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scuttling · 3 years ago

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Happy Accidents

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,300 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Art, Neighbor Hotch, Shy and Oblivious Hotch, Flirting, It's soo sappy I'm sorry, Oral sex, Unprotected sex Summary: Aaron's new neighbor is out of his league for so many reasons: she's young, beautiful, artistic, unique, free-spirited, the kind of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. It's no wonder he ends up falling in love with her. *Requested by anon Link to A03 or read below! Against all of his better judgement, Aaron is kind of creeping on his new next door neighbor.

He is absolutely the type of man, any other time, to approach a woman he’s interested in and introduce himself, look for a way to connect, some common ground, but this is no ordinary woman.

She is out of his league in so many ways: young, beautiful, unique, free-spirited, the type of person who turns heads when she walks down the street. There’s not a chance in hell she would look twice at an old, stuffy, monotone suit with a seven year old son and perpetual bags under his eyes. That’s not him feeling bad about himself, it’s just the way the world works.

The first time he saw her, she was getting on the elevator while he was getting off of it, and they’d bumped into each other; she was wearing a short, flowy dress, and she’d smiled at him, apologized, eyes sparkling, smelling like she’d spent all day in the sunshine. It was the only time since Haley he’d ever entertained the idea of love at first sight.

She keeps to herself most of the time, gives off the air of being really cool and mysterious; their paths have crossed a few times since then—at the bank of mailboxes downstairs, in the hallway they share, once during a false alarm fire alarm—but he enjoys watching her paint more than anything.

They have balconies next to each other, and one night when he was tending to his herb garden—Jack enjoys watching the plants grow, and picking the herbs, Aaron likes to eat them—he spotted her standing on hers, facing away from him, in cut off jean shorts and a baggy t-shirt, barefoot. She’d been painting the city, the sky, with the sunset glowing behind her like she was the work of art, and he actually felt an ache in his chest, the feeling of missing someone he’s never really met.

Since that night, he’s started taking his work outside in the evenings after Jack goes to bed, and sitting in near silence while she paints, hums—sometimes songs he knows, sometimes songs he doesn’t. The first time he goes out before she does, she says hello when she drags her easel out, so he starts to say hello to her when she beats him there, too, but that’s pretty much the extent of their interaction. One evening when Aaron and Jack are getting home from dinner, she is lugging a canvas bigger than she is through the hallway and Jack almost runs headfirst into it; when he looks up, he exclaims about how big it is, and pretty—it’s covered with colors, something abstract and cheerful, and even if he’d seen it on the side of the road, he would have just known that she painted it. (That may be a good indicator that he’s getting in a little too deep.)

“Wow, that’s the biggest painting I’ve ever seen! And so many colors,” Jack says, awed. Aaron puts his hands on his shoulders to keep him out of her way; they’re already bothering her enough, when she’s clearly trying to get that giant thing home.

“It’s pretty cool, isn’t it? I carry bigger pieces around at my studio, believe it or not,” she says to him, poking her head around the side to look at him.

“You have a studio?” His eyes are wide with interest; his favorite subject has always been art, as evidenced by their refrigerator, which is covered in drawings. She offers him an even brighter smile.

“I do! It’s not far from here; it’s called Live in Color. There’s a big rainbow painted on the side.”

“That’s so cool; it must be awesome to have your own studio.” Aaron loves that Jack seems to be so passionate about this, but the way they are obviously holding her up has him feeling awkward; he tugs gently on Jack’s backpack.

“That is really cool, bud, but we should let her go. I’m sure that’s heavy.” She smiles, shrugs.

“It’s no trouble. Hey, actually, we have some children’s art classes at the studio, and you look like you’d fit right in with the Green group—ages 7-9?” She looks up at Aaron, who nods. “Maybe we can talk dad into bringing you down sometime. We do painting, drawing, and crafts, it’s really fun.” She’s still looking right at Aaron, gives him a little wink, and he swears to god he gets butterflies in his stomach.

He’s a grown man. A federal agent. With butterflies. It’s insane.

“Oh man, dad, please? Can I take classes at her studio pleeease?” Jack tugs on the sleeve of his suit, and he nods, smiles down at him.

“Yeah, absolutely, Jack. We’ll go down and get more information tomorrow?” he offers, to both placate him and finally free the poor girl from the conversation; he nods excitedly, and she smiles, looks sweet, genuinely happy Jack is so excited to take the class.

“Cool, I look forward to seeing you guys there. Actually, if you give me one sec, I can grab my card for you.” She passes them, carrying the canvas and looking effortless while she does it; she props it up against the wall to get her keys out, unlocks her door and heads in, pops back out with a business card in a vivid watercolor yellow. “It has the address and phone number for the studio on the front, and I put my cell on the back; I figured it couldn’t hurt, considering we live next door to each other. Now you know who to call if you ever have an art emergency.”

He takes the card from her fingers, flips it over just to see the handwritten name and number; he knew her script would be lovely, and it is, easy and flowing and natural. It suits her. He tries not to grin, or flush, or otherwise be awkward about the fact that she just gave him her phone number, however innocently.

“Thank you. We’ll see you tomorrow.” They turn to head for their apartment, and she clears her throat; he smiles a little, turns back, and she’s leaning casually up against the canvas with her arms crossed.

“You know my name now. What’s yours?” She’s just being polite, but he gets the goddamn butterflies again.

“Aaron.” She smiles, something beautiful and a little wild.

“Okay, Aaron. See you outside.” From then on, most of their free time, be it evenings or weekends, is spent at the studio. Aaron isn’t the only parent who sticks around—it’s an art class, not a daycare, he doesn’t feel right just dropping Jack off and leaving him there—and he’s also not the only parent, it seems, who is aware of his beautiful young neighbor.

“She’s incredible, right?” another dad says to him one evening, over by the coffee. Aaron looks him over briefly—it’s a job hazard, he sizes up everyone, but he already has a weird feeling about this guy. “I’ve been bringing my kid here for a month just to look at that little ass running around. My wife just thinks our daughter is just really into art.” He says it with a laugh, like that’s a ridiculous concept. Aaron feels himself start to boil.

“You shouldn’t be disrespectful. She’s doing a great thing here, for the children; she’s not doing it for you to ogle her.” He feels a little hypocritical, because he is also looking, but not like this guy. He knows guys like this. He puts away guys like this.

He glances over at Aaron, looking a little taken aback that someone actually commented on his behavior, then rolls his eyes.

“She doesn’t need you to defend her honor, buddy. She wouldn’t run around here in those overalls if she didn’t want us looking. It’s job security.” She’s wearing the overalls tonight, denim shorts with one of the straps unhooked, a t-shirt underneath, but it’s not as if she’s performing a striptease. She just looks like an artist, covered in drips of paint, smiling as she looks at the kids’ pictures over their shoulders. Aaron really, really hates this guy.

“In my experience, women usually dress for themselves; they probably have pockets, easier to keep things at hand that she may need, and it’s warm in here, so she’s likely dressing for comfort. She’s certainly not dressing for you.”

As if she can sense the tension, she looks over at them, flicks her eyes over Aaron, then the other guy, and walks over with a soft smile on her face.

“Hey, Aaron, Jack really wanted you to see what he’s working on.” She reaches out a hand, wraps it around his wrist and guides him over to Jack’s table. “I figured I’d save you,” she says when they’re out of earshot. “That guy sucks. He’s always saying creepy things to me and Alaina.”

“You should ask him to leave if he makes you uncomfortable,” he says, looking down at her with worry. “I can do it.” She shrugs.

“I would, but his daughter really does enjoy the class, and it’s not fair to her that her dad’s disgusting. It’s nothing we can’t handle.” She squeezes his wrist lightly. “Thanks, though. Hey Jack, show dad your project.” He peers over his shoulder, and it’s a pink and orange skyline, much like the one he saw her painting that first time on the balcony. “I asked the kids to paint my favorite thing today, and that’s sunset.”

“I saw you painting this one night,” he says, and then he feels abruptly like an idiot. She just smiles at him though, nods.

“Yeah, I’m a sucker for a beautiful sunset. It makes you feel like, just because the day ends, it doesn’t have to mean things are over; it’s just one of life’s beautiful natural transitions. And the colors are to die for: peach, coral, jasmine, rose, tiger’s eye.” He finds himself unexpectedly touched by her description, smiles softly to shake himself of the emotions.

“The way you see the world is extraordinary. To me it’s just kind of… orange.” She returns his expression, but softer, and squeezes his wrist again; he didn’t even realize she was still holding it.

“Sounds like you need some art in your heart. I give lessons for adults, too; you could even come over and paint with me on my balcony, some time. Special neighbor privileges.”

The thought of being with her on her balcony while she paints is almost overwhelming, which he finds funny, considering he currently sits no more than twenty feet away. There is an intimacy about it, while they both do their work in the cool, quiet breeze, but standing like this, close enough to touch, with the late day sun on her face while she talks about colors… he’s not sure he could handle it without falling in love.

She pats him on the back, moves on to another child, and he tells Jack what a great job he’s doing; his face is lit up, so happy, and regardless of the neighbor, he’s glad they stumbled upon this hobby.

When they pack up to leave, the jerk from earlier comes up to him, leans in to speak in a hushed voice. “You should have just told me you were fucking her. I would have backed off.” He blinks, but the guy and his daughter are walking out the door before he finds himself able to do more than that. About a week later, he goes over for that lesson almost by accident. Jack is at Jessica’s for the night at his request, and Aaron was planning to order takeout and have a paperwork cramming session, but when goes out onto the balcony, phone in hand to place an order, his neighbor is standing on hers like she’s waiting for him.

“Hey. I saw you don’t have Jack; I made some pasta with vodka sauce, if you’re hungry. I always prepare too much.” He sets his phone on the table, walks over to the railing to get a little closer.

“Uh. Sure. I have fresh basil growing here; trade?” She smiles, nods.

“Yeah, sounds delicious. I’ll be right back.” She ducks inside, returns a few moments later with two dishes of steaming, saucy pasta, sets one down on her table and gets right up against her railing, hands the other over to him across his. “That one’s for you,” she says, handing him an orange plate, and he sets it down, picks a few good looking leaves from his basil plant and tears them up, drops them on top. “And this one’s for me.” She reaches, holds a green plate over the gap between their porches, and he adds some basil to it before she pulls it back, takes a deep sniff. “God, it smells so good and fresh. Thank you, Aaron.”

“Thank you, it looks great.” He goes to sit at his table with it, but she scoots her chair closer to the railing, closer to his balcony, so he does the same. They make easy small talk while they eat, mostly about Jack, a little about her studio and his work.

“FBI, huh? I can definitely see that, with your suits, and your… neutrals.” She cringes when she says it, and it makes him laugh.

“I’m sorry I can’t wear paint covered overalls to the office,” he teases, and she shoots him a playfully affronted look, grins.

“You love my paint covered overalls—and for the record, you’d look great in them. You should find a pair. Preferably not black.” He flushes a little at that, but she doesn’t notice, just finishes up her pasta with a sigh of contentment. “That was so good, thanks again for the basil.”

“You’re welcome; thanks for feeding me something other than the takeout I planned to have.” He stands up, gestures to his apartment. “I’ll wash the plate and then hand it back over.”

“Why don’t you just bring it over and come paint with me for a little while? If you want,” she tacks on, and for the first time she seems a little nervous. “I’m not trying to be pushy, I just think it would be fun.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want to; it would be amazing to watch her paint up close and personal. He’s just also afraid he’ll pass the point of no return if he does it, and he can’t handle any more heartache. He only very recently got to a place where just waking up in the morning no longer causes him agony.

It’s the look on her face, though, soft and sweet and open, that makes his decision for him.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.” She grins.

“I’ll unlock the door.”

She’s dragging out her easel when he walks through the door; her apartment is stark white walls with vibrant furniture, artwork, canvases propped up against every bare spot along the wall, paints and brushes and charcoal and pencils on every surface. It’s exactly what he would have expected, warm and lived-in and comforting, very unlike the mostly black and gray interior of his own apartment. She smiles when she sees him.

“Hey! Can you grab that tray of paint on your way out?” she asks, and he picks up what looks kind of like an ice cube tray filled with many different colors, carries it out to the balcony with him. She has a canvas propped up, a little larger than a computer monitor, and she’s gotten started, but he can’t tell what it’s going to be just yet. When he hands her the paint she looks down at it, peers around the edge of the canvas like she’s comparing something. He’s so intrigued, curious about the way her mind works, what she’s thinking.

“What are you painting?” he asks when she picks up a brush, sets it down, picks up another. She smiles at him.

“Well, we’re painting that.” She points to the street, where there’s a rusty, pale blue antique car parked—he says that loosely, because it looks broken down—in the alley. Aaron chuckles softly.

“We’re going to paint that? It’s a little… grim.”

“Yes. It’s part of a series I just decided to create: ‘Beauty in the Ordinary.’” She sighs, and he’s surprised to see that her eyes are a little wet. She wipes the back of her hand over her eyes. “You know Bob Ross, right? Everyone knows Bob Ross.” He nods.

“Yes; the guy who paints the happy trees on PBS.”

“Right. I used to watch him growing up, and I vividly remember something he said once, about needing both darkness and light in life and in painting. ‘You have to have a little sadness once in a while to know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.’” She sniffles, exhales softly. “I’m waiting on the good times too. Sometimes looking at things like this car, and forcing myself to find something beautiful in it, is the easiest way to get through the day. Does that make sense?” He swallows hard when she looks up at him, because aside from Jack, she has been the lightest part of his life since the first time they passed each other on the elevator.

“Yeah, it really does.” She shoots him a soft, slightly sadder smile, and then explains about the paints a little, shows him the difference in the brushes, lets him feel the weight of them, the textures of the bristles.

She starts painting the car—the background is mostly finished—and he’s more than happy to watch, to hear her talk about her process. She asks if she can use his forearm to mix paints, and he turns it over, wrist up, tries not to smile too hard when she puts some dark blue on him, then white, mixing them and then comparing them to the car on the street. He looks down at her, the concentration on her face, the softness in her eyes, and is met with the sudden desire to brush a line of paint over her nose and make her laugh and kiss her breathless.

“Okay, your turn,” she says when she’s about halfway done with the car. She puts her hands on the backs of his arms, pulls him in front of the canvas so she’s between him and the railing. “You’ve been watching me, so you know what to do.” He has been watching her, but not necessarily for her technique, so he’s a little nervous; he dips the brush in the blue paint but hesitates to make a stroke. “I have faith in you, Aaron. Here.”

She wraps her fingers around his hand, guides him toward the canvas, and together they make a wide, curved line, rounding out the bumper. It doesn’t look half bad.

“It gets easier once you understand the relationship between specific paint, specific brushes, and your hands,” she says softly, and she helps him paint another line. “Are you having fun? You look stressed,” she teases, and he makes it a point to relax his face.

“I’m having a lot of fun,” he says, looking down at her; they make eye contact for a long moment, and she leans a little closer, and he leans a little closer, and then he accidentally dabs a blob of blue onto the canvas. He pulls back, grimaces, deflates. “I made a mistake. You can’t erase paint, right?” She laughs softly, takes the brush from his hand.

“No, you can’t erase paint, but as Mr. Ross would say, ‘There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.’” She gets her fingers close to the tip of the brush, makes a few quick movements, then grabs another brush, dips it in green. When she pulls back, there is a little blue flower growing out of a patch of grass where his blob used to be. He exhales, a little amazed.

“If only the mistakes we make in life were that easy to fix,” he says, and she nods.

“Yeah, that would be nice, but a lot of the time we find a way to turn them into beautiful things eventually. Are you willing to give it another shot?” He says yes, and she guides his hand for a while, then just hovers near it, then just instructs him on what to do. It’s dark before their painting is finished, and she carries it inside to dry, then takes him to the kitchen sink to scrub the paint off of his arm.

“Thanks for having me over; I had a really good time,” he murmurs as she dries his clean skin. She looks up, smiles softly, nods her head.

“I had a really good time too. I’m glad you came over; you’re welcome to join me any time.”

He says goodbye, heads home, looks at his stack of work with a groan, and brews a pot of coffee. He’s in for a long night, but he wouldn’t change his evening for anything. Life is much the same for the next few weeks: school and work, Jack’s art class at the studio a couple times a week, painting on the balcony on the weekend, with and without Jack. When Jack joins them for the first time, she pulls out a big box of markers and thick sheets of paper and he draws elaborate scenes while they talk and paint together. When Aaron makes mistakes, she’s never upset, just turns them into perfect little details that end up being his favorite parts of the paintings.

“What ever happened with your ‘Beauty in the Ordinary’ series?” he asks one evening while they’re painting some ocean waves. “Did I cause you enough trouble with the car to give up?” She looks down at the ground, looks a little shy, then shakes her head and smiles.

“No, you didn’t make me want to give up. I’ve been working on it at the studio. You’ll see it when it’s all done, I plan to hang them there.”

“Looking forward to it,” he tells her, and then Jack tugs on her shorts, shows them the picture he drew of the ocean, too.

Later that week, the team takes a case, and on the day he’s set to come home, Jessica drops Jack off at the studio with the plan that Aaron will pick him up when his flight lands. Due to some weather between where the team is and home, they get a little delayed; he doesn’t want to make Jessica head back out that way almost immediately after dropping him off, but he’s not sure who else he could ask to pick Jack up. It’s almost a stupid length of time before it dawns on him to call the studio.

“Life in Color, this is Alaina.”

“Alaina, hi, this is Jack’s dad—” He has his whole spiel prepared, but she cuts him off.

“Oh, sure, hang on a sec, she’s right here. It’s Jack’s dad,” she says, but it sounds further away, like she’s trying to cover the receiver. After a moment, his neighbor picks up.

“Aaron, hi. Jack said you were working.”

“Yeah, I was, and I’m supposed to pick him up after class, but our flight was delayed.” He doesn’t know how to ask for help with Jack; even with all the time they’ve been spending together, she still makes him a little nervous. Luckily, he doesn’t have to figure that part out on his own.

“Hey, that’s no problem. If it’s okay with you, I’ll just take him home with me. I’ll order pizza, we’ll draw, and you can just stop by when you’re home and pick him up.” He breathes a sigh of relief, runs a hand over the back of his head.

“That would be perfect. Thank you—I’ll owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Hanging out with your mini me is reward enough; he’s painting something special for you today, won’t let me see it.” That makes him smile, and he feels so warm at the prospect of picking him up from her bright apartment, seeing his artwork, her smile. After a long, draining day like this one, it’s exactly what he needs.

“I’ll have to remain in suspense until tonight, I guess. Can you let him know I said hi? And thank you, I’ll see you later tonight.”

“Of course. We’ll see you then.”

It’s late, after nine, by the time he makes it home. He doesn’t even take his bags inside, just drops them outside his door and knocks softly on hers. She answers with a smile, ushers him in, asks him if he’d like a drink and gets them each a beer.

Jack is in her room, asleep, so they have a little time to chat; she asks about his flight, his case, and he asks about the studio, and she gets a little shy when it comes to that topic, clears her throat.

“Um. I have Jack’s secret project, if you want to see it. He said I could show you.” He’s not sure why that would make her nervous—at least, until he sees it.

The background is all watercolors, a gradient of rainbow colors starting with pink at the top and ending with a soft purple at the bottom. Over that, in black marker, he’s drawn the three of them, with a big heart around them.

“Tonight’s theme was the thing that makes you the happiest, and he said he’s the happiest when the three of us are on the balcony together. It was… really, really sweet.” She looks up at him, brushes a hand over the crown of her head. “If I’m being honest, that’s when I’m the happiest, too.” He takes the picture from her hands, runs his fingers over it, and smiles, feeling a warm ache in his chest—not like before, not like losing someone he’s never really met, but like finding something he never really planned on.

“That’s when I’m the happiest, too,” he agrees, and when he looks up, she looks determined, like she does when trying to find just the right shade of paint. She takes Jack’s picture out of his hand, sets it on the counter, and then pulls him down by the lapels of his suit, kisses him long and slow. His hands move to her waist, keeping her close, and eventually she pauses for breath, looks at him again, and then wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him some more.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the first time I saw you—tall and dark and serious, striding out of the elevator. So intriguing, mysterious,” she breathes when they separate again. “I wanted to know everything about you.”

“Are you kidding?” he asks, huffing a laugh. “I’m boring, but you are so vibrant, so full of life; I felt like you were everything I wasn’t, and I wanted to know you so badly.”

“You know me now; would you like to keep getting to know me?” It’s one of the easiest questions he’s ever been asked; he nods, and she beams, and he lifts her into his arms and carries her to the couch, drapes himself over her while she leans back against the cushions, pulling him closer.

They make out like neither of them have a care in the world—god, how long has it been since he’s made out with someone?—her fingers scraping through his hair, his hands on her bare waist when her shirt rides up, and she’s in the process of pushing his jacket off his shoulders when they hear a sound from the other room that startles them apart. Jack.

“I’ll go check on him,” Aaron says, and when he goes into her room Jack is still snuggled up on her bed sound asleep. It looks like some canvases fell over, though, and he stoops to pick them up, then spots the car they painted together. He turns and she’s right behind him, skids to a stop. “I thought you said these were at the studio?”

“They were,” she says, and she looks nervous again. “But I changed my mind about hanging them there. They felt too personal.” He runs his hand over the car and sees where she’s coming from; this one feels personal to him, too.

“Can I see the rest?” he asks. “Only if you want to show me them.”

“You’re the only one I want to show them to,” she says with a soft smile, and she grabs a few more canvases, carries them into the light of the living room. “Beauty in the ordinary, remember.” He remembers, could never forget.

She turns one over, and it’s a kitchen sink, and in the kitchen sink is an orange plate with a fork resting on it—like the plate she’d given him with the pasta on it. She turns one over and it’s a man’s hand, holding a paintbrush, with pale blue paint on his forearm. The next one is a little herb garden on a balcony; the next one is a view from above, of a sandy haired boy with markers all around him. The last one is an open elevator—ripe with possibilities.

When he looks up at her, she’s got tears in her eyes, and one slips down her cheek.

“So, I think I’ve found my good times.” She smiles through her tears, and he takes her face in his hands and kisses the salt from her lips. “I love you,” she says when he pulls back to wipe her face with his sleeve, and he kisses her softly, again and again, and tells her he loves her, too. The next weekend, Jack is at Jessica’s for a sleepover, and Aaron has been enlisted to help with an art project. He walks next door, knocks lightly, and enters the living room; he is met with a very deep, passionate kiss and a smile, and instructions to help move the furniture out of the way.

“I’m really curious what kind of art requires this much floor space,” he says, shoving her couch back against the wall, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, a move he has been unable to resist since she did it the first time they had sex. She knows it’s a weakness, exploits it, and he loves every minute of it.

“You’ll see, but I promise you’re going to like it.” When they clear the floor, she grabs a large, rolled-up fabric canvas and lays it out in the middle of the room, then drops three bottles of paint—one is yellow (jasmine), one is orange (peach), and one is kind of pink (coral? He’s still not sure.)—onto it. “You can obviously say no if you want, but I wanted something over my bed with the sunset colors, and I found this…” She steps closer to him, runs her hands down his chest, guides him down for a kiss so delicious he loses his train of thought. “It’s sex art; we put the paint on the canvas, and on ourselves, and… you know, go at it. What do you think?”

He thinks he really, really loves art now, even more than he thought possible.

“So we have paint-covered sex and then you just hang it on the wall? Like regular art?”

“Yep, I got the supplies I’ll need to hang it; letting it dry will probably take the longest. I figured we could shower while it’s drying, maybe go for round two, if you’re up for it.” She moves her hand to his waist, slips it inside his shorts, and he pulls her closer to his body. “Are you up for it, Aaron?”

That is an understatement.

Undressing happens extremely fast, because this is really sexy and they’re kind of in a phase where they can’t keep their hands off of each other anyway. She pulls her hair up onto the top of her head to try to minimize the amount of paint in it, and then she pours paint on the canvas, turns around and drizzles some on his back and tells him to lay down.

“I think we should probably change positions often so we get a lot of motion on the canvas; I apologize to your old knees in advance,” she teases, but she soothes the sting of her words by pouring paint on herself and then laying between his legs and licking at his dick. “Do some stuff with your hands; I want to see those big handprints on my wall,” she murmurs, and he groans, puts his palms down in the paint and drags them through it.

She leans up a little, sliding her knees through some yellow paint, sucks him fully, deeply into her mouth for couple of minutes, and then stretches forward and puts an orange hand right in the middle of his chest; the look in her eyes is playful, and he reaches out with one finger, hooks it under her chin, and guides her off and up so they can kiss.

“Your turn,” he says with a smirk, and then he gets her onto her back and ducks between her legs, hopes she doesn’t grab for his hair like she usually does. He rubs his pointed tongue over her clit, waits for the mmm it always elicits, and looks up at her, covers each of her breasts with a paint-covered palm and squeezes. “Leave handprints for me,” he leans up and reminds her, kissing her stomach, and she plants her hands, then presses up and grabs his shoulder, smearing pink down his back. “Oh, you wanted more of that?”

“Don’t tease me, the paint will dry,” she whines, and he spreads her thighs wider with his elbows and licks her pussy quickly, until she’s squirming against the canvas and panting for more. “Come here, come here.”

He’s not ready for that, though, paint or not, wants her to come from this; he takes his hands off of her, dips them in the paint again and presses down, then puts his hands under her ass and brings her closer so he can fuck her with his tongue, quick and deep and slick.

“Aaron, Aaron, god.” She slides her hands down his arms, over his neck, digs her nails in when she comes moaning like music.

While she catches her breath, so gorgeous, she sticks her arms out like she’s making a snow angel, and he catches her while she’s off guard and turns her onto her stomach, puts his hands on the smears of paint he’s already left on her ass, and slides inside.

“Oh my god; I was trying to impress you with this sexy art project, but you’re rocking my world.” She’s breathless, pressing back into his thrusts and painting with her entire body. God, he loves her mind.

“You know I always take your projects very seriously,” he says, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, and she groans, laughs.

“Yes you do. From the side? Let’s lay diagonally.” They shift, and he hooks his chin over her shoulder, kisses her neck and huffs hot against her hair. “Hmm, love it like this,” she sighs, and she reaches back to press her hand to his hip, holding him while he moves inside her. “I love you.”

“Love you. I want you to finish on top of me,” he instructs with a wet kiss to her throat, and she nods against his lips.

“Yeah, next; I’m getting close.” A few more strokes and she gets up onto her knees, lets him lay back, propped up on his arms, and climbs on top of him; she kisses him slow and dirty and then runs her hands over him, sits back on his dick and glides up and down. “You wanna come like this too? I owe you a little world rocking,” she says with a flick of her tongue over his bottom lip, and he nods, squeezes her thigh.

“It’s the least you can do after making me move all the heavy furniture.” She rolls her eyes but kisses his chin, down his throat, and bounces harder on him, all delicious eye contact and moans. “Mmm. Just like that, baby, come for me.”

“Fuck. I will, I will.” She wraps a hand around the back of his neck, kisses him kind of rough and with lots of tongue, and then tips her head back and climaxes, clenches, wrings his orgasm out of him so quickly it’s almost jarring. “Oh, yes Aaron. So good,” she mumbles, and then he lays back, out of breath, and she slides out of his lap and lays beside him, out of breath too.

After a moment, she looks over at him, smiles, and swipes a pink fingertip over his cheek.

“This is the hottest thing I’ve ever done with anyone. I’m glad I got to do it with you.” He rolls on top of her, presses a kiss to her nose, and nods.

“Me too. You know,” he adds after a moment, “my bedroom could use some artwork, too.” She grins, wraps her arms around him and squeezes tight.

“You’re right; I think we should do yours in blue: liberty, that’s dark blue; periwinkle, that’s light blue; maybe steel gray, too.”

“You’re the expert. I’m just your paintbrush.” Her hands smooth up his back, and contentment washes over him like a warm breeze.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that. Want to get cleaned up?”

Cleaning up is almost as fun as making the mess, because they’re well and truly covered, and when the canvas dries, the sunset colors are almost as beautiful as the ones she used the first time he ever saw her paint. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #ask answered #anon #prompt

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reidgraygubler · 3 years ago

Text

multiply (kyle orfman/reader)

Title: multiply Request: no Couple: Kyle Orfman/Fem!reader Category: angst/smut w/ a taste of fluff Content Warning: SEXUAL CONTENT (penetrive sex, unsafe sex, mild hatefuck, grinding/groping, heavy petting, light breathplay (hand over mouth and nose) breeding/impregnation kink, fingering), zombies and zombies eating humans, death, descriptions of death, death of a grandparent (grandmother), mentions of guns and gun violence (but none actually happening), petnames (kitten/officer) Word Count: 5,943 Summary: After narrowly escaping her grandmother eating her, Reader is on her own to find other civilization. She meets the Orfman family and they take her in for safety. Reader and Kyle share a special bond. A/N: I am in love with this piece, so I hope you guys love it as much as I do. thank you to @reidetic for beta/editing this for me! this was also written for @imagining-in-the-margins "there was only one bed" trope challenge for june! thank you all so much for the support! i really do appreciate it. check out my masterlist!

{***}{***}{***}

My grandmother was alive… And then she was dead… And now she’s alive again. Which is very confusing because I watched her die. Like I can’t be the only person experiencing this, right? It’s not some weird fever dream either, I don’t think. This has to be a town wide phenomenon.

My grandmother was acting totally normal too. As if she didn’t die. She was living life day to day, making cookies, knitting, and sipping her tea, just like she did before she died. It was like life went back to normal. And then… She tried to eat me. That’s definitely not normal. Is it?

Who eats another person!? Zombies! That’s who! And how do you kill a zombie? I don’t really like that answer. Because I love my grandmother. She’d do nothing to hurt me, except eat me, I guess.

I gotta get out of this house. It’s not safe to stay in the house with her anymore, and it hasn’t been for a long time. So instead of killing her, like any other sane person would do, I just left. I packed my backpack with a few clothes, snacks and water, and I left.

Turns out it was a lot more than a town wide phenomenon. It was country wide. Everyone was experiencing their dead loved ones returning from the dead. Just showing up, like how my grandmother just showed up. It caused something of an uprise, too, considering people don’t just come back to life after being dead, and they’re eating other humans. It wasn’t an uprise. It was terror, pure terror of the people who didn’t die and come back to life.

I hadn’t left my house in a while, at least since my grandmother came back. So I didn’t realize just how dire the situation was. Piles of burnt stuff were all over the place. Cars with shattered windshields were crashed into trees or homes. And the number of bodies just on the street was… incredibly disturbing.

I needed to find any sign of civilization, and quickly. There was no telling just how long I’d make it alone. I probably only had enough water for the next day or two. And the only zombie movies I’ve seen were Shaun of the Dead and Zombieland, and that wasn’t very helpful… Well maybe Zombieland was helpful.

A long branch with a sharp and pointy end was sitting in the middle of the road. I grabbed it, hoping it’d be enough of a weapon to protect me from the disaster around me. I silently hoped, and prayed to whatever God was up there, that I’d find safety before nightfall.

I was beginning to lose hope as the sun started setting; the sky lighting up with the fires around the town. Several people wearing orange jumpsuits came running around the corner, each carrying various weapons in their hands and over their backs. I nearly fell to the ground because of how startled I was. I tried to pay attention to the crowd around me, but the pavement chewed up the palms of my hands.

A guy with a crew cut hairstyle seemingly looked in charge. Weird to have a gangly and scrawny man be in charge of a zombie take out group. He had this weird stature that he held, like he was trying to be intimidating but not everyone took him seriously.

The guy looked right at me and pointed a gun at my head. I slowly lifted my hands and stared at him.

“D-Don’t shoot! I’m human!” I shouted as I stared at him. He stared back, stepping closer to me. He dropped his gun away from me, but still kept his guard up.

“Human my ass!” The guy with the crewcut shouted. I looked at my hands, watching as blood began seeping from my palms. I quickly looked back at him, hoping he’d look at the human blood.

"Thoughts on smooth jazz?!" he asked in a loud tone. I stared up at him, feeling the terror bubble up my throat.

"I-I… Not my first choice in music?" I furrowed my eyebrows, as I wondered what this had to do with anything.

"Thoughts on dirt?!"

"Ew? Good for gardening? I don’t know!” I shouted back before I stumbled to my feet. The guy with the crew cut cautiously stepped closer to me as he examined my face and body. I’d assume it was because he was looking for any impurities I could possibly have. “I almost had to kill my grandmother. But… But I had to leave. I couldn’t do it. So I left. I left because she lunged at me… from across the table,” I mumbled as he stepped back. “I just need somewhere.. To lie low for the time being. I promise I’m safe.” I whispered as I looked at him. The guy looked back at the rest of his team, gauging their thoughts and concerns about letting me go with them.

“You can come with us. But the second you turn your back on us, or turn into them, don't be shocked when I’m the one to put a bullet into your head,” his voice got scary low as he stepped right up to me. I swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Understood,” I whispered as I looked up at him.

I was shoved into the middle of the crowd of orange jumpsuits. The guy with the crewcut took the lead and brought us to a house that was guarded by tall cement and steel fencing. The people who were currently occupying this home knew how to keep themselves safe.

We entered the fenced in yard of the house, the leader making sure everyone got in safely, and no undead beings followed us. Then we entered the house. I was half expecting it to be stripped down, or decayed. But when we got in… It looked like a normal home, just no power, and the windows boarded up.

“Oh! A new person!” A woman exclaimed once I stood in the area that was once a living room. She came right up to my side, looking at me with a bright smile. She was very happy that I was here. “Don’t worry! You’re safe now!” she cooed as she threw her arms around me. I froze, my body refusing to move as she embraced me.

“I-I…” I swallowed roughly as she pulled away from me. I barely had time to say anything else as she pulled us to sit on the couch.

“I’m Judy Orfman. Kyle is my son.” She smiled as she gestured towards the crew cut guy wearing the orange jumpsuit.

“Mom,” Kyle muttered as he pinched the bridge of his nose. I snickered as I looked back at Judy. I smiled softly as I gave her my name. It was weird how homey this place felt, albeit our situation in the world. Part of me wondered if Judy had any part in that.

“My husband, Noah, is out right now. And my other son, Zach, is with one of the women. She also had to kill her grandmother,” Judy whispered that last part. I looked at her with wide eyes, feeling a certain nervousness settle in the pit of my stomach. I could tell she meant well, and I shouldn’t be scared around anyone here. Everything that’s happened is just unsettling. When I woke up this morning I wasn’t expecting to have to escape zombies.

“Is it okay i-if I lie down? I’m just very tired after everything that’s happened.” I I looked between Judy and Kyle.

“Oh! Kyle, honey, you should let her sleep in your room. She obviously needs it,” Judy spoke to her son as she carefully smoothed out my hair. I looked at her with a small smile. I loved how motherly she was. It was definitely something I needed in a time like this.

“I’m not going to do that, Mom.”

“We don’t have any more bed space. You’re the only person with a bed big enough to hold two people. We aren’t going to force her to sleep on the floor or on the couch.”

“I-I don’t have an issue with the flo-”

“Non-sense! Kyle has plenty of space!” Judy clapped her hands together as she glared at Kyle. Kyle looked back at her with wide eyes before dropping his head and mumbling something. Even though Kyle was in charge of the orange jumpsuits, Judy was the head of household. Anyone could argue with her, but she would end up getting her way no matter what. Kyle probably knew better than to fight his mother.

“So it’s agreed then! You guys will share the room!” Judy smiled brightly. “Just no funny business.” She then glared between me and Kyle. I looked at her with wide eyes before shaking my head.

“Ugh! Ew! With him!”

“Her?! Are you serious?”

Even though I basically said what he said, I was still hurt by his utter disgust behind his words. I tried not letting it bother me as I grabbed my backpack and stood up.

“Why don’t you show her around? The bathroom, kitchen, bedroom.” Judy stood up beside me as she looked at her son. Kyle begrudgingly moved towards the opening of the living room, leading off to a new area.

“C’mon,” he grumbled as he looked over at me. I looked at Judy before looking back at Kyle. I dropped my head before dashing up beside him.

Every room he showed, I was met with a new person distraught by the events of the day. Kyle just showed me the room. I didn’t really know what I was expecting when he showed me around the house.

“Finally, this is where I sleep,” Kyle muttered as he gestured towards the closed off bedroom. A small smile grew on my lips as I entered the room, heading right towards the bed. Kyle, however, stopped me by grabbing my backpack and pulling me back to the door. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”

“Judy said I could sleep in here, too. So I figured I should take my side of the bed.” I looked up at him, folding my arms over my chest. A smirk grew across Kyle’s lips before he nodded. At this point we were standing toe-to-toe, and our chests were practically pressed together.

“You’re adorable,” he muttered before pulling my backpack off my back and tossing it to the left side of the bed. “If I find out you’re cuddling with me, you’re outta here. And if I see you going through my shit… You’re dead.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” I whispered before looking away from him. I walked away from him and towards the bed. Even though I wasn’t facing him, I could feel Kyle’s eyes on me as I went through my bag. “Are you just going to stand there and watch me? Or are you going to let me sleep peacefully?” I asked as I dropped my shoulders and the things I was holding.

“Until I know you won’t fuck around with stuff you’re not supposed to…” He spoke out loud. I rolled my eyes before turning to face him.

“Do you want me to just mess with your stuff while you’re here?” I asked as I walked back around to his side of the bed. Kyle’s eyes widened and his jaw steeled as I went to his night stand. “Or will you leave me alone so I can get some rest?”

“I’ll leave you alone the second you back away from that nightstand.” His words were quick and sharp as he spoke. A small smirk grew across my lips as I looked back at him. I stepped away from the night stand and stood in the middle of the room. “I’ll come back in an hour,” he muttered before leaving the room.

With a deep sigh, I returned to my side of the room, finally getting ready to lie down for the first time in what feels like days.

{***}{***}{***}

I don’t think time exists anymore. Ever since the world went to shit, it feels like days felt longer than 24 hours. So it was hard to say how long I’d been in this safe house. I wished time was still relevant...

I try not to let things bother me. But I feel like it’s especially hard in this house with all of these people I hardly know. It was even harder because I was still sharing a room with Kyle. And he is probably the worst person I’ve ever met. He talks in his sleep. But he wouldn’t own up to that. Noooo, he’s too good for that.

The first night I realized he was talking in his sleep wasn’t too bad, mostly because it was him talking about stuff that happened before before a stupid zombie apocolyspe. But now it’s just annoying shit. I never get a moment alone anymore.

For a moment of privacy, I sat in the closet. It was just for a moment before the doors swung open and a woman my age sat down beside me.

“Zach wants to go to a stupid graveyard today,” Erica muttered as she sat down. I looked over at her with a raised eyebrow. “He wants to visit Beth’s stupid grave.”

“Beth’s his ex-girlfriend, right?” I asked, still unsure of who people were here. She nodded as she began picking at the loose threads on her pants. “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, Erica.”

“Okay, but when the dead start trying to kill me, then I’m going to talk ill of the dead.”

“That’s fair, I suppose,” I muttered as I looked at the floor in front of us. “It’s still not really safe to do that… Little weird.” I glanced back at Erica with a raised brow. She looked back at me and grimaced. I had nothing else to say, granted conversations between us didn’t last too long. We had nothing in common other than our grandmothers tried eating us, therefore we had to kill them. So what was the use of us talking? I knew a friendship would never grow between us.

With a resigned sigh, I stood up, leaving Erica in the closet alone. I ignored her bothersome questions as I walked away from her. I didn’t want to be around her, or really anyone. So I went to the safest place I could think of, hoping no one else would be there, my shared bedroom with Kyle.

Of course, it’d just be my luck that Kyle would also be there. He was sitting at his desk, wearing nothing by his boxers while he cleaned his gun. I just didn’t realize that till I had fully entered the room.

“What the fuck!? What are you doing?! Don’t you knock!?” he shouted as I entered the room more. I turned and looked at him, my eyes wide as I stared at him. “S-Stop staring! Are you crazy!?”

“Me crazy!? You’re the one cleaning your gun half naked!” I shouted as I gestured at his attire. I quickly threw a hand over my eyes as I blindly searched for the bed.

“It's how I relax!” He shouted back. Once my body finally touched the bed, I laid back, quickly throwing a pillow over my face. “Can you leave?”

“How come you get to relax but I don’t? Roommates remember?” I sat up and glared at him. He glared back at me, keeping his hands on his gun.

“It’s so funny to me that you were going to be a police officer?” I scoffed as I laid back. That seemed to strike a chord in him, causing him to stand and look at him.

“What? I didn’t tell-”

“You talk in your sleep,

“No I don’t, Kitten,” Kyle retorted. I stared at him for a moment, trying to comprehend what he just called me. Kitten? Really? Seriously? “If anyone talks in their sleep, it’s you.” He pointed at me. I smirked and shrugged.

“If you say so… Officer.” I grinned before reaching up to shut the lamp off. Kyle stayed sitting in the darkness. I could only imagine his face was beet red, and his knuckles were white as a ghost as he held his gun.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” Kyle’s voice came through the mild darkness. I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me.

“Taking a nap, Officer, because it’s how I relax.”

{***}{***}{***}

It had to have been the middle of the night. I couldn’t be too sure. I just knew it was late at night, and Kyle’s whole entire body was clinging to mine as he talked.

“Someone’s gotta repopulate the world… Why… Why don’t you do it with me?” Kyle mumbled into my chest. I stiffened as his hands drifted all over my body. “You’re like the only feasible person to do it with.”

“Okay, first off, rude,” I muttered as I shoved his body off mine. It was impossible to keep him off me though, because the moment his body was away from mine, he knew, and instantly wrapped his arms back around me ten times harder than before. “Secondly, haven’t you heard of personal space,” I groaned as I laid perfectly still on my back. I finally just gave in and let him keep his arms around me. No use in fighting that.

“C’mon, Kitten,” he mused as he nuzzled his head into my chest more. I widened my eyes and looked down at him. “We’d make some pretty cute kids.”

I hate this so fucking much. And there was no way I was getting out of this. I just wish this was when I knew the weird sex dreams started...

{***}{***}{***}

I laid perfectly still on the bed. The lights were off, and Kyle was perfectly asleep. I was envious of his sleep. The last time I had a peaceful night of rest was ages ago. The nightmares I had were awful, keeping me awake till dawn. But also, Kyle also talked in his sleep and always clung to me like his life depended on it.

I’d be lying if I said Kyle and I hadn’t gotten close. Even though part of me still hated him, the other part of me knew that he was probably the last person I had to be friends with, other than his mother and Erica.

With a deep groan, I shoved Kyle awake, nearly pushing him to the floor.

“What the hell was that for!?” he shouted from his spot on the ground beside the bed.

“You know when you talk in your sleep…” I spoke aloud. I kept my eyes on him as he glared at me.

“No I don’t,”

“You sure about that, Officer. How else would I know you wanted to be a cop?” I scoffed as I stood up off the bed. Kyle watched as I walked around the bed and stood at the foot of it.

“You… You read through my personal belongings.” He shot back as he stood to his feet.

“Y-You have a diary,” I stifled my laughter as I looked at him. Kyle glared at me again. “No, I only know that because you talk in your sleep. And at first it didn’t bother me too much because it was cute shit like being a police officer, or having a family and kids, and cute shit… But now… For the last week, Kyle, you have been having sex dreams. And I wake up to you clinging to me…” I lifted an accusing finger as I spoke. Kyle looked at me, waiting for me to continue my rant. Which was rather surprising because he hardly lets people finish their thoughts or rants before he interprets them. “Do you know how weird that is?! Having sex dreams about someone who’s just sleeping next to you?” I stared at him for a moment, trying to understand if he was going to say anything. “Whatever, I’m going to help Judy.” I scoffed before turning to leave the room.

“With what? It’s midnight!” He gestured to the dark window. Yeah, that was true. Judy was probably asleep. I just needed to get out of the room and let my frustrations be out instead of held in.

“With something!” I shouted at him.

“Kitten, wait,” Kyle started before grabbing my wrist and pulling me to face him. I spun around on my toes and looked right at him. I couldn’t help but feel annoyance grow on my face as I stared.

“Why do you call me that!?” I shouted at him. Kyle stayed silent as he stared up at me. I could see a certain confusion grow on his face as he tried to connect the dots to my question. “Kitten! Why do you call me that?! You’ve called me that since I got here.”

“Well… I…” Kyle paused for a moment. I watched as his mouth opened and closed a few times, and his jaw clenching momentarily. I stared at him, as he sat in thought for a very long time.

“Whatever,” I scoffed as I turned to leave again.

“Because you’re attractive…” He finally spoke after an eternity of silence. He looked up at me with a stilled face. “Because I’d fuck you,” he stated truthfully. I blinked, taking a step back before I stared at him.

“That’s a bit of a raunchy way to say you want to sleep with me.” I folded my arms over my chest. Kyle smirked before shrugging. “I’ve been sleeping with you for the last month.”

“You-You know what I meant,” he muttered as he approached me again. I stopped right in front of me, our toes just barely touching. “Well, do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Want to have sex with me?”

“You… You want to have sex… During the end of the world. Bit cliche don’t you think?” I was still taken aback that he just asked that. I’m still stuck in the argument we had less than 10 minutes ago. And now he wants to have sex with me?

“Well I wouldn’t say that it’s the end of the world. But that’s essentially what I’m saying… Yeah, I wanna have sex with you, during the end of the world.” Kyle shrugged as he looked at me.

“If you say so… Officer,” I whispered with a shrug. Kyle looked at me, his jaw stealing at my words. “Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.” I smirked at him. I could tell my words did something to him. It was obvious that he did indeed want someone to repopulate with. And I was the winner of that contest. Not that I’m complaining.

“Don’t… Don’t call me that,” he warned as he cornered me between his body and the bed. I took a deep breath as I looked at him, feeling my heart rate pick up in my chest. He still made it possible for me to escape if I wanted to. But, at this point, who says I wanted to escape?

“Why? D-Does it do something to you, Officer?” I whispered as I lifted my hands to his shirt. A small smirk grew across his lips as I smoothed out the wrinkleiness of the fabric against his torso. I could feel the semi toneness of his chest through the light fabric.

“You tell me yourself, Kitten,” he muttered before pressing his hips into mine. My breath was instantly knocked from my lungs as his bulge pressed into my legs. “Tell me now… If you want to stop…” he half growled into my mouth. I quickly shook my head as he pressed his groin into me more.

“P-Please,” I whispered before I pulled my lips between my teeth.

“Please what, Kitten?”

“Don’t stop,” I whimpered into his mouth. He looked down at me, a pleased smirk growing on his lips before he quickly pressed his mouth along my face and then down my jaw. It was impossible to stay down on earth the moment he began leaving little bites across my neck. A soft whimper fell from my lips as he pushed me back down on the bed.

“We gotta be quiet… My parents are in the next room over. Don’t want them hearing us,” he whispered into my ear as he quickly threw a hand over my mouth. I took a deep breath before he pressed his thumb over my nose. “You think you can do that for me, Kitten?” He kept his voice low, almost a growl as he spoke. With his other hand, he carefully pushed past my pajamas and cupped my pussy.

I wanted to nod, but I knew the nod would mean nothing the second I whimpered again. Kyle smirked as he slowly moved his fingers over my clothed sex. I don’t think I’d be able to be quiet...

It just got harder to stay quiet the second he started stroking my clit over my panties. He knew exactly what he was doing. Driving me nuts, that’s what. He could’ve gone slower, and I would’ve hated him for it… Or loved him. At this point they were both interchangeable.

I bit down so hard on my lips I was sure they’d bleed as he moved my underwear to the side. My lungs slowly grew a blaze, feeling a certain tightness in my chest as he slowly moved a finger between my folds, slowly pressing it into my entrance. A dark smirk grew across his lips as he withdrew his hand.

“I didn’t know a kitten could get so wet,” Kyle mused as looked at his glistening fingers. He quickly glanced at me, his smirk growing daker by the second. Then he carefully stuck his fingers between his lips, sucking on them for a brief moment. A soft whimper came from me, causing him to laugh. “She tastes good, too,” he hummed.

Kyle carefully dragged his hand down my side, tracing over my waist and hips, before diving back into my pants and underwear. He knew exactly what he was doing, on purposely making me make noises. Because the second he started stroking over my clit, I couldn’t stop any sound that came from my mouth, even with his hand over it.

“This is already better than any dream I had, Kitten,” he murmured in my ear. I swallowed roughly and nodded. He smirked as he gently pushed a finger into me, quickly followed by a second. “If you’re quiet I’ll move my hand.”

I hummed as I closed my eyes, my head lolling to the side. Kyle dragged his hand from my mouth, sliding it down to my chest. My lips stayed between my teeth, forcing myself to be quiet as he started massaging my breasts.

“D-Don’t stop, whatever you do… Please k-keep going,” I struggled to say as his movements hastened. His thumb carefully brushed against my clit, causing me to push my head back into the bed beneath me.

“You like this, don’t you?” Kyle laughed lightly. I could feel my chest lifting away from the bed the heavier my breath grew. “How long has it been since you’ve been touched like this? Since you’ve been used?”

“Kyle, Kyle, please,” I bit down on my lower lip. I brought one of my hands to rest over my mouth, while the other held his arm.

“I’d call you a desperate, but I’m the one having sex dreams of you.”

The funny thing is… I was desperate. Even though he was the one having the sex dreams, I was the one having the thoughts when I was awake. And a lot of the thoughts were hoping this would happen. Guess we’re bothing having dreams coming true.

It was only a matter of moments before I was finishing over his hand. My eyes stayed closed as I tried catching up with time. And in the few moments I had, Kyle had climbed off the bed and quickly undressed, leaving me still in my pajamas. I didn’t feel rushed, but I hated that I was still wearing clothes.

Once I had my moment of recollection, I sat up, peeling my shirt off and kicking my pants to the floor. I was too busy undressing to even notice that Kyle was staring at me, watching my quickness and excitement. But when I finally did sit back and look at him, he was watching me with a smirk on his lips.

I tried not to let my eyes linger on his body for too long. When I noticed his hard length, I couldn’t help but stare. Then he laughed, forcing me to look up at his face and swallow roughly.

“No, please, keep staring,” he muttered with a smirk. I slowly blinked before shaking my head, silently lifting my hand to him. I could feel my sudden neediness radiating off my body, surely Kyle could sense it from where he was standing.

When he didn’t move, I slowly moved my legs apart, making it so there was space for him to kneel comfortably. He smirked again before crawling onto the bed, coming right up to my face.

“Tell me, Kitten, how badly do you want this,” he whispered against my lips. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before nodding. “Use your words. I trust you know how. You were pretty vocal a few moments ago.”

“I don’t think you understand, Officer, how bad I need you,” I murmured as I looked up at him. The corner of his lips twitched at the nickname I had so lovingly given him. “Only you can help me.”

“Damn right I am,” he muttered before roughly pressing his lips to mine. I threw my arms around his neck as he moved so his length was pressing against me. My breathing stuttered slightly before I began gasping for air as he very slowly entered me.

Once he was fully sheathed in me, Kyle knelt straight up. I stared at him, watching as he hooked his arms under my knees. With that, he managed to press deeper into me, inciting a moan from me.

“More,” I tried to whisper as I looked up at him. His eyes locked with mine for a moment before rolling his hips into mine. He fell into a steady rhythm, hitting the right spots at just the right times.

Any conversation between us ceased to exist, leaving us with struggling moans and gasps for breath. My hands ran over my body, trying to relieve myself of something.

Kyle dropped one of my legs, bringing his hand to between my legs. My head fell back before rolling to rest against my shoulder, feeling the eventual relief in my abdomen.

“You feel so good, Kitten,” Kyle mumbled before dropping my other leg and coming back down to my face. I huffed out a breath of air before lifting a hand to his head. “Better than anything I could ever imagine,” he added before pressing his lips to mine. I hummed, pushing my fingers through his hair.

“I’m gon-gonna cum,” I whined before biting my teeth into his shoulder. Kyle ran his hands up my back before pulling me close.

“Yeah?” he groaned into my ear. I nodded as my breathing grew ragged. “Me too,” he added as his movements grew faulty. He pressed his forehead to mine, his heavy breath fanning across my skin. My eyes stayed glued to his.

“Do it, please do it,” I whimpered. Kyle’s eyes grew darker the moment the heaviness of my words hit him. I don’t think I was supposed to notice his brief pause, but I did. “I’m serious.”

“You know what-”

“God, Kyle, I know. I know what it’ll mean,” I cut him off, lifting my back up into his body. He looked at me for a brief moment before capturing my lips in a gentle kiss. I threw my arms around his neck, holding him close to me.

“If that’s what you want,” he moaned, his movements turning sloppy. I knew I wasn’t about to last long. “Someone’s gotta have my kid.”

“Let it be me then,” I cried out. My legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him in place. “Please.” My whole body tensed around his as my head fell back as I tried to keep quiet. Kyle looked down at me before putting his hand over my mouth. Then a warmth- that I didn’t realize that I missed- grew in my stomach.

Kyle fell, laying against my body. With that, we fell into silence. The only sound was our heavy breathing and the sounds of crickets outside. The silence was nice though.

“My mother better not find out about this,” Kyle said after an eternity. I laughed and shook my head.

“Then you better hope I don’t end up pregnant, because she’ll find out eventually,” I sighed deeply as I brought my hands to hold the back of his head. His body stiffened before he lifted his head to look down at me.

“I’ll tell her in the morning.”

“Well you don’t have to do that,” I laughed. He stared at me for a moment. “You tell her she’ll probably break us apart. And, well, like I said earlier… Someone’s gotta repopulate the world.”

“No, yeah, you’re right. She’d probably kill me if she found out we’re having sex,” he stated before trying to move away from me. “Actually I think she’d kill me then pray I come back to life for that kid.”

“I’m not living through someone trying to eat me twice.”

“I can change that,” he teased with a smile. I stared at him once I realized what he meant.

“Tomorrow night please. I’m so tired.”

“If you say so,” Kyle laughed before slipping out of the bed.

Some months after the apocalypse ended

“You look mighty dashing in that uniform, Officer.” I looked at Kyle as I smoothed out the few wrinkles in his shirt. I tried my hardest to hold the young boy in my arms the moment he became fussy.

“Don’t start that now. I can’t be late,” Kyle warned as he looked back at me. I smiled and shrugged.

I looked up at Kyle with a soft smile on my lips. Although our son was young, he tried to blindly reach out for his father, but failed as he was just out of the child’s reach. “Be safe out there,” I whispered before pressing my lips to his.

“Of course I will.”

“Good, because your little man will be pissed if he finds out you’re not coming home.” I smiled before kissing him again. “But I think I’ll be even more pissed than your kid.”

“Please. I’ll come home in one piece, with no bites.”

“You better, Officer.” I smirked again.

“Well since you asked so nicely,” Kyle scoffed before rolling his eyes. I smiled and nodded.

“Good luck out there. Judy’s making dinner so be home in a timely manner.”

“Okay, for real, I gotta go. See you later, Little Man.” Kyle smiled as he rubbed the top of his son’s head. I smiled before puckering my lips. “And I’ll be home before you know it.” He quickly pecked my lips. “Love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too. See ya later.” I swung our son over to my other hip, resting him gently on my hip. I turned around and slowly walked back up to our home.

“It’s not too soon for another one, is it?!” He shouted from the end of the driveway. I turned and looked at him as I made it to the front door.

“If anything, we can practice!”

if you want to be a part of a taglist (lmk if ur 18+ for smut) or have any comments about this one-shot, let me know here

taglist: @thebluetint @muffin-cup @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto @spencersmagic @spenciegoob @flipperpenguins @broken-stardust

#shadow writes stuff #masterlist #kyle orfman #kyle orfman fanfiction #kyle orfman imagine #kyle orfman x reader #kyle orfman x you #kyle orfman fan fic #life after beth fan fic #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

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lepusrufus · 3 years ago

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.5

Another few good weeks passed before they heard from their so-called goddess, gone who knows where. Not that anyone would ever question her absences, even the lords knew better than to stick their noses in her business.

When Nicole found herself once again following Emma through blue-lit underground corridors, there was an odd determination in her strides. She wanted to figure out what the hell was going on with her and Miranda, if nothing else, was a scientist who above all loved solving an equation. And what else could her situation be described as if not an intricate equation with a bit fat X as her missing factor.

She was right in thinking that Miranda would find her issue of interest, as when she finally brought it up the woman furrowed her brows and turned to face her, a clipboard grabbed from a nearby table.

“And there was nobody else?”

“No. Just me, Cassandra, the pharmacist and some guy that came for his medicine,” Nicole answered with a barely contained huff.

“What for?” Miranda tapped her pen against the paper in anticipation, a clear sign that she may be onto something and was only putting together some puzzle pieces that nobody but her could see.

Nicole had to dig through her memories for a moment. “An infection. At least that’s what the pharmacist mentioned.”

Miranda hummed and scribbled something else. There was no point in trying to decipher what exactly, the woman had the handwriting of two drunk doctors put together. How very fitting for her.

Without another word, she was on her feet, unbuttoned lab coat flowing after her the same way her black robes did when in goddess mode. “Follow me. I want to test something.”

And what else was she supposed to do really?

Quick steps took them down the hallways, black stone walls surrounding them and taking on an odd shine under the unnatural neon lights above. At least Nicole didn’t have to jog for once, Miranda not being that much taller than her.

The journey was short and they reached their destination quickly, which seemed to be a door not unlike the one belonging to the lab they had just vacated, except this one had the number 24 engraved on a small plaque on it. Miranda pushed it open to reveal a small hospital looking room, four beds divided by grey curtains but only one seemed to be occupied, a sleeping woman hooked to a heart monitor whose rhythmic beeping caused some memories to resurface in Nicole's mind.

Those memories however were quickly pushed down by a sudden burst of nausea at the decaying smell that seemed to forcefully crawl its way down her throat. Nicole all but slapped a hand to her face and turned around in a pathetic attempt to block out the overwhelming sensation. Some blood also started to trickle down her face and past trembling fingers, although thankfully not an ungodly amount like before.

By some mercy of well… herself, Miranda didn't stop her when she decided to do a wobbly turn and hastily exit the room. She followed Nicole out and observed as she slumped against a wall, pulling a tissue from a pocket to wipe at her face.

"What… the fuck," Nicole breathed out.

"Was that the same as before?" Miranda's eyes were full of a weird kind of glee that could only belong to a mad scientist. Not that that would be an inaccurate description for the woman.

Nicole only nodded, trying to get her face on a more presentable level before speaking again. "Is she-..."

Miranda scoffed. "Are you deaf? I can assure you the woman is quite alive," she responded with an eye roll.

The soft beeping monitoring the heartbeat could be heard faintly from behind the closed door, so her words had to hold some truth to them. Though her intentions were still shrouded in mystery.

"Then why the hell does she smell like that?"

"She doesn't," came the nonchalant reply and it had Nicole almost seething.

Is your ego stuffed up your nose, is what she wished she could snap and say, but she knew better.

If Miranda noticed the daggers in her eyes, she paid them no mind. Instead she noted something down on the paper precariously attached to the clipboard she got a hold of before exiting the lab they had been in previously. When she finished, she simply motioned for Nicole to follow and continued further down the hallway, without a second glance.

She only stopped once to exchange a few words with an unfamiliar assistant on the whereabouts of certain patients. Patiens. Why would Miranda keep any sort of patients down there?

Before she had time to dwell on it, Miranda pushed another door open, this time leading to another corridor dimly lit by strategically placed torches. Apparently nobody bothered to get electricity to this particular part of the underground maze of tunnels, the warm light so pleasant on the eyes as opposed to the harsh neons of the previous area. The tunnel was also long, way too long for it to be an often used path, especially given how awfully humid the air was becoming. Nicole tried to take a mental note of where they were heading, squinting her eyes in an effort to imagine what was above them, but with how convoluted the tunnels down there were, it was fruitless.

After maybe fifteen minutes of walking, awkward silence -at least awkward on her part, Miranda didn't seem to care- only broken by the echo of steps and the soft sounds of crackling fire from the torches, the tunnel ended in what looked to be a far too modern stairwell. Nicole had to pause for a second, looking at the unnerving contrast where dark ancient stone gave way suddenly to gray concrete and steel, going up in sharp angles and blocking the view to whatever laid above. The overall architecture did look vaguely familiar though, but Miranda didn't seem to have the patience for sightseeing as she quickly started walking up the stairs.

At the top of the staircase stood a steel door that was quickly unlocked to finally reveal a place that Nicole recognized. She blinked rapidly in surprise, all but freezing in the doorway at the sight of the hospital corridor she had walked down on so many times before, complete with a handful of nurses discussing in a corner. She shook her head and slowly followed the woman, not wanting to remain behind. It didn't take long before they came across the one person Miranda was apparently searching for.

"M- Mother Miranda," Salvatore's voice came in an oddly high pitch, at least for him, when he almost crashed with her in his hurry to get somewhere.

"Moreau," Miranda greeted with a nod and unreadable expression. "I need the documents on each of your patients and where they're staying." Straight to business apparently.

He simply nodded and moved his attention to one of the nurses standing nearby, instructing him to finish whatever task he was supposed to before their arrival. The man moved rigidly, painfully aware of Miranda's presence. Then, Moreau led them to his office, starting to pull out a consistent number of files from a large bookcase.

His office was, unsurprisingly, a mess aside from the one place he held the documents keeping track of all his current patients, complete with a few books and office supplies haphazardly placed on the desk. A few spare white coats were hanging just by the door, together with a long and worn leather jacket that he often times wore when outside the building. A familiar string of bones was also peeking from one of its pockets, nowadays worn as a necklace since, after the effects of his mutation were lessened, he found the crown quite unsightly.

"Are you coming by anytime soon," his voice came from behind, snapping her out of her exploration. "We could use a hand sometimes."

Nicole turned to give him a polite smile. "I may, but I have some things to get out of the way for now."

A glance in Miranda's direction revealed the woman hunched over the documents on the desk, writing down a list with the aid of whatever she was reading. They could do some small talk for the time being.

"How have you been," Nicole asked, turning to him again.

She and Salvatore were on quite friendly terms ever since she started occasionally helping out in the hospital that he was in charge of. Not that they had much time to ever hang out, but the few times they did, it's always been a pleasant interaction among colleagues.

"Some days are better than others," he responded with half a shrug.

Judging by the deep purplish circles under his eyes, today wasn't particularly stellar. He was slightly hunched, whether it was out of habit from a time when sitting straight was quite impossible or from tiredness, she couldn't tell.

"Any news from the castle?" He asked with a chuckle. He was rarely welcomed in Alcina's home so the curiosity wasn't unwarranted.

Nicole shrugged. "Same old same old. Bleeding out prisoners, stopping Daniela from breaking vases and all that boring pseudo nobility stuff."

He let out a quiet laugh. "Nobility? Should I start calling you my lady?"

Nicole snorthed, giving his shoulder a small shove that didn't make him move in the slightest.

Their joking banter was interrupted by Miranda all but shoving her way in between them and out the door, calling for her to follow. With a small wave, Nicole was quickly after her, falling in step just slightly behind the other woman. Though it was a small building after all, so it didn't take long to reach the first door on Miranda's list.

"I want you to tell me exactly what you feel," she flatly told Nicole while pushing the door open.

She frowned, eyes slightly narrowed in confusion and glued to Miranda's back as she stepped inside the small room after the woman.

Any incredulous question died on her tongue when she seemed to be yanked back in time, to the yearly family trips her father insisted they all go on. It was to a relative, or family friend, Nicole couldn't quite recall, who owned an old cabin near a lake. Problem was, the lake was always murky and full of algae, the water gaining an unpleasant scent under the August sun. She and Alex never tried swimming.

"Well?" Mirada raised an eyebrow, impatient.

Nicole scrunched up her nose, both wanting and desperately trying not to take a deeper breath. "Pond water? The kind of water that's stagnant and muddy in summer, full of dead fish and weeds."

She tried not to fidget, her mind running a thousand miles an hour. The so-called goddess seeming completely uninterested in shedding light on what the hell they were doing was not of much help either. A frustrated sigh threatened to escape when another person spoke up.

"Doctor?" A meek voice came from the only bed in the room, from a young woman who seemed asleep when they had walked in. She looked between the two of them confused and with squinted eyes.

Miranda simply raised a hand, not even sparing the girl a glance. "Pay us no mind, we're only here to check on something. We'll be on our way in a moment."

Nicole couldn't help the confused look she threw the girl's way. Was she not recognizing the woman this whole town worshipped? An amused snort almost escaped her but she knew better. Besides, who could really blame her? Mirada was wearing an oversized lab coat, blonde hair held back in a ponytail and there was no trace of the makeup that usually accompanied her ceremonial robes and mask.

Not that Nicole had time to appreciate the odd humanity of Miranda's outfit, as the woman turned on her heels and exited the room as soon as she was done writing. She was starting to grow annoyed with the uncooperative and know-it-all attitude, but decided against voicing any opinions and settled for following along to the next door.

It kept on being a rinse and repeat of the first room, only variables being the patients inside and her answers. Sometimes the change wasn't too obvious, maybe just a more metallic undertone or a new faint smell latching onto her senses, like the sickly sweet aroma of honey. A handful of times though she had to all but slap a hand over her face to not be overwhelmed by the enveloping stench. One room in particular made her almost stumbled backwards and out the door, when a strong metallic smell contrasting the accompanying one of decomposition hit her like a slap in the face. The man inside, who was evidently not doing particularly well, didn't seem appreciative of the apparently crazy woman coming in and rudely interrupting his rest.

Nicole didn't look forward to lingering around by that point, but there was one more room to check.

They pushed open the door, and the familiar stinging scent of decay immediately overtook her senses, seeming to latch on to the very inside of her throat. A small rivulet of blood also started dripping down her face, and Nicole quickly pulled out a paper tissue from her pants pocket to press against her nostrils. It was both to stop the bleeding and to shield her senses from the smell.

Once outside, Nicole was trying to catch her breath while Miranda was simply writing something down. Another set of steps approached them, who turned out to be Moreau coming to check on their findings. Upon being given the clipboard to read -he could actually decipher her chicken scratch, really?- he let out a curious hum.

"I need to go over John Abbott's file and compare them," Miranda started, clicking her pen and putting it back into her pocket. "I'll send an assistant after it later." Then she looked her way and waved a hand dismissively. "You're free to go, I'll send Emma after you when you're needed."

Nicole blinked, dumbfounded, her voice coming out harsher than she probably should've allowed it to be. "That's all? What did you find?"

The exasperated edge in her voice did not go unnoticed nor was it appreciated. Miranda rolled her eyes slightly and gave her an answer. "You can distinguish illnesses by smell. We'll do a more comprehensive test and list, but for now we have enough to say that's how the Mold manifested with you," Miranda explained, half turned away and ready to leave.

And she did turn to leave as soon as she was finished. With a nod towards Salvatore, she made her way back down the hospital corridor and presumably towards the passageway that led back to her lab.

Nicole wasn't particularly keen on going down there again if she could help it, so she instead stuck by Salvatore's side as they walked back to his office.

That day wasn't the first time Nicole had entered that room, so the fact that it also served as some kind of archive did not go past her. The office itself was decently sized, and even had a storage room attached to it with the sole purpose of keeping old files that may be important but Miranda didn't need at hand. Although, in all honesty, Salvatore wasn't particularly skilled in keeping everything organized. That's what my secretary is for, he would say, ignoring the fact that Miranda would gut anyone who touched those documents if they weren't part of the small group of people she deemed worthy. Therefore, the files were a mess, the only saving grace being that he at least had the foresight of organizing them by decade.

With a sigh, he started looking through the binders all but stuffed on one of the many shelves. Nicole sat down at his desk, occupying herself with a crayon that she started twisting around her fingers absent mindedly. There was some semblance of relief in finally figuring out what had so cruelly changed in her body, and what an ironic twist of fate said change was. To have spent years pouring over books learning about the illnesses that now were recognizable by something as simple as an acidic smell of blood. On the other hand though, the knowledge that Miranda had a tendency to find some kind of use for all her experiments left a sensation of dread slowly making its way into the deepest crannies of her chest, where a certain parasite had burrowed and made a nest for itself.

"Mind if I call the castle, I don't really feel like walking all the way back," she asked, eyes settling on the phone pushed to the side by a couple books and scattered pens.

"Sure," he responded without moving from where he was pulling out papers, only to shove them back inside their folders when they weren't the correct ones.

Her hands hovered over the keys for a moment. She wasn't about to call Alcina's personal phone to ask for a ride, heavens no. The phone in Carolina's study, where the Constable would spend her time when not in the stables, would be the best choice if only she could remember the number from memory. Nicole decided that the one in the main hall was the best next thing, where one of the guards at the entrance would probably hear the ringing and answer.

She dialed the number and listened to the typical ringing sound once, twice, until she thought nobody was actually around, but at last, a voice came from the other end.

"Alo?"

Nicole took a moment to recognize the voice as Dalia's, the head chambermaid.

"Hey, it's Nicole," she started toying with the pencil again. "I'm at the hospital, can you send Carolina with a horse to pick me up?" She sensed the slight hesitation on the other woman's side and thought to clarify. "I'm not injured, just with Moreau."

She heard a slight exhale from the other end of the line and had to entertain the thought of whether the woman was relieved due to genuine concern for her wellbeing, or she was well aware of how irritable her wife could be. Her being injured definitely made its way on the list of things that would bring out the anger and cruelty carefully crafted over almost a century.

Before hanging up the phone, she sighed and thought better of her request. "Actually, tell Cassandra to come."

She could almost feel the slight grimace from Dalia at being asked to go talk to the most sadist of the sisters, and with a request no less. Oh well, there's to hoping that Cassandra wouldn't be too peeved at said request coming from her wife.

She hung up after hearing an of course, my lady.

With a way to get back home without having to do the trek on foot assured, she leaned back in the chair, watching Salvatore continue on his search. He was standing with his hands on his hips, eyebrows pulled into a frown that slightly wrinkled the already rough skin of his forehead. He looked almost as if he resorted to glaring at the piles of papers, hoping that enough intimidation would scare the right file into jumping into his hands.

It almost made Nicole snort, were it not for the curiosity that both acted as a distraction and pleaded to get some more answers. "So, who's this… Jack Abbott?"

"John Abbott," he corrected without tearing his eyes from the shelf in front of him. He grimaced then. "He was one of Mother Miranda's earlier experiments, and had a very similar mutation to yours."

At that Nicole's eyebrows shot up past the low line of her fringe, interest successfully piqued. She turned in her seat to fully face him, one arm thrown over the back of the chair. When he didn't continue talking, instead pulling out one of the last binders on the shelf labeled 1930's, she impatiently prodded for more information. "And?"

Moreau pulled a face, probably wondering if he was even supposed to talk about it. It didn't take long for him to let out a defeated sigh, the demand to play dumb were Miranda to ever ask about this going unspoken, but more than understood. "Same thing as you really. He could tell what illness someone had by a specific smell, down to the nasty nose bleeds whenever it got too much," he started, noticing a few drops of blood that had dried on her upper lip.

He turned back to pulling out the very last binder dedicated to that decade and relaxed his posture ever so slightly when he saw JOHN ABBOTT written in big letters and black ink on one file. Another frown tugged his cracked lips downward, the information written in such a clinical way only mudding the memory of the frail man he had briefly met so many decades ago. "His body took well to the Cadou until… well ,until it didn't. I don't know what went wrong, but his body just rejected it at one point and he died being slowly consumed by the infection."

At that Nicole's face fell, dread now overtaking her usual curiosity. He must've noticed, for his next words came the slightest bit rushed and with a strained kind of reassurance that wasn't convincing to either of them.

"It may very well not be connected."

Nicole almost scoffed, not at him but at the situation at hand. The hand holding the pencil was tense and, had she not been as weak as she was, the wood would've probably cracked by then. "Did you know him?"

With a slight shake of his head, he answered, not a negation but more a gesture of pity. "Barely. I was brought here only after he started," he narrowed his eyes at a wall somewhere behind Nicole trying to find the right word. He didn't. "...deteriorating."

That was about as much as her brain wanted to know at the moment, letting a heavy silence fill the space for endlessly too long. She was caught in her own thoughts that started to twist and turn into countless what ifs. Thoughts that crashed to a halt when a nurse knocked on the half open door to announce her presence.

"Lady Cassandra is waiting outside," she told Nicole, expression pulled in a poker face that could only belong to someone who had to deal with her wife and tried to seem unbothered. Tried and failed.

Nicole sprung to her feet, circling the desk and about to make her exit when he called out. "Take care of yourself," Moreau told her, looking up from the papers he was reading.

Her lips turned slightly upwards into a smile. "You too." And then she left, rapid pace taking her through off-white hallways and slight smells that she was now painfully aware of.

Stepping outside was a breath of fresh air in more ways than one, the orange hue of the setting sun welcoming her after the hours passed under the harsh lab lights. How ironic was her hatred for the damned neon lights, when not too long ago she would've gladly spent her life under their bluish glow.

Even better than the warm sun on her skin, was the sight of Cassandra, dressed in her usual riding attire and absent mindedly scratching the furry muzzle of one of the castle's Clydesdale horses. A big beast of a horse, black and white with its feathery legs that, Nicole realized with an eye roll, she wouldn't dream of getting on without help.

Her pace quickened until she found herself embraced by a pair of strong arms, the stable smell mixed with Cassandra's cologne filling her senses with something finally pleasant. She didn't let go until she felt a gentle kiss placed on top of her auburn hair.

"Darling," Cassandra greeted her once she pulled back, gloved hand coming to rest on a pale cheek. "How are you?"

Nicole sighed and pushed into the touch, the kind of tiredness that could only be felt after a day spent bending over backwards to every one of Miranda's whims settling into her bones. "Ready to go back home."

Cassandra simply nodded once and moved her hands on her hips, getting a good enough grip before picking Nicole up to where her foot could reach the stirrup so she could pull herself up. Her wife decided that climbing in the saddle was below her at the moment, choosing instead to turn into a swarm, only to retake her human form a mere second later, on the horse's back, her front comfortably against Nicole's back. With a few taps of her boot against the stirrup still occupied by Nicole's foot in a silent demand to let her guide the horse, she took a hold of the reins and they finally started moving down the stone paved road.

There was no complaint on Nicole's part, taking it as a good opportunity to sit back and enjoy the ride, pressed to her wife's chest.

A few eternally long minutes were spent absentmindedly scratching the horse's muscular neck, where short black fur met the mane held in a beautifully done french braid, that only their Constable could pull so seamlessly. A few long minutes spent mulling over what she had found out, thoughts twisting cruelly with every worst case scenario her mind could conjure. Had she made a mistake? Was the infection a mistake to begin with? How cruel could fate be sometimes. Back in New York she had come to terms with a meaningless life, the only truly important thing she had amounted to at that point being choosing a career path to spite her father. But now, after finding a place to call home where she ached to stay to the point of seeking eternity for it, the very thing that could allow her to remain there forever could also take her life away, miserably so.

"What's wrong?"

Cassandra's voice snapped her back to reality, so much so that she even shook her head a couple times to chase away the lingering thoughts. She gave an inquisitive hum in an attempt to play dumb. The attempt was met with an incredulous eye roll.

"You're quiet," she simply responded.

"I'd think spending decades with Daniela would make you appreciate quiet people," Nicole jokingly threw back.

"Not you," came the reply, one hand leaving the reins and coming to rest on her thigh. "I love hearing you talk, even when you're blabbering about proper medical technique."

At that Nicole let out a light gasp, turning around with mild offence written in her eyes. She couldn't find anything to retaliate with for once, setting instead for giving her wife a slight shove with her elbow, that only elicited a laugh.

She shook her head and let out a sigh. "We did figure out what's with the damned nosebleeds." At a curious hum and Cassandra's chin coming to rest on top of her head, she went on. "Apparently I can distinguish illnesses by smell. Now that would've been useful during med school," she finished with a bitter laugh.

Her wife responded with a snort. "If I were Daniela, I'd say you're joking to hide how you really feel." She shrugged. "However I'm not her, and I'm assuming you'll simply tell me without the need of an impromptu psychoanalysis," she said almost smugly, the hand that was until then lazily placed on her leg finding its place around her waist.

The times when Nicole wished to curse her wife's apparently impeccable observation skills were rare, but this was one such occasion.

She almost let out a groan, pushing further back into Cassandra's form. "There was this other man, John Abbott, with the same mutation. Except his body rejected the Cadou and he died slowly and painfully," she explained, her voice quieting halfway through, but almost flinched when the arm around her went stiff with an almost vice-like grip. The realization of how long Cassandra has really been in the Village for slowly crept its way from Nicole's memory, having been filed away and almost forgotten in a metaphorical drawer of obvious things that however were rarely brought up. "Did you know him-"

"You won't end up like that sorry bastard."

The conviction behind that one simple sentence almost had Nicole letting out another short bitter laugh. Not out of bemusement of course. Irony perhaps, at how determined her wife was to double down on cheating death, not only for herself but her too. Even when death could be brought by the very thing keeping them alive.

"Not much we could do about that," she said in a small voice, one hand toying with the black fabric of Cassandra's sleeve.

"Don't think for one moment that I'm joking," she started, an edge of a warning behind her tone. Her hand came to rest more gently on the bottom of Nicole's sternum, where the skin had healed in a dark scar that seemed to send jagged cracks all the way to her stomach. "I'll pull the wretched little thing out of your chest myself if I have to."

At that Nicole actually let out a laugh. "Way to go with something morbidly romantic."

Cassandra chuckled close to her ear, bending down slightly to leave a peck where her neck and shoulder met. "You're not going to die. I won't allow it."

A silent possessiveness accompanied her words. An implication that she now belonged there, in her arms, and frivolous things such as death had no place to come between them. She should flinch at such implications, were it not for the fact that it was mutual and Cassandra knew better than to recklessly throw herself on death's path, knowing well that soon her wife would follow in her steps.

The soft kiss was returned when Nicole bent back again, until the angle between their bodies allowed for their lips to meet tenderly, in a way that anyone would believe was so utterly uncharacteristic to the both of them, ruthless in their own ways but soft like velvet running on smooth skin with each other.

They rode in comfortable silence up until the gates to the stable, where they dismounted and handed the reins to one of the servants waiting there. The sun had set by then, purple and dark blues reigning the skies as they entered the castle through one of the secondary doors.

She parted ways with her wife, saying that she would soon join the rest of their family as she headed up the stairs. A change of clothes was due. That and a request to their seamstress.

Oh her way back down, she stopped by the open door to the woman’s studio, busy with readjusting some garments for one of the ladies. A curt knock on the wooden frame of the entrance got her attention and had her pulling a face upon realizing that she had probably lost count of whatever she was mentally keeping track of. Nonetheless, she offered a polite smile when greeting Nicole.

“My lady, what can I do for you?”

“I need a facemask,” Nicole started.

The woman’s eyebrows pulled in a confused frown. “I thought a new batch of surgical masks just arrived the other day.”

Nicole raised a hand when she went to check on the shipments list. “I meant something I can wear for longer and outside the lab, surgical masks have a tendency to clash with an elegant gown, you know,” she explained with a chuckle. “Preferably that can filter out any smells?”

“Oh. Of course, I’ll just need to take your measures to make sure it’s fitted for you.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow,” she proposed and, after the seamstress gave her an hour, she continued on her way down the hallway to where the rest of the Dimitrescus were gathered.

Being home brought some peace of mind, thoughts of dying and being forcefully ripped away from her life momentarily placated in favor of enjoying a few hours by the fireplace with her family. Leaning against Cassandra as she draped an arm around her shoulders and listening to Daniela and Bela have a hilariously heated debate over the latest book they've read felt downright blissful in its mundane aspect.

Although no matter what, the little parasite that now called the inside of her chest its home, was quietly gnawing at her worried mind.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #mother miranda #salvatore moreau #to bargain for immortality #fanfic #big reveal is big

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citydreamgrls · 4 years ago

Text

a simple favour - part one

fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: it was all in her best interests, fred never meant to catch feelings for her. it had started as a simple favour.

words: 3,371

warnings: swearing , tw: stalking / stalker , smut in later parts (18+)

find part two here

It had started off out of the blue one morning, a letter waiting for me in the great hall when I came down for breakfast. I had been fixing my hair when multiple heads turned towards me, I frowned as I sat down.

“What?”

Hermione held a letter in her hand, passing it over to me with a weirded out look on her face. I shrugged, recognising my name on the front but not the hand it was written in.

I laughed to myself as my eyes scanned over each carefully thought out word, describing my appearance and how ‘entrancing’ I was. Whoever had intended this letter for me was confessing their feelings in an oddly poetic and creepy way, my only conclusion being that it had to be one of the others playing a trick on me.

“Very funny guys, which one of you wrote this? I can’t recognise the writing.” I threw the parchment down carelessly, letting expectant eyes read over it as Ron grabbed it for himself.

“Doesn’t it say?” Hermione asked me, trying to read it over Harry’s head. “It was already here when we came down.”

“Yeah… this isn’t any of us.” Ron scoffed.

“I think you have a secret admirer y/n.” Harry added, handing it back to me.

I squinted, drinking some of my coffee and eyeing up their faces, expecting one of them to snap and laugh. But all I got was stone cold confusion from each of them. If only the letters had stopped there, then I may not have minded. Little did I know, it would only get worse.

The letters came every single day, sometimes multiple times. What once was harmless words of my beauty and desire turned sinister, now whoever was writing also seemed to know my whereabouts every day. He would depict times when I thought I had been alone, or claim he’d watched me go for my morning shower. My every move was documented, all with a perfect description of what I had been wearing even days after it had happened. The most disgusting part was the anonymity, the knowledge that this person was getting away with being a massive pervert and torturing me with it day in and day out. Whoever was obsessed with me was keeping it a secret and successfully stalking me from the sidelines.

The day that I found flowers on my bed I screamed like I’d been stabbed, making Ron and Harry quickly race up to the dorm thinking that I’d been attacked. Both of them had cringed at ‘gift’ with the realisation that he’d been in my room, sat on my bed and possibly done worse.

“Make sure nothing’s been taken.” Ron had said grimly, making me shudder at the fear that they could have something of mine.

“Jesus what a creep.” I’d whispered, stomping over to the bed and throwing the flowers out the window with a furious shout.

Since that day Hermione tried putting a curse on the bedroom door, meaning that only those who knew the counter-curse could enter, and those who didn’t would be blown all the way back down to the common room. Poor Ron had ended up being the test subject, which he wasn’t happy about in the slightest, but we had to make sure it worked somehow.

However, even that didn’t work. The letters kept arriving as usual, and the gifts would still appear neatly in my room every day. Not that it stopped me from discarding them in the most public way possible. My anger was growing by the second and throwing them away didn’t feel finite enough, so one night after watching the boy’s quidditch practice when Hermione and I found a teddy bear on my pillow I finally lost my cool.

I could hear voices in the common room, but that didn’t stop me. With the bear in one hand I stormed down, pushed past the small crowd of people laughing and chatting, and threw it into the fire with a grunt. They all fell into silence, Hermione catching up just in time to see its fur crackle away.

I sighed in relief, it felt good to watch the flames engulf around it. Whispers started up from behind me as my friend came over, her hand holding mine gently as we both just stood there. The bear's eyes began to melt, the plastic dripping down its face.

“Come on,” She murmured, taking me back upstairs where I screamed about how horrifying it all was and whether this ‘sick fuck’ thought he was being genuinely romantic.

“Who do you think it could be?” Hermione asked me the next night, as I ripped up yet another letter. The sight of my own owl was beginning to instil fear within me.

“At first I thought it could’ve been the twins, but even they’re finding this too much.”

Fred and George knew pretty much everything about everyone at Hogwarts, but when Ron had shown them the extent of this person’s doing, they too drew up a blank, mentioning how weird all of it was.

“They’re not like that,”

“This isn’t a harmless prank anymore is it?” I asked the girl, who wanted desperately to help me solve this twisted mystery.

“I don’t think it ever was,” She hummed to herself, sighing in defeat at the knowledge that the letter I was destroying was in no means the last of its kind.

It quickly became common knowledge that I had a stalker after my meltdown in the common room. Professor Mcconagall even offered to help, but there wasn’t much she could do without knowing who it was. Honestly I was weirdly glad she couldn’t, all this frustration had made me determined to deal with the fucker myself.

Hermione didn’t let me go anywhere by myself anymore, with the fear that the creep could pounce while I was without one of them. Most of the time it was fine, I had classes with at least one of them at all times and we had meals together as it was. But it meant that whenever I needed to study, one of them would have to go with me to the library. Hermione also made the rule that she’d sit outside my cubicle every time I showered, especially since the stalker had mentioned it before, keeping watch in case he tried to show up while I was vulnerable.

Despite it making my life a little more complicated, I was glad the others were so willing to look after me. If it wasn’t for them being with me 24/7 who knows what could have happened?

It was Harry’s turn to be on y/n watch, as he and Ron had called it, when Fred and George came running into the common room breathless. We had been looking over the most recent letter and discussing more theories on who it could possibly be when they’d burst in. We let them get their breath back, Fred hunching over as George did his best to get his words out.

“We know who it is y/n..” He’d just about managed. I jumped up, letting him sit down.

“Wh-at? Really? Who- how?” I stuttered.

Fred stood up straight, having finally gotten his heartbeat back down.

“Katie bell said she’d seen Cormac Mclaggen writing some letters this morning, then Lavender said something about him buying a teddy in Hogsmeade last week.”

“But they both saw him coming down your dorm tower last night.” George finished, cutting his brother off from the kicker of the story.

“Oi I was getting to that.” Fred grumbled, but I had zoned them as soon as I’d heard Cormac’s name mentioned.

My fists clenched up with absolute aggression, I could kill him. Now I had a disgusting, smug face to put to all the fear and loathing he’d caused and all I wanted to do was break said face.

“That fucker!” I shouted out into thin air, heading for the door. But Fred was the one to catch me before I reached it, dragging me back again without a second thought.

“Y/n it could be someone else,” Harry tried to reason, but it had to be him. It only made sense. The twins didn’t seem too convinced but argued another point against me going to find him myself.

“Besides Mclaggen is a big guy, if you go alone there’s no saying what he’d do to you.” George nodded in agreement with his brother and, as much as I hated to admit it, Fred was right. Cormac had been keeper on their quidditch team for a while now, and didn’t hide how much he liked to work out when flirting with girls. So why was he choosing me to be so creepy and mysterious to, not that I would’ve appreciated him doing it face to face either.

We decided to have a secret meeting later that night with everyone after telling Hermione and Ron what we’d learnt. Ron was mad, wanting to confront him immediately similarly to how I had reacted, but like the others Mione agreed that we should plan something.

“Guys like that are too proud, he won’t listen to y/n if she rejects him in person,” She had explained, cross legged at the end of my bed. I was propped up against my headboard, my knees tucked up to my body with multiple means of murder running through my mind.

“Not to mention you’d be giving him the satisfaction he’s always wanted,” Fred added, sitting on the windowsill beside me. One of his feet was hanging off the edge near me, swinging ever so slightly. Some weird part of me wanted to reach out, just for something to hold onto.

In the end it was decided that Ron, Harry and the twins would go and talk to him in the morning while they were at quidditch practice. This meant that I could go down to breakfast without the worry that he would be there, watching me from down the table. I tried to hide my fear of him, but with so many of them looking after me that night it was inevitable that at least one of them saw the tears in my eyes, if not all of them.

Hermione, Ron and Harry needed to go to the library to do homework after we discussed Cormac, leaving me with the twins as bodyguards which could have been worse. They did their best to take my mind off of the boy who had been writing to me about his deepest fantasies, but I wasn’t in the mood for it.

George played around with the perfume bottles lined up on the dresser, using his wand to make them dance. He had always been good at keeping himself amused. Fred had remained on the windowsill the whole time, his foot still going back and forth even when I laid on my side and found it right in my face.

He laughed lightly as I poked it away wordlessly, only to push it back into my face again. Admittedly, our little game of him swinging his foot to me so I could gently hit it away kept my mind busy for a while. Obviously it had sent me to sleep too, as I woke up when Hermione came back to let the twins go. Half asleep I groaned a thank you to them, Fred rustling my hair as he passed by and George slapping my leg in recognition.

Breakfast the next morning felt tense, Lavender had told people she thought it was Mclaggen which meant everyone kept coming up to ask if it was true. Some of them even tried to convince me how nice he really was, and that I was lucky to be wanted by him. Hermione of course sent them all on their way, keeping a hold of my hand as I struggled to finish even one slice of toast. All the while, my eyes remained glued to the great hall doors, hoping I wouldn’t see him turn up early from practice. The thought of seeing him at all had kept me away from the common room, a sickly feeling bubbling in my stomach knowing that the boy’s would probably be confronting him right about now.

I felt like throwing up on the spot, my friend’s hand getting crushed in my own as I saw him saunter in, his eyes immediately catching mine and giving me a smug smile. All I wanted to do was go over to where he sat down without a care and break his nose off with one punch. That would stop him from smirking so much like a pervert.

“What happened?” Hermione asked the boys when they finally arrived.

“”He’s a huge git you know.” Ron grumbled, glaring the boy down but the whole time it was me he was watching. I stopped looking after a while, my eyes glossing over as I listened to the twins explain how he’d reacted.

“I don’t think he even cares that we know,” Fred said.

“He’s proud of it really.” George added, making that sickly feeling somehow intensify.

“Even with these two around he wasn’t bothered,” Harry pointed to the older Weasley brothers with a huff.

“Yeah, and we were threatening him quite a lot.” George laughed, no one else really responding to his attempt at a cheery comment.

“We better go,”Hermione said, checking the time and taking my hand “Come on, if we don’t go now he might wait all day.” She whispered to me and I nodded, standing up with her. “Just ignore him.” The girl reminded me as we got nearer to his end of the table, his eyes following my step.

I broke from Mione’s grip, leaning across the table to him with a glare on my face. The fear had turned into anger all over again now that he was in front of me.

“You’re vile Mclaggen.”

“What’s wrong y/n?” He asked, that smirk never faltering. “Didn’t you like my love letters?”

People around him were confused, now learning that he’d been the one to stalk me these past couple of weeks. While some of them were his friends, none of them jumped to his defense.

“You need to get a fucking life, and leave me alone you freak.” I spat, standing up straight again to see a shocked Hermione waiting for me. I just smiled and took her hand again, leading her out of the hall as if nothing had happened.

“Christ y/n..” she scoffed “Well done.” I leant against the windowsill in the hallway, laughing hysterically into my hands.

“God that felt good.” I breathed a sigh of relief, not sure whether it worked or not but glad that I at least got to embarrass him for just one moment.

It was my mistake to let my guard down and expect nothing more from Mclaggen that day. Because what happened that very night still is the very reason people check that every door and window is locked before they go to bed.

The commotion had woken me up first, shouts and panicked scuffling coming from two different people. Then the lights were turned on, dragging me out of my sleep in a single second just to see Hermione standing in the middle of the room with her wand outstretched. At the other end, Cormac Mclaggen was backing away slowly with his hands in the air, finally a frightened look on his face. He looked over at me, now awake and frozen with fear, giving Mione a chance to shout out for help.

“RON! FRED!” she screamed, knowing just one of them had to have heard from their beds. With this Cormac ran off, Hermione shooting stunning spells after him but he dodged every one of them as he descended the tower.

“Oh my god,” I finally gasped, swallowing down hard. I broke out into a burst of tears just before the boys turned up at the door George and Harry with them, all of them with wands out for whatever was going to be inside. Hermione wrapped her arms around me, looking up at the boys but still reassuring me that it was all okay now.

“He was in here,” She said slowly, making Ron and Harry race down to the common room to see if they could catch him.

Fred and George came to my side, each taking one of my hands and holding it tight. They sat with me all through the night, letting Hermione sleep for a while. Neither of them dared drift off themselves, certain that this wouldn’t be the creep’s last attempt to get close to me.

“You can sleep if you want,” Fred whispered to me, my head leaning on his shoulder. I shook it slightly.

“I can’t.”

{third pov}

When y/n whispered to him that she couldn’t sleep, despite all the people there to keep watch for that dick Mclaggen, Fred decided he wanted to see him dead. There had to be more he could do, something that would make him leave her alone for good. Threats hadn’t worked on him, neither had the girl he wanted so badly confronting him. So the boy felt at a loss, yet fuelled to stop the onslaught of fear that y/n felt.

So he waited until his brother was in the shower to sneak off to the courtyard, hoping to catch the pervert on his way to his daily run by the lake.

“Oi, Mclaggen!” He called across the empty bridge, seeing him appear from the castle.

“You alright Weasley?”

“It’s Fred. And I know what you did last night?” He stood tall over the boy, but nothing seemed to waver his confidence.

“And what would that be?”

“You were there, in her room. You sick fucker.” The boy huffed, feeling himself growing more and more frustrated at Cormac’s arrogance.

“You missed quite a party,” he scoffed, raising his eyebrows. Fred reached forward, grabbing his shirt and pulling it up to his chin.

“You listen to me, Okay? Leave y/n alone.” The boy swore that the pervert’s smile grew.

“And what’s it to you Weasley.” He all but hissed.

“She’s my girlfriend.”

The words had come out quicker than he’d really had time to think over their repercussions, but seeing the look on Mclaggen’s face drop in shock made up for whatever he was going to have to do from then on.

“She.. l-likes you?” Fred dropped him again, making him stumble slightly as he thought it over.

“Afraid so buddy.”

“How long has she been yours?” He hated the way it was phrased as if y/n was a possession for one of them to own.

“Two weeks.” Fred lied yet again, the anger he’d felt pushing him continue this story. At least it seemed to bother the other boy enough.

Cormac had sent one last glare at the ginger, before going off in a huff. Finally something had worked, maybe not for good, but it at least had gotten a reaction out of him. As Fred headed back inside the castle he realised that the only way the creep’s obsessive ways could be stopped, was if y/n’s attention was somewhere else.

Now he just had to find a way to explain that to her, without her getting too mad.

My room was now my safe place, somewhere he couldn’t turn up without consequence. Harry had brought me some breakfast from the great hall, and Ron was doing his best to keep what little spirits we had amongst us high. Hermione and George had given up trying to convince me to tell Mcgonagall, as I assured them nothing could be done unless he was caught inside the dorm.

“It’s just our word against his,” I huffed. We were all sitting around wondering where Fred had disappeared to when he appeared at the door, an awkward smile on his face when we all looked over at him.

“So…” He started, his voice wary as if we all might snap at him for what he was abou to say. “I might have done something bad.”

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satoruvt · 4 years ago

Text

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend.

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left.

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day.

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement.

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time.

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job. “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars.

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!”

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower.

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung.

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!”

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down.

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?”

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face.

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom.

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself.

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen.

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring.

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart.

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add.

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,” Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it.

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel.

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh.

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though.

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #CRIES I'M SO EXCITED #THIS FIC IS MY BABY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT!!!!#seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung imagine #svt hoshi x reader #svt hoshi imagine #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen hoshi imagine #hoshi x reader #hoshi imagine

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years ago

Text

you’re the one that i want (part 24)

word count: 5k

fluff

(part 23) (series masterlist)

it was crazy how long days used to feel during this time just last year, after winer break started and the draining third and forth marking periods of school started.

usually, you’d be crumbling.

working your hardest to maintain your grades while also dealing with a toxic home environment. you loved school because it served as a safe haven away from that but it also drained and exhausted every bit of you.

but four months of your life now passed by unbelievably fast and you were handling everything well, good people around you that made schoolwork just a little more tolerable.

when you were struggling with math, mingi would help you during lunch. if you needed someone to test you with flashcards, yeosang would reward every correct answer with a piece of food. when a particular teacher gave you shit for anything, wooyoung was quick to cause some sort of chaos even if it meant getting detention.

and when everything just got too overwhelming and you never wanted to look at another book again, seonghwa was quick to clear your desk and drag you to bed. lay you down and hold himself above you until you were smiling and giggling as he pecked kisses down your neck.

you think it was solely because of him and the others and your aunt that june came so fast, only two weeks left of school and everyone buzzing with excitement; even with the whines and arguing coming from your lunch table.

“you’re really gonna make us stay in a hotel for the whole summer?” wooyoung asked, looking at seonghwa with distrust and hurt in his eye. “i thought we had fun at your house that time.”

because with only two weeks left of school meant only two weeks left of you and seonghwa commuting back and forth.

of seeing wooyoung, san, mingi and yeosang every day who have really grown to love this dynamic; so much so, they’ve been all but begging to spend the whole summer there with you two.

but to no one’s surprise, seonghwa wasn’t for the idea.

“no, you guys had fun. i was one second away from flinging myself off a fucking cliff.”

“that’s not fair,” san whines.

but the dirty blonde only quirks an eyebrow and asks if it was fair that he had to sleep on the floor on his own bedroom every night. or be rudely woken up and forced to make breakfast. or share his girlfriend and-

“no hotel, you guys could always stay with me,” you interrupt sweetly, a small smile on your face that only widens when you feel seonghwa glaring at you. your head cranes over to look him up and down, a smirk crossing your face as you shrug your shoulders carelessly.

“what?”

“yeah, what?” wooyoung asks, mimicking your higher voice causing you to narrow your eyes at him.

“really? what?” seonghwa asks, annoyance and exasperation in his tone. “i don’t want you burning my girlfriend’s house down, that’s what.”

“girlfriend, this. girlfriend, that. we all know you have a girlfriend, okay.”

“what? girlfriend? i don’t have a girlfriend.”

everyone’s heads snap to the side when a new voice stammers those words out, yeosang finally arriving and standing there looking incredibly panicked and guilty.

it makes you in particular cock an eyebrow, the other boy’s “where the hell did you come from” and “we know you loser,” quickly turning back into whines and protests to seonghwa.

but for the the rest of lunch, you could only focus on how...odd yeosang is acting.

peeking at you every now and then before smiling awkwardly, checking his phone and trying to hide his smile, needing mingi or san to repeat themselves several times because he just seems so dazed and out of it.

when lunch ends, seonghwa is quick to stand up and grab your hand as per your usual walk to class together. but you take your hand from his hold and place it on his arm, standing up on your tippy toe to peck his cheek.

“can you go without me?” you ask softly, using a voice you know will always get him. “i wanna talk to yeosang for a second.”

“oh?” he mumbles, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear casually. “what about?”

“i don’t know, he was acting strange,” you say quietly, turning to see him gathering his stuff and checking his phone once more. “i wanna make sure he’s okay.”

the dirty blonde looks to yeosang and hums quietly, looking over his friend who meets his gaze.

“what?”

“why are you being a weird fuck?”

“seonghwa!” you squeal, smacking his chest before quickly ushering him away.

he lets out a loud chuckle before squeezing your hand once more, telling you he’ll meet you at the end of the period and meeting yeosang’s middle finger with one of his own.

“your boyfriend’s such a dick.”

a small smirk crosses your face as you shrug, looking the boy over with a suspicious look in your eye. a look that he catches and turns an endearing but humorous shade of red because of.

“why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i think you got yourself a girlfriend,” you say, poking his arm as you two walk through the crowded, bustling hallways. he lets out a scoff before bumping into you, remembering to be gentle;

because the last time he did that, you smacked into a wall and he paid for it dearly - curtsey of seonghwa’s fist in his stomach.

“what makes you say that?”

“just a vibe,” you say, the sweet smile on your face morphing into a teasing one when he raises an eyebrow. “and you’re little ‘who me? i don’t have a girlfriend!’ was the icing on the cake, really.”

he stares blankly at you causing you to giggle, shrugging your shoulders as you promise you won’t tell anyone if that’s the case.

and it takes a little bit of persuading, just a pout on your lips before you remind him how mean he was to you when you first met for good measure.

“that’s not fair,” he sighs out, a smirk on your face as you shrug your shoulders.

and just as you knew you would, you find out he’s been seeing a girl for a few months. that they’re not official or serious, only having been on a few dates but enough time for him to really like her.

“she kind of scared the shit out of me at first,” he laughs out and you have to suppress the squeal threatening to leave your lips at the sappy look on his face. “she still kinda does but she’s also really fucking cool. i don’t know, i just like her.”

and once he sees the bright smile on your face, he knows he made a grave mistake.

“but don’t tell those shitheads yet, i wanna ask her out first.”

“oh? when you are going to? today? oh, my gosh and how?” you squeal excitedly, the initial budding of a romance something that always makes your heart soar. but it proves to only make yeosang roll his eyes, the sound of the bell blaring through the hall saving him.

“perfect timing,” he quips, your arm shooting out to push at him before he rushes down the hallway to his class.

“perfect timing.”

san narrows his eyes at you a few hours later at the cafe, a smirk crossing your face when you see wooyoung wave to you from the window; it’s almost the 6th shift in a row the boy has made him late for but he looks all too pleased with himself.

“he has no shame,” you hum lowly, giggling softly when you see a blush cross san’s face. “and neither do you, apparently.”

“stop,” he whines, hitting you lightly in the arm. “you have to be nice, we only have a few weeks left together here.”

because as much as you love san and this cafe, commuting during the summer would’ve been an absolute nightmare. and his parents had been the ones to suggest it, telling you they would never in a million years fire you but wanted you to enjoy your summer.

“and you can’t do that if you’re trapped in a car ten hours a week,” they said, before taking notes from their son and promptly pushing free cookies and cakes down your throat.

but you’re really gonna miss this place. even if you’re only away from it for a few months, it acted as a safe haven when you really needed one. was one of the only places where you’d have a smile on your face and not feel like your life was falling apart at the seams.

“what do you mean? you guys are staying with me,” you say, looking at him like a confused puppy in a way that makes him smile.

“seonghwa’s not gonna allow that.”

“well luckily, it’s not up to seonghwa. it’s up to me and my aunt.”

san bites the inside of his cheek to hold back his smirk, looking at you with a quirked up eyebrow causing you to mirror his expression.

“what?”

“just keep that energy when he’s around too,” the boy teases before his eyes dramatically bat and his face becomes one of a lovesick teen. “but seonghwa, pleaseee,” he whines, doing a lousy impression of your voice that makes you smack his shoulder.

but your fight and quarreling is quickly interrupted by the uncharacteristically abrupt entrance of bo-ra, the once shy girl coming out of her shell a little bit more everyday.

you were happy you were able to keep your friendship with them despite the fact they were at different school, always having at least two customers a day who you could guarantee would make you and san smile.

“you guys will never believe this.”

and right when bo-ra tells you jojo has been seeing a boy for a few months now, you almost don’t believe it. not only because of the crazy coincidence that yeosang, too, has been seeing a girl for the past few months but because it might be jojo.

it almost seemed as if the girl had sworn off any and all high school boys because they are “mean, idiotic assholes who think with the wrong, less impressive head.”

and yeosang being the one to change that perspective? you couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.

how yeosang, at one point, was the exact description of that. how, really, all of them were like that except the sweet blonde throwing his head back in laughter at this information.

“no way, who is he? and what’s wrong with him?”

you both let out a snort and hit the boy playfully, bo-ra putting a finger to her lips as she looks at san chastisingly.

“stop it, they’re coming any second now! i ran ahead because i could not stand to watch them awkwardly bump arms and blush any longer. but act natural. pretend i didn’t tell you. in fact, maybe you guys should act like you don’t even-”

but the second the door rings open, san is up and over to them in a second. he’s so hot in pursuit he doesn’t even realize it’s the familiar brown-haired boy, teasing eyes on jojo as he greets them with a tray of cookies.

“i gotta give it to jojo, i never thought anyone would be able to-”

and it’s at hearing the lowly mumbled “shit,” under his breath that makes san stop talking, snapping his head over to see no other than yeosang looking at him with a half annoyed, half guilty expression.

“yeosang?”

the last two weeks of school for you, and mostly everyone else, were great. the work was light, the teachers were lenient and every single person was in good spirits and anticipating the fun and relaxation that came with summer.

the last two weeks of school for yeosang, however, were...disastrous. because not only was everyone giving him shit for having a girlfriend, they were chastising him for keeping it a secret.

“it wasn’t a fucking secret! i just hadn’t asked her officially yet and i wanted to wait until-”

“we went through this shit before and we’re not about to do it again,” mingi says, whacking the top of the brunet’s head before looking at you and seonghwa. “no offense guys.”

“none taken,” you giggle out as you shake your head, seonghwa rolling his eyes before pulling you into him further. you smile softly against him and meet his gaze, smirking at the look on his face and leaning up to peck his cheek.

it’s a look that only gets more annoyed and tense as the conversation goes into summer, his arm still tightly around you serving as the only thing to keep him grounded and sane.

the same way you’re the only thing keeping him sane now, you in the front seat of his car while wooyoung, mingi, san and yeosang all flail around and hit each other in the back. the trunk is full of suitcases and bags filled enough for two months because, of course, he had lost that battle.

“i’ll definitely be a better surfer, are you fuckin’ nuts?”

“no fucking way, you’re too lanky.”

“well you’re too short! did you stop growing at age eight?”

seonghwa looks over at you, a pained expression on his face at the juvenile conversation in the back and you can only tighten your hold on your intertwined hands.

look down and smile at not only the banter of the boys and your boyfriend’s utter annoyance but the way his hand holds yours so securely.

how they fit together perfectly as you trace your other fingers over the black rings and veins of his hand.

“it’s gonna be fine,” you tell seonghwa softly, surprised he can even hear you despite the chaos in the back. “they could always stay with me if you need a break.”

but he only looks over at you and shakes his head, bringing your hand to his lips before he tightens his hold on you.

“absolutely not, i could never put you through that.”

you let out a snort before wooyoung’s head is directly between you both, his arms on the console and neck snapping back and forth as he begs seonghwa for surfing lessons to prove mingi wrong.

and much to the taller boy’s dismay, wooyoung actually did prove to be the better surfer.

because after only two days of you guys going down to the ocean, seonghwa’s reluctant help in teaching him, though nowhere near as thorough as the lessons he provided last year, proved that the brunet was just somehow naturally gifted at it.

“how does it feel to fucking suck?” wooyoung laughs at mingi, watching the boy roll in clumsily after being knocked by waves. his wet hair’s a mess of tangles and seaweed and yunho can only watch from the beach with a frown on his face.

“he’s trying though,” the tall boy whines to you, a giggle leaving your mouth as you shake your head.

“i know, he really is,” you say, the two of you laughing again as mingi jumps up and tries to dunk wooyoung under water. you two watch as the shorter boy gets away, much to mingi’s annoyance, and he looks at you two with a dejected look.

“come here,” yunho yells down to mingi, his large hand flagging the boy over. but he only lets shake his head and tells him to go there, that he needs his help now and is gonna cry if he doesn’t.

and what mingi wants from the boy, he gets almost immediately. because you don’t know if you’ve ever seen yunho move so fast, rolling your eyes at how easy he gives in before you lay back down and enjoy the warm sun on your skin - but only for a few moments.

because then you feel a familiar pair of arms around you, your eyes shooting open just in time to see you’re being thrown over seonghwa’s shoulder as he’s heads to the ocean. you squeal and hit his back and tell him he better not throw you in but you don’t even have to see him to know there’s a smirk on his face.

he goes in until it’s waist deep before promptly throwing you down, the freezing june water making you squeal out before popping up with a gasp.

“seonghwa!”

“i’m sorry, baby, but i had to,” he whines, circling his arms around your waist. you narrow your eyes but welcome his touch anyway, even jump up and wrap your legs around his hips in a move you’re all too familiar with in this ocean.

“you really didn’t,” you whine softly but he can only kiss your salty lips and you smile against them, meeting the chaste, sweet kiss back immediately. your arms wrap around his neck when his tongue slips in just a little teasingly, pushing yourself further into him and smiling when he pulls back.

“it’s broad daylight,” his deep voice chokes out warningly, your one hand snaking down to trace the lines of his stomach teasingly.

“you started it,” you quip back playfully, trying so desperately to remember there are far too many people around to repeat what happened several times right in this ocean.

but how could you forget? especially with the scoffs and splashing coming from just a few feet away from you.

“hey sickos, i’m pretty sure you can get arrested for that,” yeosang yelps, seonghwa pulling away to sneer at him while you hide your face in embarrassment because he’s probably right.

you can feel the dirty blonde smile against your head as you hide in his neck, seonghwa’s fingers threading through your hair before pulling your face back to look at him.

he can’t help but snort when he sees the pink flush on your cheeks, knowing it’s not from the sun because he made sure to put sunscreen on you before coming down to the beach today.

“did you put on sunscreen?”

your face drops and the guilty look in your eyes causes him to groan. he drops his board and takes the black bag from his back, zipping it open and pulling out a bottle of sunscreen.

“here.”

and you already know better than to refuse, taking it with a wince and quiet “thank you.”

he watches you rub it over your arms and shoulders, feeling your cheeks warm as his eyes stay on you. “did you put some on?” you ask, in an effort to distract yourself from his piercing gaze.

but he only nods his head, picking his board up and dusting off some sand and dirt as his eyes remain on you. you squirt some more on your hand before giving it to him with a grateful smile, rubbing it in and then wiping the excess on your face.

“thank you,” you tell him. “i always forget to put it on which would explain why i’m a little-”

“missed some,” he hums lowly, his hand slowly reaching out so his thumb can rub in the lotion on your cheek.

he does everything so smoothly and nonchalantly while you inhale sharply, your lips parting and watching him with wide eyes. it was the first indication that his touch was gonna be gentle this week, his hands softer than you expected. his eyes meet yours when he pulls his hand back, raising his eyebrow when he sees your face.

“you good?”

yeah, i’m good, you think, i just have a handsome boy touching my face about to put me in cardiac arrest.

he plays the memory over in his head and can’t help but smile, your eyes catching his dazed look along with the softer look in his eye.

“what?” you squeak, cocking your head to the side in confusion.

“nothing,” he says, shrugging his shoulders before tightening his hold on you. “i just love you.”

because he can’t help but think about those times last year, when he was bitter and jaded and so closed off to feeling anything positive. it’d all been a mask, of course, but he’d worn it for so long he didn’t know if he’d ever learn how to be without it.

but that was until he saw you, started everything with you right here in the form of soft, guiding touches that lingered just a little too long and shy looks back and forth that should’ve made him realize this was gonna be the result.

him so easily telling you he loves you, with any and everyone around to hear him say it so surely. biting back a smile and feeling his heart lurch in his chest when your face softens and mouth drops open.

because even though you know he loves you, know that he says it several times a day and means it every time, it’s these random little moments that make your heart flutter the most.

when he’s saying it for no other reason than that he wants you to hear it, that he becomes fully consumed by the feeling just from watching you smile or feeling you against him.

but you still can’t help but blush as you softly tell him you love him too, his skin littered with water droplets and the sun shining behind him so devastatingly familiar and handsome.

your arms tightly wound around his neck before he twirls you around and nearly sends you flying under water, your giggle and seonghwa’s deep chuckle echoing through the salty air.

but it’s quickly cut off by another voice, one much harsher and not so giddy.

“jesus christ,” yeosang grumbles, you and seonghwa snapping your heads over to see him looking at you both. “please don’t tell me i’m gonna look this pathetic.”

“fuck off,” seonghwa snaps. but you can only smack him lightly and look at yeosang with a raised eyebrow, because you’ve actually seen him and jojo together and can confirm they’re just as pathetic as you two.

“of course you do,” you say, your eyes moving back to shore as a small, teasing smile crosses your face. “because look, jojo just got here.”

and the way yeosang’s face brightens and his head snaps to the side is the first indication you’re absolutely correct. his eyes roaming the beach and softly spoken “where is she?” making you feel just a little bit bad for lying.

the girls did, however, make it just a few days later for a weekend trip. yeosang greeted jojo just as pathetically as he feared to look, his arms wrapping around her body and pressing a kiss to her head like they hadn’t seen each other in months.

mumbled that he missed her and how pretty she looked and you had to turn your face into seonghwa’s chest so you didn’t squeal.

it was nice to see them both so vulnerable. when you first met them, they were harsher and colder, with walls not so easy to break down that always made them sneer in the face of love. made them question couples that made it seem like the end of the world when they were apart.

but now, they’re going through that dilemma firsthand with all the other couples, when talk of a girl sleepover and boy sleepover happen, san being looped into the former purely due to bo-ra’s request.

“what, no,” wooyoung whined, arm reaching out to pull the blonde back by the shirt. “he has to be with us. he’s technically a boy.”

“technically?” san asks, snapping his head to the side to look the pouting boy.

"but there’s already too many of you, yunho’s parents will go crazy,” you say, walking over and smacking wooyoung’s hand off the blonde. “and you get to see him all the time. bo-ra and jojo are only here for the weekend.”

“b-but,”

“i’ll be back to you in the morning, drama queen, since i’m only technically a boy,” san says, secretly far too excited with a night away from them; he loves his friends and woo but sometimes they get even a little too crazy for him, having grown used to spending all his time with you.

and of course, you don’t miss your own boyfriend’s reluctance to let you go but can only assure him with a sweet smile and teasing shake of the head before you all run inside and lock the doors.

it takes your aunt all of two seconds to fall in love with your new friends, a spread of dessert and soda in wine glasses (except for her own) keeping you occupied well into the night.

you all laugh until tears are in your eyes and your sides hurt, the boys just a house away hearing the ruckus through the open windows.

“do you think...they’re talking about us?” wooyoung asks seonghwa and yeosang, the dirty blonde rolling his eyes as yeosang’s mouth drops open.

“oh, my god do they do that?” the brunet asks, shock and horror in his voice as both boys turn to look at seonghwa.

the dirty blonde is tapping on his phone before he feels eyes on him, looking over to see his two friends staring at him wildly.

“what is wrong with you guys?”

“let’s sneak over. i can’t take not knowing what they’re laughing about.”

“what if they’re talking about our...”

another loud chorus of giggles and cackles rings through the window and it causes yeosang and wooyoung to shoot away from the window, paranoia quickly creeping up on them.

“shit! they’re they go again. what the hell could be so damn funny?”

“they must be getting details from jojo now,” seonghwa says casually, wooyoung snorting as yeosang’s head snaps to him in outrage.

and while you guys might’ve been talking about them a little, you’d never let them know that. you’d never let them know you actually shared about how sweet and thoughtful they could all be, even given their flaws.

but somewhere between talking and laughing and then going out in the pool, stormy clouds rolled in and before you knew it, rain and thunder was pelting against your window.

blankets and pillows were sprawled out across your aunt’s couch as you all laid there cuddled into one another, san’s head on your foot while your head rested on jojo’s shoulder.

it took one movie to knock them out and then another for last girl, now just you with the darkness and roaring weather outside quickly making you miss the boy next door.

you’d gotten used to having him every night; more often than not, you slept together and woke to one another and now you’re feeling just a little hypocritical for tearing wooyoung and san away from each other so easily.

because you’re quick to sneak away from your three sleeping friends, cover them with blankets and turn of the tv, before sneaking into your room.

one particularly loud crack of thunder causes you to jump, cursing yourself when you check the pockets of your pajamas and realize you forgot your phone downstairs.

“shit,” you mutter under your breath, about to turn around and make your way back down when you hear a knocking on your balcony door.

and then suddenly, your life feels very much so like a horror movie - no means to communicate with anyone, the howling wind and darkness outside, a mysterious knocking at a door that the character is stupidly going to investigate.

but maybe it’s because, somehow, you knew your soaking wet boyfriend was gonna be standing on the other side.

“i texted you,” he says simply, like he’s not standing out in the pouring rain or giving you a mini heart attack.

“you could’ve rang the doorbell!” you whisper-yell, pulling him inside before telling him to stay there. you run frantically around your room for a towel and an extra set of his clothes you ‘borrowed’ before throwing them at him.

“why did you do that, you’re gonna get sick!”

and despite your rush of adrenaline to save him, another crack of thunder causes you to jump and he can’t help the smirk that crosses his face.

“you’re really asking me that?”

“i told you i’m not scared of thunder,” you say surely, taking his wet clothes and hanging them in the bathroom before seeing he made himself quite comfortable in your bed.

it’s upon hearing another boom outside, shaking the house and causing a squeal to leave your mouth, that you quickly scurry in next to him. cuddling yourself into him and resting your head on his chest as he wraps an arm around you tightly.

he smiles against your head and doesn’t comment on the pounding of your heart against him, how any time a loud crack of thunder comes, you cling onto him just a little tighter the way you always do during a storm.

“i’m not scared,” you insist, a deep chuckle leaving his mouth as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“i know, baby, i just missed you,” he mumbles against your head, bringing your face to his so he can place a kiss on your lips. he tightens his hold on your hair when you deepen it, reach up and part of your mouths before moving up to straddle his hips.

and despite the growing hardness you feel underneath you the more you kiss, he never tries to take it further. you just kiss and giggle and smile against the others mouth until you rest your head back on his chest, the feeling of his hand rubbing your back and softly spoken “i’m here, baby,” lulling to the sleep despite the storm outside.

even though you’ll both be awakening to a different type of storm tomorrow, when wooyoung and yeosang discover seonghwa had snuck out and made his way to the house next door.

(part 25)

tag list: @chogiout ; @psshwa ; @yeocult ; @seongghwaa ; @cherryeonii ; @chaoticbanqtan ; @8teenee ; @nczenniez ; @atinyarmyx1 ; @mingtopiaa ; @chubsluda ; @joongiebug ; @mochibabycakes ; @jisungity ; @skz-on-my-mind ; @nlost21 ; @myonlyaurora ; @closer-stars ; @kuaenam3g ; @byungaji ; @floweryjh ; @joeycheungg ; @lostscenarios ; @atinyxtopia ; @sanisms ; @kpopnightingale ; @simpforhyunjin ; @89staytinyzen21 ; @lokicaramel ; @hwaxbum ; @sakura-uji ; @songsoomin ; @toffee-hwa ; @deobitiful ; @hyunjeansuniverse ; @chrryhwa ; @i-know-you-know-lee-know ; @tiny-whatsername ; @fairieofeternity ; @yixing-jaehyun ; @sleepyseonghwa ; @revehosh ; @atletino ; @yeol-wish ;

#these last 2 are just fluffy nonsense tbh <3 #i have a migraine so this was bare minimum #srry :/#seonghwa #seonghwa fluff #ateez #ateez fluff #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa imagines #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios

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magnusmysteries · 4 years ago

Text

Part 3: The Wheel of Fear

The Magnus Archives was a horror podcast. It is now completed. Many of the show’s mysteries were never explained on the show. I intend to explain them. Spoilers for the show, but also spoilers if you wanna solve these mysteries yourself.

In the Architecture of Fear Smirke talks about a great wheel of fear. He talks of the fourteen powers, each with their opposites and their allies. I think Smirke believed the fourteen fears could be arranged in a circle, and that two fears on opposite sides of the circle are opposites.

In Old Passages there is a circular room with fourteen corridors leading out of it and a datestone that says “Robert Smirke. 1835. Balance and Fear.” I think each corridor represents a fear, with opposing fears placed opposite each other. The building is supposed to balance and thereby neutralize the fears. I think it works to some extent. In End of the Tunnel there is a similar structure. This one was damaged by a bomb during World War 2. This ruined the balance, and the Dark got out.

In Family Business Gerard says some fears really clash with each other, while others can blend together.

I tried to work out how Smirke arranged his fears on the wheel. I looked for episodes where two fears seemed to blend together and put them next to each other. With some fears it is fairly obvious they are neighbors, if you look for the clues. Others connections are harder to spot. I tried a few versions of the wheel that didn’t feel completely right. But then I found a version where suddenly lots of things clicked. It explained why the web table could trap the Not-Then, why Robert Monthauk’s ritual banished the darkness monster and things like that. I think this is the correct wheel:

Description of image: A circle with 14 spots similar to a clock. On each spot is a number and the name of a power: 1. Corruption. 2. Desolation. 3. Hunt. 4. Slaughter. 5. End. 6. Lonely. 7. Stranger. 8. Flesh. 9. Spiral. 10. Buried. 11. Dark. 12. Vast. 13. Eye. 14. Web.

Here is how powers overlap:

Corruption and Desolation

Desolation deals with suffering and loss of loved ones, and disease can cause both of those things.

Asag is a god of both fire and disease.

John Amherst is an avatar of both powers. There is fire in every episode he appears. In Taken Ill the old folks home he managed burns. It appears it was burned by Trevor and Julia, but this is misdirection. Amherst burned it himself. In Pest Control Amherst is burned, yet survives. In the Tale of A Field Hospital Jonathan notices the statement is charred. He speculates this happened when Gertrude burned the book. But I think the book spontaneously combusted. In A Cozy Cabin we learn that Gertrude is very much against burning books in the archives, and would have been more careful and not ruined the statement. And in Rotten Core Adelard says he will sit on Amherst’s throne and burn himself and it. I think that was a very bad idea, more on that in a later post.

In Squirm the protagonist, after being infected by worms, burns his own apartment down. He is influenced by Corruption/Desolation.

Desolation and Hunt

You can run from a hunter and you can run from fire.

Vampires are Hunt, Desolation and Corruption. In Vampire Killer we learn that vampires burn very easily. Because of the Desolation.

Why do vampires have a long bloodsucking tongue? Because the Corruption deals with mosquitoes.

There is a hint about the vampire-mosquito connection in Dead Horse; “That night the mosquitos were out in force, thick with fever, and hungry for our blood. I did my best to simply ignore them, safe as I was in my net. But over in Raleigh’s tent I kept hearing a sporadic thumping, or clapping sound, as if he were killing them with his bare hands. When I asked him about it the next day, he simply told me he had inside him a strong and enduring hatred of bloodsuckers.”

And then later: “Now, he and his crew were pinning the things that looked like men to trees, with long, iron spikes. They thrashed, and struggled, and a long, bulbous tongue hung from their throats, pinned by the iron of von Toll’s men. “I cannot stand bloodsuckers,” Raleigh said approvingly, as he conversed quietly with Baron von Toll in French.”

Also in Vampire Killer, the vampire offers rotten fruit to Trevor. Her house is dusty, a book Trevor picks up is damp and moldy and the bed is musty.

Hunt and Slaughter

The similarities are obvious.

Several of the Slaughter episodes have music that makes people go violent: The Piper, Strange Music, Grifter’s Bone, Civilian Casualties, Nemesis. Total War had singing corpses. Two hunter episodes also had music connection. First Hunt has the werewolf whistling “A-hunting-we-shall go”. Thrill of the Chase had the protagonist tapping her foot as if to music right before the violence started.

Thrill of The Chase is a Hunt/Slaughter episode. The Man in the mask is like a serial killer from a movie, very Slaughter. But it is a wolf mask, very Hunt.

Slaughter and End

People die in war.

Absent Without Leave covers both fears. Slaughter obviously, but it is also about the inevitableness of death.

Many Slaughter episodes deal with the living dead. And they usually seem to have a horrible existence: The guy getting stabbed in the Smell of Blood. All the soldiers fused together that shot Melanie. The dead people in Grifter’s Bone that had to fight each other. The dead woman in Absent without a leave. The corpses in the tunnel in the same episode. This makes people fear death since they don’t wanna end up like that.

The End also has the skin book which similarly makes people live after death, and it is agony. And Oliver Banks was alive after death.

In Total War, a Slaughter episode, the statement giver says he could believe he was dead and in hell.

End And Lonely

You’re all alone when you’re dead I guess.

In the episode Alone, the statement giver is almost drawn into an empty grave. Very End.

There is also a ghost in that episode. So life after death, like with the End and the Slaughter.

The Lucas family only meet for funerals.

From Boatswain’s call, regard Peter Lukas: “His eyes only moved a fraction of an inch to focus on me, but it felt as though the movement had the weight of a heavy stone door. Like a tomb. Don’t know why that’s what popped into my head, but there you go.”

Lonely and Stranger

If everyone is a stranger to you, you are lonely.

Lost in the Crowd and Monologue are Lonely/Stranger episodes.

Stranger and Flesh

Stranger deals with objects that behave like people. Flesh deals with thinking people are just flesh, an object.

Anatomy Class is a Stranger/Flesh episode.

Flesh and Spiral

Thinking you are just meat is a kind of madness.

In Killing Floor the protagonist is lost in a slaughterhouse maze, very Flesh and Spiral. He also walks a spiral staircase at some point.

I think Jared Hopworth is both Flesh and Spiral. Many reasons for him being Spiral: First: He prays on people with mental problems, body dysmorphia, anorexia etc.

Second: In The Butcher’s Window he twists a bone into a spiral and inserts it in himself.

Third: The book The Boneturner's Tale makes nearby books bleed. I think objects that bleed, that should not have blood, is a sign of the Spiral. The door handle in a Sturdy Lock bled. The tree in Burned Out bled. I think the tree is Spiral, much more on that in another post. Books, door handles and trees that bleed are all impossible, madness. Some might object that blood also fits with the Flesh, but the Flesh is actually fairly into cleanliness. I’ll explain why below.

Fourth: when Michael Crew is tormented by the Spiral he tries to escape by using the Boneturner’s Tale. “...but when I tried to shift the bits of myself I thought might set me free, the only shapes I could form with them were laced with that horrid, hunting fractal.” You can’t escape from the Spiral by using a book of the Spiral.

Mary Keay seems to think the book that drops bones is of the Flesh “Just a bit of viscera. Poems about dying animals...” The book is part Flesh, hence the dying animals, but is also Spiral. If you see a book producing bones you’d think you’d gone mad right?

Also in Old Passages, the bone book is stored in the room corresponding to the Spiral. The floor of that room’s corridor apparently bleeds. “I put my hand onto the floor to push myself up, and it came away faintly tinged with red.” There is a mummified hand in the Spiral room, hands are often an element with the Spiral. Think of the Distortion’s hands, or the Worker-in-Clay’s weird hands, or the hands coming out of the pot in Lost and Found. After entering the room, the statement giver gets very confused. He says his memories start to blur, and he ends up apparently taking the wrong door several times. That’s the Spiral messing with his mind and making him lost.

The demon In Confession and Desecrated Host might be of Spiral/Flesh. Or it might be the two Fears working together. More on that in a later post.

Spiral and Buried

Strong claustrophobia can be irrational, a mental problem. The Spiral includes the fear of getting lost, and you can get lost in a cave.

The Distortion has a yellow door that is a portal to impossible places. The Coffin is yellow and is a portal to an impossible place.

Held in Customs is Buried/Spiral. Time behaved differently for the protagonist, typically Spiral. John says the protagonist got Alzheimer, but it is the Spiral messing with his memories.

Lost Johns’ Cave is Buried/Spiral/Dark. The protagonist's memories are all wrong, the Spiral has changed them. And the cave is a maze. Mazes are spiral. The statement giver is a big fan of darkness.

Buried and Dark

Caves are dark and cramped. The ocean is dark and choking.

Lights Out is Buried/Dark. Quote: “I was in the Sandman’s sack. (...) The darkness pressed in, and seemed to fill my mouth, my nose.” Also the Sandman spills sand from his mouth, similar to how people chocked on sand in Dust to Dust and how the man spit out mud in We All Ignore The Pit.

Submerged is Buried/Dark. The protagonist is in danger of drowning but there are lots of references to darkness: The lights at the lawyer office don't work because the lightbulb is filled with water. There is thunder but no lightning, that is there are no lights in the sky. There are no street lights or lights on in the other houses. Water is described as dark and murky. The lights of the cars come on, to show dark shapes moving in the water. Quote about the water: "It would wrap itself around me, reach down my throat and fill me with its choking darkness." The water is murky. Dark water is also in several Dark episodes: a Father Love, Nightfall, Tucked In and the Movement of the Heavens.

Dark and Vast

The ocean is dark and vast. Space is dark and vast.

High Pressure is a Dark/Vast/Buried episode. The space the protagonist enters seems too dark. The vastness of the underwater space and the size of the creature is Vast. The enormous pressure is Buried.

In Big Picture we learned that Hailey, of the Dark, helped make the diving bell for the Vast ritual.

In Old Passages the first corridor the statement giver is in, is of the Buried. He keeps thinking the corridor is getting narrower. When he gets to the circular room he looks down the other doorways. One makes him feel like he’s gonna fall into it. One is exceptionally dark. It’s the corridors of the Vast and the Dark. They would be the corridors next to the Buried, the first doorways the statement giver would look into.

Vast and Eye

From The Coming Storm, Mike Crew discussing the Vast and the Eye: “We have a lot in common, really. After all, what, what good’s the height, the terrifying draw of gravity, unless you, unless you really know the scale of what you’re facing?”

In The Architecture of Fear an enormous Eye fills the sky.

In Twice as Bright Jude says of Michael Crew “...he’s closer to your lot than mine.” Meaning the Vast is closer to the Eye than the Desolation.

Quote from Jurgen Leitner: “Imagine, you are an ant, and you have never before seen a human. Then one day, into your colony, a huge fingernail is thrust, scraping and digging. You flee to another entrance, only to be confronted by a staring eye gazing at you. You climb to the top, trying to find escape and, above you, can see the vast dark shadow of a boot falling upon you. Would that ant be able to construct these things into the form of a single human being? Or would it believe itself to be under attack by three different, equally terrible, but very distinct assailants?”

Jurgen is referencing four powers here, the eye is the Eye. The boot is the Vast and the Dark. The digging fingernail is the Buried. And these four powers are next to each other, so in a way they are the same.

When Jurgen said this he was compelled by John. John did not know that he was compelling Jurgen, but Jurgen did know. Jurgen seemed to not want to give too much information. He was perhaps worried John would learn that destroying the archives would kill John. That Leitner, indirectly, was planning to kill John. So Leitner talked in riddles. That way he could give into the compulsion without John getting wiser.

Eye and Web

Both powers can seem passive, waiting and watching. Spiders have eight eyes.

The Book A Guest for Mister Spider is part Eye. Mr. Spider has eight eyes of all shapes and sizes.

Archivists are Eye/Web. First, the way they compel people to speak is very Web.

Second, the ancient archivist in Alexandria had long spindly fingers. Like spider legs. In Web Development Annabelle Cane is also described as having long spindly fingers. In Thought For The Day Annabelle moves her fingers along the wall, “...like a spider”.

Third, In Doomed Voyage, after John takes Floyd’s statement, Floyd seems confused. John tried to soothe him. Then John says “It’s alright, Floyd. You just need a break.” Floyd says “Yeah. Sure”. I think John was mind controlling Floyd. I think there is a little static when John speaks. Static on the tape often indicates that something magic is happening.

In Heavy Goods John tells Breekon “Stop”. Breekon is upset. Then John extracts a statement from Breekon’s mind. I think John mind controlled Breekon to stand still. There’s definitely a lot of static.

In Infectious Doubts Gertrude tells Arthur that he can try to leave. It seems he tries but is unable to. I think Gertrude is mind controlling him to stay.

Web and Corruption

Insects and spiders are similar. Probably many people afraid of one of them are also afraid of the other.

In Hive Jane Prentiss talks about the song of the hive that affects her. She says webs has a song as well.

Each fear has an opposite:

The Corruption vs. The Flesh

Because rot harms meat.

The Flesh tends to be very clean. The student in Anatomy Class cleaned up all the blood they spilled. The slaughterhouse maze in killing Floor was very clean. This is to combat the Corruption.

The Man Upstairs was about a Flesh avatar being attacked by the corruption.

I think Blood Bag was also about the Corruption versus the Flesh. More on than in a later post.

The Desolation vs. The Spiral

I’ll explain why they are opposed in a later post, when I get to Hill Top Road.

The Hunt vs. The Buried

The Hunt is a lot about running from a predator. Can’t run in a cramped space.

When Daisy was in the Buried she was freed from the Hunt. It could not reach her there, because it was an opposite force.

The Slaughter vs. The Dark

I’ll explain why they are opposites in the next post.

In The Piper the Slaughter kills Jonathan Rayner of the Dark.

In A Father’s Love the father performs a ritual that involves killing many people. The ritual destroys the darkness monster that is coming for his daughter. I think this worked because it was a ritual of the Slaughter, the opposite of the Dark. The father is chanting as he stabs the human heart. The Slaughter is often associated with music.

The End vs. The Vast

From Dead Woman Walking, Georgie talking about the End: “The promise of a cold and lonely eternity in the grave would have been a mercy; at least it would be eternal. But everything ends, even the universe, even time. (...) ...the monumental realization of the scale we existed on. Not the meaningless vastness of the universe, but the… the smallness of it.” Sounds like the opposite of the Vast.

I think the Vast also deals with the fear of eternity. First: notice how Georgie said eternity would be a mercy.

Second: notice how old Simon Fairchild was.

Third: In Submerged we learn that Gertrude threw Jan Kilbride’s body into the pit to disrupt the Buried ritual. John says “But Gertrude also realized that the body need not be alive. Or in one piece. She thought it was a mercy. It wasn’t.” I think this means she chopped up the body, but Jan was still alive. Jan was touched by the Vast. I think this had made him immortal, to make him fear eternity.

Fourth: In Personal Space a door in password to the door is E109GHT8. Someone on the Magnus subreddit figured out what it means. It refers to the three fears that owned the space station, the Lonely, the Dark and the Vast. For the Lonely, the 10 should be read like lo, and the beginning of the nine as n, giving is elon, sounding like alone. For the Dark, the 9 sounds like ni, making 9GHT sound like night. For the Vast, the 8 sideways is an infinity symbol

Fifth: in Freefall, when the guy is falling through infinite sky, his watch has stopped and he doesn’t know how long he has fallen. It feels like hours or days. But when he returns it has not been that long. The spiral messes with time to make people doubt their sanity. The Vast does it to make people fear eternity.

Sixth, quote from A Matter of Perspective: “I don’t know how long I was floating for. I know it was less than a billion years, which is barely a heartbeat in the life of the universe, so how can it really be said to matter? The stars began to wink out, one by one, and I thought – perhaps for a second, perhaps for a hundred years…”

I believe the immortal gamblers from Cheating Death, Section 31 and Burial rites, were not of the End, like John thought, but of the Vast. They didn’t want to die at first, hence they gambled for life. That is the choice they made to embrace the Vast. But later they become afraid not of death, but the opposite, of not dying. The mummy in the pyramid tried to stab itself to death. The gambler in Section 31 tried to shoot himself. There is a symbol of infinity on the pyramid.

In High Pressure, the statement begins and ends with the statement giver saying she should be dead. She didn’t die because she was touched by the Vast.

The Stranger vs The Web

The Stranger makes dolls, puppets etc. into living things. The Web does the opposite, makes living people into puppets.

In Heavy Goods Breekon says of the Spider “It knows too much to truly be a stranger.” The Stranger has the Unknowing, a ritual based on not knowing things.

The Web table trapped a creature of the Stranger. Quote from Jonathan after he smashed the table: “Smash the table, kill the monster, stupid! Lazy, sloppy assumption. Of course the table was binding it. The table is webs and spiders. Spiders are something else. They don’t help each other, they oppose, they… they weaken.”

In Nightfall Officer Musterman tells John he doesn’t know who is listening to the tapes, but that he doesn’t like it. The tapes are Web and Mustermann is Stranger.

In Angler Fish, the Stranger targets smokers. Smokers, like other addicts, are weak to the Web. So the Stranger isn’t just getting victims, it is fighting the Web.

The Eye vs. The Lonely

Because if you’re watched you’re not alone.

In Personal Space, there is a camera apparently recording the lonely astronaut. But then he finds out the wires of the camera were severed from the start. So it is scary for the astronaut that no-one was watching him, the opposite of the Eye.

But if every fear has an opposite, what about the Extinction? Find out next post.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnuspod #robert smirke #jared hopworth

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who-ever-said-i-was-nice · 4 years ago

Note

Heya, could I ask for the ikevamp boys finding mc passed out at the table surrounded by work? Uni's been killing me lately. If all of them is too much then just Leonardo, Jean, Comte, Theo and Mozart? Thanks x

I cried five times while making this.

Dear Anon! Thanks sooo mush for the request. 😘I’m sorry for taking this looooong I also have a shit ton of work but HERE IT IS. I hope things get better for you and good luck!😘❤️❤️ I added a different type of uni to each of the guys just to make it interesting. @nad-zeta your daily dose of Theo. XD. Love you. Hope you enjoy! Ok here we go!

Ikevamp boys x an overworked mc

Leonardo

he just woke up from one of his naps and he decided he’s going to have a snack most probably mc

as he’s walking towards kitchen he spots you sleeping on one of the tables in the library surrounded by a huge pile of books, pens and papers

now he knew that you refused to give up on the uni you where going to when you came here but he’s still a bit surprised

he walks up to you and takes a peek at what you are studying

architecture

more specifically some designs he came up with

*eyes emoji*

after the initial shock of finding out you where studying his work he smiles and picks you up and caries you to your bed

from that moment on he will always help you with whatever you are studying and always makes sure you take breaks

Comte

he was walking around socializing with the residents when he stumbled upon you snoozing on the dining table buried in a mountain of book

ha was aware of your studies and offered to let you off work completely

but you insisted on dedicating 4 days a week on housework

however this meant you had to study like crazy

when he saw you there he already knew what’s wrong

he panicked internally but calmly walked to your side

he didn’t insist one knowing what exactly you where studying but this was so convenient he just had to take a look

finance studies

well damn

finds it very amazing that you manege to work and study that at the same time

sighs and carefully picks you up and takes you to bed

after that he makes sure you get enough rest in between study sessions

he will spoil you a bit more and offer to help with your studies

Jean

ok so we know poor baby can’t read

he doesn’t get why you are so passionate about your university

what did you call your studies? Linguistics? Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat?

he has no idea what you are talking about but he loves you and loves that you have a passion

when he sees you passed out in your room in a very uncomfortable position surrounded by books...

...panic

oh wait no panic you probably just fell asleep ‘cause you where tiered

wait tiered?

panic

he will pick you up and take you to your room, makes sure you are tucked it

from that moment on he will make sure you get enough rest

Isaac

precious little bean

on one hand he understands why you are so passionate about your studies on the other he is worried

one time you where working late into the night and he asked you to stop and you brought up the argument that he does the same

so he decided not to stop you

however when he finds you passed out in the gazebo...

nope.

he is panicked and scared and angry at himself for not realizing sooner

he hurries to your side when one of your books catches his eye

you are studying quantum physics?

say what?

ok he now has a whole lot of respect for you

he will gently shake you awake

“ Mmmhmm...I did my essay” “Y/N it’s me, wake up”

you immediately wake up

“ Don’t ever do that again. You scared me.”

Now you guys study together so cute

Napoleon

UMMMMMM boy

if he saw you just hanging off a table passed out he will have a heart attack

then he will realize that you are just sleeping and you are not dead so he will calm down a bit

he can’t resist the urge to take a look at what you are studying either

politics

interesting.

so you want a politics degree

what you will do with it he has no idea. After all you are in a different time period, but he thinks it’s good to have a goal

what he doesn’t think is good is over working your self

“nunuche wake up” “noooooooooo I won’t wake up unless you do what I do to wake you up”

so he will kiss you and you agree to wake up how adorable i think i’m going to cry over my own work damn I’m weird

If he ever see you looking even a little tiered he will steal you away and you will cuddle

Arthotthur

Heart attack nr.2

oh no wait my bird is just sleeping

he’s not happy

ok let me rephrase that

he’s happy that you are happy but he’s not ok with the fact that you have overworked yourself and on top of that he’s beating himself up for not noticing earlier

he’s debating whether you’d be more pissed if he carried you to your room* or if he woke you up when something catches his attentive eye

you where studying to get a bachelor's degree in English whaaaaaat!

will go through your notes and

when he finds out you want to become a writer.....

Omg fanboy mode: activate

“ I didn’t know I had such an effect on you Luv”

you: say wut? Arthur I became writer because I wanted to

Now you two run around n the corridors smiling like dorks and narrating random events when your free and he writes next to you when you study ( to keep and eye on you. He loves you so much)

* if that doesn’t apply to you I’m sorry. I try to write from another persons prospective, but a lot of my writing is based of my reactions to a situation or my personality. In this case I’d be pissed if he left my stuff there or went into my room ( it’s my sanctuary ok my disaster). And waking me up oh no bitch run. But on a serious note don’t be mad if it doesn’t fit your description, and if it didn’t and you want me to change something feel free to let me know. Ok next victim:

Theo

to say he’s pissed is an understatement

he’s pissed at you for taking it to far but he’s pissed at himself a lot little more for not noticing sooner

like his bff he’ll also be contemplating taking you to bed rather then yelling you awake like witch one will end up in a bigger slap

then he notices what you are studying

art

when you are done with this you are literally going to get an art degree

Theo ex. has stopped working

he is getting emotional on the inside

will gently take you to bed and tuck you in

he’ll pat your head “ Creative Hondjie”. He has such a gentle smile on his face god I can picture it I’m crying

from then on when you have a project he will help criticize you and he will help you progress with your art

will be keeping an eye on you 25/7 yes 25 this guy will create a time loop if it meant that you had more time to do the things you love (ahem Theo) xd no

all in all he will be just a little softer with you, but only you. And will also deny it if somebody points it out

Vincent

Let’s all just sit down, take a moment and appreciate Vincent

He will see you passed out and he will PANIC

he will rush up to you and make sure you are ok

also waking you up in the process

he will ask what you are studying

“sooo you want to become a chef”

Pffffffff we all know poor baby is parallel with cooking

like he will burn water

is super supportive tho gee who would have thought

this boy is an angel and will help you cook

Jesus I hope Comte has fire insurance

you have a lot of fun with him and he will actually end up learning a few things form you.

will make sure you never overwork yourself again

Dazai

this dork almost stepped on you

you had passed out under you window , ‘cause you had been studying on the floor

and this guy came waltzing in through the window

“Toshiko-san? Toshikooooo shit”

*cricket sounds* yup

he will squat down next to you and poke your cheek

“ what are you doing on the floor?” you: “what are you doing in my room?”

OOOOH GOT ‘EM

you two of you will laugh about it and he will ask you what you are studying

you proudly shove your text book under his nose

“ well well Toshiko-san want’s to take care of small animals?”

you: Yes, like Isaac

he’s not really fazed by you falling asleep but will make sure you don’t overwork and if he sees you getting tired he will crack a few terrible jokes to lighten your mood and then he will proceed to steel you away

Mozart

ok now clean freak here is going to be worried

not panicked just worried

uhum Wolf you keep telling yourself that

you where studying in the music room while Wolf was playing

suddenly he heard a thump

he stopped and looked around only to find you passed out on the table

seems like the all-nighter combined with the music led you to fall asleep

he’s frozen for a hot second until he realizes you are just sleeping

he will slowly walk up to you and poke you with a broom ‘cause he doesn’t want to touch you

Jkjk

he will go up to you and gently attempt to shake you awake when he notices what your studying

you where studying music

“Marry me?”

he will wake you up and question you about it

from that moment on he actually helps you a little when you don’t get something and you study in the music room at all times because” it’s noisy outside”

we know you just care about her Mozart

Sebastian

he flicks your forehead

that’s it. Thant’s the canon

no I’m kidding he knows how much you study and is worried about you even before you pass out

and when you do that’s it

he scoops you up and takes you to your bed

he only flicks your forehead when you wake up

yeah you get an ear full from him

he asks what you are studying and tell him you want a degree in history

ok suddenly he’s not mad at you

from that moment on he always makes sure you are not over working

he actually shows you his notebook and you find it fascinating

now you both collectively stalk the residents

William

y’all aren’t ready for this

when he sees you passed out in the garden he’s ready to pull out a gun and kill anyone and everyone who dared harm you

then he realizes you’re actually sleeping and he calms down a bit ( he’ll keep the gun tho shhhhh don’t tell Comte)

he will gently pat your hair and just look at you

when you wake up he will ask you what you are studying

you are a complete blushing mess when you tell him you want to become an actress

he’s shooketh and also really happy at the same time

now he takes you with him to the theater and he gives you a role to play and he watches while you practice

he’s also super attentive and will never let you overwork yourself again

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! Stay safe everyone! 😘😘😘

#ikemen vampire #asks #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire theo #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikemen vampire vincent #ikemen vampire sebastian #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikemen vampire jean #ikemen vampire napoleo #ikemen vampire dazai #ikemen vampire arthur #ikemen vampire comte

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years ago

Note

For the Meet Ugly Prompts-38, NSFW Danbrey?

Here you go! Note: there are mentions of blood in this.

38: overhear you ordering your coffee in a coffee shop and I’m trying to place your voice when I realize that you’re the phone sex operator I’ve been calling on and off for the last few months but the realization startles me so much that I accidentally spill my drink on you and you’re pissed

“One spiced mocha, one oatmilk latte!”

Aubrey reaches for her mocha just as a painfully cute blonde in overalls grabs the latte.

“Oh, excuse me” the blonde calls over the counter, “could I get a lid, it looks like you’re all out at the station. Thanks, you’re the best.” She smiles at the teenager who hands he the lid while Aubrey tries to figure out where she’s heard “thanks, you’re the best” said that exact way before.

Oh shit. Oh shit.

She’s heard that voice every Tuesday and Friday when she calls LoveBites, the premiere service for people who really like vampires. Really, really, like vampires.

Honeysuckle, as the woman on the other end of the line calls herself, probably isn’t a vampire. Aubrey figures most of the people who work that line are just very good at pretending to be fictional monsters. She is, however, incredibly good at getting Aubrey to cum with vivid descriptions of where she’s going to sink her teeth.

“AH! Hey, watch what you’re doing.”

Aubrey snaps back to the coffee shop to discover her drink is now all over Honeysuckles shoes.

“Ohmygod, I’m, I’m so sorry.” She grabs a fistful of napkins, drops down to clean the mess of coffee and chocolate syrup from the floor. She reaches to help clean off the other woman's shoes only for her to wave her away.

“It’s fine, I got itshit” she glares as Aubrey, in her attempt to get out of her space, stands too quickly, bumping her head into Honeysuckle’s cup and sending it all over both of them.

Okay, she can totally salvage this. Right?

----------------------------------------------

“...then I just ran away.”

Duck laughs so hard on the other end of the phone that he startles Dr. Harris Bonkers.

“Oh come on, like you’ve never done something embarrassing in front of someone cute.”

“Dunno, you might have just beaten my ‘six Freudian slips in a row trying to ask ‘Dird how his weekend was.’”

“Ugggggggggggggggh.”

“It’s okay, Lady Flame” he manages to sound genuinely sympathetic through his giggles, “lots of cute folks out in the world who you ain’t spilled two cups of coffee on.”

“Yeah.” She checks the neon orange clock on the wall, “I gotta go practice my tricks for this weekend. Thanks for listening to me whine.”

“Any time, Aubrey. See you at the show.”

She gets through two tricks, including the one where Dr. Harris Bonkers disappears from a box, but she can’t focus. It’s not nerves; instead, she feels like if she got off just once, she’d stop feeling so tense and be able to run through the rest of her act without issues.

It’d be a very bad idea to call LoveBites when she spilled a drink on her favorite operator. She doesn’t feel like talking someone new through her preferences, and she knows with Honeysuckle she’s guaranteed to get off, which wasn’t always the case with previous operators. Besides, the length of her calls must be enough to pay for a replacement drink.

She grabs her phone and dials. Soon a familiar voice purrs down the line.

“Hi, Aubrey. How’s my favorite human tonight?”

“Good?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that, fireblossom.” It’s a new pet name; ever since she mentioned her stage name, Honeysuckle likes to give her ones woven through with flames.

“I, um, I'm fine?”

“Did something happen today, hot stuff?”

“Uhhhhh. Um. I, uh, I made a fool of myself in a coffee shop. I, um, I spilled my drink on a cute girl. Also hers.”

Honeysuckle goes quiet.

“I, um, I think the person I spilled them on was you.”

“..............spiced mocha?”

“Yeeeeah” Aubrey curls inwards, trying to cringe away from her phone, “I’m really sorry about your shoes. And your overalls. And your drink. I, um, I wasn’t gonna mention it but it feels, like, weird not to and I really was going to offer to replace your coffee except I was kinda worried I’d somehow spill that too. I’m, I’m sorry. I just really like talking with you.” She smiles shyly, “you’re my favorite vampire.”

Dead air, then “you really want to make it up to me with another drink?”

“Yes!” Aubrey sits up, hopeful.

“Even if the drink isn’t coffee?”

“Sure it, it can be whatever you want.”

A hungry purr that makes Aubrey reach for her trusty vibrating wand, “In that case, don’t go anywhere.”

“What? But you’re-”

The line goes dead. Aubrey stares at it, frowning. What is she supposed to do now? Did they get disconnected accidentally? Should she just call back?

She shoves the toy back in the drawer, paces back and forth between the kitchen counter and the table where her cards and flashpaper are strewn about, unsure whether she should make dinner, practice, try to get off, or just give up on everything and go to bed.

From his hutch in the corner, Dr. Harris Bonkers honks, thumps his feet in alarm, then turns his bugged-out eyes on Aubrey and thumps again as if to say, “what the fuck, why aren’t you heeding my warning?”

“Aww, it’s okay buddy. Is that cat on the fire escape again?” She looks out the window, finds nothing but some mist. Mist that’s hovering on her tiny balcony and no one elses. She blinks.

Honeysuckle is standing on the other side of the glass; she’s wearing a loose green tank top and grey yoga pants, golden hair taking on the tint of the nearby streetlights. She gives a demure wave as Aubrey throws the back door open.

“Holy fuck I thought the vampire thing was just, like, a gimmick.”

A shrug, “There’s more humans than vampires working the line, but some of us are the real deal. I know a few vampires who do it because it lets them work nights and keep an actually nocturnal schedule. But some of us do it as a side job and go out during the day. Which means we see cute girls in coffee shops who we think we might ask out who then spill drinks on us.”

“Aw beans. Wait, were you checking me out for real.”

“Uh huh. You must have been doing something super interesting on your phone to not notice.”

Aubrey resolves to delete Candy Crush immediately.

“Um, so, not that I’m not happy to see you again, but like how did you find my house?”

“We can trace numbers on our end. It’s a security thing; back when the line started some hunters kept trying to use it to go after vampires, so we needed to know where calls were coming from.”

“Blegh, that sucks.”

“Yeah, not my favorite.” She flutters her eyelashes, “any chance I could come in?”

“Absolutely, uh, here” she holds the door--which has no risk of closing without a lot of force--so the vampire can step into the apartment.

“Do I, um, should I still just call you what I always have?”

Golden eyes look her up and down hungrily, “Dani is fine.” Then she squeaks, “ooooh, hi there little guy, can I say hi? Oop, okay, some other time.” Dani smiles as the rabbit ducks into his covered box, “animals can be kind of skittish around me at first. Which makes sense.” When she turns to look at Aubrey, her fangs are visible.

“Hooboy that’s, that’s, uh-”

Dani steps back, “I can back off. I just, um, I thought since we’re both into each other and you were, um, already in the mood for some lovebites maybe we could -”

“NoItotallywantto!” Aubrey grabs her hand, pulling her towards the bedroom, “sorry, the fangs are apparently an insta-horny button in my brain.”

“Good to know” Dani spins her by her shoulders and pushes her back onto the bed, fangs now on full display, “take your clothes off, fireblossom.”

Aubrey thanks herself from two hours ago for changing into her pajamas so she doesn’t have much to rid herself of. When she gets her shirt off, Dani is down to her underwear, green boyshorts showing off her legs and completely distracting Aubrey from any unwelcome self-consciousness.

“Mmmmmm” Dani crawls onto the bed with her, “I thought you were cute before but fuck, you look incredible like this.”

“Thanks” Aubrey’s breath catches as Dani bumps their noses together, “can, can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

She raises up on her elbows, mapping Dani’s mouth with her own. Aubrey’s kissed plenty of people in her life, and there have only been a few where the gesture felt like coming home, like she was slotting against a body that was meant to be with hers. All of those pale in comparison to the way Dani’s body seems to meld with hers. She gasps when the vampire cups her right breast, teasing the nipple with her thumb as she eases Aubrey all the way down. Her other hand finds her face, traces from there to the base of her neck, touches moving from light to sharp as she curves her nails down her skin.

When the fangs scrape her sternum she moans. Dani snickers against her, kisses and nuzzles her way down her chest, sighing when Aubrey threads her fingers into her hair.

“So, my pretty snack, what were you going to ask me for when you called?”

“I, I was kinda hoping we’d talk about you eating me out.”

A kiss above her belly button, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“OhgoodOH, ohfuck” she opens her legs wider as Dani dips her head between them, “ahhhn, please, a little higher, ohfuck, god.” Her hips twitch as Dani sucks her clit. There’s a muffled laugh as two fingers tease her cunt.

“Wow, you really do like the fangs.”

“I mean yeah, but that’s more because you’re really hotOH, ohyesfuckthat’sgood.” She moans as Dani presses two fingers in, stroking and rubbing in time with the vampire’s increasingly wanton groans.

“Fuck, Aubrey, that’s it, you look so pretty like this, be a good girl and cum for me.”

“Trying” Aubrey squeaks as Dani laves her tongue across her clit and curls her fingers inside her, “fuck, right there, yeah, ohyes, that, just like that.” She squeezes her eyes shut, clinging to Dani’s head and to the hand gripping her thigh. When she cums it’s intense enough that she’s terrified she’s going to kick Dani accidentally, but the vampire simply holds her thighs down, lapping at her until her moans die down.

“Fireblossom?”

“Uh huh?”

“You still owe me a drink. Whatever I want, remember?”

“Yeah? Oh, oh fuck yeah.” She squirms in excitement as Dani drops to the floor and pulls Aubrey towards her until she’s able to hook her knees over her shoulders.

Dani pushes stray hairs from her face, “If you start feeling lightheaded, tell me okay?”

Aubrey gives a thumbs up, winces at how dorky it is, then giggles when Dani cranes forward to kiss it.

The vampire kisses a line from her right knee to her inner thigh, sighing loudly when she noses a certain patch of skin.

“Perfect.”

Fangs sink into her skin and Aubrey clamps her hands over her mouth to avoid waking the neighbors. It’s a sharp, precise pain, flooding her body with the urge to lay back and let Dani take her fill. Then the teeth retreat and Dani’s tongue takes their place, licking the red rivulets and moaning as she sucks at the punctured skin.

“Such a perfect snack.” Dani looks up at her, heavy-lidded and scarlet-mouthed.

“Dani” Aubrey reaches for her, not sure what she’s even asking for.

The vampire takes her hand, rubs it against her cheek, “Does it still feel okay?”

“It feels so good.”

Dani smiles, turns her head to pierce the left thigh, Aubrey moaning weakly as she drinks from her. The moan is echoed, and when she manages to lift her head she sees Dani’s hand is not between her own legs.

“Oh god that’s hot.”

The vampire grins at her, “I get dinner, you get a show. It’s perfect.”

Aubrey watches her lick the bites until they cease bleeding, her moans pitching higher as she fucks herself, getting off on the taste of Aubrey’s blood-tinted skin. Then she tenses, tipping her head back, fangs glinting in the light from the windows, and gasps Aubrey’s name as she cums.

Then a blonde head rests on her knee. Aubrey sits up, Dani’s hair as they catch their breath.

“I, um, I should clean you up. Do you have band-aids?”

“Bathroom.”

Dani stands, cheeks much pinker than before, and returns a minute later with the Pokemon band-aids that Aubrey bought solely for the Charizard ones. She wipes her legs with a warm hand towel, gently pats the bandages into place, stealing giddy glances at Aubrey the entire time.

“You know that fucking ruled, right?” Aubrey rests her head on her shoulder when Dani joins her on the bed.

“Glad you liked it, fireblossom. Can’t believe I’m lucky enough that the hottest human I’ve met in years has a thing for vampires.

“Pretty sure I just have a thing for you. Which, um, I mean this can totally stay casual but, um, do you want to go out sometime?”

Dani nods, leans in for another kiss. She must have borrowed Aubrey’s mouthwash, since she tastes of mint instead of iron.

“I’d love to, Aubrey. But, um, let’s avoid coffee shops for awhile?”

“Good plan.”

#danbrey #aubrey little/dani #taz amnesty #meet ugly #vampire girlfriend

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physicalturian · 4 years ago

Text

[18+] Words of pleasure - Law x F!Reader - Part 6

[No spoilers] [Modern AU - College AU] [She/her pronouns used for the reader, no physical description; Everyone +18] Words : 6246 Archive of our own

Warning : Power play / Dom/sub Dynamics / Control / Stranger / Flirting / Fluff / Awkwardness / Mirrors / Anxiety … If you feel like I should add more warnings, send me a dm or and ask

– Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

There was a short silence, I let out a nervous chuckle before going for random sounds leaving my mouth as I tried to pick up my dignity off the floor. When I was about to cover up, Law hummed. “I’d say the neck, but it all depends on the situation…” He looked at me from the corner of his eyes and smirked, “Faces are very expressive and help understand what the person’s thinking about. But, so does the whole body language.” Drumming his fingers over the wheel, he made a pondering face and smirked as he continued.

“But the neck, very sensitive. Very fragile, and yet it has one of the most important roles. Protecting all those nerves, to send the information to the brain- to let one have access to the neck is to let yourself be vulnerable…” I listened to him intently, no knowing if it was hot or slightly threatening but which ever it was, it made me very aware of my neck and I had hard time not moving my hand there.

Lightening the mood, he chuckled and asked me what mine was. “Oh, hm… I never really gave it a thought…” I lied, of course. I knew very well that the entire human body had so much appeal, but I also knew my preferences. Still, I was not going to answer that quickly to him, I had to make it look like I was giving it a thought. When it seemed appropriate, I answered, “Probably hands. Just like the body language, it says a lot about the person.” And it’s fucking hot. “If the person takes care of them, if they’re more into manual work, if they have bad habits… scars… The tattoos also…” I trailed off, biting the inside of my cheek in apprehension of what he’d say.

With a scoff, I heard him softly ask. “And do tell me, what do my hands tell you?” I tried to think, but I was simply thinking they were pretty, and he was hot. So, I gave it a deeper thought, then opted for more of a flirty approach. I could fix that weird question, make it worth it, right?

“I can barely see them from here, I’d have to get a closer look.” While I said it in a flirty manner, I tried to coat it with a bit of humor, just to give myself a chance to escape. Chuckling, he did not answer. Instead, he pulled up in my street before parking and maneuvering now to not do it when leaving. When we stopped moving, I was going to leave quickly to not die of embarrassment from his lack of response but couldn’t with all the food and drinks on my lap. “Are you in a rush?” He asked with a smug smile as he took his things from lap after unbuckling his seat belt.

Giving him a side glance, I realized how close his face was from mine and couldn’t help but glance at his lips before forcing myself to lean back and open the car door. “Well I am hungry-“ I swore under by breath when I felt a pull from the belt when I leaned forward to leave, it was quickly released after I heard the unclasping. Law had done it for me, surprising me at the same time. Almost falling forward, I held onto the car door for a sec before stepping outside.

I could hear his laugh echo when he left the car, and slammed the door shut, making sure to lock it. “Do you want me to hold your things while you take your keys-“ He stopped mid-sentence when he felt my bag nudge his side, “Take them, they’re in the back pocket. I would have done it myself, but you’ve bought me quite a lot, so it’s on you.” He made a confused sound and asked me if I was sure.

“Are you scared you’ll find drugs? Or is it maybe pads and tampons that’d be the problem?” He was going to reply, but I continued, “There’s none of that, I think there are biscuits wrappers at best. And my wallet,” I shrugged before trying to nod his way, over my shoulder. “Give me your food, I’ll hold it while you open my bag.”

“Your hands are full-“ He said, but I interrupted him, “My mouth isn’t, come on give me your stuff.” I closed my mouth for a second, taking in what I had said before feeling my face heat up. I shook my head as I sighed, hoping he’d ignore it, but as he handed me his small bag with probably pastries in it, he spoke. “I was going to say something,” He started, giving me his pack that I held between my teeth. It was almost weightless. “But you’re clearly doing such a good job at embarrassing yourself, I don’t think it’s necessary.”

With the paper bag still in mouth, I spoke through my teeth, “Fuck you, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

He looked over his shoulder and quirked a brow before replying, “Do I? You’ve been pretty insistent on sharing how hot you think I am, I can almost imagine how bad you want to fuck me.” After unlocking the building, he grabbed the paper bag from my mouth and grinned in a cocky way. It made me want to slap him across the face, but also take him against the wall, maybe the latter more than the other one. But I did none of those and simply huffed.

“I think you’re the one who’s whipped, you did stalk me through my friends to bring me food.” I said over my shoulder, stopping in front of the elevator and using my elbow to push the button.

The man hummed as if considering what I had said, then gave me a look I couldn’t describe. It seemed intense, but not sultry, maybe even confused, lost. “As I said, I am familiar with studying for a long period of time. It’s a boost, moral support. So, don’t be ungrateful like that, you sound like a brat.” It seemed I had ticked him off by saying that, I could see it by the frown decorating his forehead.

But that frown was also accompanied but a delicate blush. I did not argue back, instead we stepped inside the elevator silently. Did I keep that silence? No. I could have kept the drowning, deafening silence that surrounded us, but I did not want him to feel uncomfortable. That is the reason I gave myself to talk more.

“You’re right, thank you for the food and the company. How much do I owe you?”

Looking down at me, his frown dissipated as a small smile drew itself on his lips. “Do you ever accept gifts without questioning?” He scoffed before adding I didn’t owe him anything. I was going to speak up when he did, at the same time and I let him. “I have a better idea; you know what would make my day?” I believe it was rhetorical, but as we left the elevator, I answered jokingly. “Your day has been made since the moment you saw me.”

He did not lose any time and replied with a smirk, “And yours, since I called you this morning, but who’s keeping track?”

A loud cackle left my mouth, it wasn’t elegant in any way. I had not expected him to be funny like that, though maybe he was just catching me by surprise more than being actually funny. I wasn’t sure yet, but there was this bubbly feeling my guts that assured me he was not a bad guy. “I’m not going to lie, it wasn’t not-enjoyable. But do tell me, what would make your day?” I asked before gesturing for him to open the door, telling him which key it was. I held his paper bag between my teeth once more, as he opened it before he grabbed it from me.

“If you admitted you want to see me in my hospital coat-“

I cut him off once I had put everything on the dining table, and freed his hands, “At best, a hospital gown to see that ass, but I am never admitting having a ‘doctor kink’, alright?” With everything laid on the table, I turned around to look at him and made a grimace, “Actually I take it back, this is just a nice get together, I swear I don’t want to see your ass that desperately, ok? Take a seat, doc.” I blurted out, realizing what I had said was more something I’d say jokingly. But I meant some of it, I did want to see him in his full glory.

This time, he did not make any witty comeback. Instead, he took a good look at me a moment, then grabbed my chin and turned it a bit before sliding his finger right under my jaw. He was checking my pulse, then said, “How about you take a deep breath and relax? You said it yourself, it’s just a nice get together, I’ll even sit at the opposite of you if I make you that nervous.” He suggested as he let go of me and pulled up a chair to sit on.

“No, no, don’t-“ I pulled up the one right next to him, maybe even scooting it a bit closer to him, our knees touching. My face was warming up slowly, remembering the interaction that happened seconds ago. “I’ll be honest, and you guessed it, I’m slightly nervous but maybe it’s because I’m into you. Not desperate, but you’re clearly a sight for sore eyes and you’re funny. You keep me on my toes, it’s fun.”

I did not expect him to react like that, but the man in front of me seemed to have been flustered for a moment. He tried to hide it by focusing his gaze on the paper bag in front of him as he opened it to grab its content. “You make it so easy for me to make innuendos, but I’ll let you have your wholesome moment.”

Nudging his knee with mine, I huffed and started checking all the food he had bought. While doing so, he continued talking, getting my attention by bumping his foot against mine. “I think there’s still something you need to tell me,” He started, earning a panicked look from me while I slowly put the food down, gulping. “Do I? I mean, fire way,”

Delicately, he leaned on his hand, resting his elbow on the table, and grinned. “What do my hands tell you about me?” I never sighed so loudly, hoping he had dropped the topic. But he seemed keen on knowing that, or maybe simply tease me for saying I preferred hands. “First things first, you gotta stop teasing me about the hands- You said neck! And maybe it was a bit hot, but also threatening, you gave it a thought and a deep one at that.” When I was done, I placed my hand, palm up, on the table and made a grabbing motion. “Come on, give me your hand, let me take a look.”

When he did, I realized how big his hands were but also how slender his fingers were. I could see it without needing them so close, but now that I took a good look… The thought of wearing it as a necklace crossed my mind, I ignored it. I then started observing his hand, turning it delicately in mine, brushing my thumb over some spots. “You have a little bump on your ring finger, so you either write a lot or draw,” I hummed a moment, “Your nails are probably cut so short for practicality, since you probably have to wear gloves and stuff…”

“The tattoos, they confuse me. Maybe you were a bit of a rebel when you were younger, because clearly they’re not professional-“ I looked up at him with an apologetic look, hoping I hadn’t offended him, “But it’s pretty! I’m not judging, just-“ He huffed a laugh and tried to grab my hand gently, only for me to keep holding it as if it was the most precious thing I had seen. “I was indeed very shitty when I was younger.”

Grinning mischievously, I jabbed, “Because that has changed? You still seem like a little shit to me,” Then I breathed out with a smile, “I’m not done though, your hands are slightly calloused but not a lot, so maybe you go to the gym or one of your hobby is more manual?” It was a rhetorical question, but he hummed to tell me to continue. I ate a bit and continued, “Also they are some very faint tan lines on your fingers…” Seemingly amazed, a smile drew itself on the corner of my mouth, “Do you wear rings? I mean, it’s faint, I can barely see it so maybe I’m wrong-“

“I can’t really wear them when I work, but yes. Sometimes I do wear them, I believe you also noticed I wore earrings. Couldn’t get your eyes off those last night, could you?” It was my cue to let go of his hand and fully face the food in front of me instead of the beautiful, arrogant, man next to me. It made him laugh when I groaned and told him to eat in peace. Showing me his empty paper bag, he said, “I’m done, you’re the one who’s been distracted, dear.”

“Right, then if you’re done, let me eat.” Glancing his way, he was staring right back at me with a smug smile, I made it my sole goal to avoid his gaze but after a moment he spoke up, “If you’re into me, you’ll have to look at me more than that, you know.” I almost choked on my food as I turned my head slowly towards him, “If you’re going to use everything I say, against me…” I trailed off and smirked, but rapidly discontinued my idea, “I was going to flirt back and say your name, you know… because you’ll use it against me and- but! I’m genuinely too tired for that- You know you’re exhausting?”

He threw his head back and let out the prettiest laugh I’ve ever heard, while running his hands through his hair. “You really do say whatever crosses your mind, it’s endearing.” He grinned and crossed his arms over the table leaning forward, this time. It was like he was emphasizing that he was listening intently. “I’ll stop flirting for today if you’d like, do tell me more about yourself,” he then said my name in a low tone.

“You start, I’m still eating Law- I thought you cared about my health and here you are, distracting me.” My tone was falsely dramatic, yet Law seemed taken aback, if not embarrassed, for a second. His gaze fleeting to the side before he leaned back on his chair and crossed his legs. “What would you like to know?” He grumbled, a hand moving to fidget with his earring, but since he wasn’t wearing any, he moved it back to his chest.

“Well… you said you were a little shit when you were younger so… How does one go from troublemaker to doctor?” I resumed eating after asking him, there was a clear change in his attitude. His relaxed demeanor seemed to have suddenly tensed, but he hid it and huffed a laugh. “I studied. You know it does require a lot of years to become a doctor-“ he stopped mid-way through his sentence when he saw the look I was giving him. A deadpanned look, to tell him to not fuck around, I knew full well the number of years it took, and that was not my question.

Sucking his teeth in, he sighed. “It’s not a fun story, but I’ll tell you about it one day,“ Interrupting him, I apologized, “Sorry, then how about I go entirely off topic? Here,” Pushing the paper bags away from me, I smiled at him kindly, “What’s your favourite book genre? If you read any, that is,” An almost-shy laugh escaped his lips and just like that he started talking about a certain comic series he was fan of. I listened intently as he passionately talked about, I would sometimes interrupt him to ask a few questions when I’d get confused and he’d clear things up.

He had the most adorable look on his face the more he talked about it, almost like it was the first time someone let him rant about it. After a moment, we started talking about other things we each liked when we were younger. I learnt that he wanted to become a doctor since he was very young. He did not elaborate on the topic much, except that he would always try to sneak inside his parents’ consultation room to see what was going on.

It’s only after a few attempts that his dad chose to give him books to read and focus on, instead of putting all his energy into trying to break inside the consultation room. That’s when little Law found his interest in medicine, at least part of it. There was an untold reason he had yet to share, but I was not going to prod. “You were pretty determined; I’d even say you were cute, but you were probably a demon.” Was what I said to him when he mentioned that short story.

As if on cue, he smirked and started, “I am still pretty determined, I always get what I want,“ I completely ignored is start at a flirtatious exchange and said, “Good, then work for it, I think we were having a very nice conversation here, my turn to talk about my past ok?” Then I resumed after he said to go on, and that he was very intrigued on what kind of kid I was.

I told him the reason why I chose the studies I did, even mentioned my family, how I was raised and what I wanted to become when I was a child. Since it was only the first ‘date’ I had with the man, and maybe I was getting ahead of myself, I tried to keep off the more serious topics: the ones that needed more trust before being shared. The conversation still went on smoothly.

I always liked listening to people’s story, so it felt weird when this time someone was listening to mine with as much interest as I did. When he kept asking questions, not nosy ones, or giving short but nice comments, I’d stutter. I’d feel my pulse quicken every time but ignored it. After all, he wasn’t going anything special, he was simply… invested.

“Oh, I forgot the most important question, pardner. Are you ready?” He nodded, smiling behind the hand on which he was resting his chin. “It’ll say a lot about who you are, don’t know if you’re ready to bare yourself like that yet-“ “Just ask the question, I won’t answer if I don’t want to.”

Placing my hands in front of me in a faux-defensive manner, perhaps even in a calming manner, I whispered “Easy there, cowboy” to which, Law rolled his eyes, asking me wordlessly to go on.

“Right, do you have any pets?”

There was a silence. He moved his hands from his lips to his cheeks, his eyes riveted on mine, not looking away. “That’s your one-million-dollar question?” He breathed out, his smile betraying his annoyance that was but an act. I started arguing on how having pets, or not, depending on the situation could say a lot about the person. “We usually have a cat here, but she’s always away. Or in Robin’s room, we called her Vagabonde.”

Straightening himself on the chair, he pulled out his phone, careful not to show me his screen and started scrolling on it, while talking. “I do have a dog, his name is Bepo. And before you ask, I know I don’t have that much free time, so I let him stay with my neighbor who’s basically in love with him.” When he found the picture he wanted, he showed it to me, and there it was on the screen, a big white fluffy Samoyed. I couldn’t help but notice the most adorable smile on his face before he turned the screen around, he stared at the screen a bit longer before locking his phone. The man was clearly in love with his dog, and it was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

“He’s very energetic, and he sleeps with me. Since my neighbor has trouble sleeping, she does not mind when I come get him late. I pay her for it, even though she says she’d do it for free. What does it say about me?” Right when I was about to reply, the alarm on his phone went off, it was time for him to go. He helped me clean everything up in a hurry, then we made our way to the door.

We both stopped at the entrance, perhaps wanting to say something more but not knowing what. I took the leap, and poked his arm, “I think it says that you’re a lot less intimidating, you like cute things, and I can’t wait for Thursday. I would also love to meet Bepo, maybe take a nap with him-“ I grinned widely when he frowned, laughing at his almost offended reaction, and continued, “and you, since clearly I won’t be able to separate the both of you.”

He did not reply for a few second, then he smiled. “You’re right, I do love cute things. I can’t help but try to get them for myself,” The tension that had disappeared while talking about our lives, had suddenly return, I could hear my blood pumping in my ears. Law raised his hand to rest it on my jaw as he gazed down at me with the faintest smile, I did not know what to do. This was supposed to be a quick fuck with a pretty boy, but he clearly had charms and I couldn’t untangle myself from the effects he had on me.

It’s when his nose brushed against mine that I realized how close he was, and where this was going. Our lips where ghosting over one another, I could almost feel his hair, brushing against my chin. I wanted to pull him close and finally break the tension that had installed between us. But when I was about to kiss him, he pulled back just enough so that our lips couldn’t meet and breathed, “See you on Thursday then.” Then he pressed a light kiss on my cheek before turning around and waving at me.

I stood there, stunned. This asshole knew what he was doing, and he was having too much fun with it. But that moment made it clear I was not the only one interested, and it was like a win for me. At least I knew he’d keep is promises of a good fuck on Thursday, seeing how much he was into me.

Shaking the daydreaming away, I got back inside and waited until he was downstairs to unlock the door with the intercom. When I saw his car drive away on the small screen, I let out a sigh of relief and moved back to my room where I slumped on my bed, exhausted. “Thursday can’t come any faster.” Rolling on my back, I grabbed my phone and considered sending a text to Law. But would I even say? ‘Nice kiss attempt, left me wanting more’? ‘Damn, you got me horny with just that, can’t wait to see what them hands do, cowboy’?

Cringing, I opted not to text him. The man was probably busy, I hardly think doctors only fill in paperwork every day. Running my hands over my face, I groaned into my palms before sitting back up. “Sure, he’s hot, but maybe he’s not a good fuck.” I hummed in agreement with myself, “I did not have any feedback about his feats, maybe he’s single because he sucks.” I nodded to myself again, before remembering he told me he did fuck. A lot. I let myself fall back on the bed, closing my eyes as I pondered longer.

I did not know where the date would take place, but as I gave it a deeper thought, I also started thinking more and more of what we’d do once we’d get to his place. I remembered he said we’d have to make a detour by his place anyway because he’d have to get changed… But he seemed like he had plans for us. Or maybe we’d just…

Arrive at his place, it’d look minimalistic, he clearly was not one for sentimental stuff. He’d tell me to wait as he’d get changed in his room, leaving it ajar so that I could catch a glimpse of his body. He wouldn’t be in scrubs; those were taken way before leaving the hospital but… I like the idea of him wearing one anyway, it reminded me of HandSurgeon and for some reason it got me going.

As he’d take off his shirt, he’d look over his shoulder and smile smugly at me, before asking if I was enjoying the show. If I were bold enough, I’d tell him I’d rather join the show to which he’d grin and tell me to join him. A heated make out session would ensue, then I’d push him to the bed, straddle his lap and unbuckle his belt.

“I think we should keep it close by, for later use,” He said, mentioning the belt, before gripping me tightly under the thighs and flipping me around so that he was on top. Once there, he slid his hands from my side to my arms, that he lifted over my head before leaning over, a toothy grin on his lips. “You’re not even fighting it, so obedient.” His lithe fingers wrapped themselves around my wrists caressing them gently, then he reached behind me towards the bed headboard, and I heard a metallic sound. Suddenly, I was restrained. Around my wrists, comfortable, leather handcuffs, tied to the bed headboard by lengthy chains.

“Belts aren’t the best restraints, but I am prepared…” He gripped his belt tightly, twisting it in his hands. “It’s however a great whip,” I was startled when the leather touched my stomach, my shirt had been removed, somehow, at some point. Law was now wearing black latex gloves, his sleeves rolled up while he was still fully dressed. I thought he had taken his shirt off earlier but… “Don’t start thinking, enjoy it. That’s what you want, right? To give up control, let yourself get loose,” I think I nodded.

He let the belt travel all over my body, I was only in my undergarments. And he was taking his time to make sure to touch each and every inch of my body. Like a predator observing its pray, he was walking around the bed at a slow pace, the leather belt grazing my skin ever so lightly. But it was enough to make me want more, it was enough to make me contract my muscles in apprehension when he’d raised the belt. I did not know if he was going to strike, I don’t know what mood he was in, but I liked the thrill. “Look at you, all spread up and ready, quiet…”

His gloved hand was now gripping my chin tightly, forcing me look up at him. “You’ve been tamed so well, you’re not talking until told to.” He breathed against my lips. I felt one of his hand traveled from my chest to between my legs, under my underwear and slowly, he pressed a finger against my clit. Then between my lower lips, only teasing my hole. Over and over again. Surprised, I only gasped and tried to look at him, but he moved to murmur right next to my ear, “But I think I want to hear you, loud and clear. Why don’t you be a good girl, and stop holding back, mmm?” I let out a breath I did not know I was holding and started panting.

The nerves, the anticipation, the excitement, all of it was let out through shaky breathing as he’d touch me then-

Startling awake, I heard my phone ring and scrambled to my senses, trying to find it. I heard a thud at my feet and bent over to look what it was, only to realize it was my phone. Quickly grabbing it, I picked it up and put it to my ear. “Yep?”

“So, how was your date with Law?” I heard Robin ask, I could also hear the grin on her face.

“I don’t know if I should thank you or curse you, Rob. But for now… it was nice, I liked it… Although it was odd to see him on my campus at first, still is a bit weird when I think about it but, you know, it’s the thought that matters, right?”

Giggling, the black-haired woman on the other end of the line could be heard shooing someone away before answering, “Well, he did have to fight Nami. She was very much against the idea, but he said he wanted to make you feel comfortable for Thursday. So that it’s not a stressful first date, you know?”

So, he did give it a thought, the fact that I was studying only gave him the opportunity to come by. I wonder what his excuse would have been if I hadn’t been studying the entire day. Focusing back on the conversation, I gave Robin more details of what happened. I considered not telling her about the almost kiss, but she was clearly in for the gossip. So, I told her, except I didn’t tell her I wish more would have happened. How I still wondered what his lips would feel like against mine, and how I’m curious of how they’d feel against my skin, barely grazing it, his stubble following each delicate touch. The latter being something I’d hopefully find out on Thursday.

When everything had been said, and she had told me about her day, we hung up and I was left with the remnant of my hot dream.

I stared at nothing for a moment, considering my options. I could work on some assignments, I could distract myself, or I could… Open discord and see if HandSurgeon was busy. Not for something too exhausting, no, but for a little bit of fun.

So, I did.

Edelweiss: fun game to suggest

Edelweiss: no one around me, but still, you get a picture of me

Edelweiss: you don’t have to send anything… although I wouldn’t mind much

Edelweiss: then, fun times?

Edelweiss: I’m bored and I don’t know… maybe we could do something

Drumming my fingers on the back of my phone, smacking my lips a few times. I can’t believe I was growing impatient for such thing.

Minutes passed, I started bouncing my leg with anticipation, forcing myself to not send more messages in case he was busy. I remembered he had said he’d be more busy this week, but I did not know his schedule, maybe he was free now.

I felt my phone vibrate in my hand and saw a message on discord. I opened the app excitedly,

HandSurgeon: I have to get going, I’ll be off for a few hours. Then, odds are that I’ll pass out when I get home, I’m sorry dear.

HandSurgeon: But, I am not refusing pictures of my girl. If that’s what you’re suggesting. If you are, I’ll give you a few instructions on how to take them.

Edelweiss: I am suggesting that yes… I have a mirror…

HandSurgeon: You’ve read my mind. On your knees in front of it, naked. One with legs spread, the other not. Don’t be shy and grab your breasts as you do so, feeling yourself as you’re doing a private photoshoot just for me. Your hand traveling down, caressing your stomach to stop just between your legs.

HandSurgeon: Your free hand gripping your beautifully stricken thighs, remembering how much of a disobedient girl you’ve been last night. How much you’ve learnt since, how good you’ll be for me.

HandSurgeon: So good you won’t touch yourself until I’m back and free to take care of you. And if I’m not back before Wednesday… well then, that someone better fuck you better than I can make you feel even though I’m not with you.

HandSurgeon: And if you don’t fuck by then, no touching.

HandSurgeon: Be good for me Edelweiss, see you. Let your creativity run wild.

Edelweiss: Yes sir, see you then.

Closing the app, I saw my reflection in the, now, locked screen. It’s only then that I realized I was slightly pouting. I made a weird face and quickly got out of bed then took a good look at the long mirror next to my desk. “Well, it shows too much personal shit, I’ll have to move it.” I mumbled before rolling up my sleeves and using my strength the best I could I moving it to the side of my bed. The reflective part was facing my window, so I closed the blinds, and it was neutral enough to not give any information about me.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” I panted, while coming back from the bathroom with a cleaning spray, “If I’m going to send proper nudes, I ain’t sending them with a dirty mirror…” I grumbled, tiring myself already from the wild movements I did to really get the glass clean. The squeaky sound of the towel against the glass was all that I could hear, along by long breathing as I thoroughly scrubbed it.

Once it was done, and I was settled, naked in front of it, I felt a shiver ran down my spine. Being in this position and being able to see how I look… I felt utterly exposed, which made sense considering I was naked. But the idea that I was doing all of this, just for that stranger, it felt odd. I liked that feeling, but was I allowed to feel that pride, that joy, from making myself pretty for a stranger? Was that objectification? Huffing, I told myself that I didn’t care because I liked feeling god. I did follow his instructions and took the picture how he had asked, but then I took some liberties.

I found one of my favourite sexy outfit and put it on, making sure it highlighted my assets.

Giving myself a once over in the lengthy mirror, I made a thinking face. Since Law teased me earlier, I could perhaps tease him back? Show him what he’d get Thursday, what he’d have to wait for. But then again, was I willing to be the first one to send a text after the coffee date? And have that first text to be a daring picture of me?

Licking my lips, I pondered a bit longer. Then thought I could make it just enough to have him want more. I moved to my desk and leaned against it, my butt resting on it. I then angled the phone to show my face where I gave my best flirtatious smile, the outfit I was wearing showed off my cleavage and my neck, so I made sure he could see the latter clearly, knowing he liked it.

Taking the picture, I hesitated upon seeing the final result. The boldness I got from sending HandSurgeon naked pictures was starting to fade. I had to act fast if I didn’t want to chicken out, so I sent it to Law quickly, that way I couldn’t go back. It was followed by a message.

You: Thursday, right? Not that your opinion matters, but how does this outfit sound for that research?

I made a face at that text. “I wish I could take it back, it’s so bad, god it’s so bad.” I looked away and sighed, then looked back at my phone and sighed louder, and looked away again, “I’ll just leave it at that, I’ll put the phone down and wait for an answer. Yeah, yeah…”

Having convinced myself to relax, I managed to not touch my phone for the rest of the evening. I did spend that evening working on some stuff, since there was no distraction to steer me away from actually getting shit done and ended up being productive.

Since both the men I had started talking to recently were busy, and my friends away, I had the most boring night.

I had forgotten about the text I had sent by submerging myself with work, but when all was done and I was alone in my bed with my thoughts, I remembered and cringed. When I checked if I had any reply, and saw nothing, I felt a knot form itself in my stomach but tried to rationalize. ‘It’s ok, it’s alright, he’s probably still at work, maybe he fell asleep, we’ll see tomorrow’ Was my last thought before falling asleep.

When I woke up in the morning, the knot only tightened, and I felt more anxious than ever. Once again, I thought maybe I shouldn’t have done that.

[Part 7]

#trafalgardwaterlaw #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #law one piece #One piece law #words of pleasure #wop #fanfiction #ao3 #writer #writing #writings #ao3 writer #fanfictions #fanfic #law x reader

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breanime · 5 years ago

Note

Theoretically if rio's cute neighbour, the one that watched his son, was being harassed by an ex or just some creepy guy. What would rio do?

So you can find the first neighbor headcannon list here. Also, this headcannon list got long as hell... haha, sorry?

*gif not mine*

Rio had been out of town for the last week, handling business

He’d texted you to let you know he’d be back soon--

--partly to be a good neighbor, and partly cause he wanted to see you

The two of you weren’t dating, but there was definitely something between you

(sexual tension)

And Rio was eager to see where it would go

He walked down the hall to his apartment, his bag slung over his shoulder, glad to be back in his own space

Then he saw your door

The wood was cracked, as if someone had punched it or something, and Rio stopped dead in his tracks

He knocked on your door, eyebrows knitted

You answered with a bat in your hands

“Huh...” Rio said, eyes roaming your body--from your tense posture to the bat in your hands to the tired, exhausted look in your eyes. “... Rough week without me, mama?”

“Oh, Rio,” you sighed, and Rio watched your body relax, “Sorry. I was just--”

“Expecting someone else?” He asked, walking into your apartment.

He dropped his bag at the foot of the couch and turned to you, frowning

Rio watched as you locked both locks on the door behind him; he’d been in your place about 100 times now, and he’d never seen you do that before

“Yeah, kind of...” You answered. “How was your trip?”

“Fine,” he answered, sticking his hands in his pockets, “but I don’t wanna talk about that right now. Let’s talk about you.” He titled his head. “What’s going on here?”

You sighed again, and Rio wanted to hold you. You were stressed, and he longed to fix it

“I’ve just...” You crossed your arms, hugging yourself. “I don’t want to bother you with it.”

Rio took a few steps forward, until he was in front of you. He eyed you seriously. Someone so beautiful, he thought, shouldn’t look so sad. Not when he was around to help.

“Bother me,” he said softly, his voice firm but low

“Last year...” You began, looking down. “...I dated this guy, and he was just...” You shook your head. “He was an ass. We broke up, and I never heard from him again... till a week ago... The night before you left.”

Rio’s eyes narrowed; he remembered that night. He’d taken you out for drinks before his trip, spending the night smiling and laughing with you. He’d gotten a call in the middle of it, and when he came back to the table, he saw a man walking away. But you hadn’t said anything about it, and you seemed fine, so he didn’t ask about it.

“The guy from the restaurant...” Rio said, nodding to himself. “That’s your ex.”

“He saw us out, and when you stepped away, he came up to me--but all he did was say hi. He wasn’t weird or aggressive or anything,” you said back, “But then he... I guess he found out where I lived...”

“Yeah,” Rio licked his lips, “that his handy work on the door?”

“Yeah,” you nodded back, “Every day since that night, he’s been calling me nonstop and showing up here, pounding on the door. I called the cops, but they said there’s nothing they can do unless he actually hurts me, so--”

“I got you,” Rio said, grabbing his bag

He turned to go, but you held onto his arm.

“What are you gonna do?” You asked, eyes wide.

He looked down at you

On one hand, he could lie to you, keep up the polite charade that he made his money the legal way, that his business was simply in “providing capital” like he’d told you once before. The two of you hadn’t ever explicitly discussed what he did, but Rio knew you knew his vague descriptions of his business were just that: pointedly vague

But on the other hand... he could tell you the truth. Maybe you’d be cool with it.

Or maybe you’d shy away and turn from him.

Either way, he was going to handle this for you, but he couldn’t deny--

--he wanted you to be ok with it. With him. For some reason, as Rio looked down at you, he saw something special, something that made him feel protective of you, something beyond the lust and friendly affection he had for you

When he looked at you, he saw a partner

“I’ma tell him that the next time he so much glances up at this apartment,” Rio answered evenly, “I’m gonna put a bullet between his eyes. And if he doesn’t like that, I’ll put him down then and there.”

“You... You’d do that for me?” You asked, pretty eyes wide

“I’d of had this handled already if you would’ve told me before,” he confessed, reaching out to cup your face in his hand, “but since I’m here now, I’ll handle it personally.” He leaned down, his mouth just inches from yours. Rio wanted to kiss you so badly, he felt the desire in every part of him with you so close. “Stay here,” he told you, “I’ll be back in a few hours.”

He didn’t move, though, and neither did you.

Your hand flexed on his bicep, wanting to bring him even closer. “Rio, I...thank you.”

He smirked. “Don’t thank me yet.” He leaned in closer, about to say something else

And then you kissed him

Rio had kissed a lot of women in his life (a lot...like a lot a lot...)

But never had a pair of lips felt so good against his own.

Rio’s arms wrapped around you, and he silently marveled at how perfectly you fit against him. He titled his head, slipping his tongue into your mouth, and you moaned into him.

Chuckling, Rio’s hands went to your waist, and he led you towards the couch

You took a hold of his collar and dragged him down onto the couch with you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he laid on top of you

“Baby,” he chuckled into your lips, “I gotta go.”

“I know,” you said back, grinning, “I just need a few more minutes...”

He laughed. “For what?” He asked, even as he dipped his head down to start kissing your neck. The little sounds you made when his lips ghosted against your skin were driving him wild.

...the ex might have to wait a bit.

Rio was kissing your collarbones while lifting up your shirt when a loud band sounded behind him

You jumped, but Rio just turned lazily, one eyebrow raised

“It’s him,” you whispered, and when Rio looked down at you, he could see the fear in your eyes

This, he decided, would be the last time you would ever look like that

“Relax,” he said, his voice low and calm. He leaned down and kissed you sweetly, and he felt you relax under his touch. “I got this. Just stay here, mi bonita chica.”

Rio got up, kissing the top of your head as you sat up, and reached down into his bag.

“Y/N,” the banging was louder now, “I’m not playing with you--open this damn door right now!”

Rio grinned--it would be his pleasure

Rio opened the door and leaned on the doorway, a lazy smirk on his face. “Hey,” he greeted the man, “you know this is a private residence?”

The man blinked, taking a step back, and Rio chuckled. He knew this type: big, loud, and bad--until someone badder came around.

“Wh--what the hell are you doing here...?” The man asked, craning his neck to try to peek into the apartment.

“Yo,” Rio stood up straight, shaking his head, “What you lookin’ for? Huh?” He stepped up, and your ex stepped back again. “Y/N?” He asked. “She ain’t your concern no more, homie. I am.”

“I--I don’t--”

“Oh,” Rio chuckled, “That’s right, I’m sorry. I haven’t introduced myself.” He whipped out his gun, pointing it directly at the guy’s paling face. “I’m Rio. I’m the man Y/N’s currently seeing, and she wanted me to let you know that this shit,” he waved the gun, the smile no longer on his face, and the man backed up into the wall, eyes wide with terror, “Is done with. You stop callin’, you stop comin’ around, and you definitely stop trying to intimidate her into talkin’ to you. Matter of fact,” Rio went on, “the next time you see her, you better get the fuck away, cause if I hear about you even breathing in the same space as her again,” he stepped up and pressed the golden gun into the guy’s forehead, “I can’t promise I’ll stay this controlled. Is that understood?”

The ex nodded, looking like a bobblehead with his huge eyes “I---”

“No no no,” Rio smiled, “don’t speak.” He glanced back at you, you were standing in front of the couch now, watching. “You got any cash on you?”

He nodded

“Great,” Rio said brightly, “let’s see it.”

The guy reached into his pocket and took out his wallet, handing it over to Rio

“Mm...” Rio eyed his ID, memorizing the name and address for later use. “This looks like just enough to cover the cost of repairing the door,” he said, taking out a wad of bills, “and a lil extra for emotional damage.”

Rio threw the wallet back at your ex, who caught it, eyes never leaving the gun in Rio’s hand

“Okay now...” Rio grinned. “Run.”

He didn’t have to say it twice, your ex scurried away so quickly, that he fell half-way down the hall and just crawled into the elevator. If Rio didn’t know any better, he’d say he smelt piss in the hall now...

Rio closed your door, tossing the gun--which was empty--onto his bag on the floor

He turned to you, laughing when you launched yourself into his arms

“Thank you,” you said, your head buried in his chest, “thank you, thank you, thank you--”

“I told you,” he said, smiling down at you, “I got you. And yo, I was thinkin’...” He held up the cash. “...why don’t you use this on some self-defense lessons, just for fun?”

“But what about the door?”

“Ah, baby,” he leaned down, kissing you, “that’s what we got a super for!”

*******************************************************************************************

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