Casper really was.

The black contrasted his pale skin, making his skin glow (and glitter? Did he use your shimmer mist?). Especially at his thighs and curves of his hips, both the thong and garter belt, hugging the flesh nicely.

You bite your lip. How could you last with this in front of you? You wanted to take him right now. Ruin him just like you know he wants, and then take your pictures. Actually, maybe you could—

"Sunshine?" He called, snapping you out of your deprived thoughts. "Are you already thinking of throwing in the towel?" One of his fingers found the waistband of the thong, pulling on it, then letting it snap sinfully against his skin. "I know you're trying really hard."

You narrowed your eyes at that.

Big talk meant big action in this household. And now the two of you had reached the climax: seeing just who would break first.

And you'd be damned if it were you.

You smiled, making your way to him. "I'm fine, but—" Your hand ran through his hair, exposing his red ears. "You'll never be able to hide from me."

And then you were gone, pulled away from him and sitting on the edge of the bed. "I'll even let you go first—put me how you want me, Casper."

He took a deep breath as he picked up the camera.

"On your knees, lean back on your hands, stick your chest out." His order was succinct, and his tone left no room for any more banter. You did what you were told, adjusting yourself as he commanded.

Click! "Ass up."

Click!

Then he hesitated, his eyes flicking away from you. "...Lean up against the headboard, spread your legs and..."

You knew where he was going, but you wanted to hear him say it. So you waited, playing with a stray loose thread.

"And spread your cunt."

A spread through your body. You were expecting pussy—not cunt. And the way his voice deepened had your cunt clenching.

You adjusted yourself a bit, finding a more comfortable position. Then your fingers glided down to your pussy and—

"You act unbothered, and yet your pussy drools for my cock."

You squeezed your eyes shut, legs slamming shut.

You heard him chuckle. "That won't do." He moved closer, leaning down next to your ear. "Open or I'll get something to keep them open."

His warm breath sent a shiver down your spine that had you close off more, but when his hand tapped your thigh, you did as you were told, finally spreading yourself like he wanted.

"Eyes on me." Your watery gaze met his unwavering one.

Click!

You breathed a sigh of relief, removing your hand and letting your legs fall shut.

That was...a lot more than you were expecting.

Being the good partner he was, Casper was at your side. "You did so good for me."

"I know." You nuzzled into him. "I just forgot how intense you can get..."

He pressed a kiss against your cheek. "Interesting that you say forgot instead of admitting that you enjoyed it."

"I mean, I did, but…" There was not "but". You liked it, and he knew it, and know that he knew for certain.

You'd be in a lot more trouble down the line. Oh well, that'll be then and this is now.

And now, it was your turn.

You started off easy. Your first picture of him matched your own first picture.

Click!

For the second, you had him move to the end of the bed, and pull the skirt of the dress to the side. Which exposed his very prominent erection and small wet spot.

You smirked. "You look ready to bust—you're already leaking! Do you think you'll be able to hold off until you get inside me?"

He huffed. "...of course." So the answer was maybe.

Well, it was no, but he didn't need to know that.

"I mean, I did, but..." There was not "but". You liked it, and he knew it, and know that he knew for certain.

You'd be in a lot more trouble down the line. Oh well, that'll be then and this is now.

And now, it was your turn.

You started off easy. Your first picture of him matched your own first picture.

Click!

"Pull the thong to the side."

He raised a brow. "That's it?"

You nodded.

"I don't trust you." But did it regardless, hissing as the fabric brushed over the head of his cock.

Click!

He blinked, obviously caught off guard by the sudden flash.

"I wasn't ready!" He frowned.

You smiled at him, moving closer. "Yes, but your face was so pretty. I couldn't help it." You dropped in front of him, "How about one extra picture?" You held out the camera to him.

"...you are insatiable." And yet he still took the device from your hand.

"You're one to talk." You flattened your tongue and licking from the base to the head. "Make sure to get a good shot. You've only got one."

You were going to play with him, maybe edge him a bit, but he was reached his release quicker than either of you expected.

You at least had some sort of warning, though.

"Wait fuck—!"

You squeezed your eyes shut as hot ropes of cum splattered across your face. You took a moment to catch your breath, ready to stand up and clean your face, but—

"Open your mouth. Wide." You weren't expecting him to speak, just take the picture and be done with it. But then something hot and heavy was placed on your tongue, and you knew why.

Click!

You gave him one last good suck before pulling off him with a pop.

"Seven Hells...you will be the death of me."

"My head game's so strong it'll kill you? Damn." You tapped his thigh. "Now, help me to the bathroom, please."

And that was supposed to be the end of it, but of course it wasn't because it was never enough. Somehow, after helping you clean your face, he placed you on the counter, shoving the camera (of course he brought it in here) into your hands bullying himself between your legs, and returned the favor tenfold.

He made you squirt. Your juices sprayed him, his clothes, the counter and ran down the cabinets. And then he lifted his head up, giving you a full view of his soaked face.

Click!

This one was your favorite.

"Fuck me..." You swallowed harshly, placing your hands on your shaking thighs.

"Should I be worried? Was I that good?" He said it casually, cleaning his face, as if he didn't give some of his best head on record.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Fuck you."

"Actually," Casper pulled off the counter, easily sliding you on his waiting cock. "I'd rather fuck you."

You whined, head hiding in his neck. "S-sensitive..." But that didn't stop you from rolling your hips. "You owe me a picture."

"Of course, of course." You knew that tone, he was plotting.

Oh well, it wasn't like you also weren't doing the same thing. If he wanted more pictures, he could have him.

But you'd also get what was yours.

100% if anything else needs to be tagged, let me know because I've just been released from the haze of this work.

Anyway, I saw these

and they made me lose my fucking mind and I had to stop writing another piece to write this one.

AND THEN I GOT POSSESSED BECAUSE UMMMMMM WHAT IS THIS

DON'T ASK ME, I DON'T KNOW.

Masterlist

#eila ficlets #rated [e]lia for explicit: a date with death #a date with death smut #a date with death grim x reader smut #a date with death casper x reader smut #grim x reader smut #casper x reader smut #a death with death vn

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euphoricfilter · 1 year ago

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like crazy ~ part two [teaser]

read here

☆ﾟpart two of four

pairing(s): namjoon x reader, seokjin x reader, yoongi x reader, hoseok x reader, jimin x reader, taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || smut || angst || non-idol au || reincarnation au || friends to lovers || strangers to lovers || established relationships || regency era au || gang au || college au || slight yandere au? ||

summary: the story of how the universe sent you Namjoon

word count: estimated 9-10k

tags/ warnings: gang leader! namjoon, fluff, a lot more love, angst, namjoon is tatted up, death/ murder, mentions of blood, mentioned sex trafficking, mentioned drugs, obsessive relationship, smut in the forms of: dom/ sub themes— kinda mean-ish dom! namjoon, lots of hickies, spitting in a mouth :), biting, strangely feral sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), pull out method (again, don’t be stupid), doggy style, squirting, the briefest ass play, implied/planned aftercare!! because namjoon isn’t heartless

‘like crazy’ mini series masterlist || my main masterlist

🪐 🌠 ∘₊✧─── *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ───✧₊∘ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 💫

Namjoon was the epitome of obsession, it coursed through his veins just as much as blood did.

He was comparable to a magpie, though his form of treasure was delicate little beings like you that he liked to lock up. And watch as you dance for him behind the bars of a cage, eyes piercing into your very soul until it melts and he mends you back together again.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” Namjoon frowns, slouching back into his chair.

You lay the book over your chest, heart-wrenching deja vu tickling your insides. “It’s just work. The old lady that owns the place is lowering our pay”

Namjoon hums, “Why don’t you quit?” he takes off his glasses, hand running over his face.

“Quit?” you sit up, eyebrows furrowing, “I probably have enough saved for a couple of weeks but after that I’m done for. It’s not like I’m paying rent anymore”

Namjoon pushes himself to stand, slinking around his desk to stand before you, “That’s why I’m here. You don’t have to work anymore, I’ve got the both of us”

You shake your head, “Namjoon I can’t do that” you tell him, leaning into his touch as his thumb caresses your jaw.

“And why not?” He crouches down, head tilting in a way that is so very much Namjoon.

“It’s unfair on you. Plus, I’m capable of taking care of myself”

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “I know you are, but why have all the added stress when I’m more than happy to do this for us”

Some days Namjoon seemed awfully normal. Integrated perfectly into society, just like the rest of human kind. And some days you found it scary how ordinary he seemed when you knew of the things he did. He always seemed so in control of his own mind, thoughts easily articulated into convincing words, dressed proper, a kind smile.

It was unnerving how someone so perfect was so very much the evil that you fear as a child. The grim reaper who melts into the darkess, takes a life and thinks no more of that pitiful being’s existence as he stalks through the night ready to chew on another soul.

Maybe it was blissful ignorance that had chained you to him. If he were the being that men feared then it was only smart to latch onto him, to pretend he didn’t do all these bad things and let him squeeze his way into your heart. For you to be docile and quiet and everything he wanted from you. Even if his love hurt, thick shards of glass piercing their way into your heart and your mind and your body and your soul.

Release date: wednesday 31st of may @ 10pm BST

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shortkingvince · 6 months ago

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Fanfic Links

☁️ Fluff

🔞 Smut

🫂 Hurt/comfort

♥��Romantic

🍁Platonic

💚Can be read as either platonic or romantic

Genshin Impact

TBA

Twisted Wonderland

TBA

Obey Me

Solomon's Lovely Apprentice (Sub!Bottom!Solomon x Dom!Top!MC) 🔞❤️

Lego Monkie Kid

TBA

A Date with Death

Irresistible (Grim x gn reader) 🔞☁️♥️

Mystic Messenger

TBA

John Doe (Scopophobia Studios)

TBA

Stardew Valley

TBA

Zenless Zone Zero

TBA

The Arcana

TBA

Hazbin Hotel

TBA

Helluva Boss

TBA

Deadpool 3/Deadpool and Wolverine

TBA

Navigation

#fanfic #gn reader #male reader #a date with death #gender neutral reader #genshin impact #john doe #lego monkie kid #mystic messenger #obey me shall we date #obey me #fanfic link #fanfic links

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league-of-sam · 1 year ago

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As Grim as the Reaper | Simon 'GHOST' Riley PREQUEL

Ghost x Reader, Graves x Reader

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Phillip Graves x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

As Grim as the Reaper: Masterlist

Pushing the door open as quietly as you could, you found the house in darkness.

You had to take a deep breath before stepping inside, because this place...it didn't feel like home anymore. You didn't belong here anymore.

All of that just solidified the decision you'd come to over the last week.

The door shut behind you with a soft thud, and you lowered your bag to the floor. With silent steps, you made your way upstairs.

There was a thin layer of dust along the surfaces, evidence that Graves hadn't bothered with any of the housework in the week you'd been away. The bed was unmade, his clothes dropped around the room here and there, but he was nowhere to be found.

Somehow, that didn't make it easier.

It didn't take you long to pack the small amount of your belongings. It was only a small house, after all. Couldn't really justify owning much when the two of you were constantly moving. At least you had that.

You'd insisted on coming alone.

Laswell didn't want that, but she agreed after your stubbornness prevailed, opting to drop you off and pick you up in an hour. That was surely enough time to pack everything away and leave.

Leave the house.

Leave him.

In all honestly, it had barely taken you thirty minutes to pack your things, and so after bringing your bags to the door, you decided to make one more round of your little home...house.

You smiled, tasting the salt of a lone tear as you glanced at the pictures hung on the wall. Pictures from your first date, the weekends spent in his hometown in Texas, multiple snapshots of your time together, right down to the night you got engaged.

Everything in the last three years, just gone.

Trudging downstairs, you moved to turn off the last lamp, wiping a tear from your face until a voice stopped you.

"Goin' somewhere?"

You jumped, squinting into the darkness, where you could make out the shape of Graves, sitting on the armchair, looking at your bags.

Fuck.

"I- uh, I-"

"You were just gonna up and leave, huh? After everything?"

"Phillip, please just-"

He stood up, cutting you off, "Where the fuck have you been for the last week?! I've been worried sick!"

What?

That's what he called worried?

You scoffed as he approached you, "Worried? Where was that a month ago? Two months ago? Where the fuck was that when you all but told your fucking team you'd cheat on me?"

Your voice raised with every word, finger poking into his chest.

"I didn't mean it like that, you didn't even give me chance to explain myself!"

"You think you deserved that? I reckon 'never say never, y'all!' is pretty fucking self-explanatory, you fuckin' prick."

Your words were venomous, and they stung him with surprise. Never did he think you'd speak to him like this, where was his sweet girl? His little Reaper?

"The fuck is goin' on with you, huh? We're getting married and here you are sneakin' round the house packin' bags."

You were silent.

Yeah, you'd ignored his every attempt to reach out to you.

But he'd abandoned you in your most vulnerable moments, mocked you to comrades, pulled away when you needed him most.

"Why are you acting like this is out of the blue?" You asked quietly, "Don't you remember that night? I asked you if we'd be okay, and you couldn't give me a real answer."

He pushed a frustrated hand through his hair, because you were right.

"Baby, look, I know I've not been the best boyfriend but we can work this out, right? You can be my perfect girl again, my little Reaper."

He reached for your hand, but you yanked it away.

"That's the thing, you're not listening! I'm not gonna be that person anymore! Not after what happened. I don't want to be! And you can't seem to get that. I can't be with someone who refuses to even try to understand where I'm coming from."

"But you can get back there, right? Therapy is helping, and the sooner we're married and you can leave the force the better."

"Uh, what? Leave the force?"

Graves looked at you, mirroring your confused expression, "Well, yeah. How else are we supposed to build a home and raise a family?"

"Oh my god." You laughed, bitterness dripping from your lips. "You cannot be serious."

He continued to give you that look, the corner of his lips twitching as he took in your body language.

"Jesus fucking Christ...God, you're no fucking different than any other man that's doubted me my whole career. How did I not see it before..."

"What?"

"That's what you thought, really? We'd get married and I'd become a stay-at-home mum, have your dinner waiting for when you got home? Like a good little wife?"

He blinked, stepping to you once more, "W-well, yeah, my ma did it for my old man, that's how I was raised. And you can't fuckin' blame me for wantin' you out after what happened!"

You rolled your eyes, stepping further away, "I don't want to be that person! I don't want to be some perfect little trophy wife."

"I can promise you that life with me would not be like that, baby. We're perfect-"

"You're still not listening to me!" You yelled, pushing hair from your face, "Fuck me, you're insufferable!"

"And you're a fuckin' liability! You got people killed, (Y/N), you can't still think that Special Ops is where you belong."

Tears sprung to your eyes, falling down your cheeks quickly, "How could you say that to me?"

"C'mon, (Y/N)." He sighed, "You know as well as me, Laswell, Shepherd, the rest of the team...you know it was your fault. S'why you're actin' the way you are."

Ouch.

"You...y-you think my grief is an admission of guilt? You think me grieving losing my fucking family is me knowing it was my fault? Don't you think I've blamed myself enough?"

"You can't let go!" He yelled, "It's been almost two months, (Y/N), and you still won't let me close, we've not even had sex-"

"Oh...my god. Oh my god. No. Fucking no. I'm not listening to this." You spat, tears streaming, dripping from your chin to the hardwood floor.

"You fuckin' need me. You're gonna stay and we're gonna work on this shit and we're gonna get back on track and we're gonna get married, baby. It's gonna be fine."

He stepped forward once more, his hands coming to land on your waist, pulling you to him as his head moved to the crook of your neck, placing soft kisses.

"Okay, princess?" He hummed, "It's gonna be alright."

He smirked against your skin as he felt your body involuntarily lean into him, and heard the sigh that left your lips.

You wanted to give in...fuck, you wanted more than anything to believe him, to believe the words he was spewing to you, believe everything was going to be alright. But it wasn't, there's no way it could be. Not after everything that had happened.

And he couldn't fix that.

No one could.

"N-no."

It came out as an almost-silent whisper as you tried to push him from you.

"Shhh, it's alright. I'll make things better, okay? We're gonna be just fine."

You grimaced as he continued to touch you, and you shoved him away violently, enough to make him stumble backwards.

"No!" You breathed heavily, "No. No! Not doing this, I can't do this anymore."

"You think you can leave me? Absolutely fucking not." He laughed, moving away from you as he ran a hand through his hair.

"You gonna stop me, Commander?" You challenged, taking a step back.

"I don't have to! 'Cause you see that ring on your finger? Means you're fuckin' mine, (Y/N). My fiancée, my wife...you're my girl."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, "I'm not property, Phillip! That was always your fucking issue, thinking you own me, I don't belong to you."

"Yet you're still wearing it! Left me high and fuckin' dry for a week and yet you still wear the ring I gave you."

You looked at your hand, the diamond blurring through your tears.

Why were you wearing it?

"Then I guess it'll just have to come off."

He turned to meet your gaze, face paling as your hands moved, "Don't you fucking dare-"

You pulled the ring off your finger, so harshly that it burned, leaving a red ring as it caught your knuckle.

Graves stepped forward from across the room, in an effort to stop you, but he wasn't quick enough, and as he moved toward you, you flung the ring with the same power as you'd throw your knives into an enemy.

The hiss he let out told you that you'd hit your mark.

The ring bounced, clattering into the coffee table behind him, and he looked to the ring, then back at you, a small bead of red liquid coming from the small gash along his cheek.

So, diamonds are sharp enough to cut.

"You...you, fuck! You fuckin' psycho!" he yelled, dropping to his knees to find the ring, holding a tissue to his face, "Why the fuck would you do that?!"

Any ounce of guilt you felt immediately dissipated, and with an angry furrow of your brows, wiping your nose on your sleeve, you picked up your bags, flinging the door open.

"Go fuck yourself, Phillip Graves. I'm done." You spoke lowly, whimpering as the words came from your mouth.

"Baby, no-"

He tried to speak, shooting up from the floor, but you were already gone. Already tossing your bags into Laswell's car by the time he swung open the door, yelling for you.

You ignored him, angrily wiping your face as you opened the car door.

Laswell looked to Graves, eyes widening when she saw the trickle of blood on his cheek, her gaze flicking to you.

"What happened?" She asked you, worry on her face.

"Just get in the car." You mumbled.

Graves started to move down the driveway, prompting her to hastily get into the car and start the engine. His yells were muffled through the glass, and you put a hand over your mouth to stifle your sobs.

Rubber burned as Laswell tore onto the road, leaving Graves standing and watching you leave him in a puff of smoke.

And that was that.

Done.

Over.

Alone.

And the loss of home hung over you like a blanket made from lead.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost fanart #call of duty #cod mw oc #cod mw2 #cod mwf2 #callofduty #gaming #cod mw19 #captain price #john mactavish #phillip graves #graves x reader #ghost x reader

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random-imagines-blog · 2 years ago

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Stunner {Bilquis x Reader Oneshot}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 4314 Summary: You, a smart, tough and suave female detective, are on the case of a series of missing men. Through your investigation you find ... her. Warnings: Obviously with Bilquis, there will be a bit of smut. Also sexist cops because fuck em.

Being a detective wasn’t an easy job. Nor was being a female detective. It was an all-boys club, even if they tried their best to make it seem like it wasn’t anymore. They might have taken down the ‘No Girls Allowed’ sign from their door but when you had stepped in, oh, there had been some looks. Guffaws. Disbelieving comments. Two of them had even went to the Chief to ask if there was a mistake in the paperwork. This new detective that they heard so much about, that was an expert in missing persons cases, couldn’t be a female. You couldn’t interview suspects, what if you were on your period and you got emotional? You couldn’t pick up clues, you might break a nail! You’ve heard it all. It was so boring, so blase. Making comments back didn’t garner any respect. Taking part in the banter. Even dressing totally professional in a male’s suit didn’t earn you anything other than a couple sniggers. It was your work that would do the only kind of talking that they would listen to.

Your first case was on the desk the morning that you arrived. You had assisted on a couple of other missing persons but this was the initial one that you were leading since moving to this city. You sat down at your desk with your hot cup of coffee, and read through it thoroughly. Four similar disappearances. Mr. Paunch, Mr. Murray, Mr. Earl and Mr. Hart. Two white men, one black, and one middle-eastern. One of the white-men was married with two children, the other one divorced, the black man was a widow and the middle-eastern one a young bachelor. Two of the men, the divorced and the widow, had spoken to people about having a date that night. That was the only connection that you could find between two of them. Nothing else was similar, apart from the city that they lived in. This large city, where it was easy to fall off of the radar, unfortunately. Since there were four reported, you assumed that there were many that weren’t - people who didn’t have those that were missing them.

They didn’t work anywhere near each other. They didn’t even work in the same sector. They weren’t members of any clubs, or legions. They didn’t even support the same sports teams! This whole date thing was the only thing that you had to go on. Unfortunately, the dating profiles were taken down around the time of death. There was no way to log in and see who they were talking to. Who they might have set up a date with. Like the technology just wiped them out of existence. Every call to get in contact with the company gave you the run around, and you ended up with absolutely nothing. It was a frustrating first couple of hours. You looked at the pictures of the men again - mostly on Mr. Murray, smiling with his arm around his wife. There’s a lot of things that you learn in this job. And one of them is that marriage doesn’t mean shit to people. The kind of grotesque things that a man will do without his wife knowing, only to then crawl back into bed with her, kiss her cheek and enjoy breakfast with his kids in the morning. The date angle was still speaking to you. Some sort of black widow. Murderesses were uncommon but not entirely unheard of.

You sent some documents from your computer to your cellphone. It was time to get out there in the field. There wasn’t anything in the files that was going to help you find these men. And you needed to get away from the smell of your colleagues, who were too busy blowing smoke up each other’s asses so smugly, they barely got any work done.

The last known location of Mr. Earl. The widower. It was a rather grim looking bar, but one where he spent his weekends, drinking with some buddies. He’d come in on a Thursday, the day before his date. That wasn’t common for him, no sir. It had struck the bartender as being out of the ordinary. She had talked to him that night. It was she who had learned that he was going on a date. And he was rather nervous about it. You sat on a bar stool, sipping on a ginger-ale from a straw since you didn’t want your lips to touch the glass, and interviewed her casually about it. She wasn’t seen as a suspect. She had an alibi for the whole weekend, working. But some folks just didn’t take kindly to be talked to by a detective.

“Did he go on dates often?” You asked, your phone recording the conversation on your lap. It was unlikely that this was ever going to come up in court as evidence, but you wanted it for your own documentation. To transcribe later into a word document and make notes about the tones of the voice, or any body language that the bartender, Heather, had while answering the questions.

“No, not since his wife died,” Heather shook her head. “I thought I’d be seeing him the night of, just to hear how it went but he never showed up.”

“So as far as you know, this was the first first date in months.”

“At least a year,” Heather corrected. “He and his wife used to come here too. Back before the new management turned it into such a dive. I remember him and Mary well, always sitting in that booth over there. I was happy for ‘im when he said he was seeing someone new. Someone he met on one of them dating apps.”

The dating apps. The ones that you had found evidence of left you at a dead end. Still no telling if the bachelor was on them, there was no trace anywhere. Which pointed to one inexplicable thing, another piece in the puzzle though you didn’t know where to put it. That someone very technologically gifted was hacking into these websites and deleting every trace of these men after they went missing. They were bound to screw up eventually. Everybody did. You just had to hope you’d find it before you had another missing person on your hands. Or worse, before you started to find bodies.

“Did he talk about who this woman was?” You asked. “Her name or - show you a picture of her?”

“It was some - African name. She was an immigrant or something. Her spelling sucked, he told me that. He used to be a teacher, you know, he caught onto that kinda thing,” Heather said, hands on the bar, thinking. You gave her a moment. She tried to remember but then shook her head. “The name’s not coming to me. It was somethin’ out there though, I know that much. He did show me a picture, but it was real quick. He couldn’t stop looking at it. Haven’t seen him so enamored since Mary.”

Finally. A couple of tidbits. It wasn’t that much help, but if it was a name that stuck out, that could come in handy. If this woman was hiding her identity, she would have gone with something common. Sarah, or Elizabeth, something that was everywhere and nondescript. You jotted down a note in your notepad. African name. Immigrant. Check into newcomers into the city. “That helps a lot actually, thank you. What do you remember of the picture? What did she look like? Do you remember anything in the background?”

“Like I said, it was real quick,” Heather said, watching as you wrote stuff down. She looked suspicious of you, but continued on. “She was real dark. That’s the only thing that I was able to really see. The background was uhh - it was ... red or something. Maybe pink. One of them colors. Made her skin stand out. And you know what I mean by dark, right?”

“I’m assuming you mean African American?”

“I mean further than that,” Heather said, picking up her cloth and made herself look busy. “Don’t take me as one of them racists just because I noticed her skin color. I ain’t one of them, people of every color is allowed to sit at my bar and have a drink, only the green of their money matters. But I noticed that she was dark. A lot of these African Americans that come in these days usually looked mixed with something. Hispanic. White. But this girl - she looked pure, right outta Africa. Other than that, I can’t tell you anything, it was only a quick glimpse.”

“I understand you perfectly,” You nodded. “Those details are going to help a lot in my investigation, thank you Heather.”

You asked a couple more questions. Did he say where he was going? Unfortunately not. She was going to text him the place before the date. Another note - she was dominating.

“She picked the place. Guess it’s near hers. But I didn’t catch onto the name of it. Somethin’ fancy, upscale, cause I guess she’s too good for this place,” Heather snorted. “Downtown or something. I don’t know. And she picked the time too, she picked everything. He was catching a lot of flack from the guys around here for that. Said he wasn’t bein’ the man.”

Heather did end up being a lot of help. You got quite a few notes from her, at least more so than you did with anybody else. Mr. Murray did mention something about a date, but not who or where, which could lead back to the dark-skinned woman.

Now here is where things got complicated. You were not at all prepared to put your own face on a dating app in the hopes that you would end up finding her. Or at the very least, making a list of women that might be the one that Heather had seen in the picture. Do you know how many dark skinned women there were in the city? Many. It would take a lot of sorting out, and that’s even if they had a bisexual profile. The missing men were all exactly that. Men.

And you certainly were not prepared to go asking one of the men on the force for a favor. To use their face for catfishing. The teasing would be horrible. And their egos. Just - no. No. And if this woman was somehow involved in the missing men, you didn’t want to get any of your friends in the city involved, lest they run into each other. You sighed and rubbed your temples, looking at the sign up screen on your phone. If only you could shapeshift, you thought with a laugh.

You put the phone down and opened up your laptop. You were running facial recognition software on the victims through the CCTV footage of the major streets in the downtown area from the night that Mr. Earl went missing, hoping you could at least find out what restaurant he had gone into. No results as of yet. You checked your email and saw the usual bullcrap filling up your spam. Newsletters from stores you shopped at once, the best food for your brain, the secret that dermatologists don’t want you to know, yadda yadda. Delete all. But as you went to close the tab, an advertisement for the very dating site that you were going to sign up for was on the side of the screen. Smiling faces of a couple that met on it, apparently. But they looked like people who would never need to go into a dating service. They were too good looking, almost like they were hired to....

The police database held photos of millions of people. A lot of them were mugshots. But there were quite a few that were just of people that could be thrown into a photo line up. Additional faces for a victim to go through and point out the suspect. If they could be used for that, then perhaps...

You went through the database. Put in the parameters of a man in his late forties, which seemed to be about the age of the four missing men. Too handsome, unbelievable as someone on a dating website. This one lived in the city, that didn’t feel right. Same thing as using a friend or another cop’s photo. They could run into each other. No, that one looked like he was too hopped up on drugs .... You found the perfect one. It looked like a identification photo, a bit bleak which made him look a little less handsome than he was, but he wasn’t too good looking either. A workplace sort of hot, in your opinion. Well, hopefully you and this woman had the same taste in men because this profile was the best way to lure her in and get her for questioning.

The best part was that this man, according to the short file, lived on the other side of the country. So you downloaded the photo, came up with the simplest but most realistic name that you could come up with, and created the dating profile. God, you hoped something came out of this. Your co-workers would never let you hear the end of it if they knew that you were using a dating app to try to find witnesses and suspects.

The last thing that you wanted was some call from Nev Schulman, so you only swiped right on the women that matched who you were looking for. There were a couple that fit the description, with beautiful names like Kamari, Hadiza and Onika. You swiped right on them, jotting down what details were in their profile while might help you to contact them later on. Restaurants that their pictures were taken in, things like that. But you stopped when you saw the most stunning woman that you had ever seen.

Bilquis.

Her picture was simple and yet - profound. Lit from one side, her chocolate skin took on a blue-black appearance in the shadow. Dark eyes that peered through the lens. Lips painted a purple that went so well with her skin tone. Long, glossy black waves that descended down her chest, and a bright red dress on that she somehow outshone. The background behind her seemed to be a wallpaper of some sort. Leafy. She stole the picture. You had a feeling just by looking at her that she was the one that you wanted to talk to. No, needed to talk to. Her profile was simple. Two words. Worship me.

Ethnic name, dark skin, dominating. Check check and check.

You swiped right as quickly as you could. And to your surprise, there was instantly a heart reaction and it took you to chat. She liked the look of your profile. Of the man whose face you were hiding behind. Three dots, Bilquis is typing, would decide your fate.

Bilquis had chosen the restaurant. It was upscale. It was expensive. You had gone in there earlier during the day, requesting the footage from their security cameras. The owner was a little stubborn, but you pushed right back, claiming that he was interfering in the investigation against four missing persons. And you would gladly stand outside of his business and let everyone walking in there know that. He gave in pretty quickly after that. And you had just enough time to go through footage from the night that Mr Earl had disappeared. He had been there. With Bilquis. Your hunch was right.

You only had just enough time because you had to get prepared. Undercover work. This was your first time, and it was at a place that was way too pretentious for your usual wardrobe, so you actually had to go shopping and buy a new dress. It cost a pretty penny. You’d be billing the department for that. Claim it a work expense. They owed you that much at least.

Wearing this new gown, you went to the location. You were seated at a fancy table. You made sure to say loudly that you were waiting for someone, just in case anyone was listening in. You weren’t. There was no way you were going to try to get anyone of those dolts that you called co-workers to act as a date. You ordered a glass of water, and perused the menu, trying not to choke at the prices of some of these meals. Thirty-five dollars for a salad. A single salad. Yeah, there was a bit of a lettuce shortage but that just seemed impractical.

Bilquis commanded attention. The scarlet dress that she wore wrapped around her body perfectly, accentuating the waist, the breasts, those hips. Her hair glided down like a waterfall. Her lips matched, plump and glossy. She was classy, and yet, she was oozing such sexuality. Your mouth went dry despite the water, despite having seen the pictures that she had posted, despite knowing that she might be a suspect in the case of four missing men. If it was because of her, you couldn’t blame them. Look at her. She was ethereal, not in an angel sort of sense but in something .... physical. Powerful. A forgotten Goddess of some kind.

She was seated down at a table near yours. She didn’t look happy. Her eyebrows were knitted together on her forehead when she saw that who she was here to meet had not yet come. She ordered herself a glass of wine. A rich, red wine. You looked up the name on the wine-list that had come with your menu. An expensive bottle. Of course, she looked like she would accept nothing but the best.

Eyes slowly went back to their tables once the spectacle was over. You though, you couldn’t help glancing her way over and over. The minutes were ticking by. Plates were brought out for other patrons, the smells arousing your senses. Your waitress returned, asking if you would like to order something while you wait. You asked for another water with lemon. That seemed to catch the beautiful woman’s attention. Her dark eyes looked over to you, before her entire face turned and you were caught by the stunning appearance of her features. The way that her skin caught the low lights. She seemed to glow.

“Bring her a glass of wine,” Bilquis said to the waitress before she was able to leave your table. “Bring it to my table. Come. Join me. It seems that men are fools tonight.”

“Aren’t they always?” You asked, thinking of your fellow detectives. But you obeyed. You got up from your table, feeling like you were entranced by her. You could not fight it, even if you wanted to. You were beginning to forget about the investigation, which only grew worse as you caught onto the deep, earthy, almost spicy smell of her perfume when you got in closer. Men were indeed fools, but this woman somehow had the ability to turn anyone into a fool. Including you.

You shouldn’t have been drinking. You were on the clock. But the wine went down smoothly. You could taste the sunshine that the grapes had grown under. It was intoxicating. Bilquis was asking you details about who you were meeting tonight, and it was tough not to come out with the truth. Details as vague as they could be. It played off well, like you were annoyed that you had been stood up. Refusing to waste anymore time on the man who couldn’t be bothered to show up. You asked the same questions. She gave the same vague answers.

“To women,” She said, raising her recently refilled glass.

She ordered a meal, and then ordered one for you too. She told you that she knew what you would like, and she was completely correct. Not only was she holding your fork to your lips, but she also had you metaphorically eating out of the palm of her hand. More drinks were had. You were fighting against yourself. You didn’t want to like her. You didn’t want to get any sort of involved in the case. You’d meant to bump into her at the restaurant. Relate about being stood up. Introduce yourself as a detective and ask a couple of questions but strangely - the topic just never came up. It was all about her, her, her. And there wasn’t any complaint about that, at least not from you. It was so natural. She was so interesting, so fascinating, telling you about some nightclub that she had been at, a disco club, though she hardly looked old enough for such a thing. You were an attentive listener. You couldn’t help but be captured on each and every word.

“Why don’t we take this conversation back to my room?” She said, her tone so breathy. You’ve never heard such sexy words in your life. You nodded meekly, a slave to her every whim. At her suggestion, you pulled out your own personal credit card. This was going to be impossible to claim as an expense. The food had been expensive. The wine even more so. You signed the slip with remorse, though you didn’t show it, nor did you feel it too much. It was like you were screaming at yourself behind a wall, but you couldn’t hear. Your thoughts were clouded and muddled, and you were getting in far too deep. You walked out with her, a valet shielding the two of you from the rain with an umbrella while another went to go and get your car.

Ir was hardly glamorous. Being a detective didn’t actually make good money. Your car worked, and it didn’t have too many rust stains and the interior was clean enough, but it was hardly a Rolls Royce. Bilquis gave it a glance over, her face not showing excitement anymore, but she rushed you into it either way, giving you directions to her apartment.

Her lips crashed upon yours as soon as you were inside of the door. You had never kissed a woman - at least, not like this before. Frenzied, flushed, sweaty, manic. All you wanted to do was make her feel good. Make her feel worshiped. The case was so far out of your mind by this time. You couldn’t remember the names of the victims. If they felt at all like this before, had they even been victims?

There was no talk about who was going to do what as she lead you into the red room. And oh, was it red. That was the only thing that you had time to notice before you were down on your knees in front of her. The walls were red, the ceiling was red, the floor was red, the fireplace was red, the shelves were red, the bed and all of it’s coverings were red, red, red. It was almost enough to snap you out of the trance, until you saw another color.

The yellow flicker of candles. The officer in you felt ready to lecture on the dangers of her having unattended candles. You weren’t a firefighter, but you would have hated for her to lose everything. But the candles were having an effect on the room too. It felt warmer, a penetrative heat that went through the skin. You felt slick, sweaty and - sexy. You hardly noticed how she was getting naked for you right there, on the bed, legs spread, laying back against the thin blanket.

Oh god.

Oh goddess.

You’ve never seen anything so beautiful, so appetizing. You were drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Like a dehydrated man to water. She was commanding you to worship her, you could now hear her both inside and outside of your head. Echoing. Vibrating.

You went in for the taste. Sweet. But musky. A real earthy aroma. Sweat-tinged. You moaned against her as you did what she asked, and worshiped. Why were you here again? Did it matter? Your colleagues would get angry that you fooled around on the case. No, jealous. They would be jealous that you were the one here with this beautiful, amazing woman who couldn’t ever have done anything wrong. Who could be in no way responsible for anything bad happening. Even if she held those men in cages, they were better off for just being near her.

You moved in deeper. She didn’t seem to be pulling away. You tasted and you licked and you sucked and you kissed, every motion that your mouth wanted to do, you let it. You’ve entirely lost control. Deeper. How could you go any deeper? She wasn’t moving. But you were. Your body was feeling confined in the space between her thighs. You were realizing this slowly, like waking up from a heavy sleep. From a real thick dream. But by then it was too late. Her voice was reverberating through the room.

“Worship me.”

You started to wonder what you were doing, why you had lost control of your body. It was beginning to spasm. Orgasmic. It had been a long time since you felt this good. But your logical mind, your detective mind, was wondering - why? How? This feeling of crawling. How could you be crawling? There was nowhere to go. An immense pressure pulling you in. But pulling you in ... where? Why did it feel so good?

The walls were closing in. Tightening around you. How could they be? How - they were warm, and dark, and wet. You weren’t in the city anymore. You could tell that much. An unending tunnel. How did you get here again? It felt foggy. Your memory - all you could remember was a sense of love, of power, of something bigger than you. There was no other choice but to keep going. And going. And going.

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