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pedgito · 10 days ago

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𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Joel Miller x reader x Tommy Miller

summary | a moment of desperation and a kind gesture leads you down an inescapable path alongside two brothers and a town with a nasty secret

author's note | so. its been three months and a much needed break from this place, but i started this back in august with a fully fleshed out idea and then my motivation fell flat. i had a good chunk of this done and i love it too much to not post, even if just for myself. this will be two parts, this one and one coming in the near future. its so self-indulgent and not everyone's cup of tea. but an extra special thank you to the special and lovely people i talked about this with and that took a look at for me, i love you endlessly.

content warning | 18+ smut, dubious consent (relating to cannibalism), cannibalism, gore, mentions of violence, blood, demeaning language, joel is a hardass, high tension and angst, joel has weird kink relating to...you guessed it, this story is heavily joel leaning but tommy is a decent part of it, smut (oral), night swims, food/feeding tw, joel is a bit of creep here. please heed the warnings and pass if it's not your thing.

word count —14k

Long, desolate roads led you here. No telling how long you had until you would find the city skyline again, car running on fumes for the last ten miles, the sign at the end of the road pulling your attention up, eyes peering through the windshield as your car veered to the right and to a full stop.

Miller’s Farm, next right

Helped wanted, no experience needed

Hourly pay and lodging included

You had fifty bucks left in cash and half of that would go toward gas if you could find a gas station, your arms crossed over the steering wheel and blocked the blow to your forehead as you rested it against your forearms in frustration.The car’s AC was shotty at best, requiring you to hit it every half hour to keep it alive and even then it was a weak sputtering and a barely there chill that did nothing to quell the layer of sweat on your skin.

It takes several long, frustrating minutes before you decide that you don’t have any other option.

You were stranded, this was it.

Maybe hospitality extended this far out into the country, that even this far from the city there were still a few good, decent people around. With a deep, heavy sigh you exit the car and shove your key into the door, locking it and pocketing the keys into the pack slung over your shoulder.

It’s been weeks on the road, leaving pieces and pieces of you behind as you traveled. The lesser the weight, the lesser the burden. Were you running? You weren’t sure. But, staying in one place for too long made you antsy. Town to town, taking odd jobs where they were offered, living off the kindness of others in hopes of making it somewhere seaside.

Start a new life, forget about your past.

Austin wasn’t supposed to be your final stop, or even a detour, but the steps you took down the side of the road and toward the farm in the distance would be another place of temporary sanctuary. Hopefully.

Eventually the asphalt turns to dirt, kicking up gravel under your feet as you walk and covering your skin in a thin layer of fresh grime and sweat under the high noon sun. The barn, once a far-off dot, was now large and vibrant, that distinct red popping out amongst the rest of the dilapidated property, void of most color outside of dull brown. There was a house to the left, cluttered with a melody of things. Tools, furniture, plants, and things you couldn’t even recognize.

You squint, hand over your brow like a makeshift visor as you look around and hope to see someone, anyone—this couldn’t be the wrong place?

A truck under the hastily built carport and a trailer attached to the hitch—someone was home. You look around carefully, peering over your shoulder and finding nothing. There was no wind, no noise, and your breath caught in your throat.

Maybe this was the time to turn back and attempt your chances elsewhere.

The front door opening with a creak has your head whipping back over your shoulder to set sights on the person in front of you—a man, tanned skin and tall. He was stocky but lean, black hair tucked behind his ears and trimmed just above his shoulders. He looked clean, which was more than you could say for yourself. All clean-cut man, jeans and a casual shirt, boots tucked under his jeans as his hand curled around the front door of the house and half of his figure leaned out.

“Can I help you, darlin’?” The twang flows out of his mouth naturally, taking a few steps out of the house before he’s closing the door behind him and following the small path of the front yard masked with clutter until he’s near you, a few feet away. “You lost?”

“I—I saw the sign?” You implore, jutting your thumb over your shoulder in the direction of the road, “My car ran out of gas, I’m out of money and it’s hot. I was just hoping for some work to help get me back on my feet and out of your hair as quickly as possible.”

The man nods, readying to open his mouth before you continue.

“I don’t mind the work, I’m not picky. I don’t have a resume or anything, but I promise—”

“Woah, slow down,” You can hear the amusement, a smirk pulling at his face and you chew at your bottom lip nervously, fingers twisting around the straps of your backpack, “We’re not lookin’ for some hoity toity types with degrees—you comfortable gettin’ dirty?”

You glance down at your clothes, a few days without a shower and driving down sideroads with your windows down has made you look worse for wear, “Absolutely. I just need the money and a bed, couch even—you won’t even know I’m here if that’s an issue for you. I can keep busy.”

You glazed over the we in his response, looking around curiously again.

He extends his hand unexpectedly, “I’m Tommy,” He introduces and you take his hand softly, feeling him squeeze firmly at your grip and the smirk in his face soften into a smile, “listen—we don’t do the whole hirin’ process. I gotta run it by my brother Joel and there’s a few cautionary steps we gotta take due to the work, but we can give it a test run? See how you feel?”

You felt inclined to ask what the work was, but you decided not to be picky.

And like a dinner bell had been rung, the other man appears out of the barn.

Joel, a stark difference to his brother in stature and cleanliness but the resemblance was uncanny in the way they carried themselves. A similar stride that felt intimidating, broad shoulders stretched out over taught muscle and a matching resting scowl on his face.

Something told you his expression was more permanent, though. His brow pulls together, eyes squinting as he looks you over. He was wiping at his dirtied hands with a rag, a sheen of maroon drying to brown that you could only assume was blood.

It was a farm. Animals. That meant slaughter.

The thought of it didn’t make you vomit initially, so you considered that a good thing.

It takes one look and he’s giving a disparaging shake of his head, turning his head toward his brother to offer his opinion, “Ain’t worth the trouble.”

You instantly grimace, offering a less than subtle look of distaste at that man.

Stubbornness is what he notices immediately, but then your eyes are flicking back toward his brother who looks more confused now than when you had first approached the farm.

“You said you were outta gas, right? Just needin’ some extra money?” He confirms and you answer with a simple nod of your head. He looks over at Joel, arms crossing over his chest, “Said she doesn’t mind gettin’ dirty—willing to help out wherever. I’m sure we can find her some work, right?”

Joel looks you over slowly, a predatory gaze that makes you feel infinitely smaller. He was staring through you, seeing the deepest and darkest parts of your soul. His eyes were darker, nearly black and ringed with deep set under eyes from an obvious lack of sleep—whereas Tommy, he was chipper and well-rested, eyes a warm amber and much more inviting.

“You slaughter cattle before?” Joel asks, “Cleaned up shit? Worked on a farm? Anything like that?”

You shake your head but quickly respond before he has a chance to speak, “I don’t care what the work is—I’ll do it. If I need to be taught, I’m willing to learn. I’m a quick learner too.”

Devotion is what he senses at a slower rate, the slow blink of your eyes as they flick between the two brothers—he could give Tommy an ultimatum and turn you away, but something in his gut twists.

She’s useful, she’s good. Good supply if it came down to that. Given you passed the tests.

But, there was something lingering in your gaze, yet to be discovered. Joel was curious.

“Send her to the doc, give her the guest room,” Joel tells Tommy after a moment of thought, sounding slightly irritated but it forces out the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, “You’ll start work when we know you’re cleared.”

You nod dutifully and Tommy returns a relaxed smile, “It’s a liability thing,” He promises, “and it’s heavy work, better to know if your body can handle it alright before we put you through the ringer.”

“Whatever I need to do,” You return the grin, tracking Joel’s departing figure as he re-entered the barn and disappears, “is he always that angry?”

“Usually,” Tommy replies, rusting around in his back pocket for a set of keys, “I’ll give you a ride to the clinic and we can tow your car here tonight—to keep away anyone tryin’ to scalp it for parts. Sounds good?”

“Sounds perfect,” You agree, wiping at the sweat on your brow with the back of your hand, “but—do you think I could take a quick shower first? It’s just walking in the heat and it’s been a few days...”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” Tommy stumbles over his words, but nods for you to follow him inside.

With trepidation, you take your first steps and follow.

And what you’re expecting is not what is revealed to you. It made sense that the disorganization would spill into the house, but it was nearly spotless. Pristine countertops and polished wooden furniture, a wall of file cabinets and a tucked away nook with a computer set up. It was like entering another dimension, your eyes tracking along the full expanse of the house before they land on Tommy, who’s looking on with that same amusement as earlier.

“It’s a lot of work but I try to keep it clean here,” Tommy admits, “The outside is…all Joel, mostly.”

You shake your head with indifference, holding your hands up in defense.

You weren’t judging, it wasn’t your place.

“The shower is down that hall,” Tommy points toward the central hall, rooms lining each side, “first door on the right—did you—do you have clothes?”

“Only one clean pair left,” You confess, “but I’ll make do.”

“We’ve got clothes, if you need them. Don’t be afraid to ask.”

There’s a responsiveness to Tommy that intrigues you—approachable, kind, a hard disjunction from his counterpart that was like a breath of fresh air. You don’t allow yourself to linger either, making your way to the bathroom with quick footsteps and remaining blind to the rest of the house, hearing a sharp scuffle of a chair that you can only assume is Tommy as he sits and waits.

It was the easiest predicament you've dealt with in the last few months. But you weren’t, not even for a moment, going to question it.

It’s a small building near the edge of the town, only a half hour drive from the farm and sat in some silence, you find out a slow trickling of information that Tommy shares, his elbow propped against the open window and the other gripping tight around the steering wheel, his hair a wind-blown mess.

“It’s been in our family for years,” he tells you, traveling down the quiet road and the low hum of the radio mingling with his voice, “s’why it's a mess—can’t be bothered to part with some of that junk.”

“I’m not judging.”

Tommy offers a look of skepticism, laced with a smile.

“It is a lot of stuff,” you grin in response, a subtle quirk at the corner of your mouth.

“Joel is a little sentimental,” Tommy adds, “he’s always been like that—harder for him to let shit go.”

You respond with a gentle nod as Tommy pulls into the parking lot of the clinic, exiting the truck with a swiftness before he’s at the passenger side and opening your own door, “Oh—that is really not necessary—”

“My momma would be rollin’ in her grave otherwise,” Tommy gripes playfully as his fingers curl around the open door, “so, just let me, alright?”

You don’t argue, chivalry be damned.

There isn’t much to be confused about as you step inside the clinic with Tommy in tow. He takes a seat near the door and the doctor, an old man with a limp and someone who refers to Tommy as son—he earns a casual nod in return and then you’re led beyond the door to the hall of other rooms.

It was a very typical line of questions, a general physical, and a blood draw that he promised would be pushed through quickly for the benefit of allowing you to work as soon as possible.

You try desperately to ignore the particular aura about the old man, thin-wired glasses perched on his sharp nose, age spots littering his face and bald head—but the most glaring is the missing pinky fingers on both hands. It was so clean cut and well-healed that you assume it could be something he was born with, but the moment he spots you noticing, he seems to switch gears.

“You’re all good here,” he tells you, “If anything comes up I’ll give the Miller’s a call—you’re lodging there, right?”

Your left eyebrow raises slightly, nodding hesitantly in response.

“Gotten a few like you before,” he comments oddly, “I’m not passing any judgment, it’s just a question.”

“Yeah—yeah I am. Staying there.”

Increasingly creeped out as the seconds pass you breathe a sigh of relief as he allows you to leave, meeting Tommy at the front door with a less than comfortable expression. His eyes press a silent question but you shrug it off, hearing him bid a polite goodbye over your shoulder as you walk toward the truck.

Eventually, settled into the truck as Tommy turned over the ignition, he responds with comfort, “He ain’t the most approachable guy,” he admits, “but he’s been helpin’ us for years.”

That was one way of putting it.

“Hopefully I pass with flying colors then.”

Tommy shrugs, backing out of the parking lot with his arm thrown over the passenger seat, feeling the slight touch of his fingertips against the back of your neck through the headrest, “We can figure somethin’ out anyways, seeing as you’re more than eager,” Tommy grins, teeth peeking through, “I like that.

–

Tommy gives you a proper tour when you arrive back, nothing extensive but he does walk you around the property. He shows you the animal pens; pigs, goats, a few cows wandering around the pasture. And the barn, but he doesn’t enter. You note the lock hanging from the doors, clunky and rusted but securing the doors closed.

The inside of the house is less of a mystery, following Tommy as he lead you into the kitchen and showed off the expensive counter space and deep set sink—if they didn’t put a lot of effort into cooking then you didn’t understand the reasoning for the size, but as the thought floods your mind, Tommy plucks it out and answers it.

“Joel is a better cook than me,” he admits, “another bonus, home-cooked meals, a lot of our meats are ethically-sourced—” The look you shoot his way is quizzical.

“Grass-fed and they’re free to roam and forage for the most part, we’re not stuffin’ them full of grain feed to fatten ‘em up. We try to keep things humane. Joel deals with most of the dirty work and I stick to numbers and talkin’,” he explains, “he ain't’ much for socializing.”

Joel enters at the mention of himself, grunting as he steps beyond the threshold. His coveralls hung around his waist, tied at the hips and the dirty undershirt stretched tight over his broad chest. He peeled off his boots at the door and Tommy leaned against the counter lazily, one foot crossed over the other as he folded his arms and looked over at you, eyes slowly dragging to his brother.

“She cleared?” He asks briskly, “Or we sendin’ her on her merry way?”

“Joel,” Tommy chastises and Joel smirks, taking a quick glance over at you, “doc said he’d call in the morning and let us know, we can spare a meal and a bed for a night.”

Almost as if you two weren’t even there, he strips off his dirtied shirt and works at the tie around his hips with the hand free of the balled up cloth, “Hope you like mess, girl.”

“I’m not picky,” You shrug, resting your hands loosely against your hips as he walks toward the same hallway you had traveled down earlier, “A little mud and grime won’t kill me.”

Joel chuckles softly at that, fully disparaging, “Blood make you squeamish?”

You shake your head, noting the caked bits of dried blood tucked in the crook of his arms and the creases of his neck, a faint pink tint from his chin down, “As long as it isn’t mine.”

Tommy seems to tense at your wording, his arms flexing tight as he eyed his brother under a downturned gaze, staying quiet under the domineering energy his brother exuded.

“She might just survive ‘round here,” he directs at his brother, a smarmy remark although more boastful than he had been since the first time he spoke, but the distaste for you still lingered, oozed right out of the disingenuous smirk crossing his face.

He ain’t much for socializing.

It would only take a few weeks, you think. A few weeks and a couple cash payments and you could move onto the next place on your never-ending roadmap. You feel yourself breathing out a sigh of relief as Joel disappears, not realizing how long you had been holding it in.

“S’much as I’d like to have nice home-cooked meal, I think it’d be better if I grab some dinner from the dinner down the road,” Tommy offers, keys clutched in his grip as he rocks on his heels, “I’m gonna pick up your car on the way back, like I promised.”

And then he smiles, again. But, there’s a moment when it finally reaches his eyes and you can’t help but return the gesture, “I…think I’ll hide out in the guest room until you come back,” you admit, pointing toward the hallway, “no offense to your brother, but—”

“Don’t take it personally,” Tommy assures, “don’t let ‘em intimidate you, either.”

Fight fire with fire.

It wasn’t your forte, but you were hellbent on survival and you would adapt if you had to.

You’ve spent the last half hour sorting through a puzzle on your haphazardly made bed, chin tucked into your palm, eyes tracking over the pieces until you could find a suitable match and slotting it into place before repeating the process. The deft shift and click of a door being shut pulls your attention upright, assuming it was Tommy, you clamber out of bed.

What you aren’t expecting is the solid chest that slams into your side, senses overwhelmed with the strong smell of aftershave and clean body wash—it wasn’t a particular scent, just…clean.

You look over, find Joel with a perturbed look on his face, a dinner plate hovering above your head and his expression turning more and more grim as time passes. “Sorry,” you mumble, “thought you were Tommy.”

“I look like Tommy to you?”

You tilt your head, expression pinching together in annoyance.

Intimidation, just like Tommy had mentioned.

“Yeah,” you respond coarsely, “but at least he’s not acting like someone shit in his food—do you treat everyone like this who comes through here? Is that why you can’t keep people around here?”

His arms drop then, strutting past you with heavy footsteps as he makes his way to the sink, dropping the dirty dishes and pressing his hands into the edge of the center island that sat opposite the line of cabinets and countertops.

“You runnin’?” Joel asks curiously, ignoring your initial question. “Cops gonna come lookin’ for you?”

You balk, offended by his asinine line of questioning.

“That’s none of your business,” you respond to the first question before spitting out a venomous, “No—what? Scared of a couple cops? Are you hiding something, Joel?”

That seems to strike a nerve decently enough that he rises, creeping around the edge of the island until he’s striding toward you, a hair's breadth away as you swallow hard.

You couldn’t help it—he was large, intense, intimidating without trying. He didn’t have to speak, the image of him did the work itself. Even as he looked more approachable, clean clothes and a freshly shaven face down to a thin layer of stubble, almost normal in appearance. But, there’s rage behind his eyes. It simmers slowly, a creeping boil that would come back to bite you if you allowed it.

“No,” he responds truthfully—at least, it seemed that way. His voice never wavered or faltered, he was strong and believable with his words, “but two things you ‘oughta know—one, don’t go snooping around where your nose doesn’t belong. Two, keep to yourself in this town.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You don’t wanna find out,” he responds without hesitation, both of you snapping out of the intensity of the conversation as the front door slides open, a very focused Tommy stepping through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers full of greasy burgers and fries.

“Nice,” Tommy notes humorously, “you two didn’t kill each other.”

Yet.

“Got us burgers for dinner,” he explains, holding up the bags, “that alright?”

Joel clears his throat, hand wiping over his tired expression, “Already ate,” he responds short, clipped. Tommy doesn’t question it, but his eyes immediately catch on you, wondering what he had interrupted as he sees your body relax when Joel steps away. But, he shakes it off, offering a lazy grumble of a noise in response to his brother as he drops the food on the nearby dining table.

The dichotomy in the pairing is strange and you can’t comprehend how they’ve managed to co-exist as roommates, let alone siblings. But, they were also strangers. You had nothing but assumptions racking your brain, so you pushed it away.

Eat, sleep, and face the next day with a different attitude. A fresh start.

–

The morning was met with a rustling of two other occupants as they moved about beyond the barrier of your room, voices muffled but constant as they carried on amidst your dreary haze, rubbing at your eyes tiredly. It had been weeks since you’ve slept in a decent bed, not the backseat of your car or a mattress that felt like sleeping on a wall of bricks. You didn’t have a reason to complain and given the circumstances—a roof over your head, a space to yourself.

You’d be stupid to argue otherwise.

There’s a quick whistle behind the closed door to your room, followed by a gentle knock.

“Come in,” you say groggily, muffling out the end with a yawn as you stretch your tight limbs and watch as Tommy peaks his head through the open door, already showered and primed up for the day, his gaze lingers on you for a while and watches quietly. It should make you feel uncomfortable, but it does quite the opposite as you offer a shy smile, “—is this the part where you tell me I have to leave?

Your hands slap the comforter as he widens the door, letting it thud silently against the wall as he leans against the doorframe, hip cocked into his right hand.

“No, you’re all clear,” he tells you, nodding over his shoulder, “we’ve got a few things for you to do this morning but I wanted to keep it light and let you get adjusted.”

You nod lazily and push yourself out of bed, rubbing at the goosebump chill that spreads over your arms as you feel the kick of cooled air spread through the room, “Enjoy it,” Tommy remarks, “ain’t gonna feel that good outside.”

Tommy departs with his trademark grin, albeit more subdued by his tired eyes as he knocks his fist against the doorframe. But, as you’re heading for the bathroom across the hall, Joel finds you again.

He’s dressed for what you can only assume is a long day of work, thick pants paired with an even thicker shirt, skin covered from his neck to his feet and far too stuffy for the sticky humidity outside—his job couldn’t be easy and you weren’t faulting him for it, but the scowl on his face is getting under your skin and allowing its claws to find purchase within it.

He takes a sharp bite out of an apple you don’t realize he’s holding until it is pressed against his lips, teeth digging into the skin, juices squirting out with the force of it.

“There’s a full dresser of clothes for you in the corner,” He haphazardly points to the mahogany dresser tucked away in the corner, “different sizes and shit, you’ll have to find something. Since you don’t have nothin’.”

You eye him skeptical but don’t argue, walking toward the dresser and pulling at the top drawer. It was a mix of new socks and underwear, all pressed and fresh in their packages. The next drawer, a mixture of different shirts varying in shades, sizes, designs. Your head turns on a swivel, watching as Joel takes another bite out of the apple, speaking around the food in his mouth.

“People come and go,” he explains vaguely, “always leavin’ stuff behind, so—”

Again, he waves vaguely in your direction.

“Got it,” you answer curtly, turning your attention away from him.

You shake away the looming cloud of discomfort that Joel leaves in his departure and sift through the clothes—at least they were being hospitable. That was more than enough to allow you to push the uneasiness aside for the time being.

Tommy heaves the bucket of dirtied blades and utensils, cutting boards, and a collection of other tools that you weren’t sure you’ve ever seen in your life, all coated with dried, oxidized blood of varying animals, you assume. You didn’t think to ask, didn’t want to know.

Not yet, anyways.

Tommy rested his elbow against the edge of the bucket, having led you to the back of the house—it was similar to a sunroom, an entire wall of windows that gave you a beautiful view to the fields behind the house. Miles and miles of land, undistributed by the hum of city traffic and noise. The other wall, a dead-on view of the barn that Joel barricaded himself in. Tommy looks over briefly as Joel makes his trek to the locked doors, a metal jug of water in hand, a meat cleaver in the other.

“Well, he’s a ball of sunshine,” you joke before picking through the bucket of items carefully, keeping your fingers clear of the sharp blades, “is this it?”

“Most of it,” Tommy admits, “for now.”

You nod dutifully and watch as he explains things out in a few steps, rules to follow, a method of attack.

“So, just rinse at first with some soap, disinfect with the alcohol, then repeat and lay it out to dry. Pretty simple, but they need to be clean,” he stresses, his teeth peeking out beyond his lips as he stresses the syllable on his tongue, “and always use gloves.”

He grabs the rubber pair and offers it over before he’s speaking again, this time his words coming a little more hesitantly, “Also—I grabbed your car last night. I was gonna tell you over dinner, but I figured you needed a decent night of sleep.”

“As long as you found it in one piece,” You joke, fitting your hands into the gloves, and the silence has your heart dropping into your gut, “you did, right?”

“Yeah,” his voice wavers with hesitation, eyes squinting slightly in a tell that he wasn’t offering the full truth and you tilt your head, mouth turning down in frustration, “but—it was pretty mangled.”

“You’re kidding me—”

“Tires were slashed,” Tommy holds his hands up, palm out as he attempts to calm you, “there’s some rowdy kids ‘round here always causing trouble. We’ll figure it out for you, alright?”

Your jaw tenses, teeth clenched behind a tight smile and you nod jerkily. A hard swallow and harsh breath later you’re looking at him with softer, kinder eyes.

“Thank you, Tommy,” you tell him, “I feel like I’m already causing too much trouble for the both of you, doesn’t help that Joel would rather see me as roadkill than—”

Tommy rubs a finger under your chin to pull your gaze to his, a fleeting touch that has you freezing in place but looking up aptly, eagerly. He scrunches his nose slightly and shakes his head, “Darlin’, we’ve dealt with plenty of trouble. You don’t even come close.”

You laugh slightly, a grin pulling at the corner of your mouth.

Tommy claps his hands together gently before shoving them into his front pockets, looking over his shoulder briefly before his eyes are back on you, “I’m going to start on some paperwork,” he explains, “come find me when you’re done?”

You nod dutifully, turning to your task as Tommy leaves.

It isn’t hard by any means. It’s like washing dishes if you ignore the prudent smell and extra scrubbing to get the tools completely spotless before you’re running them through the steps that Tommy had listed off, attempting to ignore how weary your arms felt by the end of it.

Your eyes kept flickering toward the barn throughout, wondering if Joel would surface—two hours passed and there wasn’t any sight of him. It was like he lived in there, a nocturnal animal that needed the seclusion and no direct sunlight. It couldn’t be that enjoyable to be held up inside the barn all day.

When you’re finished you carry the bucket into the kitchen and place it on a nearby chair, tracking the back of Tommy’s head. He’s tucked away in the corner at the desk he’d shown you the other day, typing away and sorting through a small stack of papers.

Curiosity kills, so you wander over.

Peeking over his shoulder, nothing really makes sense.

It’s mostly numbers and an odd mixture of letters, a system that he must have come up with to track the intake of supplies and animals, some of them sorted by what looks like initials.

Tommy has a pen between his teeth and a calculator at his fingertips, typing away some numbers that add up to an amount that has your eyes bulging out, quickly realizing that this is none of your business.

He acknowledges your presence then, pulling the pen out of his mouth and looking over his shoulder with a curious expression, “Finished already?”

“Yeah,” you tell him, “I—sorry…if I was supposed to go slow.”

“Oh no, you’re alright,” Tommy turns in his chair, computer screen fading to black behind him, “I still have some stuff to finish up—why don’t you go check and see if Joel needs anything?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

Tommy smirks but not in a way to tease or patronize, he understands the presence his brother gives off, all intimidating and mostly unwelcoming.

“Just give a knock on the door,” Tommy instructs, “don’t go inside, he’s really testy about that. If he needs something he’ll answer.”

You compare it to something akin of facing the wrath of some beastly devil, gearing to attack.

Tommy offers an encouraging nod that you accept on less than enthusiastic legs, turning and heading out the front door with the surety that Joel would either ignore you or stir up some storm like he had the night prior.

He wasn’t nice or cordial, not that he needed to be—but it wasn’t a wonder why they seemed to go through help around the farm, running people off with his hard stares and less than appropriate comments. If making you uncomfortable was his plan, he was succeeding.

It’s quiet outside, morning slowly dissolving into afternoon. It’s still hot, feeling the rush of hot air hit your face as you make your way toward the barn, noticing the unlatched lock but remembering Tommy’s words.

Don’t go inside.

You knock, once with no answer. Again, notably drowned out by the rev of a chainsaw and then silence, a loud bang and rustling of dirt as footsteps come closer, instinctively you begin to step back, scampering away slightly as the door swings open just enough the Joel can fit his body between them, blocking you from peering inside over his large frame.

“You need somethin?” Joel asks, his tone tight and his eyebrow arched slightly in question, his finger wrapped tight around the rusted handle of the barn door.

“Tommy said to check if you needed help,” Joel seems to spot your curious eyes as you attempt to peek around his shoulder, his arm raising to curl around the side of the opposite, unopened door and pulling the open space tighter, his eyes peering down at you, “I finished—inside.”

“Already?” His voice is clipped but subtle with surprise, “You're the first one in weeks that ain’t emptied their stomach over that shit.”

It seemed extreme, but you knew that some people couldn’t handle things like blood or guts or even the thought of slaughtering animals. But, to you, it wasn’t that big of a deal. Sure, it was gross, but it wasn’t going to kill you.

“I’ve got a strong stomach,” you argue, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly as your gaze refocuses on him, “besides, I told you blood doesn’t make me squeamish. Did you think I was lying?”

“Don’t know you,” He shrugs simply, “don’t trust you. Is that what you wanna hear?”

You sigh softly, trying to keep the fraying edges of your temper under control, “Is there anything I can do?”

Joel pauses for a moment, seconds dwindling into a territory that brought you silent discomfort as he looked you over thoughtfully before peering over his shoulder.

“Actually, I got some scraps for the pigs. Think you can handle that?”

You hear the disregard in his tone and take the opportunity while he isn’t staring you down to roll your eyes, just in time as he turns his head to look at you.

“Do you?”

Joel laughs at that. A genuine laugh, though quiet and short, you hear it. It was proof that he had a legitimate emotion outside of the one built around pure disgruntlement.

He disappears for a moment, barn door slamming shut in your face and before you even have time to breathe, he’s back. It's a heavy metal bin full of minced meat and a faint coppery smell that has you turning your head and huffing under the weight as Joel trades the bin off.

He points around the corner, toward the corralled pigs snorting near the entrance to their pin, sending the impending meal you were holding.

“Just throw it in there,” He gestures vaguely at the trough inside the pin, “they’ll eat it right up. Oh, clean up the pin while you’re at it, the tools are in the shed out back.”

You nod slowly, digesting the information and feeling the liquid from the bin seep into the front of your shirt, the sensation making you curl inward, gasping at the coldness of it.

“Shit,” Joel curses, “shoulda gave you the apron, that’s always a messy task.”

He sounds honest, but you stare daggers back in return.

“Next time,” He offers with a half smile that makes you sick, “don’t take too long—if you want dinner.”

“If you’re cooking, I’ll pass.”

Again, Joel chuckles. Twice in the span of five minutes.

God, maybe you were winning him over.

“I’m a good cook,” he says confidently, though the snideness in his tone lingers but barely, “you’ll regret sayin’ that.”

You snort softly as you shake your head, turning on your heels and toward the pigs, hearing the soft thud of the barn door.

It takes you a half hour to finish the task, grimacing slightly as the pigs frenzy toward their food, leaving you mostly undisturbed as you clean up the pen, catching Joel with his overalls tied around his waist, sweat dripping down his neck and his hair matted to dirty skin.

He seemed normal like this, natural. Dirtied and grimy, a permanent grimace on his face as he traded places with his brother, who was headed toward their truck.

You catch his eye, a waved offer in return for your smile.

Another moment alone with Joel sounded dreadful and maybe sticking out in the remainder of the hot summer day didn’t sound too horrible now.

But, the poignant smell of the pig pen was enough to turn anyone’s stomach, so you choose dread.

You and Joel trade off showers silently, working around each other in a less than comfortable silence, mostly trying your best to avoid him entirely, but you can only bear the avoidance for so long.

Freshly showered and in a clean set of tattered lounge clothes, you round the corner into the kitchen and catch Joel’s back, a white shirt stretched over tight muscle as his back tenses when he reaches for the burner, adjusting the heat on the stove.

His keen hearing clues him in, turning briefly over his shoulder to spot you. His expression is softer, but still mostly guarded. With Tommy not around, he was a wildcard.

“Where’s Tommy?”

Joel stirs away at the pot full of food on the stove, answering with a casual tone, “Finishin’ up some business in town—you sure you ain’t hungry?”

As if he knows, your stomach growls.

You had managed a decent breakfast and light snacking throughout the day, but the rich aroma of spices makes the food hard to ignore.

You approach curiously, noting the emptied but bloodied casing for the meat he was cooking, cutting board with a few stray vegetable ends and Joel’s gaze flickers to you once, then twice.

“You want a taste?” Joel asks, lifting a spoonful from the pot, his hand hovering under the utensil, spotting your weariness immediately.

As a show of trust, or just plain good faith, he takes a sip of the broth before shoving the spoonful into his mouth, a clear indication that it was safe to eat.

Not that you thought he would attempt to taint the food, but it did ease your worries and you were hungry despite your feelings toward him, so you nod.

Joel smirks slightly and dips a wooden spoon into the pot again, bringing the food to your lips and watching as you blow, the steam bellowing up in front of your face and you sip gingerly, invaded with a burst of flavorful notes.

It was an instant indication that maybe you had judged Joel too hard on his cooking skills, impressed by how savory the food was, stronger than you’re used to, but it was still pleasant.

Joel’s eyes are stuck on you, gauging your reaction and his lips twitching as your eyes light up, a gentle nod of approval in response. He plucks a piece of meat from the spoon and raises his eyebrows in question.

You find yourself nodding instinctively and Joel drops the spoon into the pot, guiding the chunk of meat to your lips and you open your mouth willingly, feel the soft press of the food against your tongue and the tenderness of it, like butter as your teeth grind into the meat, feeling the swipe of Joel’s finger as he cleans up dripping line of sauce that slides down your chin.

And it tastes…fine. You wouldn’t dare give Joel the immediate satisfaction that you thought it was good, because it was. It was a perfect, home-cooked meal. Your stomach was craving it, mouth watering even more as you swallowed that first bite.

Joel brings his sauce covered finger to his own lips, pressing the digit inside of his mouth and sucking. He wasn’t wasteful, clearly—savoring every last drop.

“So,” Joel grins wider than he ever has, still sated but it was new, welcoming even, “change your mind?”

You shrug indifferently, but Joel senses your intrigue.

“I’ll give it a try.”

That’s all Joel needs to hear.

Somewhere between your first bite and your last, minimal conversation as you sit and devour the bowl of stew without a single qualm, you fall asleep.

It was a mix of exhaustion and a full belly, slumped against the table and your eyes falling shut despite yourself. Joel cleans quietly, dishes clashing softly as he washes the dirtied ones and wipes them clean, stowing away the leftover stew as peeks over his shoulder.

You’re still sound asleep, plush lips pulling together in a tight line as you sigh, breathing out through your nose.

Joel rubs his hands over the front of his jeans, ignoring the half-hard jut of his cock against the denim, knowing the moment your lips slipped around that spoon he was a goner.

He’s never gone that far, he’s never tried. He and Tommy have always kept to themselves and while Tommy didn’t stick to a strict diet of Joel’s preferred meat, he did dabble on occasion.

Joel preferred it, and like his brother, was raised on it.

But, like many of the people that have come and gone, always through the process of ending up as stock for the Miller farm, Joel has never forcibly tried to push their beliefs on anyone.

Unfortunately, Joel had never met someone as intriguing as you. Not nearly as squeamish as the others, even fully grown men shying away from the task of cleaning pig shit out of a pen—you were strong, but stubborn. Joel admired it, but he liked the challenge of breaking it out of you too.

He’d wake you eventually, but for now he watches. Arms pressed against the central counter, keeping him hidden in the darkness as the soft glow of the overhead lamp above the dining table illuminated you.

Joel’s come to recognize things—good bone structure, volume of meat and muscle, all the things that make certain humans the perfect piece of product.

And you were just that.

A pretty penny.

—

Sometime in the middle of your bleary haze you’d made it to bed, whether with assistance or not you find yourself waking with a turn of your stomach and rolling out of bed in hurried attempt, feeling the force of bile as it made its way up your throat, fumbling loudly with the doorknob until you managed to pry it open.

You make it to the bathroom across the hall just in time to spill the contents of that evening's dinner into the toilet, attempting desperately to keep your wits, arms clenched around your stomach as you heaved relentlessly.

The cold hands come a moment later, icing the back of your neck as they push the hair from your face and offer a soft reassurance.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Tommy’s voice cooed, his cold palm pressing against your forehead as your head lifted to look at him, tears streaming down your face now, “you with me?”

You nod weakly, hearing Joel’s heavy footsteps before you spot him, his stocky frame filling out the doorway.

“Musta been dinner,” Joel supplies to his younger brother, “she’s probably ain’t used to the stuff ‘round here. Less processed, harsher on the stomach when you ain’t had it before.”

Tommy’s gaze lowers, focusing on his brother harshly. It was a look of words unspoken, threatening intention and one that had you holding your breath, wondering if you’d done something wrong. His hand slips down your back, rubbing at the base of your spine.

In any other circumstance you might find yourself shying away, but you lean into it. He glances over, touching your skin once more. Left cheek, right cheek. You were clammy, mouth suddenly dry and begging for anything to quench the thirst or rid yourself of the sour taste in your mouth.

“Get her some water,” Tommy instructs his brother harshly, “and somethin’ cold, she’s sweating through her clothes.”

Joel doesn’t argue, half-expecting him to put up a fight. He retreats, knowing his wrong-doing but not finding the guilt inside him to care. You’d assimilate eventually, they all do. Him, Tommy, nearly all the townsfolk have learned to adjust to this lifestyle. Unspoken and secret amongst the outliers, it was the way of life around here.

He returns with a glass of water and cold rag, passing them off to his brother, “Don’t run off,” Tommy bites, “we need to talk.”

Joel grinds his teeth at the order, watching as you close your eyes to the glorious press of the cold, wet rag as Tommy squeezed it against your face, your neck, before bringing the glass of water to your lips. A few seconds and one generous gulp later you find yourself cracking a joke amongst the tension, pulling a soft laugh out of the younger brother.

“If you wanted an excuse to feel me up, you could’ve just asked.”

“Oh, pardon me, sweetheart,” Tommy remarks playfully, “I’ll keep that in mind next time.”

Joel sniffles awkwardly, tongue pressing into his cheek as Tommy passes off the items and rises to his feet, nodding toward the hall and motioning for his brother to follow.

“You need somethin’ you shout, alright?”

You nod obediently, flushing the toilet weakly before resting your head in your hands, attempting slow breaths to calm your racing heart, waiting for the second wave of sickness to hit you but hoping it never came.

There's a muffled argument on the other side of the wall, the tell-tale sign of Joel's gruff voice, tone clipped and decisive—it was the same way he had spoken to you during your first argument.

“What’s our one fucking rule, Joel?”

Tommy’s voice bites, hushed enough that you wouldn’t be able to hear him, nor Joel as they slowly moved toward the front of the house.

“You're gonna tell me not to do it?” Joel retorts, “I already did. There ain’t nothing to argue.”

There was one thing they both knew for sure.

You weren’t like the others.

“She’s gonna find out,” Tommy assures him, “She’ll find out and then you’ll be the one that’s gotta do the dirty work, not me.”

“Afraid of me choppin’ up your girlfriend into tiny little pieces for Robert and Stan down the road?” Joel asks, a vicious and cutthroat way to take a shot as his brother, who he knew better than anyone.

He’s grown attached too quickly. Joel had suspected, assumed by the immediate likeness to you, but the moment of care shared in the bathroom moments prior had confirmed that if Tommy wanted you, he could have you. The smile you offered in return for his kind efforts was enough for Joel to know.

So, yeah— feeding unknowing people human meat was the number one rule. But, growing attached was the unspoken one that the Miller brothers had always followed, without fail.

Until now.

“She’s smart—could use that, ya know?” Joel suggests, which is a surprise to Tommy.

His brother, who only ever thought about himself—he was suggesting you stay, that you could help.

“When are you gonna tell her?” Tommy asks, eyebrows raised in question as his hands settle on his hips, pajama pants hanging low. “Tomorrow?”

“I ain’t,” Joel responds without hesitation, “Like I said—she’s smart, she’ll figure it out.”

“Joel, if you don’t tell her I will—”

“No, you won’t,” Joel bites at his brother, stepping closer in an attempt to intimidate, “you tell her and she’ll run for the damn hills—let her figure it out and she’ll confront you. Then we’ll see how good you are at coverin’ our asses.”

It was Tommy’s job, the forefront of their business. He made the sales, talked to distributors in town. He was the face—a pretty face, more approachable. Joel was always sharper around the edges, harder to read.

Regardless, it didn’t matter. Joel had dug the hole for both of them and there was no way out.

–

You wake with an ache in your muscles and the instant need for a shower, covered in a layer of sweat that makes you want to strip your clothes instantly. You remember Tommy helping you to bed the night prior, the faint memories of you hunched over the toilet as you discarded your stomach contents and Joel watching over, observing, but the rest was a blur.

Not trying to waste anymore time, you quickly shower and dress, meeting the two boys in the kitchen as they readied themselves for the day, picking over breakfast. You settle for a couple of slices of bread, toasting them to a near crisp and snagging a ripe fruit from the basket on the counter, watching curiously as Joel makes a cup of coffee. It was the most normal course of action you’ve seen him take—he even took it with sugar, but obviously no cream.

Tommy already tore through breakfast and was sipping on his own cup of coffee, looking up at you occasionally over the newspaper he was reading, knowing that you were attempting to eat light after the night prior.

“Feelin’ better?” Tommy asks.

Your nod is noncommittal but Tommy doesn’t press.

Without prompting, Joel speaks, “It takes some gettin’ used to,” He explains, “it ain’t like the shit you get in the city.”

It would explain why he was unaffected, that maybe your stomach was just too weak.

“Same business today,” Tommy cuts in, ignoring the long stare you and Joel were holding, chewing slowly at the now soggy toast in your mouth, “we might have some stuff comin’ in tonight though and we’ll all have to offer a hand in unloading it, can you handle yourself?”

You approach him casually, stripping the peel off your banana as you take a bite.

“I can handle myself just fine,” you assure him, eyes pulling up briefly to regard Joel who was already departing for the front door without a word, “—you sure he isn’t trying to poison me?”

Tommy snorts softly, watching as you chewed thoughtfully on the banana and your gaze followed Joel through the windows, tracking his movements until he hit the barn. You feel Tommy’s hand graze your bicep, pulling your attention back toward him.

“He’s not,” If it was a lie, you couldn’t tell, “it all takes some adjusting, he isn’t lying.”

His hand still hadn’t moved and you looked down, his thumb rubbing over the exposed skin of your arm, “You know, I did say all you had to do was ask.” Tommy’s eyes crinkle with laughter, not expecting you to remember your words from last night, “Or, that’s inappropriate because…you’re technically my boss—”

“There isn’t rules out here, honey,” His voice is warm, inviting—but he’s still trying to keep himself at a distance, not too fast or too hard all at once. He’d set out the bait and wait for you to bite it, “we’re just here to help out and mind our business.”

“Okay,” Your response is soft, a gentle lilt to your voice that makes Tommy smile, “and...thank you for last night. I know it isn’t the most pleasant thing to wake up to in the middle of the night.”

His hand drops slowly, fingers trailing until they find your wrist and offering a gentle squeeze before his fingers depart you entirely, “I lived on this farm my entire life. There isn’t much that I haven’t seen or dealt with before. I think I can handle a little throw up.”

Tommy offers up the remainder of his coffee, still warm as you bring it to your lips and savor the rich taste—it was much more your style, full of cream and sugar to the point where it might rot your teeth out.

And the day proceeds without problem, moving through the motions of the tasks Tommy had assigned you yesterday, along with feeding some of the other animals littered around the farm. Horses, cows, goats—it was a wonder how they kept up with it by themselves. They were capable, but it seemed like too much for just two people. Regardless, it was impressive.

By evening, Tommy was pulling in with a truck full of secured and banded boxes on the trailer and Joel resurfaces from the barn by then, reeking something awful. You turn your nose away and scatter to Tommy’s side, earning a chuckle from the younger brother.

“You get used to it,” Tommy tells you, “like everything else.”

You eye Joel wearily, who seems less than amused. He offers a low grunt of acknowledgement as he stacks the boxes two high and heaves them up and into his arms, ignoring any attempt at small talk with either of you.

You couldn’t be bothered to care, knowing that Joel’s behavior was nothing if not peculiar.

“What’s in the boxes?” You ask when both of the men are reaching for boxes, sliding a smaller one into your own grip. They share a look, uncertainty. Who speaks first? Lie? Truth?

Joel huffs quietly—fine, half-truth.

“It’s stuff for cleanin’ up the barn. All the mess and shit. Interesting enough for you?”

Your nose crinkles at his tone, turning on your heels and heading toward the barn with the men in tow, “You’re snippy today,” you remark at Joel and Tommy hollers out a laugh from behind you, full-bellied and genuine, “when are you gonna give me a tour of it?”

“The what? The barn?” Joel asks for clarification before immediately shutting you down, “Never.”

Tommy shakes his head as he places the box down amongst the others, watching as you two bicker with shared looks and a soft giggle coming from you when you realize just how frustrated Joel had become, “I’m gonna head inside—try not to kill each other, alright?”

When Tommy is finally inside, you place the final box down. Joel was rearranging them silently, occupied with the task as you step backwards slowly, turning your head over your shoulder as you reach for the barn door.

The curiosity was likely to kill you—just a peek, that was it.

The creak pulls Joel’s attention up and he’s on you within seconds, door slamming by your head as his hand pressing against the flat of your chest, fingers itching to squeeze around your throat. You gasp, a guttural noise forced out of you as he pressed you into the hard surface of wood, feeling the splinters dig into your skin.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” He asks. No response. It sets his eyes ablaze, “Answer me, goddammit.”

“Mind—” You gasp again, sharp as his hand presses into your throat now, forcing you to answer, “mind my business.”

“Doesn’t seem like you’re doing much of that right now,” Joel points out, “seems like you’re enjoying pressing that nose into places it doesn’t belong.”

It was a barn, for christ sake. What the hell was he hiding?

“Hey,” you croak, weakly, “don’t kill me, remember? Your brother won’t be too happy about it.”

“That’s only because he wants to fuck you, girl.” He assures you, “You ain’t the first and you won’t be the last.”

Your gaze softens, fingers clawing at his forearm. The disappointment in your eyes was obvious, but a sting to Joel’s ego. Tommy was always the more favored one of the pair, there wasn’t much he could do about it. But, it didn’t soften the blow.

His hold lessens slightly.

“Did you think you were the only little lady that’s come through here that my brother hasn’t tried to sink his teeth into?” Joel grins in amusement, tapping his fingers gently against the side of your cheek. It was patronizing and foolish, but he couldn’t resist teasing you for the dejected look on your face. “I like my privacy, alright? Don’t appreciate it when people invade it.”

You nod quietly, lips opening to offer a weak apology.

“Don’t say sorry,” he tells you, “not when you don’t mean it.”

Instantly, your mouth snaps shut. Joel smirks, satisfied that he was right about that.

You weren’t sorry. You didn’t care. But, you were scared. Eyes still wide as saucers and boring into his own, all blacked out with rage but quickly fading back into their usual warm brown.

“You hungry?” He quickly adverts the topic, pulling at the fabric of your shirt to adjust it back into place like nothing happened, “I’m fixin’ to cook up dinner.”

Two could play at that game.

“Is it gonna make me sick again?”

Joel shrugs, “Might. Might not. You willin’ to take that risk?”

–

You luck out, for the most part. Aside from the dinner being nothing short of delicious, it makes you slightly queasy but it was easily qualmed by a glass of champagne, a nightcap to the work day as Joel has already wandered off to bed after cleaning up, leaving you and Tommy to perch on the stairs out front, a cigarette stuffed between his middle and pointer finger as he flicks off the ash, sipping from his own can of beer.

“I forgot to ask about pay, you know,” You laugh softly, “just…slipped my mind.”

“Weekly,” Tommy answers simply, “every Friday. So, tomorrow?”

You do the mental work in your head, feeling like the days have blurred together. Realistically, it had only been a few but you hadn’t expected how overwhelming those days would be, finally feeling the exhaustion settling in your bones as you rested beside Tommy on the front steps of the Miller home.

“You feelin’ okay?” Tommy asks curiously, beer tipped to his lips as he takes a sip and awaits your response.

“A little queasy?” You’re unsure what to consider it, that unsettling feeling in your gut. You weren’t even sure if it was the food making you feel that way, almost certain that even a single look from Joel would give you the same feeling.

“You’re thinkin’ about it too much,” Tommy points out, “it’ll make it worse.”

You gulp down the rest of the cheap champagne and press the flat stand of glass into the stair besides your bare feet before leaning back on your elbows. Tommy mirrored you, crunching the aluminum can in his hand and tossed it aside.

“Okay, so—distract me,” you responded pointedly, a kind smile sent his way.

Tommy takes a deep puff before you’re plucking the nearly finished cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to your own lips, feeling the nicotine burn your throat. Tommy doesn’t seem fazed at all, used to it.

Maybe Joel wasn’t lying about all those women.

This was a normal routine for Tommy. You were another passerby willing to take the bait.

“You wanna go for a swim?”

Your brow raises curiously, amused.

Tommy looks on, awaiting your response.

“Oh, you’re serious?” You ask, stuttering at the unexpected proposition, “Uh, yeah—sure. I mean…where?”

“It’s a walk, but there’s a lake behind those trees,” Tommy points off to the west, a long and dense line of trees surrounding the edge of the Miller farm, “feelin’ up to it?”

Your mouth waters unpleasantly as you continue to sit with your thoughts, yearning for distraction. You nod.

Tommy grins wide and takes your hand into his own.

He wasn’t lying. Under the moonlight, it was a huge lake with eerily undisturbed water. Pitch black and despite the hot and sticky heat, the water was cool to the touch as you dipped your feet into the shallow edge. Tommy is already wrestling with his belt, shucking his jeans down hastily and it forces you to move, stripping your own clothes off in time with him.

Down to your underwear you edge toward the deeper waters, hissing as more of your skin becomes engulfed in the ice cold plunge, feeling Tommy hover around you as he dipped under the water for a moment of time before emerging in front of you, pushing his damp hair from his face.

The cold water has you frozen, paralyzed.

“Come on,” he jests, “dunk yourself, it’ll help.”

You shake your head hesitantly, managing the inch by inch efforts as you move forward slowly.

“I’ll do it with you.” Tommy suggests, his fingers wrapping around your wrists as he wades the water—you feel yourself rising on your tiptoes to give yourself a few lingering moments before you have to force yourself under.

Tommy doesn’t force you, only waits for your reassuring nod after a long moment of indecisiveness before he’s doing a slow countdown and you’re both slipping under the water.

Moments later, you emerge with a gasp but it is full of elation. Tommy had pulled you out deeper, forcing you to swim until neither of you could touch and you clung to him instinctively, feeling the words that fall from his lips brush the back of your neck, “Distracted enough?”

It had, truthfully. You nod in response, feeling deft fingers at your hips as they turn you, your legs kicking in a melodic synchronicity. His touch lingers for a moment before he’s pushing away, using his arms to gain momentum and swim away, looking over his shoulder with a silent challenge.

Chase him.

You giggle to yourself before following, moving gracefully through the calm waters. It continues like that for a while, minutes passing away effortlessly. The monotone buzz of insects hovering over the lake water and the insistent chirp of the crickets hiding in the grass kept your mind busy. It was peaceful out here, like the rest of the farm.

“So, you grew up here?”

“All my life,” Tommy answers easily, “it isn’t exactly tourist worthy sights out here, but it has perks. Where are you from?”

“Here, there—” you answer noncommittally and shrug, earning a dismissive laugh from Tommy, “everywhere, honestly. I don’t stick around places for very long.”

“Which reminds me,” Tommy interjects, “your car should be fixed up soon—but, if you wanted to stick around—”

“I don’t think Joel would appreciate that,” you respond, feeling the heat of his gaze on you despite the farmhouse being miles away, “besides—I’m just another mouth to feed.”

“Most people who pass through here don’t last more than a day,” Tommy admits, “it may not seem like it, but he’s warmin’ up to you.”

You reminisce on the heat of his palm against your throat.

If looks could kill….

Joel would have maimed you at that moment.

“He’s a dick, but he ain’t immune to pretty girls,” Tommy teases and it makes your gut twist, “we don’t get many women through here anyways—I think he’s just forgotten how to talk to ‘em.”

You think back on Joel’s words again and decide to poke the bear.

Swimming toward the shore you turn your head over your shoulder and speak, “You know, he said this is a bit of a routine of yours,” you begin, “seducing helpless women who come asking for help.”

Tommy rolls his eyes lightheartedly, chuckling at the absurdity of your words.

“Joel told you that?” Tommy inquires, swimming toward you. You turn on your hands, slowly scooting your way upshore with your palms until your ass is pressed against a bed of rocks buried in the dirty, shallow water lapping at your shins. “Honey, it’s been nearly a year since any type of lady came across our farm—and the last one? It was some old lady needin’ a jump on her car.”

Tommy is edging closer now, on his hands and knees as he works his way forward.

“People see the farm and they drive in the other direction,” Tommy admits, “but, not you.”

You lean back slightly as he hovers over you. Your heart pounds in your chest, a salacious grin spreading across his face.

“Helpless, remember?”

Tommy shakes his head slowly, “Ain’t nothin’ helpless about you.”

You bite first, silencing him with a heated press of your lips against his own, your hand curling around the back of his neck and your blunt fingernails pinching at his skin. His hiss turns into a warm chuckle. He spreads his palm out over the inside of your thigh and beckons your legs apart until he can fit between them comfortably before it curls around the side and pulls you back in, your knees barricading his hips.

He coaxes you back, taking the balled up shirt on the shore and sandwiching it between the dirt and your head as he pulls back with a low sigh, eyes half-lidded and switching between your lips and your steady gaze, catching the way your tongue licks at your bottom lip.

“Need a little more distraction?” Tommy asks softly, the fingers on his free hand toying with the waistband of your panties, awaiting the nod of confirmation. It comes without thinking and he’s peeling the fabric off gently, watching as it stuck and rolled against your skin, sopping wet from the lake water as they fall to the ground with a soft squelch.

His fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing forward in a way that beckons your chin up, meeting his lips in another hot and messy exchange of tongue and sweet, soft sighs breathed into each other’s mouths, feeling the tingly pulse at your core as his fingers drag through the center of your pussy. There was no mistaking the slick that had gathered there amongst your heated exchange, a low hum rumbling in his throat as he leaves you, sinking further and further down your body, eyes locked on your own.

“Open up for me,” he commands gently, his hands curling around your thighs as he settles on his stomach, “fuck—that, just like that. Goddamn girl, she’s glistenin’ for me.”

He chuckles at your meek response, looking away with a subtle smile that made you want to crawl away from him, but he held you firm.

“Nothin’ to be shy about,” he reassures you.

You exhale slowly, a calming breath that quickly melts away as he licks a broad line up your cunt with his tongue, through your folds and slurping up with sweet, sticky slick. You gasp, hands curling into fist helplessly, moaning out into the silent night. There was the softest wisp of a breeze that blew over your skin, prickling your skin. But, it’s beat out by the heat of Tommy’s touch as he pulls your hand to his scalp, silenting guiding you toward his long locks and hoping you get the idea. You curl your fingers into his hair and tug, pulling his motions up toward your clit and he sucks, sucks so hard you think you start to see white before he smooths the intensity out with the gentler licks of his tongue.

It doesn’t take long before you’re coming with a loud moan, nearly uprooting yourself from the ground as he holds you still, the insistent wiggling of your hips from the overstimulation of his tongue enough to make you beg, plead even.

“Tommy, please—stop, s’too much. Too much.” You breath out in a hurry and eventually, a few greedy seconds later, he relents.

He rises with a sated smile sometimes later, watching as you desperately try to catch your breath. Whatever uneasiness you were feeling in your stomach earlier was long, but it didn’t snuff out the mental feeling of it. Fear, worry—like you were being watched.

The weeks beyond that pass with ease, falling into a steady routine.

Your car still sat untouched, but you couldn’t find it in you to be a pest about it—things were going well, a steady paycheck and roof over your head. You could bother them about it eventually, but not now. Not while things were good.

By October, the air is cooler and the work is easier to handle. Sometimes you help Tommy on the administrative end, filing away paperwork with information that doesn’t make much sense to you, as much as you try to piece it together. But, you do know they’re bringing in money. And lots of it. Absurd amount, actually. You don’t press Tommy on it either, worried that it would pop the pristine bubble around you both.

He was smitten, kind—sometimes he would sneak into your room at night instead of the latter for you, tiptoeing around Joel in the chances he might have something, anything to say. He’d lied to you about Tommy for his own benefit—but why? You tried not to dwell on it.

But, eventually you find yourself around Joel more often than not. Or, attending to him.

He still barricades himself in the barn most days, only popping his head out as he calls for things—but there’s one particular evening where things, usually calm, fly off the rails.

Mentally, at least.

And it isn’t the most auspicious way to let you in on their secret, but Joel can’t seem to rid himself of you. You’re always there, lingering, and even if you weren’t certain of things, suspicion had been raised long ago.

You weren’t even sure what you were trying to confirm, or if Joel’s unsettling nature was just a ploy to scare you into behaving, but you could feel it. Something was up.

He’s tasked you with feeding the pigs a number of times—it’s always gross and messy and not a favorable task by any means, fortunately you’re used to it. But, a large, stray rock buried in the dirt robs you of normality and the bin of bloodied scraps spills out as you land on your hands and knees, the skin scraping off your shins against the rough ground and a loud hiss slips beyond clenched teeth as you scramble to get back on your feet, looking around in desperation and hoping that neither of the brothers had witnessed your misstep.

Your nose scrunches up in disgust as you hold back a gag, scooping the discarded scraps back into the bin, the meat like mush beneath your fingertips and you reach for a bigger chunk, immediately startled by the more solid texture of it.

Joel usually grinded up the meat, making it easier for the pigs to consume. But this, it was a whole and solid chunk. You push the bin away gently and swipe away the chunks of congealed blood and fat and rub your thumb over the texture of it. Thick, solid. The color was dull and pale but there was no mistaking it. It was skin, but more notably amongst that was the tattoo. It clearly wasn’t the full piece, a couple letters surrounded by an intricate design where it was precisely sliced.

You’ve heard of people using pig skin for tattooing, wondering if Joel was taking up a side hobby amongst the already interesting career path he had taken, but something doesn’t sit well.

Five pigs, that was how many you’d seen since you arrived. You push the bin weakly toward the pin on your hands and knees until you can find the strength to dump it into the trough, allowing the metal to clatter to the ground carelessly as the pigs flood to their food. One, two, three…and two stragglers trotting over leisurely. Five pigs, not a single one missing.

The creak from the barn has you peering quickly over your shoulder, eyes landing on Joel as he leaned around the door, a perturbed look on his face. You thought it was worry for a split second and as he came closer—curious and cautious over the loud noises he had heard when his saw cut dead—it was.

He spots the blood on the ground first, a mess you had made. His eyes follow the trail of blood to the pin before they travel over you, covered in the rest of what didn’t make it inside the trough and then your legs—you don’t feel the sting until he kneels, his fingers running over your knees, tiny bits of dirt and gravel buried in the wound as his fingers continue down your shin. His eyes scan the expanse of the property before they’re locked back on you.

“Get inside,” It was a cold demand, detached and emotionless but you can’t move, frozen with a fear that didn’t hit you until Joel’s fingers touched your skin, “go on—you can walk, can’t you?”

Vehemently, you swallow down the lump in your throat. Human skin, not pig skin. You weren’t feeding the pigs scraps of other animals—it was humans. Weeks of clueless wandering, the itching feeling of uneasiness was confirmed for you in seconds. The bile in your stomach was threatening to escape as you walked on wobbly legs to the house, falling down into a chair tucked under the dining table, flexing shaky fingers into fists over and over, slowly in an effort to calm yourself alongside your practiced breaths.

Tommy wasn’t here. He would’ve come running otherwise—you vaguely remember the truck missing as you made your way inside, wondering how distracted you had to be to not realize he left. You hear Joel clearing his throat as he approaches the door, swinging it open harshly as it nearly pops off its hinges.

You make the effort to move, but Joel is quick to snap at you.

“Stay put,” He commands, eyes washing over your stoic expression.

You must’ve been a sight, wide-eyed and disturbed, following Joel’s every move. You were covered in a mix of your own blood and someone else’s—maybe not even one, it could be multiple. Joel seems to sense your stomach turning and lunges toward the trash bin in the kitchen and quickly shoves it in front of you, barely catching the vomit that spills from your throat as you retch your breakfast up forcefully.

Joel moves quietly amongst your sickened state, grabbing a few supplies that he slides onto the table beside you and waits, kneeled down at near eye level as you peer up, wiping the string of spit from your mouth and he looks enthralled, wondering what had caused such a chaotic string of events to unfold.

“You’re upset,” He notes, ripping open a package of cotton balls and pouring a handful onto the table, popping open the cap of isopropyl alcohol, dosing the cotton before he was pressing it into your leg without warning, earning a sharp whine of pain from you.

Was he expecting a different reaction?

“Fuck!” You shout, shoving the trash can aside as your fingers dig tightly into Joel’s shoulder, earning a fiery look from the man—but if he wasn’t willing to give you sympathy, you weren’t going to return the favor, “—you are too, are we pointing out the obvious?”

His fingers drag along the back of your calf, position your heel against his hips as allows no relief, haphazardly pouring a small amount of alcohol against the wound and you grip the wood of the chair so hard you swear you hear it crack.

“Jesus, ease up,” you snap at him, “I fell, I fucked up. I’m sorry, is that what you wanted to hear?”

“What’re you apologizin’ for?”

There’s a distinct rip of tape as you watch Joel smooth the gauze over your shin, securing the bandage over the wound before he works carefully at your knee, cleaning the cut before leaving it alone and moving to the opposite leg.

“Are you not mad at me?”

Joel chuckles dismissively, eyes flicking up toward you briefly, “Not everything is about you, girl.”

Fed up and simmering with your pain, you don’t think and the words slip from your lips before you can stop them, “Is it about Tommy then?”

Joel’s hands still, stopping the slow dragging lotion down your wound as he tilts his head up at you curiously, “You think I’m jealous of that little thing you got going on with my brother?” Joel shakes his head in amusement, his teeth peeking out beyond his grin, “I don’t get jealous. If I want somethin’, I’ll take it.”

The words pierce your chest, knowing there was deeper meaning beyond those words but you look away carelessly, feeling his less than gentle press into your skin as he continues.

“Business is slow, I don’t like it.” Joel admits, hearing the hesitancy in his voice as he admits it, but it seems harmless. In his mind, you have no clue of the nefarious nature behind their work.

Except, you do. Or at least you think you do.

“Is there any way to fix that?”

Joel shrugs, “Tommy’s workin’ the people around town, doing all the talking. We’ll see if it works.”

You have two choices.

Admit what you found or bide your time, poke around and see what you can find—you know that won’t go over well with Joel, or Tommy, even. So, you call his bluff.

Because something—be it Joel or that sinking feeling in your chest, tells you that whichever path you take would lead down the same road. You weren’t leaving here without a fight.

“Does the body reject it the first few times?”

You ignore the way your voice shakes, the recognition sitting with you, knowing that they had fed you the meat without your consent. Tommy, too. He’d sat there at the dinner table and tore into the meals all the same, less intrigued as his counterpart, but he was still an accomplice.

Joel’s expression changes, like switch flips. Bandaging up the opposite leg he rises, answering with a clipped, “Yeah.”

Silence amongst the clattering of items as Joel piled them into his arms and stored them away, another question slips past your lips.

“Was it on purpose?”

Joel’s brow raises, but he doesn’t answer.

“The tattoo,” You explain, “did you want me to find it? Or did you fuck up?”

At those words, he lunges. His hands grip the table behind you, pinning you against the chair as you lean back and look up, feeling the deep rumble in his chest.

“I don’t fuck up,” Joel retorts and your eyes stray from his hardened gaze, “No—look at me. Now.”

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip harshly, but you listen.

“You knew,” Joel challenges, “long before that, I’m sure. You could’ve ran if you wanted, granted you’ve got that busted car out front, but you could’ve ran. Hell, you could have while you were outside just now—but you listened to me.”

You know what angle he’s pushing, backing you into a corner and you feel it, that tingling feeling of guilt in your gut. He was right, you could have.

“What are you hidin’ in there?” He presses, eyes narrowing as his pointer finger taps gently at the center of your forehead, “I’m telling you we’re murderers, cannibals, and you haven’t screamed or shed a tear. You aren’t scared of me, are you?”

You shake your head and Joel speaks again, “Scared of dying though, right? What’s stoppin’ me from killing you? Tommy ain’t here.”

The finger on your forehead follows down the center of your face until Joel can reach your chin, tilting it upwards.

“You like it here, don’t you?”

There was no nod, but the subtle twitch in your cheek as you bite down hard on the inside of it was enough of an answer for Joel. Don’t give him those words, don’t give him the satisfaction.

“You killed before?”

Another question that goes unanswered, but your actions give you away.

You twist away, desperate to flee his touch. Joel isn’t done with you yet, one hand pressed against his knee as he leans down to your level and the other grabbing for your face, forcing you to look at him.

Admittedly, they weren’t all bad men. Some of them had tried to attack you on the road and ended up at the wrong end of a blade, but others—the few with bad timing and things you needed…it was collateral, in your eyes. Seven of them that you can remember, all unsuspecting men with an eye for the meek and defenseless.

You snarl slightly, fighting against his hold but Joel is stronger, much stronger.

“Knew you’d be useful,” Joel admits, “s’why I let you stick around. You got that…look about you.”

Your brow furrows in a mix of disgust and confusion and you catch the way Joel spaces out for a moment, admiring your expression and you twist, shoving him hard with both hands in an attempt to send him stumbling back. It only forces him off-balance and your attempt to flee is stopped by his large, bear-like grip on your forearm as he throws you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs.

“Nuh uh,” Joel mocks, “can’t letcha go that easy, sugar.”

Joel's grip on your wrist is deadlocked, crossing your arms over your chest tight, pressing himself against you. Under this light, this closeness, you notice the small scars, years of healing left it fading into the skin and Joel notices you admiring for a brief moment—incredibly brief as your teeth clamp down around the side of his hand. Hard. It breaks through the skin and forces blood to spill from his hand and pool into your mouth before he pulls the wounded hand back and balls it into a fist, freezing as you spit his blood back into his face, an instant chuckle ripping from his throat.

“There you are, ya little killer,” He goaded, his eyes ticking up at the sound of a car door slamming outside and a wide grin spreading across his face, “well, isn’t that some fine timing.”

The door swings open a second later and Joel has already pushed away from you, nursing his flesh wound with a dry, clean kitchen towel, leaving Tommy to examine you both with a less than auspicious gaze, blood ringing your mouth and a smug expression on his brother's face.

You approach Tommy hesitantly, reaching for the door with a worried gaze but his hand comes up too, slamming against the flimsy frame and preventing you from roaming further.

“Can’t let you out, honey,” he apologizes, his voice more sincere than you’ve ever heard it to be before his head turns up toward his brother, waving around a white envelope addressed out to the both of them, “we gotta figure somethin’ out.”

He tosses the letter on the dining table and slides his hand down your forearm, a softer grip than his counterpart but it didn’t leave room for argument, jostling you around until he could get the front door locked, dead-bolted, and secured.

“This is home now, baby.” Tommy soothes.

Because really, where else did you have to go?

#joel miller x reader #tommy miller x reader #joel x reader x tommy #joel miller smut #tommy miller smut #joel miller x you #tommy miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tommy miller x y/n #the last of us fic #the last of us #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #cannibalism tw #my writing #wouldn't be me without a fucked up concept

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 27 days ago

Text

Mirror Mirror - L.SM

🎇Who: Lee Seokmin x female reader 🎇What: Strangers to friends to lovers, magic au, fluff, some smut, sprinkle of angst 🎇Wordcount: 15.9k 🎇Warnings: Mentions of death/ghosts but nobody dies, profanity, Seokmin’s thighs (yes they need a warning), biting/hickeys, body worship, oral (f), pervert Wonwoo, technically there’s a rather large age-gap but magic stuff makes it meaningless

Summary: The glass shimmers, a gentle breeze tickles your cheeks. It's working. After all this time it's- "Ow," the human suddenly sprawled on the floor in front of you whines as he rubs his sore knees. It didn't work. You really thought it would work. You look up at the glass in front of you. It's solid again. The breeze is gone, and it didn't work. You’re still stuck, just as you have been for years. Except now, this too-trusting stranger is stuck here with you.

Minors do NOT interact, which means reblogging and/or commenting on this story. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in their bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- The single biggest juciest thank you to @wongyuseokie for making the beautiful banner! Look at that beauty, pure talent that, I am awed and endlessly grateful, thank you, darling 💗💗💗

This day was bound to come. You knew it logically; knew that one day your absence would be noticed, and the vultures would swarm to claim that which you had kept safe for so long. You knew it was coming; you just didn’t realise it would be so soon.

You can only stand on the outside watching in, as your home gets emptied of all your precious belongings, years of carefully collected curios and priceless pieces. All tossed into cardboard boxes and carried off out of your line of sight in the hands of people who have never cared for you or your belongings. People who have never taken the chance to understand that it isn’t just blood that runs through your veins, that your mind isn’t twisted with delusions, just open to such wonders that they will never see even with their eyes wide open.

It hurts.

You can’t bear to watch the only signs of the fact that you lived a happy, adventurous life full of whimsy and beauty which most can’t comprehend, get pulled out of the home you had made for yourself. Gutted until no sign of joy is left. It feels too much like they’re tearing your heart and soul from your chest.

So, you leave.

You walk a world that only has glimpses of light left, little pockets of life amongst the dull stillness you’ve grown too accustomed to during the past months of aimless wandering.

You walk, and walk, and walk until that hurt in your chest feels more like an old scar than an open wound, and then you turn around and walk back.

By the time you return, your home no longer looks like your own, nor does it look like an empty shell. There’s a brightness to it even if it’s so dull in your world, life and comfort tucked in amongst the half-built furniture and half-unpacked boxes.

You wonder how long you’ve been gone.

Curious of who now resides in the home you never intended to leave behind, you wander through the mostly dark house until you find a bright room and cross the master bedroom with ease, to lean towards the mirror and peer through the glass.

The bedroom is still, lit by the natural rays coming through the open window revealing that whoever the new homeowner is, they must’ve focused on unpacking this bedroom first.

The large bed has clearly held a slumbering being already, and lazily discarded clothes lay on the fluffy rug beside the bed as if thrown off before a tired person had climbed into bed the night before and have yet to pick the items up.

A glance at the cute, colourful clock on the bedside table tells you that it’s almost 10am.

Without thinking, you glance to the other side of the bed and find that the bedside table isn’t a matching set of two, only a lone table, so you think it’s safe to assume this person is single, and by the lack of other rooms set up that they also live alone. Or their housemates haven’t set up their own mirrors yet, or maybe simply don’t have them.

A sudden gasp and the sound of items clattering to hardwood flooring makes you look further into the room, leaning closer to the glass to get a better view.

You don’t expect to find big eyes already on you. But it does explain the shocked sound and dropping of items; you imagine most people would be a tad surprised to find a woman standing in the reflection of their mirror.

Deciding that there’s no point trying to hide now, you lift a hand and wave at the gawking man. He seems to be growing paler by the second. Surprisingly, he lifts one hand to wave back at you slowly, seeming to be moving on autopilot.

“Hey,” you greet. Maybe you should’ve stayed quiet though, because as soon as the word is out of your mouth, the man’s eyes roll back and he collapses to the floor unconscious amongst the toiletries he had earlier dropped. “Oops.”

Of course, there’s not a lot for you to do, no way for you to shake him awake or interact with him in any way while he’s unconscious, so you just thunk your forehead against the glass with a sigh and wait.

Luckily, the man comes to after only a couple of minutes, relieving your boredom and the worry that was starting to niggle at the back of your mind as you considered that he could’ve hit his head, or maybe had a delicate heart that you had inadvertently caused havoc with by simply existing in this way.

At first, the man seems very confused as he shuffles up, rubbing his head a little signifying that he had banged it, but at least you don’t think it was hard enough to cause any concern. He peers around himself at the floor and his items there, clearly trying to do the mental maths to find out the reason he woke up sprawled amongst his toiletries only a few steps into the bedroom.

You decide to just wait for him to remember on his own and simply watch him slowly gather the toiletries utterly puzzled.

It’s when he’s got his arms full and almost standing upright, knees still bent from his rise that he seems to recall the events leading up to waking up on the floor. He freezes in a squat, eyes slowly turning wide before his head woodenly turns to the large mirror fixed to the wall beside the dresser.

When your eyes meet, you wiggle your fingers in a wave. He screams, drops the toiletries, and runs out of the room leaving you staring at the splatter of conditioner and tiny pieces of broken plastic.

“H-hello?!”

The timid call matched with faint knocking wakes you up from your nap on the dull couch. You stretch and yawn as you get up to shuffle through the dim home and enter the bright bedroom.

The man is standing on the other side of the glass, one hand raised in a fist as he tentatively knocks against it, his eyes flickering around the reflection.

He looks determined, yet there’s still a fear in his eyes that you really can’t blame him for having. Though it does make you roll your eyes when that fear grows exponentially when his eyes find you entering the room.

“I can’t hurt you, no need to look so scared,” you point out while nearing the glass. Understandably, the man scuttles back a little when you get close enough. “I can’t reach through, look,” you reach out, yet your hand hits the glass with a thunk. “See? I can’t touch you; you can’t touch me.”

“Oh.” To your genuine surprise, it seems that is all you need to say and do for the man to lose all fear, as he steps closer to the glass and smiles at you a little. “Sorry, I’ve never met a mirror ghost before, I don’t know the rules.”

“I’m not a ghost.”

“You’re not?” He tilts his head a little, lips pouting slightly as he thinks. “Are you some kind of fae?”

“No, I’m a witch.”

“Wah, really?!” He lights up, lips stretching into a wide grin. This is not how you expected this to go, especially considering that your first two meetings consisted of him passing out and running away screaming. “That’s so cool! I’ve never met a witch before! Can you show me some magic? Can you teach me?!”

“Uh…” You’re so thrown off by his genuine enthusiasm that you can do nothing but stare dumbly at him for a few seconds. “Not from here, no.”

“Oh.” The man frowns, shoulders slumping in disappointment. “That sucks. I’d love to learn magic.”

“I mean, I can make a deal with you, if you really want to learn?” You offer, deciding that this emotionally open man may just be naive enough to trust a stranger in his bedroom mirror.

“What kind of deal?” He looks at you suspiciously and folds his hands over his chest protectively. “I’m not giving you my soul.”

“Your soul?” You can’t help but laugh. The man’s expression does a weird twitchy thing before his arms drop to his sides and he looks at you with round, sparkling eyes. “What would I do with that? I’m no demon and even they don’t claim souls much anymore; there’s an overpopulation issue in hell, you know? Too many assholes these days.”

“Hell’s real?”

“Anything’s real if you look hard enough and believe.”

“Unicorns?”

“Okay, no, that was just a drunken fairy sticking twigs to horses’ heads and covering them in fairy magic to make them sparkle, and fuck with humans.”

“Huh, okay,” he responds in easy acceptance of your words. You can’t help but wonder what kind of absurdities you could tell this man to be fact, and he’d accept it without question. You didn’t know such naive people even exist in adulthood.

“Right so, would you be willing to make a deal with me?”

“Yeah! Sure!” He beams, nodding happily already.

“I haven’t even given any terms yet. You don’t know what I’d ask of you.”

“Oh, right.” His expression turns serious, and his tone follows when he speaks next. “What do I have to do for you to teach me magic?”

“Get me out of this fucking place.”

“Oh, you’re stuck?”

“Do you think I’m in here for fun?” You deadpan.

“I don’t know! I told you I’ve never met a witch before! I don’t know what witches like to do for fun!”

“Right, well no, this is not my idea of a fun time. I am stuck and I need someone in the real world to get me out.”

“How?”

“I assume by doing the reverse of what I did to get stuck in here,” you reply with a shrug. “I can write down the incantation and a list of what you need to get.”

“Okay.” He looks at you with nothing but trust and patience, eyes so pure and innocent and posture open.

As you turn to go to the kitchen to get the memo pad and pen from the fridge, you silently decide that once you’re out of here and back in the real world, you’ll teach him how not to be such an easy target, alongside the magic lessons.

“Okay, everything is all set up!” The man announces as he gets to his feet in front of the mirror, as if you haven’t been watching him carefully set up all the items from the list on the floor in the places you instructed him to.

“Good job,” you praise in a murmur, sort of distractedly as your eyes dart over the symbols drawn on the glass to check for the nth time that they’re exactly the same as the ones you had shown him on one of the many pieces of memo pad paper now littering the floor by your feet.

When your eyes land back on the man, he’s grinning proudly at the short praise you had given him. Clearly, he’s very easy to please. Must be nice.

“Alright, whenever you’re ready.”

“What will happen?” He asks as he steps forward to press one palm to the glass while his other lifts the piece of paper where he had earlier copied down the incantation which you had shown him through the glass.

“The glass will move and then I can step back through.”

“That’s it? No levitating items or fire or-”

“That’s it. I can show you that stuff once I’m back in the real world.”

“You will?” You hum in confirmation with a little nod that makes his smile turn excited. His shoulders wiggle a little with gleeful anticipation. It’s admittedly pretty cute. “Okay, okay, I got this, I can totally bring a witch out of her mirror world and back into the real world, you got this, Seokie.” He murmurs to himself under his breath. It only really occurs to you then that you don’t even know each other's names.

Oh well, plenty of time for that once you’re back in reality.

You watch intently as the man, Seokie as he referred to himself, takes a deep breath with his eyes closed before opening them and immediately starts to read aloud the words written there in a language he doesn’t know, but he doesn’t seem to care that he has no idea what he’s actually saying.

You definitely need to teach the man something about self-preservation once you’re in the real world.

The incantation should work; you’ve revised this same spell so many times since you first got stuck here, a reverse of your own spell that trapped you in this world of your own making. Previous versions of the incantation have never worked, you’ve tried this a few times with various humans through various mirrors, yet nothing.

But this time, it should work, you’ve fine-tuned it. It has to work.

A breath catches in your throat as you notice the glitter of magic under Seokie’s palm.

The glass shimmers.

A gentle breeze tickles your cheeks.

It's working. After all this time it's-

"Ow," the human suddenly sprawled on the floor in front of you whines as he rubs his sore knees.

It didn't work.

You really thought it would work.

You look up at the glass in front of you. It's solid again. The breeze is gone, and it didn't work. You’re still stuck, just as you have been for years. Except now, this too-trusting stranger is stuck here with you.

"I quit!" You exclaim, throwing your hands up in frustration and turning to walk off.

"Wait!" The human screeches as the room gradually darkens with your exit. You don't look back, but you hear him scramble after you. “Why’s it so dark?” He murmurs once he’s close enough that he’s almost pressed to your arm as he wraps his long fingers around your forearm like a lost child.

“There aren’t any mirrors in these rooms,” you answer, motioning to the dark, lifeless rooms you pass. Dull copies of his own house, full of subdued versions of his own belongings. “No light can reach them.”

“Oh. But it’s not entirely dark, at least…” You feel his gaze on you. “Not where you are. Do witches have glow in the dark auras or something?”

“Glow in the dark auras?” You repeat as you stop and look at him incredulously.

“Yeah…I am guessing by your expression that glow in the dark auras are not a thing.”

“Not that I’m aware of,” you reply with a shrug, then turn and continue forward to leave the apartment. “Doesn’t mean it’s entirely non-existent though, just that I’ve never seen or heard a thing about it.”

“Everything exists if you believe,” he paraphrases your earlier words as he toddles along at your side while still holding your arm to stay in whatever the not-a-glow-in-the-dark-aura surrounds you and gives off a soft, naturally warm light like a cosy little bubble to light your way and keep you safe.

“Yeah,” you affirm simply. “But not that witches have glow in the dark auras. It’s just a detail of the original spell, so that I can always see where I’m going and what’s around me clearly, even outside of lit spaces.”

“Ahh, so you can’t make me a human glow stick too?”

“No,” you laugh. “Not in here at least.”

“Don’t you have magic here?”

“Don’t you think I’d have already left by now if I had magic?”

“Not if it’s like a one-way door,” he reasons with a shrug. “Maybe you could walk through but not back.”

“Mm, I see the logic but no, that’s not it. It’s supposed to be a swinging door, I can come and go as I please but evidently, I fucked up somewhere.”

“Ah.”

You’re not sure how long it’s been since Seokmin not Seokie, even if he always smiles brightly when you call him the nickname, tumbled into your mirror world, and got stuck with you; it could be hours, could be days, could be longer. There’s no way to tell the passing of time here unless you happen to be in a lit room with a clock, but even then, that doesn’t always give you an accurate reading if you can’t tell how many days have passed since last you looked.

There was a room with a calendar some time ago, but when you last visited it had all changed and you no longer could sit and watch the little old lady knit scarves for grandchildren that never visited. You refuse to let yourself linger on why she’s no longer there, and now a young couple with a yappy dog that pisses on the rug all the time have painted over the pencils marks on the walls tracking heights of her loved ones who rarely even answered her calls.

For hours, or days, or weeks, or months, you don’t know, you and Seokmin spend most of your time in an abandoned department store where there are fake rooms set up to display assorted items for sale. A lot of the store is smoke damaged, and most areas vandalised on top, but even broken mirrors bring light into your world.

Sometimes, you’ll sprawl over a dusty couch or bed and watch Seokmin gather broken items to throw into bins and sweep up. He’ll fetch items from elsewhere and set up the area of the moment until it’s all pretty and cosy. Only for it to be back to the vandalised state the next time the pair of you return after leaving the lit place.

At first, it had made Seokmin visibly sad every time you two would return somewhere only to find his hard work to be for nought. For the lit space to reset in your absence as if he had never stepped a determined foot there in the first place.

But now, Seokmin has somehow injected his sunny disposition into even that inevitable cruelty and declared that it’s ‘like those games where you have to fix up and decorate rooms, and I have endless chances and possibilities!’ You have no idea what games he means but you admire his ability to spin it into something positive. At least it gives him a better chance at keeping his sanity.

When you’re not camped out at the department store watching Seokmin play interior decorator or making up skits and plays to act out with whatever props are to hand to make you laugh until you cry, the two of you tend to wander around the dull city looking for different lit spaces to hang out and explore.

Before Seokmin fell through the glass into the mirror world and you were alone, you never cared if a space was lit or not, you know there is nothing else living in this world so there’s nothing that can hurt you even in the darkest places where you can’t see past the edge of your glow.

But Seokmin hates unlit places, he’s afraid of the dark and always has been, so now you avoid them and have never stepped foot in the pitch-black spaces since he arrived.

Somehow though, there’s always a new lit space to explore, more games to pull out of cupboards while people aren’t home, and sometimes barely manage to scuttle out of sight when they return.

A few times, Seokmin has asked why you hide from everyone when they could potentially free you from the mirror world. You always say the same thing ‘I don’t want to face the same disappointment again.’ Eventually, Seokmin stops asking and you can’t tell if it’s to protect your heart or his.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You ask the man at your side, and not for the first, second or third time either. In fact, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve repeated those words.

“Yeah, it’s been long enough,” he confirms, squeezing your hand slightly, with his long fingers locked between your own as he stares at the front door. The door of a home that was once yours, once his, and now someone else's.

“It’s not like we’re on a time limit here, we don’t ever have to come back if you don’t want to.”

“I need to see who lives in our house now,” he assures and bravely reaches out to open the washed-out door.

It surprises you both that the entrance hall is lit, and you both quickly notice the mirror above the side table against the wall.

“Didn’t expect that, not many houses have hall mirrors,” you admit.

“I meant to put one up, never got the chance,” Seokmin informs with a little grin before the two of you enter the house and shut the door behind you.

There’s no wind, no creepy crawlies, no strangers to follow you inside but you both still always shut entrance doors behind you as if holding on to that little piece of reality.

“Huh, it’s lit everywhere,” the man comments as he peers around the living room doorway, and then the kitchen doorway opposite. “What weirdo puts a mirror in their kitchen?”

“A big one.”

“Big one,” Seokmin giggles, making you let go of him to shove him. “Hey!” He laughs as he stumbles, and then looks at you with an attempt at a stern expression, yet he’s still smiling too much and his eyes sparkle with the same joy he always looks at you with. You can’t say that yours don’t hold that same glimmer for him either.

“What?” You reply innocently while backing up towards the stairs.

All Seokmin does is point a finger at you in warning before you’re turning and running up the stairs while laughing happily, with him right on your shadow making dramatic growling sounds.

He’s getting much better at those noises too; he rarely even chokes in his attempts these days. You’re oddly proud of him for that.

As you run through the house, you vaguely notice that Seokmin’s observation from downstairs seems to be correct up here; every room and hallway is lit with at least one mirror per room. It’s very strange.

You barrel into the en-suite of the master bedroom without thought and try to shut the door on Seokmin to playfully lock him out, but he’s too close and slams it open.

“Huh?” The deep, male voice makes you both freeze, then look over to the mirror expecting to see someone there. But from this angle, the room on the other side of the glass looks entirely empty.

You motion for Seokmin to stay there and quiet before you turn and sneak further into the room to try and figure out where the man on the other side is.

Though the bathroom is entirely empty, so you stop and stare confusedly at the mirror. “I can’t-” you start to tell Seokmin that you can’t see anything, yet suddenly from the doorway in the reflection, the very edge of a person steps into the room so you quickly clamber into the bath and lay flat against the porcelain hoping that the stranger won’t be able to see you in the reflection. It’s a pretty big bath with high edges that you got installed yourself so that you can soak properly. You briefly wonder how long ago that was.

You have no idea what Seokmin is doing; you can’t really risk lifting to pop your head out from the bath just in case the stranger is still in the bathroom and facing the mirror. The last thing you need is to scare the man into falling and cracking his head on the tiles. You may not live in the house anymore, but you really don’t want it to be home to a ghost just in case you do manage to return one day.

Although there is literally only one person it can be, when Seokmin suddenly appears leaning over the bath a few moments later, you shriek in surprise, making him laugh.

“Who’s there?!” Comes from the other side of the glass followed by rapidly approaching footsteps.

A shared, panicked look passes between yourself and Seokmin before you reach up to grab his t-shirt at the same time as he climbs into the bath. You pull him chest to chest and wind an arm around his waist to urge him as close to you as possible while your free hand cups the back of his head to tuck his face into your neck.

You really hope that the sides of the bath are tall enough to block Seokmin from the mirror’s view too. This is a rather…awkward position to be caught in.

“I swear I heard something…” The stranger mutters, voice clear enough despite the distortion of the mirror that you can tell he’s in the bathroom. “Maybe I should stop drinking energy drinks at midnight.”

“He does what?” Seokmin whispers appalled against your skin.

You don’t know if you should laugh, shove him away from your sensitive skin or pull him closer encouragingly. You decide to do none of the above, both because you don’t know how to react and because you really don’t want to get caught like this by the stranger.

“Whatever, guess I’ll just go to bed,” the man mutters before noisily leaving the room in a way entirely opposite to how he had entered.

It feels like he made himself heavy footed and closed the door so audibly on purpose, so when Seokmin starts to move, you hold him tighter to keep him still.

Thankfully, Seokmin listens to your silent demand and fits himself as close to you as possible, where he remains perfectly still except for the rise and fall of his torso as he breathes carefully to not risk his back rising too much.

Each breath blows hotly over your neck and honestly, you want to scream. It’s too much to have the attractive man so close; you’re pretty sure you can feel his flaccid dick pressed between your bodies and it’s taking everything in you to not focus on that.

“Fuck,” the stranger curses under his breath after what feels like hours of being laid there. It must’ve only been a minute or so though, you don’t imagine he would waste so much time on trying to catch what he must assume is a ghost in his bathroom.

This time, the open and consequent close of the door is at a much more believable level and you assume the man has given up and actually gone to bed this time.

Still, you wait, counting out 3 minutes in your head before you loosen your hold on Seokmin.

Slowly, he lifts his head out of the gap beside your neck and tentatively pushes up to cautiously peer over the edge of the bath to the mirror. When he lets out a breath of relief, you know that the coast is clear.

“He’s going to be tricky,” Seokmin comments, keeping his voice quiet as he looks back down at you.

“Did you happen to notice where the mirror is in the bedroom?”

“No.”

“Me neither,” you frown a little. “We can’t risk it, even opening the door could be seen if the mirror is in the right place.”

“So, we stay in the bathroom forever?”

“I imagine he will leave the bathroom door open at some point and hopefully we can figure out where he is or hear him leave the bedroom so we can sneak out then.”

“Isn’t the whole house full of mirrors?”

“Don’t remind me,” you complain, prodding at his waist, making him jerk and let out a truly disturbing sound from the sudden ticklish jab. It probably says a lot about how long you two have been around each other that you don’t even react to the sound anymore, and he doesn’t get embarrassed about it like he used to.

Sometimes, you do genuinely wonder how long you have been stuck together now. How many days you’ve spent side by side sharing space in a way you never have with anyone before. You really don’t think you’ve ever developed such a deep connection with anyone before. You don’t think you will again either.

But mostly, you try not to think about how the world keeps spinning without you, and the fact that the world could end and you might not even notice for decades if you don’t go to the right lit places.

You’ve never let Seokmin in on that thought process though, you don’t think he would be able to handle that potential truth.

“So, bathtub sleepover?” Seokmin grins, as if this doesn’t even bother him.

It’s strange how such a soft man can be so unperturbed by things like this. You do wonder what kind of a life he lived before this to let so much just roll off his back, but you don’t ask about it. You don’t want to remind the sweet man of all he has been forced to leave behind thanks to you.

Seokmin has cried and broken down in front of you before, somewhat regularly at the start when he would remember something; a schedule he’s been forced to miss, or a memory prompted by something you pass or interact with. And every single time as you held him and listened to him sob his broken heart out, yours shattered too.

You think your heart has ached more for him than it ever has your own loss. You think it hurt worse seeing him cry that first time than any of the times an incantation had failed and you realised you’re still stuck here for however much longer.

At first, you hadn’t tried hard, or at all, to entertain Seokmin or play along with his games, but now you’ll go along with anything he wants if it keeps him smiling. You never want to see him so broken again. Watching him cry even once, is one time too many.

Lee Seokmin deserves nothing but good things and you’ll do everything in your power to try and hold yourself to that silent, secret promise to make him happy for the rest of your lives.

“Bathtub sleepover,” you agree with a simple nod.

Together, you shuffle around until you’re laid on your sides against the porcelain and facing one another.

Not for the first time, you’re struck by how beautiful Seokmin is as you lay there looking at one another. It’s a dangerous position to be in. You usually don’t face each other for very long like this because you don’t trust yourself to not act on the way your heart feels so full of love for this man yet beats harder against your ribs as if trying to shove you closer to him with every thud.

Yet when you find yourself inches from Seokmin, it’s not because of your own actions.

Seokmin has moved closer to you until your legs are tangled and his left palm is hovering so close to your cheek that you can practically feel his touch already.

A soft murmur of your name follows, blows over your lips like an unspoken question. Like an answer, you tilt your chin upwards, lessening that little gap between your faces. He lets out a shaky breath of relief before tilting in and kissing you softly.

His hand gently lands on your cheek to allow his fingers to curve against the shape of you and hold you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever touched.

It feels like a lot. Like almost too much. Like that rapid thudding of your heart is trying to send the words you’ve been holding in your chest out of your throat and into the air between you. You kiss him harder to stop them from flowing.

In return, Seokmin’s hand holds you tighter, his legs curl to tug you that bit closer as he presses against you and teases your mouth open easily with his to flit his tongue out in search of your own.

The mirror world is perpetually at room temperature, it never gets hot or cold, but right now you think you could burn up if not for the natural cool of the porcelain pressed against your back as he urges closer and traps you there between his heated body and the bath.

“Shit, shit, fuck,” Seokmin curses amongst heavy breaths as he suddenly pulls back with his eyes squeezed tightly closed.

You can only stare at him dumbly, utterly dazed by the way he had kissed you as if trying to devour you entirely in the most incredible of ways.

Slowly, you both gather your breath back.

Seokmin shuffles back, giving you space again as his eyes flutter open to peer at you with uncertainty. “I’m sorry,” he apologises softly.

“What? Why?”

“For…kissing you like that.”

“Did I push you away?”

“I backed you against the side, I-”

“Seok,” you interrupt, and scoot closer to take his face into your hands. He looks at you with round eyes, some of his nerves melting away at your tender touch. “You did nothing I didn’t like, except move away.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm, I’d tell you if you do anything I don’t like.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” you nod and seal it with a sweet kiss that makes Seokmin smile at you when you settle back down and put your arm around his waist. “You’ll tell me too, yeah?”

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees. “Lift your head.” You do as he asked, even if you don’t understand why. Though it makes sense when he moves his right arm out from between your bodies to lay across the gap where your head was a moment ago, allowing you to use his bicep as a pillow. “I’ve always wanted to hold you like this.”

“Take this as permission that you can, whenever you want,” you hum as you curl up against him and tangle your legs back together while your eyes shut. “I like cuddling.”

“I like you.” Your eyes blow wide open, and you look at him. “What? You think I kiss any woman I meet in the mirror like that?” He scoffs a teasing laugh.

“Maybe, I don’t know what you got up to before meeting me.”

“You never ask.”

“I don’t want to remind you of what you lost because of me.”

Seokmin’s smile is understanding as he leans down to kiss you softly. “It was my choice. I wanted to help you, and it didn’t work, it’s not your fault. I’ve never blamed you for me being stuck here, Sunshine.”

“I haven’t even tried to figure it out, I gave up trying to find a way out,” you admit in a voice so soft it could almost be considered a whisper.

“You don’t want to go back?” He looks at you confusedly. “I thought you did?”

“It’s been a long time for me, Seokie, I don’t know how long, but things have changed in the real world. I’ve seen technology change so much since I’ve been stuck here. It’s not a world I know anymore. I have nothing left out there.”

“You’ll have me.”

“It could just be a year or so for you, maybe less, you might still have a life to go back to.”

“And I’ll take you with me,” he promises, talking a little firmer when you open your mouth to retort. “I want you by my side when we go back. You’re my Sunshine, you make me happy-”

“If you start singing that song,” you warn, giving him a stern look that makes him giggle.

“I wasn’t going to. I was just stating facts. You do make me happy, and I can’t imagine living without you. When we go back out there, we’ll be together, okay? I’m not going to abandon you for my old life. I want to make a new life with you, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“More sure than I have ever been about anything. I…I love you and it’s okay if you don’t love me back, I can wait. Or…well I love you and I’ll accept whatever you’re willing to give me.”

“You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Thanks,” he deadpans. “That’s exactly what I want to hear when I declare my love for the first time to the only woman I’ve said those words to and know I won’t to anyone else.”

“Seriously? You’ve never loved anyone before?”

“Not like this. If we were out there, I’m pretty sure I’d have bought an engagement ring ages ago.”

“So fucking stupid,” you reiterate desperately, before kissing him in the same way. Seokmin makes a surprised noise yet quickly melts against you, gripping a fistful of your t-shirt at your back as you press close to one another.

“Giving me mixed messages,” he murmurs dazedly when you pull apart and look at one another. “You can’t call me stupid for loving you then kiss me like…like you…”

“I didn’t call you stupid for loving me, I think that’s very wise, a great decision to love the person who would do everything possible to make you happy because they’re so fucking in love with you-” you’re cut off by Seokmin surging in to kiss you with the same desperation you had kissed him with a minute ago.

“You love me?” He rushes out, during a quick break he creates in the kiss, yet doesn’t give you the chance to answer as he slots his lips back against yours.

With the passion Seokmin kisses you, you understandably assume things are going to develop and clothes fly off. Yet when you slide your hand under his t-shirt and barely get to feel his toned stomach, he turns his head out of the kiss and grabs your hand to still your movements.

“What’s wrong?” You ask confused.

“Not like this,” he replies, fluttering his eyes open as he turns his head back to look at you, now leaned up a little so that you can peer at one another comfortably.

“Then don’t kiss me like that!” You complain and remove your hands from him entirely to cross over your chest. “I thought you want to fuck me and got excited for nothing.”

“I do, I do, like so much. Seriously, Sunshine, I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long,” he assures so seriously that you believe him, and can’t help but giggle at how serious he is while talking about wanting to have sex with you.

“Then why not now?”

“I really don’t want our first time to be in a bathtub, babe,” he chuckles, and shuffles back to create a less heated gap between you, where he settles and tugs you in to cuddle. “Once we get out of this bathroom, we’ll go find a nice bed where I can lay you down and worship you like you deserve.”

“Seok…” you murmur shyly, before tilting your head up to kiss his jaw softly. “You’re too good for me.”

“Nah, I think I’m just right for you, Goldilocks.”

It must be the next day when you wake to the muffled sound of the shower running. Carefully, you wriggle out of Seokmin’s hold and roll over to peer over the top of the bath.

The mirror on the opposite wall is big enough that at this angle, you can catch sight of the shower and a male figure blissfully unaware under the water with his back to the mirror.

Knowing that this is your chance, you turn over and put a hand over Seokmin’s mouth so that he doesn’t make a loud sound as you nudge him awake. His resulting snuffle is muffled so well under your palm that you barely catch it.

He looks blearily offended at being woken up, but when you signal him to be quiet as you remove your hand from his mouth, he understands and nods to show as much.

One of you always keeps watch on the mirror as the two of you manoeuvre out of the tub silently, and then out of the bathroom.

“Oh, thank fuck,” you breathe out as the two of you walk further into the lit master bedroom.

Seokmin makes a noise of agreement, then tugs you in to kiss sweetly. “Good morning, Sunshine.”

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Seokmin’s eyes round out at the pet-name and he gives you such a soft, adoring look that you find yourself kissing him before you’ve even registered it. A self-preservation instinct to prevent yourself from melting into a pile of goo from the loving expression of the man who owns your heart, soul, and ass.

There must be some residual tension in you both, left over from your tryst in the tub however many hours ago it was. Although the kiss started innocently enough, it doesn’t last long and you both get lost in the feeling of the other’s mouth as hands travel with interest over one another.

All thoughts of the man in the shower completely leave your mind. All you can think about is Seokmin and how you want to feel his mouth and hands all over you.

Clearly, Seokmin has the same thoughts in mind, because in no time at all, you’re at the edge of the bed with your top and bra somewhere on the floor behind where the man is kneeling before you and working on removing all of your clothing.

Of course, you’ll be damned if you don’t even the score; as soon as he’s got you naked and tries to lean down between your thighs, you reach out and tug on his t-shirt. Seokmin isn’t shy at all about yanking the material off of his torso and once you can see his beautiful, toned body, you understand why he didn’t hesitate.

“Well, shit,” you murmur, dragging your hungry gaze over his skin.

“Mm, can I taste you now?” Comes his distracted reply, eyes glued between your thighs with nothing but pure desire in his dark eyes.

“Get naked first.”

“Fully naked?” He lifts his head just enough to peer at you mostly through his lashes. “Can I keep my boxers on for now?”

“Why?”

“I want to focus on you but I get distracted when my dick’s out,” he admits sheepishly. “I’ll think it’s time to fuck you but I want to make you cum on my tongue first.”

“Well, I can’t reasonably say no to that,” you muse and hook your fingers under the waistband of his jeans to pull him closer. “C’mere.”

Seokmin doesn’t need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to crowd up against your front to kiss you while your hands work on his button and zipper. He helps you shove the denim down his thighs, which are way thicker than you had realised.

The reveal makes you stare at him dumbly as he sits on his butt to shimmy the material off of his legs in a frankly awkward looking manoeuvre. It says a lot for how attractive the man is, and perhaps how whipped you are for him, that even the ungraceful flapping of his legs to kick off his jeans and toe of his socks, doesn’t dampen your arousal at all.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” He questions upon getting back on his knees and facing you, only to realise that you’re staring at him with widened eyes and mouth parted in shock.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” you reply almost breathlessly. “How are you real? Did I make you up for company after being stuck in here so long?” You touch his chest and marvel at how solid his heated skin is under your palms. “This is a very vivid hallucination.”

“Baby,” he chuckles shyly while putting his hands over yours to press your hands flat to his skin. “I’m real, you’re real, this is real.”

“Fuck.”

“You okay?”

You lift your gaze from staring at his body to look into his utterly adoring gaze that is already locked on you. “I am never letting you leave me.”

Seokmin’s cheeks bunch as he smiles at you all big and genuinely happy. “I’m never going to want to.”

“Good.” You slide your hands out from under his to flow down his body, trace over his abs and around his waist to pull him as close as possible with your hands firm against his lower back. Seokmin makes a surprised, yet very happy and interested, sound at your actions before his lips are back on yours and filled with a new layer of hunger.

When you’re both breathing heavily and the kiss breaks, he starts a trail of heavy kisses down your neck, stopping to tongue over the swell of your breasts from between them as he pushes them in closer either side of his face so that he only has to turn his head and adjust a little to give both attention.

Though he doesn’t stay there long, the man is on a mission he is determined to succeed in. His path travels lower and you lean back on your palms to give him easier access to worship your stomach with his mouth.

Obviously, it’s been a long time for you, but you’re very certain that nobody has ever taken the time to give your body so much attention like this, not without it being a means to an end. But this, this certainly isn’t a partner building you up ready to fuck.

This is a man who is taking his time to love on every inch of your precious body because he wants to, because he enjoys doing it and showing you how beautiful he finds you without words.

If possible, you think you fall a little more in love with Seokmin with every press of his adoring, attentive lips to your skin. If your breath wasn’t already hitching and chest stuttering with the mix of intense arousal and love for this man, you would tell him those three words you know he’s pressing into your skin.

Perhaps that’s why you feel so full of love for him right now; he’s filling you with so much of his own that yours is overflowing and wanting to spill out to him. Like a never-ending feedback circle. You think that doesn’t sound so bad. A never-ending love with Lee Seokmin sounds pretty wonderful, actually.

The words are about to fly free from your mouth when his lips press against your clit and your eyes fly wide in surprise. You hadn’t even realised you had closed your eyes, or that his head is now between your thighs; you had been too caught up in the sensation of being loved and doted on so thoroughly.

“I love you,” you blurt, making Seokmin freeze in surprise at the sudden declaration. Which immediately makes you laugh because he has his tongue halfway out of his mouth with clearly every intention of swiping it against you. “You’re so cute.”

“What?” He garbles out around his still poked tongue, then abruptly pulls it back into his mouth looking a little embarrassed, though he quickly smiles at you and presses a kiss to your stomach just above your belly button. “I love you too, Sunshine. Now stop distracting me, I have important things to do.”

“Sorry, I’ll keep my love to myself from now on,” you retort playfully, and nudge his shoulder with your thigh.

“Good,” he jokes back. You nudge him again only to gasp loudly and fly one hand out to his head when he latches his mouth to your inner thigh in retaliation. He bites first, not too hard but hard enough that you know there will be a minor mark left behind. And then, he sucks on your flesh until you know without even looking that there will be a massive bruise left behind. It’s just a shame it won’t last.

Things kind of blur together after that. A haze of pleasure caused by a sinfully exquisite mouth licking and sucking your thighs and pussy; greedily slurping up every drop of arousal that drips out of you and smearing it against his chin and cheeks almost on purpose as if he’s trying to fucking bathe in it. But you barely notice that.

At some point, you drop onto your back against the mattress due to the intensity of pleasure running through your body thanks to the man between your thighs, who you are genuinely starting to think must be some kind of sex god based on his incredible physique and skill.

You don’t realise you’re on your back until your eyes flutter open with every intention of tilting your head down to look at Seokmin, you just know he has to look like sin personified right now. But you don’t get the chance.

As soon as your eyes are open, you find the mirror and spot the dark eyes staring intently at you from the other side.

You shriek and sit up, all but shoving Seokmin away in your rush to get your naked body off of the bed and out of the mirror’s view.

“What? What is it?” Seokmin asks, not even offended and instead looking more worried by your reaction. “Is it a spider?” He pales a little.

“I found the mirror,” you whisper, crouched a little to his side with your arms around your body as if the man in the real world can see you at this angle. But he had been reclined on his bed staring up at you enraptured. “Wait, that pervert!” You grab Seokmin’s t-shirt to yank over your head as its closest, then crawl onto the bed to glare up at the huge mirror fixed on the ceiling.

The man is still laid there with nothing but a towel around his waist, though he has one hand over his crotch, over the obvious bulge of his erection and you’re pretty sure it’s not out of any kind of shame.

“You were watching us!” You accuse, pointing up at him.

“If you don’t want me to watch, don’t have sex in my mirror,” he retorts simply, as if it’s so normal in his life to look up when laid in bed and see something in his mirror other than his own reflection. Then again, the man has a mirror above his bed, you’re pretty sure the guy lives a life very different to the one you lived pre-mirror. Mostly, you think he’s a giant fucking sexual deviant.

“We’re not in your mirror, pervert.”

“Looks it to me.” He shrugs and adjusts his position a little to bend one leg up, planting the flat of his foot casually on the mattress. It makes the towel blissfully hide his erection as the material slides down his thigh to bunch. You’re just glad it’s still long enough to hide what’s underneath from view.

You do not want to see this guy’s dick, no matter how generally attractive he is.

“If you’re not in my mirror, where are you?”

“A mirror world,” you answer simply, not seeing any harm in telling him that. He seems genuinely curious and something tells you to humour him at least a little.

“What’re you doing there?”

“Having a great time until you interrupted,” Seokmin grumbles from where he’s still on the floor at the edge of the bed, but now he’s got his arms folded on the mattress and head laid on them so he can look at you and the mirror.

The man looks over to Seokmin in the reflection as if he hadn’t even noticed him until now. Then again, he hadn’t moved his intense gaze from you at all so you’re not surprised. “So, I saw.”

“Hey!” Seokmin darts up onto the bed to stand in front of you and point threateningly up at the mirror. He’s still just in his boxers so the backs of his essentially bare thighs are right in your face and you can’t help but stare. They’re so thick and distracting. “That’s my girlfriend! Keep your eyes to yourself, pervert!”

“Relax, man, not like I can do more than touch, and I wouldn’t do that without her consent anyway.”

“Which she wouldn’t give; she’s in love with me,” Seokmin sounds so proud of that fact that you’re successfully pulled away from ogling his thighs to instead tilt your head back to peer up at the back of him with a smile.

You have no idea how you got so lucky to have the most precious man to have ever exist get himself stuck with you, and then fall in love with you, but you’re certainly glad about it. Not the stuck part, just the love and luck part.

“Sit down,” you giggle, tugging on Seokmin’s hips until he relents and drops down onto the bed in front of you while still glaring warningly up at the mirror. You wrap your arms around his waist and stretch your legs out either side of his. Seokmin gives the man in the mirror a smug look.

“You two look good together,” the man comments easily, mindlessly tracing his fingers over his lower stomach at the edge of his towel.

“Your erection already told us that,” you deadpan.

“That was because of you,” he informs shamelessly. “You’re gorgeous, you know?”

“She is and she’s mine,” Seokmin reiterates, making the man roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m not fucking stupid, I got that. I’m just paying a compliment, chill the fuck out, man.”

“Alright, you two, enough,” you scold them both gently, and press a kiss to Seokmin’s temple when he pouts at being told off. The soft kiss does its job and wipes the pout away, a content little smile replacing it on his lips.

“Did you die in my house or something?” The man asks, making you look back up at him. “Isn’t that how it works? You get stuck where you died?”

“We’re not dead,” Seokmin informs.

“What? You’re not ghosts?” The man looks genuinely disappointed, making you huff out a laugh. “Then what the fuck are you?” He’s almost pouting. Definitely sulking as he drops his leg down and crosses his arms over his chest while slouching further down against his pillows.

“Living humans,” Seokmin retorts, then turns his head to side eye you questioningly. You’re not sure when you two developed this silent communication to this degree exactly, but you know what he’s asking you without words and nod simply in permission. Seokmin looks back up at the mirror. “Well, she’s a witch.”

That makes the man perk up a little. “A witch? Really?” You nod in confirmation. “Do you know any ghosts?”

“Do you know any ghosts?” You retort with a scoff. “What makes you think I know any ghosts just because I’m a witch?”

“Just thought that, you know, supernatural beings…”

“What? You think we all know each other? Gather once a month for the monthly supernatural beings meeting?”

“I was just asking,” the man grumbles, once again pouting a little.

For a man who so confidently and shamelessly palmed his erection while watching you in the mirror not even ten minutes ago, he really seems to pout childishly a lot.

“Do you know any ghosts?” Seokmin takes the chance to turn his head to whisper to you.

“Oh, yeah,” you confirm just as quietly, making him giggle as he turns back around and leans happily back against your chest. “You seem very into ghosts,” you comment loudly to the man who peers back at you, lips still protruding a little.

“I’ve wanted to meet one for a long time,” he admits.

“Is that why your house is full of mirrors?” You muse, Seokmin looks very confused even if he remains quiet. “You hope you’ll trap a ghost in one, right?”

“I can’t tell if the fact you know that theory means it’s true or we’ve just been on the same websites,” he mutters.

“What’s a website?” You ask Seokmin in a whisper.

“Internet,” he answers just as quietly, to keep your conversation private. “I’ll show you when we get out. Maybe this guy can help, you can make a deal to introduce him to a ghost, bet he’ll at least try to help.”

“You may just be right there, sweetheart.” You hum thoughtfully as you look at the man above you for a few long seconds. “What if I can potentially help you out?” You offer.

“Help me out? By helping me meet a ghost?” The man asks and sits up abruptly, eyes wide in eagerness when you nod. “What do I need to do in return? I have money and I’ll let you fuck in all my mirrors without even looking and-”

“Alright, calm down ghost boy,” you snicker amusedly at the pure excitement on the man, he looks about two seconds from vibrating out of his skin and offering you his very soul in return for helping him meet a ghost. “Nothing like that, you help us and we’ll help you, no money or goods exchanged. Though you will need to get some supplies.”

“Yeah, sure…wait, you’re not going to like, sacrifice me or something, are you?”

Both you and Seokmin laugh.

“No,” you assure, shaking your head a little. “Nothing like that. It won’t hurt you at all, we just need you to perform a spell for us.”

“Yeah, sure,” he agrees easily. It would remind you of Seokmin’s own easy agreement however long ago, if it wasn’t for the fact this man doesn’t seem anywhere near as innocent and pure as Seokmin. Then again, you don’t think anyone is.

“Can we move to another mirror? this is really starting to hurt my neck,” Seokmin requests, already sitting up straight to roll his head around and stretch his neck.

“Mm, yeah,” you agree, so Seokmin gets off of the bed and starts to gather your clothes tossed over the floor while you look back at the man above you. “Is there a more reasonably placed mirror in this place?”

“There’s a dressing table in the next room,” the man informs while pointing to his right.

“Alright, meet you there. Put some clothes on though,” you suggest, though based on your firm expression, it’s not really a request, before you climb off of the bed.

“Fine.” You hear him mumble in response even if you’re no longer in front of the mirror.

“You look good in my shirt, by the way,” Seokmin murmurs to you when you’re on your feet in front of him where he’s already in his jeans and is fastening them.

“Maybe I should keep it then,” you suggest playfully.

“Is this you saying you want me to walk around topless?” He gasps theatrically and covers his nipples with his fingers, making you snort on a laugh. He breaks at the sound and laughs too while dropping his arms.

“If you were topless all the time, we’d only ever be doing one thing,” you give him a significant look that makes his lips twitch into a little smirk. You’re pretty sure you’ve never seen him smirk, and you’re pretty sure that he could make you do an insane number of things with that single look.

“That doesn’t sound so bad, doesn’t sound bad at all,” he reaches for his waistband, ready to remove the clothes he had just put back on.

“I can hear you two, you know!” The man’s exclamation makes both you and Seokmin jump before sharing a look, then giggling. “Can’t you keep your hands off of each other for five minutes so we can stick to our deal?”

“Sorry, pervert,” Seokmin calls sweetly.

The man sighs heavily. “My name is Wonwoo.”

Although Wonwoo eagerly runs off as soon as he’s copied the list you show him in the dressing table mirror to enthusiastically collect everything on it, it’s a few days before he attempts the incantation purely because it’s a few days before you show it to him.

After the last time that it went wrong, you know the previous version needed some work, and now that you have Seokmin at your side to think about, you really want to take time to mull over the spell and think through every step and syllable to get it right.

And perhaps you did get distracted a few times by Seokmin sprawled over the bed keeping himself occupied with the items Wonwoo leaves in there once Seokmin asks him to decorate the spare room with something other than mirrors, even if Seokmin had called Wonwoo a pervert again.

Though Wonwoo had kept to his word and hasn’t spied on you two again, in fact he doesn’t even enter the spare room unless one of you has appeared to him in another mirror to request his presence. Maybe he’s not as much as a pervert as you both initially thought. Or maybe he just rates meeting a ghost more important than his voyeurism.

When you think you’ve got the incantation right after working over the spell so many times even Seokmin can recite it from memory in his sleep, you find Wonwoo in the lounge. The TV is on in front of him but he’s glued to his laptop and as the mirror is on the wall behind the couch, you can see the screen.

You don’t really know exactly what he’s doing, typing and looking somewhat intense, but you catch the big letters on the screen like a title; GFA.

“What’s that?” You ask curiously. Wonwoo immediately shrieks and flings himself off of the couch with his laptop. He hits his hip on the coffee table and knocks over his can of energy drink, but it is almost empty so even though it tips fully, only a few drops fly out before he manages to right it.

“Don’t sneak up one me!” He accuses, pointing a finger at you while closing his laptop with the other hand and sliding it suspiciously under the table.

“I would accuse you of watching porn but one, that was all writing and two, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t care if I caught you masturbating to sex videos.”

“Masturbating is nothing to be ashamed of and I’m not ashamed of my body or preferences so if you happen to see that, I don’t care.”

“Fair enough,” you shrug and lift the paper in your hand while climbing up onto the couch on your knees to press the sheet against the glass. Wonwoo scrambles over, kneeling on his couch to read the writing.

“I’m still very impressed that you can write backwards,” he comments offhandedly, flicking his gaze to you past the paper then back again.

“I’ve had a lot of time to develop useless talents.”

“It won’t be useless if this works. I’m pretty sure I’d mess up if you wrote normally and I had to try to reflect the words myself.”

“Mm, suppose.” You shrug. “Aren’t you going to copy it down?”

“Ah, right.” He nods in agreement, then wanders off to pick up a notepad from the side unit and a pen before returning. He stands there on the other side of the couch, pad resting on one hand as he routinely glances between it and the mirror to diligently copy the entire spell down. “What language is this?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, just curious.”

“Not one you need to worry yourself about. You won’t encounter it again.”

“It’s a dead language?”

“Not exactly, just not used by humans.”

“Ah, a supernatural language. Does each supernatural species have their own language?”

“What am I? An encyclopaedia?” Wonwoo pauses in his writing to look at you curiously. “What?”

“Just weird you say that.”

“How? Loads of people say that.”

“Most people now have never touched an encyclopaedia unless for a special interest.”

“What? But they’re so useful and full of knowledge!” You gawp. “How do you get all that information?”

“Google.”

“I don’t know anyone with that name.”

Wonwoo cracks a lopsided grin. “You’re really old, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Wow!” He grins brighter and climbs onto the couch to get closer, even if there’s no way he can actually reach you, still, you back up as much as you can without moving your hand from the mirror. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

“And how long have you been twenty-six?”

“Since my twenty-sixth birthday,” you deadpan. “Just copy the fucking spell, pervert.”

“Alright, grandma.”

“I swear when I’m out of here, I’m going to choke you,” you warn, though immediately backpedal at the slight glint you notice in his eyes. “No wait, forget that; you’d probably like it.”

“Yeah,” he agrees so shamelessly that it makes you laugh. He grins at you, pleased at making you laugh, then focuses on copying down the rest of the spell.

“Aw, did you make it all romantic for us?” Seokmin coos as the pair of you enter Wonwoo’s bedroom and find that he’s lit a bunch of candles around the room and at the base of the mirror, which he had moved from the entrance hall wall and into here to prop against the wall at the foot of his bed.

Other than the mirror on his ceiling, this mirror is the biggest in the apartment even if it only reaches his chest. Still, it’s much better than trying to climb through anything smaller. You appreciate the effort.

“The guy in the store said I should get them, said they’d be useful to me,” Wonwoo answers where he’s kneeling in front of the mirror and focused on setting up the items around him.

You and Seokmin kneel in front of the mirror, and you smile as Seokmin tells Wonwoo where to put everything based on how you had told him when he performed the spell. You’re surprised he remembers so well; you really hadn’t expected him to even recall the ingredients used for the spell, yet he still seems to remember it all somehow.

“Alright, that’s everything,” Wonwoo announces when he’s done arranging it all and leans back to sit heavier on his feet and plant his hands on his thighs while lifting his gaze to look at you. “I just need to read the spell now, right?”

“Pretty much,” you confirm and shuffle a little in place. “Put one hand on the mirror as you read it so the magic flows into the right object.”

“Okay,” Wonwoo shuffles closer and puts his left hand to the mirror as he picks up the paper with his right.

“Don’t lean on it though,” Seokmin quickly warns. “Trust me.”

Wonwoo gives Seokmin a questioning look yet doesn’t say a word and just nods, lightening his palm against the glass a little before he focuses on the paper. “Ready?”

As soon as you and Seokmin have both agreed, Wonwoo takes a breath then starts to read.

Even though you have no access to magic and magic cannot enter the mirror world, you can feel it growing with every word Wonwoo speaks.

“It’s working,” you whisper awed, gripping Seokmin’s hand tighter in your own. Seokmin doesn’t respond other than lifting your connected hands up to place a kiss right where your fingers are laced together.

As Wonwoo recites the words, the glass shimmers while magic layers over it, before it melts away and the slight breeze of Wonwoo’s fan reaches you both. Seokmin gasps softly and holds your hands closer to his mouth.

By all means, it looks as if the spell is working and perfectly too. Wonwoo’s hand hovers in midair, though you can see a pressure against his skin showing that in the real world, the glass still exists.

There are still a few lines of the spell left so you sit very still in wait, as if any slight movement will ruin Wonwoo’s concentration or the spell, and this will once again fail.

Yet when Wonwoo finishes talking and looks at you, you still don’t move. “Aren’t you coming through?” He asks confusedly and slowly lowers his hand as if dragging it down the glass, but there’s nothing there and his fingers slip through into the mirror world.

“He’s not getting pulled through,” Seokmin whispers with wide eyes that he quickly turns on you. “That-that means we can go through, right?”

“I…I guess so,” you confirm and nod a little. “You first.”

“What? No, together,” he argues, turning to face you better with a frown on his face. “We’ll do it together, Sunshine.”

“It’s better to go one at a time. Wonwoo isn’t a witch, he has limited magic so we can’t say it will be strong enough to pass through together and I’d rather you go through first, Seok.”

“That makes no sense, you’re a witch! You could just magic me through if it closes between us! I’m just human, I can’t do that!”

“You can recast the spell in Wonwoo’s place.”

“I messed it up last time, I can’t-”

“I trust you, now go before it shuts with us both here.” You pull your hand from his and try to push him to the mirror.

“No, baby, you go-” Before Seokmin can argue anymore, you shove him backwards at the same time Wonwoo grabs the back of his t-shirt and yanks Seokmin through the mirror.

The pair tumble to the floor heavily, displacing items and breaking the only black candle in the room. Instantly, the mirror closes back up.

“No!” Seokmin yells, darting forward to run his hands over the glass and frame of the mirror as if he’ll find a secret compartment to open the doorway back up.

“Shit,” Wonwoo curses as he yanks his jumper sleeve over his hand to smack out the little fire on the carpet from the candle. Luckily, it goes out easily and Wonwoo picks the candle up to inspect carefully while Seokmin rushes to set all the other ingredients back up.

“Get another candle,” Seokmin orders, glancing at Wonwoo with eyes shining with the threat of tears.

“I can’t.”

Seokmin immediately whirls on Wonwoo, eyes wide and frantic. “What do you mean you can’t?!” He demands, reaching out to snatch the broken candle from Wonwoo’s hands, which he desperately tries to fix. “We can’t do the spell without this kind of candle!”

“The store is closed, it’s 1am, Seokmin.”

“When does it open?” Seokmin’s head snaps up to look at Wonwoo, not even trying to stop the tears that start to trickle down his cheeks. “We need to go as soon as it opens, Wonwoo! We can’t leave her in there! She’s been stuck there for so long!”

“I know, I know,” Wonwoo soothes, reaching out to hold Seokmin by his shoulders. “We’ll go first thing, okay? We’ll get her out tomorrow, I promise.”

“You mean it?” Seokmin sniffles and Wonwoo nods, offering his pinkie. Shakily, Seokmin removes one hand from the candle to link his pinkie with Wonwoo’s to seal the deal. He wipes his face dry on the back of his arm before he faces you with a watery smile. “We’ll get you out tomorrow, baby, okay?”

“Okay,” you agree softly and offer a soft smile that Seokmin returns.

An hour later, you watch the two men fall asleep on Wonwoo’s bed, exhausted from the magic, and change of atmosphere in Seokmin’s case. Yet even as you lay there staring up at the mirror on the ceiling above you, counting the rise and fall of Seokmin’s chest to try and lull yourself, you don’t sleep at all.

“We should make a habit of this,” you comment where you’re sitting on the counter beside the sink in Wonwoo’s en-suite and facing the mirror where you can see Seokmin enjoying his first shower in potentially years. And you are enjoying the sight of your naked boyfriend’s skin pinkening in the heat of the shower as water trails down his body and glistens in all his delicious dips and curves.

“What?” Seokmin peers over his shoulder at you and squints to protect his eyes from the water. “You want to shower together?”

“That’d be nice, but I just mean watching you shower,” you answer honestly and let your gaze obviously drag up and down his body.

“Baby,” he chuckles, partly shy and partly scolding. “Don’t look at me like that. You know I’ll get hard.”

“And?” You smirk and lean back on your palms behind you at the edge of the counter.

You know that if Seokmin was in the room with you, he’d panic over the position and make you sit upright so you don’t risk toppling backwards. But there’s a mirror separating you and steam fogging up his side of the glass enough that he can’t clearly see you anyway.

“Put on a little show for me, huh, sweetheart?” You suggest with a smirk.

“I don’t think Wonwoo would like me jerking off in his shower.”

“Think of it as getting back at him for watching us.”

Seokmin makes a considering face before abruptly turning to face the mirror, and then drag his hand over his abs down towards his hardening cock.

Just as he gets his hand around it, dark gaze locked on you through the glass, there’s loud knocking at the door making him shriek in surprise and you groan in annoyance.

You can’t clearly make out what Wonwoo says on the other side of the door thanks to the noise of the shower echoing through the mirror, but Seokmin can and responds in an affirmative before he looks at you. “Wonwoo’s back.”

“Yes, I got that, baby,” you tease. “Unless he found a ghost all on his own.”

“Right,” he grins sheepishly. “He’s setting everything up.”

“Okay,” you swing around to jump off of the counter.

Seokmin whines when you start to walk away so you backstep and look at him. “You’re leaving me?” He pouts at you.

“I’ll see you in a minute,” you giggle. “And then a little after that, I’ll be kissing your pretty face.”

“Not if I kiss you first,” he jokes, winking at you and consequently somehow getting water in his eye. “Ow!”

You wait until Seokmin is no longer whining and fussing over his eye before you exit the bathroom and sit in front of the mirror to watch Wonwoo check over everything.

“Wonwoo,” you call softly so he looks up at you. He had heard you sit down, heard the faint rustle of your clothing through the mirror but he had been too focused to greet you, not that you much care. “Will you cast it?”

“What? Me?” His eyebrows furrow in confusion. “I thought Seokmin was going to?”

“That was last night when you had already cast it once. You’ve rested and eaten since then so you have the energy back.”

“Okay, but why not Seokmin? Is he not strong enough or something?”

“He’s plenty strong enough, I just… I’m not sure what condition I will be in once I step through. I’ve had no magic for so long, been stuck in this world for so long that I’m not sure how the real world will affect me anymore.”

“Like…badly?”

“It won’t kill me, but it might hurt. I…I’ve done a lot of questionable spells in my life that have left marks on me, marks that were very painful to gain in the first place so I can’t imagine regaining all of that feeling all at once will be particularly pleasant.”

“Oh, no, I suppose not,” Wonwoo murmurs. “You don’t want him to see you like that.”

“It’s not that, I imagine it’ll be inevitable that he sees it, but I just don’t want him to feel responsible for whatever happens, any pain I may feel once I’m there.”

“Ah, I see.” He nods in understanding. “I can cast it. Is there anything I need to do before then, to prepare for when you’re back? To help?”

“There isn’t time to prepare for any eventualities, just if any fires appear, throw sugar on them.”

“Sugar? On fire?”

“Fire sprites love sugar.”

“Fire sprites, cool, right.” Wonwoo nods absently, absorbing the words, before he turns his head to the bathroom. “The shower shut off.”

“Let’s do this now.”

Wonwoo only nods once in agreement before his left hand is on the glass and he’s reading from the paper in his right.

Seokmin enters the bedroom with his hair dripping onto the small towel around his bare shoulders and a pair of Wonwoo’s shorts hanging low on his hips when Wonwoo is halfway through the spell. You just smile at him when he walks over with wide eyes, shocked that Wonwoo is reading the spell he thought he was supposed to cast. But he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t want to risk it failing.

As soon as Wonwoo is finished reciting the spell, he reaches through the mirror and you grab his hand. As he pulls, you launch yourself forward while squeezing your eyes closed, just in case.

When your eyes open, you find Wonwoo’s own already open and on you from where he’s laid against the carpet with his right arm around your waist and his left trapped between your bodies with both of yours.

“Hey,” he greets with a lopsided grin.

“Hi,” you reply a little dumbly, then laugh disbelievingly and sit up, uncaring that you’re on his hips. Wonwoo doesn’t seem too bothered by it either and just lets you sit there to take in his bedroom from the real world. “Smells cleaner than I expected for a pervert.”

“Hey!” Wonwoo bats your thigh, though he’s grinning still and not really offended.

“Sunshine,” Seokmin’s soft voice makes you look directly at him. He’s kneeling just outside of the ring of magical ingredients, the black candlestick still burning away and keeping the doorway open.

“One sec,” you speak and clamber off of Wonwoo to blow out the candle and seal your mirror world back up.

You have no idea if you will be able to open the door again now that there’s nothing there; the spell Wonwoo read was designed for living things, not an empty shell, after all. The mirror world could be lost to you now and honestly, you think you’re kind of glad about it.

Though when you turn to face Seokmin with every intention of throwing yourself at your handsome boyfriend, your head starts to spin and your sight goes fuzzy at the edges.

Something must be happening to you outwardly too, because even through the rapidly growing blur, you can clearly make out the panic on Seokmin’s face. You don’t hear him call your name as he darts over to catch you before you hit the floor, but you see his mouth moving to make the syllables.

For a second you fear that the last time he says your name to you will be lost to the buzzing in your ears, but then everything goes black and you’re unable to feel anything anymore.

“Hey,” you know the voice even if it takes you a moment to place it.

“You,” you grumble, turning your head a little.

You hear a gasp and someone yelling in the room, but you can’t make sense of it; your hearing is muffled like you’re underwater.

“So, you’re finally back, huh?” He muses. Even as just a voice projected into your head, you can practically see his amused grin. “About time, I was getting bored.”

You barely make a noise in response and focus on trying to lift your heavy arms in an attempt to rub at your ears and try to displace whatever is blocking your hearing, but you can’t lift your limbs even an inch before having to drop them again.

“I’d take it easy if I were you, kiddo, your magic is unstable so that sweet little witch nurse has put a suppressant on you. Of course, you could easily break it, but then you’d likely lose control and hurt your new boyfriend. I’ll be by to meet him when the time is right, by the way. Gotta play my role right, huh?” He sniggers. “Just relax and let the nurse witch bring you back piece by piece; you’ve been without magic for decades now, you can handle a few more weeks of being weaned back into it. Oh, gotta go, a certain someone’s fluttering for attention. Look after yourself, kiddo, I’ll be around soon enough.”

You feel the presence in your mind leave and your hearing starts to filter back in.

“Sunshine? Are you awake?” Even dulled around the edges, the sound of Seokmin’s gentle, caring voice has your heart thrumming happily in your chest and your lips tilting up slightly in the start of a smile. “Ah, there she is,” he whispers as your eyes flutter open and land on him where he’s leaning over the bed from your right, one hand on the beside table to support him and the other holding your hand on your ribs. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Seokmin smiles brighter and sniffles as he sits on the bed at your side and wipes his cheeks yet the tears keep rolling down. “I was so scared I had lost you.”

“Told you, I’m never letting you go,” you remind and squeeze his hand in yours.

He laughs softly and leans over to nuzzle into your cheek before just staying there and breathing you in. You can feel his tears of relief rolling down onto your ear, and it’s a little ticklish, but you don’t try to move him and instead bring your free hand up to run through his messy hair.

“Hey,” Wonwoo’s voice makes you remove your focus from Seokmin and look over to where Wonwoo is standing at the foot of the bed with who must be the nurse witch. At the very least, he’s the only other person here and you can feel the magic in him. But he’s certainly not little like the voice in your head had said.

This guy is taller than Wonwoo and although it’s not by much, the pure breadth of the guy makes him look twice the size of Wonwoo, even if the stranger is slouched a little, making himself look smaller as he smiles politely at you.

“This is Mingyu, we met on a chat site,” Wonwoo introduces.

Before you can question what that is, Seokmin speaks up softly, “Internet thing.”

“He’s a nurse so I called him to come make sure you don’t die on us.”

“Nurse, huh?” You question, raising an eyebrow at Mingyu who grins sheepishly at you. When you raise a questioning eyebrow and purposely push against the containment spell he has on your magic in a way that he’ll sense it and understand what exactly you’re asking, he shakes his head a little, telling you that no Wonwoo does not know that he’s a witch.

It's not your place to out anyone so you just hum and nod in thanks. “Appreciate you coming you help out a stranger, Mingyu, thank you.”

“Of course,” Mingyu replies with a genuine smile. “I’m always happy to help where I can. How are you feeling?”

“Heavy.” Seokmin immediately leans off of you, thinking he’s causing it but you pull him back and hold him until he gets comfortable tucked up against your side with his head on your shoulder and face tucked into your neck, one arm and leg slung around you.

“That should pass, you just need a lot of rest and to take things easy for a while.”

“Mm, okay,” you agree easily.

“I need to get going for my shift now but I’ll be back tomorrow, okay? Wonwoo has my number if you need me before then for any reason.” You just nod in understanding so Mingyu turns and leaves with Wonwoo right behind him to walk him out.

“Are you really feeling okay, other than the heavy thing?” Seokmin asks softly a few seconds later.

“Yeah. It’s just my magic returning and my body readjusting to real life.” Something suddenly occurs to you making you inhale sharply and curse, “fuck.”

“What? What is it?” Seokmin leans up onto his elbow to look down at you worriedly.

“Just realised I’m going to have to actually eat, drink and use the toilet again now,” you mutter displeased. Seokmin’s expression turns relieved, understanding that you’re not in pain like he had feared, before he chuckles and settles back down against you. “It’s all so inconvenient.”

“Yeah, I got used to not having to do any of that and Wonwoo keeps reminding me to stay hydrated especially.”

“Bet he loves that,” you joke.

“He says it’s like he’s my dad, except I’m older than him and he’s seen me eating out my girlfriend, so we have a messed-up family.”

“We do,” you agree, making him laugh. “So, I guess that means you know how long since you got stuck with me there?”

“Four years. I should be thirty-one right now, but I’m not.”

“Ah, you can integrate back into your previous life with little issue; the lack of aging for four years isn’t a big deal.”

“Mm, Wonwoo tried getting me to call my family but I’ve been too worried that you wouldn’t wake up. But now you’re awake, I’ll call them and tell them that…I don’t know, I don’t really have a reason for being missing for four years. I don’t want them to think I got kidnapped or something.”

“The alternate is that you willingly left, Seokie.”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he sighs heavily and turns his face into your neck.

He surely can’t breathe with how closely he’s tucked in but you leave him to it. A handful of seconds later, he turns his head back around and takes a few big breaths to refill his lungs properly.

“Maybe I can just claim amnesia for the past few years. I went for a walk, fell over and hit my head, and woke up in some stranger’s house unable to remember anything. And that stranger turned out to be the love of my life and now four years later, my memories have returned and I want to introduce her to my family ahead of our wedding.”

“I wasn’t aware you’re getting married, Mr Lee.”

“Mm, told you; I would’ve already bought you an engagement ring by now in the real world and you know, if I’ve not been in some magical alternate world for the past four years, that means I would’ve proposed to my girlfriend ages ago and we’d be planning our wedding.”

“Assuming she’d accept the proposal.”

Seokmin darts up to lean over you with a pout. “You would reject me?”

“Guess you’ll have to get a ring and find out, huh?”

“I will,” he promises, looking so earnestly determined and so, so, so precious that you can’t help but giggle adoringly before tugging him down to kiss. “I love you, Sunshine.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

“Will you meet my parents though?”

“In a few weeks once I’m all better,” you agree easily, making him smile.

“Okay, I’ll hold off making the call until then because I know they’ll want to meet right away. And it’ll give us time to get our stories straight and time to buy a ring…shit…I’m broke.”

“Guess you need to get a job then,” you peer around the room, then start to shuffle. “Help me sit.”

Once you’re upright, you look around the room again to realise that you’re in the spare room, the room you and Seokmin shared in the mirror world.

Wonwoo enters with a tray holding a big bowl of something steaming and a couple bottles of water. “You look as if you’re looking for something,” he comments as he hands the tray to Seokmin, then climbs up to your free side and gets comfortable himself.

“Have you had the floors redone since living here?” You wonder, looking at Wonwoo who shakes his head so you look at Seokmin. “Did you?”

“No, why?” Seokmin asks as he mixes the spoon around the bowl. You quickly glance at the contents and realise it’s some kind of thin soup, then look away to the corner by the door. “Pull up the carpet there and the third board in.”

“What? Why?” Wonwoo looks at you like you’re crazy. “Do your witchy powers know something?”

“No,” you scoff. “My memory knows something.”

“Wait, you’ve been in this house before?” He gawps.

“It was hers before it was mine,” Seokmin informs.

“Wait, are you the woman who went missing here in the 60s?” Wonwoo looks at you and Seokmin chokes on absolutely nothing. You just nod. “Dude, you’re dating someone older than your parents.” Wonwoo grins at Seokmin.

“S-seriously?” Seokmin looks at you with wide eyes.

“I don’t know how old your parents are but I assume so, I was born in 1938,” you admit with a little wince knowing exactly how it sounds, even if you look 26 still, you’re a hell of a lot older. You don’t really want to know what the year is but you don’t have much of a choice.

“Well, you’re the hottest 90-year-old I’ve ever seen,” Wonwoo jokes, before cracking up laughing at the look you give him, half murderous for mentioning your age and half shocked that it’s quite that old.

“My grandma is only 82,” Seokmin’s dumbfounded mutter makes Wonwoo laugh hard enough that he has to get up and leave the room. “No, wait, 86 now I guess.”

“Please stop,” you plead as you look back at Seokmin. “I am this close to having a mental breakdown, I didn’t realise it’s been that long for me.”

“Oh, right, yeah, I suppose it has, huh?” He frowns at you a little. “It’s a whole new world for you, I can understand now why you didn’t care if you returned or not.”

“Yeah,” you tentatively touch your fingers to his where they’re curled around the edge of the tray on his lap to keep it still. “I…I understand if you want to call your parents now and go back to them and…forget the past four years for real.”

“What?” He quickly puts the tray on the side table so that he is free to face you fully and take your face into his hands, making you look up at him instead of staring forlornly at the gap that no longer exists between you. “Sunshine, I’m not going anywhere. I told you that, remember? You said you’re never letting me go and I said I won’t want to go anyway. I mean that.”

“Still? Even knowing that I could’ve babysat your grandma?” You ask, unintentionally pouting at him a little with round eyes of worry.

“I won’t lie, that would be weird, but also kind of funny,” he giggles, then leans forward to kiss you softly. “I love you, Sunshine, and I’m going to marry you and maybe…we can have a family of our own. You can teach them how to do cool spells and I’ll teach them that age doesn’t mean a thing when your wife is as hot as mine is.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot,” you huff, yet break into a smile and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss.

You’re disturbed a few minutes later by a noise in the corner and look over to find Wonwoo ripping up the carpet, a toolbox at his side.

“The third board?” Wonwoo asks loudly a moment later when he’s got the carpet back far enough.

“If I remember correctly.”

“Never know at your age,” he retorts, then laughs when a decorative pillow hits the back of his head.

You hadn’t thrown it, you’re far too weak for that right now, but you had given it to Seokmin and pointed at Wonwoo so your beautiful, loyal boyfriend had lobbed it over at the technically youngest member of your trio, even if he’s thirty-two.

You tug Seokmin in for a grateful kiss, then let him go. He immediately picks the tray up yet places it back down seconds later when Wonwoo gasps loudly, the floorboard in his hands. “What? What is it?” Seokmin asks, rushing over to peer into the hidden compartment. “Holy shit, is that a spell book?!”

“You notice that and not the box of fucking gold jewellery?” Wonwoo gawps at Seokmin in disbelief, then reaches in to pull the open lidded, almost overflowing box out tentatively.

As soon as Wonwoo’s out of the way and approaching the bed to sit on, and rummage through the jewellery at your side, Seokmin dives back into the hole to grab the book and other items with intrigue.

“These aren’t real pearls…right?” Wonwoo asks once he’s opened the only jewellery box in the container and taken note of the pearl necklace within.

“Of course they are,” you scoff. “Why would I have fake pearls?”

“Because having real pearls is insane! They’re worth so much!”

“Are diamonds still worth something?” You ask, plucking up a bracelet from the box.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Then I guess we’ll be able to afford to get out of your hair soon enough.”

“As in move out?” Wonwoo pouts at you a little. “But…I’ve gotten used to not being alone and there’s plenty of space for the three of us. Well, more than just plenty; you know how big this house is, there are more bedrooms left unused, you can have a magic workroom or whatever.”

“You really want us to stay?” Wonwoo nods, looking a little shy to admit it.

“Okay,” you agree, and reach over to squeeze his knee a little with a teasing grin. “We’ll stay and you can be uncle Wonwoo and babysit for us one day.”

“You know what? I like kids so I’m okay with that,” he shrugs and focuses back on the jewellery so you plop the bracelet back into the box almost carelessly. You’ll have to remember to remove the protective, anti-damage spells on anything you sell beforehand, selling anything with magic attached is never a good idea.

“Is this your magic wand?” Seokmin gasps, suddenly clambering onto the bed and holding his hand towards you. You look at the item in his hand and laugh before nodding a little. “Wow, that’s so cool!”

“You can have it now; I haven’t needed that for a long time.”

“A long time,” Wonwoo comments, and sniggers when you backhand his leg.

“Wow, really? You’re good enough to not need a wand?”

“Mm, some basic spells are easy for anyone to do wandless, but more advanced stuff requires it until you have a certain handle on it all.”

“I bet you would’ve defeated Voldemort easily.”

“I have no idea who that is,” you remind, and both men light up before sharing a grin.

“Potter marathon?” Seokmin asks.

“Hell yeah. I’ll go buy popcorn,” Wonwoo agrees enthusiastically.

“Popcorn?” You ask, eyes widening with interest. “The sweet kind?”

“Ooh, there’s so much you’ve never tried!” Seokmin gasps excitedly bouncing on the bed at your side while Wonwoo gets up and leaves the room. “So many treats and foods and drinks and movies and shows and-”

“Seokie,” you interrupt, putting your hand over his mouth. “Calm down, there’s no rush. We have the rest of our lives to do everything.”

Seokmin gently pulls your hand down onto his lap and laces your fingers together. “Yeah, we do. A long happy life side by side, right?”

“Forever and always, sweetheart.”

Don’t forget to reblog if you liked to help spread the story and let others read it too! And don't be shy to leave comments or send an ask so I can see your thoughts 🥺 💖

Permanent taglist: @okiedokrie @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @tusswrites

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heat---lightning · 22 days ago

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Orc Story pt 2

You awake on the back of the horse, you don't know how long it's been but the sun has already risen. You hear the sound of work, of some form of society. You can't see where it's coming from but it's volume grows louder and louder. Soon enough you come upon it, the Orcs have already begun building their new stronghold. Far away from maintained roads, a swath of land had been clear cut in the woods by the base of a mountain. The beginnings of a mine have already started, it's little more than a walled in camp at this point, you notice there's few women left and far fewer children, they must have been caught off guard at their last stronghold. It's no wonder why they were angry at any human.

You don't have time to think about this any further because you captor has stopped and dismounted his draft horse. He quickly begins barking orders in an unfamiliar Orcish dialect you can't fully comprehend, but two things a clear; he's influential and these Orcs are not entirely local.

Your captor begins untying you. "Do not feign sleep! I know you are awake. Come, see if you can stand!"

He plops you down, you legs almost give way but you don't fall, you're still exposed to the whole camp, you hear a few chuckles in the distance but.

"Good! You shall follow me now!" He sounded almost jubilant. "Walk! No need for chains or ropes, if you leave these grounds I have no obligation to protect you. The wild life or one of my hungry kin will surely eat you!" His laugh did nothing to reassure you because you knew the grim reality was exactly as he described.

You walk the entire length of camp with him, nearly nude you almost welcome the warmth and privacy of his half built lodging if you weren't so scared of what was going to happen next.

Once inside he dismisses a few working Orcs. They drop everything at once and leave without a word. The furnishings were more lavish than expected, a mix of Orc-crafted furniture and pieces obviously pilfered from humans, each different styles, proving you were right about them being from elsewhere. You worry this clan doesn't know of the delicate peace between the humans have forged with the Orcs of this land.

He ventures deeper into his lodging, you're still standing in what you assume is the equivalent of a foyer. "Human! Where are you! Come!"

Your fear sinks your stomach, but something drives you to put one foot in front of the other towards the sound of his voice, the surprisingly large dwelling well thought out and you easily find your way to him.

Standing at the threshold of what looked like a bedroom you see he has already begun disrobing. You begin shaking and drop to your knees.

Almost perplexed by your actions he begins walking towards you, lit by candles you see the muscular legs keeping this burley Orc upright, corse hair on his meaty thighs, you're afraid to look any higher than that.

#teratophillia #monster fuqqer #terat0philliac #terato #tw teratophilia #orc x reader #orc smut #musk k!nk #musk kink #scent k1nk #sweat k1nk #sweat kink #scent kink #monster #monster fic orc x human #smut fic #er0tica #kidnap fantasy

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hometoursandotherstuff · 5 months ago

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1889 Gothic Victorian in Milwaukee, WI looks like a little castle. It has 3bds, 2.5ba, & is $494K.

First thing I notice about the entrance hall is that it's bright. Usually, a Victorian main hall is dark. The railings are original and the wood is light, which is rare.

What a cute sitting room. It's also bright and it has 2 sets of pocket doors, plus a beautiful fireplace.

The shape of this room is also unusual. I like the ceiling fixtures, they look original.

The high ceiling in this room is magnificent. And. look at the 2nd fl. windows. Love the fireplace and the light fixture.

The decor in this house is lacking. It can be stunning. Look at this.

I'm not sure if the the architectural feature between the windows is original or added, but who cares, it's lovely. You can see that there are gothic lighting fixtures high on the wall.

The dining room is spacious and quite lovely.

The flooring is beautiful and I like the way the kitchen is open. There are more pocket doors in here. I've never seen this many.

The kitchen is wonderful. I can't get over the interesting ceilings in this house. I like the counter here and the two chandeliers above it.

This is so well done. No new built-in shelves. They have vintage pieces, beautiful lighting, and such a cozy look even though it's large.

Look at the industrial style island and how they had the ovens set into that furniture piece. I love the different lights on the coffered ceiling.

A Victorian screen door opens to a porch. I wonder if the butler conveys.

Here in the half bath there's exposed pipe, a sliding door and a sink made out of an industrial cart.

This home is so beautiful and thoughtfully done.

Look at the light. That is cool, and I love the stained glass window in the ceiling.

Isn't this a gorgeous porch?

I love this house, it's gorgeous.

Large fenced yard is part patio and garden. I like the casual garden look, too. It's not perfectly pruned.

Looks like a nice neighborhood and the house is on a .11 acre corner lot.

https://theizhimangroup.com/properties/3402-w-saint-paul-ave-milwaukee-wi-us-53208-1881254

#victorian homes #old house dreams #houses #house tours #home tour

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year ago

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The Danger Zone (Part 11) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Fem!Bradshaw!Reader | OC

Word Count: 4.0k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ ONLY

Warnings: Unplanned Pregnancy; Background Relationships; Medical Appointments; Suggestive Comments; Discussion of Mental Health (Depression, Anxiety, Post-Partum); Discussions of Goose and Carole; Use of "You," No Use of Y/N, No Set Physical Description

Summary: You and Jake move in together and attend your twenty-week appointment.

Series Master List

Master List

A week and a half later, you were moving into Jake’s apartment officially. The two of you, with some help from Phoenix and Coyote, had already moved all of the smaller items out of your apartment. Bradley and Mav also stopped by—when Jake wasn’t there—to take some of the more sentimental items to hold onto for you in their bigger homes.

So, all that was left were a few pieces of furniture. You sold some of your furniture but decided to either keep or store or give away the other pieces. And that meant that someone had to drag it down the stairs and shove it into the back of Jake’s truck or the trailer that Maverick brought.

“Don’t even think about it,” Jake stated, watching as you rearranged the chairs around the table.

“What?”

“You’re not carrying anything. It’s all heavy and we’re not risking you hurting yourself,” Jake insisted, walking over to you. “Just relax.”

“I think I can drag a chair a few inches,” you stated, shooting Jake a playful look. “But I won’t carry anything heavy. Promise.”

“Thank you,” Jake replied softly. “How’re they today?”

“I think I’m feeling flutters, but I don’t really know. I only seem to feel them when I’m trying to sleep, so I don’t know if I’m imaging them.”

Your twenty-week appointment was about a week away and both of you were a bit anxious about it. Of course, every first-time parent worried about the worst case-scenario at that appointment. That they were going to get some kind of news that would change the little fairytale that they built up in their mind.

“Only when you’re trying to sleep?”

“Yeah, I think so. Why?”

“It’s like they’re teasing you. Or trying to stress you out more.”

“They’re stubborn, that’s all.”

“They get it from both sides,” Jake replied, brushing his fingers down your bump.

“Hopefully, they’re not too stubborn coming out,” you stated, glancing down at your bump as Jake took a step closer to you. Smiling up at him, you let out a chuckle. “What?”

“I’m just thinking about all the gas I’ll save when I don’t have to drive over here anymore," he explained, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“The gas, of course,” you hummed.

You let out a louder giggle as Jake leaned in and pressed a kiss to your cheek and then down your neck. The two of you, since your kiss in the kitchen, had gotten a lot more comfortable and handsy with each other over the next few days. You hadn’t taken it all the way yet, both of you were still cautious about pushing too hard too fast, but you seemed to be moving in that direction. It was starting to remind you of how the two of you were before you found out that you were pregnant.

Jake pressed a lingering kiss to your lips as his strong arms pulled you closer. And as you tangled your hand in his hair, returning the kiss, you heard the door to your apartment open. You turned your head and reflexively pushed Jake off of you when you saw Maverick standing there.

“Hey, Mav,” you greeted awkwardly, running a hand through your hair. “Thanks for coming.”

“Of course. Though you looked as if you weren’t expecting company,” Maverick quipped, working on his key ring.

“I can explain,” Jake stated, causing Maverick to shake his head.

“You already got her pregnant, Jake. There’s not much left to explain beyond that.”

“Mav,” you sighed, feeling like a teenager again.

“Trailer’s parked out front. I didn’t know how you wanted to divide things up. Penny said that she would bring lunch over to your new apartment. And Bradley told me that he was leaving a couple minutes ago.”

“Great,” Jake replied dryly.

“There's not too much left at least,” you stated, trying to perk Jake up. “But I have to give the key back to my landlord, Mav.”

Maverick pulled your spare key off of his chain and handed it over to you before turning to Jake. The two of them started to carry stuff downstairs to the trailer or Jake’s truck while you started to sweep up and do your final round of cleaning so that your landlord didn’t charge you extra.

Jake and Maverick were out by the trailer, sliding your dresser into the back when Rooster walked over with his keys in hand. Leaning on the trailer wall, Rooster and Jake shared a glare before Bradley turned to Maverick.

“Emma’s going to meet us there with Penny. I’ll text her when we’re finished up here.”

“We’ve still got a few trips left before that,” Maverick reported, walking over to Bradley. “We’re going to do the couch next.”

Bradley nodded and turned to head inside with Mav, leaving Jake to walk by himself. Jake wasn’t too perturbed. He was expecting the treatment from Bradley and the fact that Maverick hadn’t pushed him down the stairs after seeing the two of you together felt like a small victory.

You were wiping down the counters when they returned to your apartment. You moved to greet your brother before the three of them walked over to your couch. You stood a bit nervously by the door, holding it open for them.

“Please don’t hurt yourselves,” you told them as they started to carry it out.

“We’ll be fine,” Jake assured you as he passed by.

You watched them go before shutting the door. Moving over to the window, you sat down and watched for them. It was only three floors, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to focus until the three of them emerged together. You weren’t so worried that the couch would be too heavy or anything like that. You were more concerned that they would use it to hurt each other.

Jake and Bradley carried the ends of the couch while Maverick stood in the middle. Bradley stood on the lower set of stairs, simply because Jake wasn’t stupid and refused to step down first. Otherwise, he wasn’t confident that he would make it down to the bottom of the stairs. Not without a crack in the back of his head. Again, he wasn’t stupid.

“Lift it up more,” Bradley grunted as they tried to turn one of the last corners.

“I am,” Jake huffed back at him.

“I wouldn’t have asked if you just did it,” Bradley snapped at Jake.

“Just lift, both of you,” Maverick stated firmly, shooting them both a look.

They managed to walk around the corner with the couch and down the last set of stairs before setting the couch down on the floor to catch their breath and relieve their muscles. Bradley leaned on the couch, glaring over at Jake as Jake stretched his arms casually. Maverick was silent, but he was clearly watching them.

“So, why are we moving my sister into your tiny apartment again, Hangman?”

“Her lease is up and we’re having a baby together,” Hangman stated, like Rooster was as dumb as a brick.

“And you couldn’t even get an apartment with enough room for a crib in it?”

“Bradley,” Maverick stated, shooting him a look.

“There’s enough room for a crib,” Jake snapped back at Bradley. “We already mapped it out. We wrote down the exact dimensions that we need. And even if we didn’t, it’s none of your fucking business, Rooster.”

“Jake,” Maverick sighed, turning to the annoyed aviator.

“It is my business when it involves my sister and my niece or nephew.” Bradley straightened up, staring Jake down. “She told me that you were looking at houses, but yet she said that she hasn’t been to any house showings. Why is that?”

“None of your fucking business, Rooster.”

“It’s not? Because it sounds like you’re selling a fantasy to my sister that you’re never actually going to deliver.”

“That’s enough,” Maverick replied to both of them.

“You would want your sister to just move into the first house that we found and could close on?” Jake stated, staring Bradley down. “We’re looking. But there’s other things that are more pressing that we have to deal with. But again, it’s none of your fucking business.”

“And does she know that? Have you told her that?”

“Alright, pick up your ends, let’s get it put into the trailer,” Maverick snapped, effectively ending the argument.

You watched from above as Jake, Bradley, and Maverick walked out to the trailer with the couch. Letting out a breath of relief, you got up and turned to clean once again. There was just the tables, chairs, and another small dresser left, which Jake, Bradley, and Maverick carried down in three more trips.

When it was all cleaned up, you took a moment to walk through the empty rooms, reminiscing about the memories that the place brought you. It was a sanctuary for you for a time. An escape, really. But it was an apartment for a version of you that was quickly disappearing and in a few short months would be gone completely.

You had grown out of it. And it was time to move on.

“You alright?” Jake asked softly, standing at the threshold of the apartment.

“Yeah,” you replied, turning to him with a small smile. “I’m okay.”

Picking up the keys, you walked over to Jake, pressed a kiss to his lips, and headed out. And into the new phase of your life.

~~~~~

You and Jake arrived at your shared apartment first, since Maverick and Bradley were dropping off some stuff at their respective houses first. Penny was waiting for you in the parking lot and Jake assured you that he would be fine carrying everything himself.

“So, how’d moving out go?” Penny asked you as you walked up the stairs. Your now shared apartment was on the third floor, so it was one less set of stairs than your previous apartment. “Pete gave me a brief overview.”

“He probably knows better than me. He was the one who was dealing with them,” you sighed, pulling out your new set of keys. “I just want them to be able to coexist. They don’t have to like each other. Hell, they don’t even need to speak to each other. I just need them to be able to sit in the same room and not try to kill each other.”

“They’re both stubborn and set in their ways,” Penny replied, shaking her head. “Have you talked to Emma about Bradley?”

“Yeah, but there’s only so much she can do. Ever since Mom died, he’s always felt the need to be so protective over me. And I appreciated it sometimes but now I don’t need it now. I just want him to be happy for me. For us, me and Jake.”

“He will. Maybe he just needs to see Jake supporting you—not that he isn’t already—for that to start to happen.”

“He better get over it by the time I have this baby or I swear,” you muttered, moving to unlock your front door. You turned to Penny with less annoyance in your features. “You know, I really want to make Bradley and Emma the baby’s godparents. And the baby’s guardians if something were to happen to the both of us and—”

“—Don’t talk like that,” Penny interrupted you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Penny,” you sighed as the door shut behind her, “I’m not living in some delusion where I don’t think that bad things can happen. And I want it all written down and signed and everything before I give birth or just in case Jake gets dragged away.” Placing a hand on your bump, you looked down. “I want to be prepared.”

“Hey, today is a happy occasion. You can focus on that stuff at another time. Right now, just enjoy the fact that everyone is healthy and that you’re moving forward in your relationship with Jake, okay?” You nodded slowly and Penny pulled you in for a tight motherly hug. “And that’s why I got you a gift.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything, Penny.”

“I know, but I saw it and just thought of you,” Penny replied, pulling away and reaching into the bag that she brought.

“And you definitely didn’t need to wrap it,” you mused, taking the box from her hand.

Gently tearing at the wrapping paper, you glanced up when the door opened and Jake walked in, carrying your nightstand and dragging a suitcase behind him. You shot him a smile as he glanced curiously down at the gift in your hands.

“What’s that?”

“Just a small gift,” Penny insisted, smiling kindly.

You tore away the rest of the wrapping paper and pulled out a rectangular plaque. You were a bit confused when you noted the three raised squares, but when you read the painted letters above them, it all clicked.

The message of ‘Daddy’ + ‘Mommy’ = ‘Baby’ was so simple, yet so emotionally overwhelming.

“You’re supposed to put your handprints here,” Penny explained, pointing at the squares. “Jake can put his handprint here and then you can put yours there and then when your baby comes, you can put their handprint there. They recommended red and white for your hands if it’s a girl, so that her handprint is pink. Or white and a darker blue if it’s a boy, so that his handprint would be a baby blue. And you can paint the baby’s name below the square too, right there.”

“I love it,” you croaked out, emotions quickly bursting to the surface. “Thank you, Penny. I love it, I love it so much.”

You pulled Penny back in for a tight hug, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. Jake looked on, concerned, but Penny gave him a reassuring smile and mouthed that it was alright. And when Jake continued to look concerned, Penny whispered ‘hormones’ to him. Jake nodded slowly and gently took the plaque from your hands.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying,” you breathed out, wiping them away hastily. “It just hit me all of a sudden.”

“It’s been a long day. You’re making big steps. It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“Yeah,” you breathed out, trying to get a reign on your emotions again. Turning back to Jake, who was still staring at you with a measure of concern. “Where do you think we should put it up, once it’s complete?”

“Somewhere everyone can see it,” Jake suggested, causing you to smile and nod in agreement.

~~~~~

Since most of your stuff was already at Jake’s apartment, it didn’t take too much longer to fully make it your shared space. And you already made space in the living room for baby stuff. It was still early, you knew, but the alternative was researching about what horrible things you could find out at your twenty-week appointment, so you kept on decorating.

But today was the day, so you supposed that you couldn’t push it off anymore.

Waiting a bit anxiously in your car, you let out a breath when you spotted Jake’s truck pull into the lot. You grabbed your purse and slipped out of your car, walking over to where Jake parked. He got out of his truck, dressed in his day uniform, and quickly moved to your side. Pulling you in for a gentle hug, he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Are you alright?” he asked you, causing you to nod against his chest. “Everything’s going to be fine. Whatever we find out, it’s going to be fine, okay?”

Jake locked up his truck before the two of you headed inside the office. You checked in and sat down, filling out some paperwork while Jake rested his arm behind your back. And when your name was called, the two of you silently walked back to the exam room. Laying back on the exam table, you stared at the ceiling as Jake rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb.

A knock at the door made you sit up and move to the edge of the examination table. Your obstetrician walked inside the room with a kind smile. It started off as any regular doctor’s appointment would. You went over your symptoms, your pains, your bloodwork, and everything else before moving onto the ultrasound.

You immediately reached for Jake as the wand touched your belly and he gave your hand a reassuring squeeze. She moved it around, typing away at her computer, taking a few images and measurements, before turning to you with a reassuring smile.

“Your baby’s growing normally and as they should. Everything is measuring normal. They’re a little smaller than average, but nothing to be concerned about. They’re still a perfectly healthy and normal size.” She typed something else before turning back to you and Jake. “Do you still want to wait to know the baby’s sex?”

“Yes, please,” you answered quickly.

“Alright, well, I’m just going to turn the screen briefly,” your obstetrician replied, hiding the information from you and Jake.

“You can tell?” you asked quietly.

“Yes, but all the files are marked to keep that information completely private. Unless you change your mind, of course.”

You nodded and shared a look with Jake, who pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. Your obstetrician typed away again before moving the screen back to your view. And as she continued to tell you that everything was normal and healthy, you sunk in and started to relax and enjoy the moment.

“Your baby seems to be a bit stubborn,” your obstetrician noted, trying to move the wand around your belly again to take some more measurements. “They start to cooperate and then seem to decide not to about three seconds later.”

“That’s not shocking,” you mused, watching the movement of your child on the screen. “Stubbornness is probably genetic for them.”

After a few more pictures, your belly was wiped off and you sat up once again. Your obstetrician smiled kindly as she sat down on her stool in front of you. Jake sat beside you, more relaxed than when he walked in, but still alert, as your obstetrician turned to you.

“Alright, there’s just a few more screening questions and then we’re all set.”

“Of course,” you agreed, nodding slowly.

“Mr. Seresin,” your obstetrician stated, causing Jake to turn to her. “Did you want to go and grab the ultrasound photos? A tech can bring you back there. And you can ask them any questions of your own about the process.”

Jake hesitated for a moment but agreed and got up from his seat. You squeezed his hand in goodbye before he exited the room with one of the techs. Your obstetrician waited until he was gone before turning to you.

“At the twenty week appointment, we usually perform a screening of your mental health.” After you nodded, she began. “Have you ever had a history of mental illness? Anxiety? Depression? Eating disorders? Anything like that?”

“Yes,” you answered softly. “Depression and anxiety.”

“When?” she asked, poised to type down the information.

“My mother passed away when I was twelve. And after that, I was diagnosed with depression and put in talk therapy for a time. But I stopped that when I was eighteen. And they put me on anti-anxiety medication when I was sixteen.”

“Are you still on that medication?”

“No, I stopped it about a year afterwards. I was just going through a lot at the time and talk therapy wasn’t working completely. It was just to get me through that time and then I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Have you had any flare ups since then?”

“A few times,” you answered honestly.

“You didn’t go back to talk therapy or medication or anything?”

“No, I just . . . waited for it to get better, I suppose. Probably wasn't the best decision, but I survived.”

“Can I ask why you didn’t return to therapy or medication?”

“Honestly, the only reason I went to therapy or went on medication when I was a teenager was because I had people in my family push me in that direction. But when I was an adult, I just . . . I wanted to just handle it quietly.”

“Well, please document if you feel any depression or anxiety during your pregnancy and your postpartum period. It’s an overwhelming time for anyone and there’s no shame in asking for help of any kind.” Your obstetrician paused before asking softly, “Do you trust your partner to help you if you feel depressed or anxious?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly, nodding along.

“And are you two living together?”

“Yes, we are.”

“And you feel safe in that living situation? Do you feel safe and confident about bringing your baby into that environment?”

“Yes, completely.”

“Alright, well, please just document if you feel anxious or depressed.” She stood up and grabbed a pamphlet and handed it to you. “You can always call our office or there’s a helpline that you can call at any time. And there’s no shame in any of it.”

“Thank you,” you replied, thumbing through the pamphlet.

~~~~~

That night, you and Jake laid in bed, looking at the photos from your ultrasound together. You were curled up on his chest, resting most of your weight on him as Jake wrapped his arm around your waist, cupping your continuously growing bump with his hand.

“Were you a small baby?” you asked Jake softly, staring at the ultrasound picture of your baby.

“What?” he questioned, turning to you with some confusion.

“Were you a small baby when you were born?” you repeated for him. “She said that the baby was smaller than average.”

“I never asked,” Jake replied, a bit elusively.

“I was normal weight, according to my mom,” you stated, still staring at the photo. “Bradley was a large baby with a big fat head, but I was normal weight and size. Mav said that after I was born, my mom told my dad that she wished that I was born first. It would have been an easier delivery, she told him.”

“You think that they’ll stay smaller?”

“I hope so,” you mused with a smile. “I’d prefer a six pound baby to a ten pound baby, thank you very much.” You turned to Jake with a soft look in your eye, resting your head on his shoulder. “Your mom never complained to you about how big your head was or how you were overactive in her belly or anything like that?”

“No,” Jake replied shortly.

Your smile slipped a bit and you turned back to the ultrasound photo. Jake rubbed his hand slowly up and down your bump, soothing you in one way but making another part of you wander from his side.

“Can I take this one?” Jake asked, causing you to turn back to him.

“What?”

“Can I take this one with me?” Jake asked you again, pointing at one photo from the roll. “I was thinking about putting a photo from the ultrasound in my cockpit. If that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, nodding to him and offering him a smile. “I think that’s sweet.”

Jake nodded in return and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The two of you turned in for the night shortly afterwards. Rolling onto your side, you rested your head on your hand, staring out at the window. Jake gave your bump one last loving squeeze before moving away to fall asleep. And although you were exhausted and needed sleep, your mind kept you awake.

Staring at the window again, you paused when you felt that little flutter again. You smiled to yourself and glanced down at your bump.

“Right as I’m trying to go to sleep? Again?” you teased quietly.

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gtgbabie0 · 1 year ago

Text

Missing Lego bricks

{You come home to Spencer losing his mind over Lego pieces}

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Spencer, for the most part, is a level-headed person that’s what he likes to think at least. But right now at this moment, he thinks he might just go insane. He’s looked everywhere, in every nook and cranny of his living room and he’s starting to regret all of the books he leaves haphazardly around.

You had got him the typewriter Lego set for his birthday, and he was completely over the moon. In fact, he had even cried a little at the heartfelt gift, it was the first time in a while where his birthday didn’t feel like such a dreadful experience.

He remembers it so very fondly. How your eyes glistened with excitement as you watch him unwrap the present, the way your eyes crinkled with joy. He had rambled off about the history of typewriters to you a couple of times and in all honesty, it warmed his heart to know that you actually listen to him.

“Baby? I’m home” you call out hanging your coat on the hanger as walk further into his apartment. He would have greeted you and helped you with your coat and bags whilst sneaking in a shy kiss or two, but he was completely and utterly hung up on this lost Lego piece, he’s starting to think it might’ve just simply disappeared.

You smile, standing in the archway, he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before threading his fingers through his hair, his eyes scanning over the floor.

“You lost something?” You ask, and he perks up with surprise as if he didn’t even hear you come in.

He's quick to grab the instruction manual off the floor before jogging over to you, tripping over the stack of books that sit beside the coffee table. “This one- I’ve looked everywhere baby and I can’t find it, it’s just gone,” he tells you, pointing to the rouge piece of Lego.

You look over to the half-built typewriter noticing the way he had separated the different parts into small piles.

“Well it’s gotta be around here somewhere,” you tell him and he sighs, looking at you with disbelief.

Spencer is adamant as he shakes his head, “It’s not- it’s just poof, gone” he explains, his hands gesturing in every which way as he tries to get his point across. And you can’t stop the little giggle that slips from your lips, he looks like he’s going to lose it.

“Don’t laugh- this is a serious problem” he tells you watching as you cover your mouth with your hand, trying to stifle your laughter.

“Okay, I’ll help you find it,” you tell him as he thanks you softly, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You both search for the tiny piece of plastic for a good minute or so. Moving the furniture around as you check in every corner of the room, looking behind all the books.

Then it hits you as you look over at the couch, “Have you looked under the sofa yet?” You ask. He frowns pushing the sleeves of his jumper up to his elbows as he scoffs at you.

“Looked under the sofa? Yes of course I did” he says, and you can tell from the way he fiddles with the strings of his jumper and the smirk that teeters on his lips that he’s lying.

You go and make some snarky comment something along the lines of ‘for a genius that was pretty dumb’ he could already hear it before the sentence could even leave your lips.

“Don’t even say anything” he says, a playful look flicking through his eyes as you purse your lips trying to stop the growing smile. You watch as he walks over to the sofa carefully stepping over the Legos that were neatly placed on the floor.

He picks up the edge of the sofa lifting it up slightly with a small grunt as you check underneath the couch and there it was a small grey Lego brick.

“Got it!- there you go pretty boy” You hand him the piece of plastic, watching as his eyes light up he. He thanks you as he walks back over to his place on the floor.

You join him on the wooden floor, your thigh against his knee as you watch him as he continues to build the typewriter, “Can I help you?” You ask, handing him the bricks.

He looks over at you, admiring just how pretty you are with those love-filled doe eyes of his. He presses a kiss to your temple. “Yeah of course you can sweetheart” he tells you, shuffling to make room for you.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

AN/ just wanna say that my requests are open! {I can also write for Emily Prentiss!} 💕

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mygnolia · 5 months ago

Text

get better! | 3. meet my neighbor ig???

SMAU! synopsis -› in which your neighbor and popular twitch streamer park sunghoon breaks his arm, so he switches to vlog style content that matches up with yours! now everyone’s curious why 1) you have a cute boy in your apartment, 2) sunghoon’s not on his grind anymore, and 3) when are you two going to date!?

(2.2K WORDS, cw: food, y/n collects smiskis and sony angels LOLL)

You open the door to see a fist about to rain bruises on your forehead- and Sunghoon doesn’t expect for you to answer so quickly. He immediately retracts his hand, an apology tumbling from his lips as he drops his head in embarrassment. You wave it off, inviting him into your apartment.

“Welcome to my humble abode.” You greet, turning to face him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

Sunghoon stares at the bare walls. “It’s…very new.” He comments, unsure of how to take in the plants in one corner, fluffy rug, half built coffee table, and extensive video editing equipment all ready to go near your balcony.

“What do I get for being the world’s best teacher?” You start. “Will you even let me on your stream?”

He cracks a smile. “Of course. You’ll have your own verified twitch badge and everything, too. What did you need help with, by the way?”

“I need to unpack my wall decorations. You’re tall,” You mention, walking towards another labeled brown box. “You can help me hang up my pictures.” You reach for cardboard with ‘photos’ scribbled over in marker, setting it down in front of Sunghoon. “Those two.” You point, and his eyes follow. “I marked on the wall where they all go.”

Sunghoon at least knows how to keep quiet, working with an efficiency as he refers to the pictures you’ve sent of where you want everything to go. You both move floppy potted plants near couches and decorate them with proper rugs and throw pillows. You realize how much better it is to have a second person, even if he was down an arm. Your living space changes from something plain, and as Sunghoon describes, ‘new,’ into something more personable.

“Help me build this shelf.” You say, and he frowns, looking at his right arm in a cast.

“And How am i supposed to do that?”

His words make you pause, forgetting that Sunghoon can’t just build furniture for you. “Okay. Let’s build it together. Then, I’ll set up my figurines, and I’ll help you film.”

With a nod from the streamer, you make your way towards the box, slowly taking out the pieces as Sunghoon lays them out. He eyes them carefully, making sure they’re in the right piles and opening the plastic.

“Okay, it says….I need..Where’s piece 236?”

He sighs and leans over, reading the instructions properly.

“It says 23 and 6.”

You frown, almost hitting him when you turn around to scowl. “Close enough.”

It continues that way for a while, and you finally finish building the cute shelf, leaning it against the wall and starting to put the figurines on as Sunghoon adds succulents to your kitchen.

“Let’s eat.” You half yell half suggest across the spacious room. “I’m hungry.”

“But we haven’t even filmed anything.”

You grab your keys off the kitchen counter and ignore him. “I’m craving toast.”

He laughs, following you down to the elevator. “You eat like a Victorian child.” Biting your lip, you pretend to be offended.

“And you look like one.” You weakly retort.

You make sure to bring your recording stick and smaller camera, playing with the settings before you record. “Hi guys!” Waving to the camera, you pan it over to Sunghoon, tilting it up for the camera to catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure next to you. “We’re getting lunch!” Across the parking garage, you see the somewhat busy cafe, but as one couple leaves, you usher Sunghoon to take the spot, commenting slightly to the camera.

When done ordering, the food comes in a cute yplace decorated with small animal doodles. As influencers, you’re both aware of the plaster social media life you have to live, taking out our phones and snapping photos that scream ‘date.’

Sunghoon pans the camera over, and the device catches the steam from the thick fluffy bread as he cuts a small piece, showing to the camera before trying it.

You stare at him, waiting for any change in expression.

“It’s really good, ____. Try it.” He nods, agreeing with the 5 star reviews.

“I got my egg a little crispy on the end,” You tell the recording, holding up a piece you cut before eating. Despite the simplicity, the eggs are well cooked and seasoned, and the addition of small vegetables on the side makes for a light meal. It’s not expensive, and in your opinion, it shouldn’t be- it’s literally eggs and toast. After a bit of small talk regarding the menu, you both agree to stop the recording.

Sunghoon speaks up. “I might have to leave early. The groupchat is telling me they want to play League of Legends.”

You falter, confused. “But you can’t even play.” Sunghoon’s heard the line so many times and rolls his eyes, exasperated. “I’ll just sit on stream and cheer them ob, or something.”

While you’re in no place to direct him around, you definitely have the means to judge Sunghoon a little for the things he does. “You work, right? Not just streaming?”

“Of course,” He answers casually, wiping the table and stacking the plates. “I am just another computer science major with an internship.” His tone makes you laugh, and you mirror his actions to make sure your table is clean, before returning the plates and leaving.

Despite inviting a stranger into your home for business talk, you seem to get along despite your rough start online, and he seems to not take anything too personally; a huge relief for you. When back in your apartment, you grab your better camera, making sure it’s properly adjusted to the sunlight that shines through and lights your living space.

After a glance around the room to take in how much work you two did, he speaks up. “What about the shelf, and your figurines?”

“Don’t worry about it. I want the natural lighting in the video.” You refer to how you want to avoid filming late.

Sunghoon leans back, observing not only the brand but also how easily you mess around with the features, keeping a mental note of the model.

“Smile.” You tell him, pointing the camera up to Sunghoon. He flashes a grin, and the corner of your lips turn up as the perfect amount of exposure makes for a great video cover. He raises an eyebrow, and you turn the camera around, showing him how it turned out, and he’s satisfied.

“Cute.” He mumbles.

“You love telling yourself that, huh?” You shake your head, mock disappointment on your features.

“I voice the general public.” He defends, smiling as he watches you get out your laptop and open a word document. “What’s that for?”

“Ideas.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I have plenty.”

You patiently watch as he rummages for his phone through his pocket and finding his notes app. Sunghoon’s positive he’s come prepared, practicing a sweet tone in the mirror and styling his hair just right.

He scrolls and scrolls.

It’s empty.

“Plenty?”

“In my head.” Sunghoon plays it off with a sheepish expression, suddenly embarrassed. You laugh at his sudden change in demeanor, continuing to tease him.

“Thanks for all of your help, mister ‘hooniebee.’

“I was trying to come up with video ideas last night, actually! I just fell asleep before I could write it down.”

“And you didn’t remember anything, huh?” You grin at the way he shrinks on your pink couch, quick to jot down some of the lingering thoughts from last night’s brainstorming.

“I’d say we start off with a ‘simple get to know you.’ Sunghoon’s suggestion is the same as yours, and you’re relieved to share the same train of thought.

Your excitement to teach him is infectious, and Sunghoon understands why people like you so much. Even if your stuff is still in some boxes or in the wrong places, you really do live an almost perfect life, and your beaming personality is no different.

“When it comes to vlogging, you learn what people like to hear. For my audience, they love to know about some video schedule updates as I’m doing small tasks, or simple life updates and explanations. If you’re as boring as the internet makes you out to be, then you got to start overexplaining.” He scoffs, crossing his arms the best he can with his cast.

“I’m not boring!” Sunghoon counters, running a hand through his hair and making himself presentable. “Start recording. Your audience will love me.”

You smile, clicking record without letting him know. “You sure?”

He nods. “Pickles Fan Club will become my fans. Promise.”

You turn to the camera, flashing a bright smile.

“Thinking and thinking about… Hi everyone! It’s ___ and you’re here rent free!” Your introduction is cute, and Sunghoon realizes that when you pause, it’s his turn to introduce himself, and he panics.

“Buzz Buzz.” He hurries, a wave of embarrassment crashing over him. You laugh, motioning at the camera to cut this part out through your quiet laughter.

“That’s not bad at all!” You promise, turning to him. Sunghoon gives you a blank stare, and your optimistic look fades just a bit. “You just can’t sound like you hate saying it.” You advise. “Buzz Buzz…what you do call your fans?”

He pauses, heat rushing to his face. He glances up, noticing the way you raise your eyebrow as you wait.

“Bae-bees.”

A grin spreads across your face, and you can’t help but find amusement in the situation. “Bae-bees??”

Sunghoon rubs his face with his one hand, waving you off. “They like it.” He promises weakly. “You named your fans after your cat.”

“So be it.” You conclude, turning to the still recording camera. “Say it.”

He shakes his head, letting out a quiet groan of disapproval before sucking in a breath, flashing a bright smile at the camera, and you anxiously watch. “Buzzin’ over here is your favorite Hooniebee! Hi guys!” He offers a little wave, and looks at you for approval.

Your satisfaction is plastered all over your starry smile. “That was really good.” You praise, and Sunghoon smiles, suddenly feeling bashful.

You turn the camera back, and start talking about what you two plan to talk about in your video. You introduce the mysterious boy as your broken armed neighbor, and you two laugh about how you met, listening as he teases you and reads direct quotes of texts from his phone. You two have natural chemistry in front of the camera, and whether that’s from your personalities or your ability to perform in front of a camera, you’re not sure.

You continue to ask questions about him, almost like a podcast as you two exchange witty banter and comments. You talk about his college life, he shares some drunken interactions, and talks about how much he appreciates his fans for sticking along. You think it’s all very sweet, the way he talks about his ‘bae-bees’ with so much adoration. You chime in, agreeing with Sunghoon’s thankful comments.

“I think that’ll be enough for the getting to know you part! We should do a quick apartment tour.” You pick up the camera, adjusting any hair and making a face before panning it over to Sunghoon, who just waves. His still slightly awkward demeanor can’t be helped, but it makes him all the more swoon-worthy to everyone who sees him.

You ramble about what you’ve started to put together, reminiscing to your long time fans about certain pieces of memorabilia that you had to let go. Sunghoon follows you around and adds a bit of commentary, even if it’s only to make jokes or make fun of you for not being able to build an ikea shelf around him.

The video ends when your half finished apartment has been toured, and you cut the recording after some cheerful waves to the camera.

“How do you think?” Sunghoon looks over at you when you ask for his input, nodding.

“I think it went pretty well. Pretty natural, or at least I hope. I’m not too boring, am I?” Sunghoon rubs at his neck sheepishly, and it takes a refusal from you for him to look up.

Offering him a nod of a approval, you say, “You did great, everyone will love it.”

Finally looking over the recording, you realize you might have to raise Amber’s pay, for how much footage there is.

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mediumgayitalian · 9 months ago

Text

“Oh, gods.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Oh, gods.”

Nico scowls, wrenching just eyes away from Will’s poorly-covered grin and shaking shoulders.

It’s not that bad. It isn’t.

Sure, the complete lack of lighting except Greek fire torches makes the cabin look like a little piece of the Underworld, right here on the surface. But that’s comforting. Honestly. Nico knows the Underworld. It’s — familiar.

And, yeah. It would, probably, be pertinent to have some furniture, or something. At least somewhere for him to store his clothes, because he has more than one set of those now, and maybe a shelf, or something. And, admittedly, the obsidian altar could take up a little less space than it currently does.

But it’s not that bad.

“Are those. Coffin shaped beds.”

The tone of Will’s voice is unlike he’s ever heard it. He turns back to face him, slowly, and finds him biting his fist, hard, every muscle of his body tense as live wire.

“I was twelve godsdamn years old,” Nico snaps. “Forgive me if interior design wasn’t my passion.”

Solace loses it.

In his defense, not that Nico is too worried about defending him, he does appear to try very hard to not lose it. When the first giggle slips out of his lips, he clamps his jaw shut tighter. When his whole body begins to shake with the force of repressing his laughter, he curls inward, as if making himself smaller might reduce the chance of a lapse in control.

But then he glances back inside and looks, really looks, at the dreary, stone walls, the lone skeletons standing guard, and the plush, teakwood black coffin bunk beds, and he collapses to the floor.

“I’m going to open a chasm beneath you,” Nico threatens. “You are going to fall and crack your spine into a million pieces on the bank of the Styx, rotting there with every other forgotten hope.”

“You are a Black Parade lyric personified,” Will wheezes.

Nico doesn’t know what that means, so he kicks him. Unfortunately, he only laughs harder.

“I mean it, Solace. It’s a long way down to the Underworld. You will spend the entire fall petrified with the knowledge that nothing can save you.”

For added effect, Nico makes the floor under the medic’s body shake, makes the tip of a skeleton hand peek out from the earth.

Ironically, this stops Will’s laughter, but not for the reason Nico was aiming for.

“Hey!” A bright blue flipflop-clad foot darts out and collides With Nico’s ankle, sending him sprawling. “I said no spooky magic for the next two months! Put that skeleton away!”

“Fuck off, Solace! It’s barely half a bone! You are so annoying!”

“That’s my specialty.” Will pushes himself upright. He waits until Nico sits up, too, so he can catch his eye before his face splits into a dazzling grin. Actual sparkles seem to flicker beside his face. “And you are ever so easy to annoy.”

Nico stares, unimpressed.

“Anyways.” Will coughs. “You can’t stay here, Neeks —”

“Don’t call me that.”

“— it’s straight-up too depressing.” He peers inside. “It’s also cold, and, like…borderline unliveable? So. As your doctor, I can’t allow it.”

“You’re a medic,” Nico says, raising an eyebrow, “first of all, not a doctor. Second of all, you can’t tell me what to do. Third of all — where am I supposed to sleep? The woods?”

“Hm. Good question.”

Will gets to his feet, brushing the dirt off his shorts and offering Nico a hand. After a second of hesitation, he takes it, allowing Will to haul him up.

“C’mon!”

Nico snatches his hand away, face burning. (Gods. Why does Will have to be so…touchy-feely? And why does it always do weird things to Nico’s stomach?) But it hardly takes a look over Will’s shoulder before Nico’s feet are following after him, without his permission.

“Where are we going?”

“Well, my dad’s kind of a hoe,” Will says matter-of-factly. Nico chokes. Will’s grin widens. “And our cabin was built with that in mind. I know we’ve got an extra bunk or two for ya. Hurry up!”

This…cannot be allowed. Nico doesn’t have a ton of Camp Half-Blood experience, or anything, but as far as he knows, Hermes is the only cabin that can really do that. He doesn’t want to incur the wrath of Apollo, or whatever, by staying in his cabin uninvited.

Well. Will’s inviting him, technically. And there��s a confidence to his offer, like maybe this isn’t the first time he’s done it.

“What if I don’t want to live in your stupid sunshine-y cabin,” Nico grumbles, trying to cover up his nerves. “Holding hands and singing about how much I love being alive isn’t really my cup of tea.”

Will snorts. “Oh, di Angelo,” he says dramatically, shaking his head, “you are in for a world of discovery. Welcome to the Cabin Apollo. Take your shoes off at the door and remember that Kayla bites.”

———

Living in the Apollo cabin is strange.

Four days in, and Nico is only just starting to get used to it. He’s not entirely unused to sharing space with people — he’s had two sisters — but the Apollo kids argue like they enjoy doing it. One minute, Will and Kayla will be screaming at each other at the top of their lungs about touching each other’s shit, then they’re teaming up to pull Gracie off Yan’s face for the exact same argument, only now they offer sage advice on respecting boundaries and compromising. It’s bizarre.

(Austin is pretty chill, actually. Nico has noticed him starting quite a few fights — it was he, in fact, who moved Will’s shit and then gracefully framed Kayla — but he has a very powerful eyebrow raise and a very powerful image as Unproblematic. He has quickly become Nico’s favourite.)

He’s only just barely beginning to understand how they work together, and the struggle comes in because everything is so chaotic. When Nico spent time with Hazel in New Rome, she was in the barracks. He never really had to worry about squabbling over counter space in the bathroom with her, because she had her own little toiletry caddie like everyone else, and bathrooms were public. With Bianca — well. There’s no one alive who knows this about her, but she was bossy. She was sweet and wonderful and self-sacrificing and brave and kind and the centre of Nico’s life, but by the gods, did she take her authority as a big sister seriously. She ordered Nico around all the time. He never had to worry much about when he would have the chance to use the bathroom they shared at the Lotus, or who got the T.V. remote, or who go to sit on the bus instead of standing, because he was not the one deciding. He could stick his tongue out and whine all he wanted, but she was boss. He knew that.

The Apollo kids are not like that.

As well as Nico can figure, it’s kind of a free-for-all. You want first shower? Either wake up the earliest — a strategy only Will every manages to employ with any success — or manage to jab an elbow in someone’s rib and sprint. You want whoever’s humming to shut the hell up so you can sleep? Make sure your threats are quick and believable, or just straight up start throwing shit until they finally stop. You want the coveted middle of the bench spot at breakfast? Well, tough shit on that one, actually. Nico has yet to make that one happen for himself.

He won’t admit it, but he has kind of learned to enjoy it. It’s annoying, and the Apollo siblings do indeed sing at all hours of the day (although the content usually skews more towards diss tracks and delighted insults, if not straight-up curses), and it is so godsdamn bright in there, seriously, is it a gimmick or what, but there’s something to be said about the fact that he’s so surrounded by people and chaos that he hasn’t even had the chance to feel lonely. Not even at night, panting to himself after a nasty nightmare, because all it takes is a particularly loud snore from Will one bunk down to remember where he is. To remember that he’s safe — by demigod standards, at least.

But, still.

He kind of misses his privacy.

“Will,” he whispers urgently, on his fifteenth day of rooming with the Apollo weirdos.

The medic hums noncommittally, attention very focused on the test tube in front of him. Nico has been fighting the urge to try and launch a piece of dust inside it for forty minutes, just to make him explode.

“I need to talk to you.”

“Sounds good, Nico.”

Nico narrows his eyes. “You’re ignoring me.”

“Uh-huh. Agreed.”

“I can say anything I want right now.”

“Sure. Maybe double check with Austin.”

“…I’m going to put a colony of ants in your pillowcase.”

“Good idea.”

“Then I’m going to douse your hair products in gasoline and set them aflame.”

“Baller.”

“After that I’m gonna read your super secret diary to the entirety of camp at singalong tonight.”

“You betcha.”

“And then I’m going to shadow travel to Russia.”

Will blinks, frowning. “Hey, no shadow-travelling. What’s this I hear about shadow-travelling?”

Nico rolls his eyes. “Nothing, stupid. You were just ignoring me.”

Will smiles guiltily. “Aw, I’m sorry, Neeks. Got focused on this. I’m finished in twenty, then I’m all yours?”

“…Don’t call me Neeks,” Nico grumbles, furious with himself for how quick he’s relented under wide blue puppy-dog eyes.

“Sorry, Neeks.”

Huffing at Will’s quiet laughter, Nico slides off the nurse’s station counter and wanders around the empty infirmary. Things have luckily finally cooled down in here, nearly three weeks after the end of the Giant War. Some of the exhaustion has faded from Will’s features now that he’s had time to sleep properly.

Not that Nico has noticed, or anything.

“Okay,” Will says a few minutes later, holding his hands up protectively in front of his geeky little setup. “I just gotta do this last step, so long as I calculated it right, it should be fine…” He squeezes a drop of something into the liquid bubbling over the burner, freezing immediately. One, two, three seconds pass and nothing happens, so Will relaxes, sighing in relief and turning to face Nico fully. “Okay, we’re good. What was it you wanted to —”

The text tube contents explode in his face, dousing him in slimey green goo.

Nico bursts out laughing.

“Great,” Will says darkly, swiping the stuff from his eyes. “The one day I don’t wear goggles. Great.”

Nico gasps, sides aching. “Oh my gods —”

“Feel free to help, di Angelo.”

“— you look like a cartoon! Your face!”

It takes Will twelve cloths and seven whole minutes to clean himself and the nurse’s station off of the goo. Nico cackles at him the whole time, and tastefully does not mention the many globs of goo that remain caked in his hair.

“Whenever you’re done.”

Will is very, very bad at being stern when he doesn’t really mean it. And he doesn’t really mean it now, because every time he tries to glare at Nico, his mouth twitches.

“I’m good,” Nico finally wheezes, forcing his face back to normal. “I’m good, I’m good.”

He very pointedly does not look at Will’s hair.

“Dick,” Will huffs, fondness bleeding into his tone. “What did you want?”

He must notice the change in tone at his asking, because he clears the bench fully, hoisting himself on top of it and patting the spot next to him. Nico hesitates for half a second, then crawls up, sitting criss cross applesauce, knees touching.

“I need to move back to my cabin,” he manages, finally.

Will’s face betrays no judgement or emotion. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He picks at a loose thread in his jeans. “I need — space.”

The thread loosens, allowing Nico to tug on it. A hole begins to unravel along the seam as he pulls and pulls and pulls. He stops himself before it gets too wide, tearing the thread off and winding it around his fingers.

“I can tell everyone to tone it down,” Will offers softly, eyebrows creased. “We’ll be more quiet, we’ll —”

Nico places a hand on his knee, cutting off his sentence. “It’s not about that, I promise. You guys have been great.”

A wounded look still pulls at Will’s strong features, as much as he visibly tries to pull his face back to something more supportive. “It’s not?”

“No, no. It’s just —” He frowns, trying to articulate the tangled mess of his thoughts. “I have my own cabin.”

“So?”

“And I can’t stay in yours forever.”

“I mean, you could.”

“Chiron’s been giving me looks, Will.”

“So what! I’ll — write you a doctor’s note, or something!”

Nico snorts. “A doctor’s note letting me sleep in your cabin?”

Will nods fervently, although he seems to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his suggestion, if the grin on his face is any indication. “Yes! For medical reasons, you know.” He mimes writing. “‘Patient’s cabin is dank and sad. To avoid bouts of misery, patient must sleep in the presence of the coolest and best and prettiest and most uplifting people in camp.’”

“Hm. Not sure Chiron’s gonna buy that last part. Not sure I buy that last part, actually.”

“Hey.”

Nico dodges Will’s shove, chuckling.

“Seriously, though, Will. This was never a long term solution, right?”

“I know. You’re cabin just — sucks so bad, man. No offense.”

“I take great offense to that, actually. My cabin is art.”

“Sure, Eddie Cullen.”

“I don’t know who that is, so that’s a horrible insult.”

“Travesty, honestly.”

Outside the open infirmary windows, Nico can hear distant, triumphant screaming, laughter, and the clang of metal. Today’s a good day. The weather’s balmier than usual, for late August, and some of the gloom that’s hung over everyone’s head for the bast few weeks seems to have lifted.

“You can’t go back to your cabin like it is,” Will says into the silence, startling Nico, “but —” he grins when Nico begins to protest, holding up his hand. “We can definitely change it up.”

He slides off the bench, botching his landing and almost sprawling on the floor. He holds a dramatic hand out to Nico when he rights himself. Nico ignores it, rolling his eyes and getting to his feet by himself.

“C’mon,” Will says, grabbing his hand anyway. Sparks shoot up Nico’s arm. “We need to go ask Chiron for the van keys and approximately five hundred dollars.”

———

Three hours is too fucking long to be in a vehicle. Especially when Will is driving, because all he does is play nonstop country music and let everybody cut in front of him.

“I’m driving us back,” Nico informs him as they (finally) get out of the stupid van, snatching the keys from his hands.

Will shrugs. “Sure.”

Nico had expected more of a fight, honestly. But he supposes neither of them are legally allowed to drive, age-wise, and besides, Nico technically has seventy years of driving experience on Will.

(…The Lotus had a racetrack.

Nico was very, very good at it.)

“What is this place, anyway?”

“This place,” Will says grandly, throwing an arm over his shoulders, “is essentially the mortal version of the Labyrinth, minus, you know, the soul-sucking terror.”

“Okay. All that’s telling me is that you have horrible ideas and we should leave immediately.”

Will rolls his eyes. “It’s a furniture store.”

“Well, then —” he punches Will’s shoulder, huffing when he only laughs. “Say that, then!”

“But then what would I do with all the drama in my heart?”

“Choke on it, hopefully!”

Ikea is weird.

Since Will did not tell him what the plan was, he didn’t draw up any plans. Luckily, Will has the dimensions of his cabin — although where he got them, Nico does not ask — so they spend an hour or so in the cafe drawing out a plan.

“You need more than two beds, Neeks.”

“Uh, no I don’t. Unless my father has something very important to announce to me, I need a bed for me, and a bed for Hazel.”

“What if I want to sleep over?”

“You can sleep on the porch.”

Mostly, they wander around the sets. Nico isn’t really sure what he wants his cabin to look like — he has to remind himself that yes, actually, he cares about the space he’ll be spending at least the next three years of his life in. It’s a startling reality, to have control over his own space. He must’ve had some say in his childhood bedroom, but he has no memory of it. He spent the most time in his and Bianca’s room at the Lotus, but that was already furnished when they got there, and besides, it only felt like they were there for less than a year. It always felt like a hotel room, never his room. Westminster was no different. His room in his father’s palace had already been designed, too. In fact he’d based his cabin on it.

What does Nico want his bedroom to look like, without someone else deciding for him?

“I’m not getting a fucking Lightning McQueen bed, Solace.”

“But it would be so sick! And look — it’s got little cubbies!”

“I’m going to ditch you, and shadow travel back to camp,” Nico threatens. “And I have the van keys, so you’ll be stuck here for real.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Will looks at him sternly, hands on hips. “No shadow travelling for you, Death Breath. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fade into nothing on my watch.”

“I’m joking,” Nico says, exasperated, but cannot deny the warmth that fills him up at Will’s concern.

In the end, he decides on a pretty normal bed. It’s bigger than Will’s bunk (“Or anyone else’s bed,” Will grumbles, “you lucky asshole.”), but not ridiculously designed. He picks a similar size for Hazel, only the frame is white, not black, and the bedspread that comes with it is a soft, coral pink that he knows she will like.

“Wanna see if they’ve got a Mythomagic bedspread for yours?” Will teases.

That would be the coolest thing ever in the entire world, Nico thinks, and is so embarrassed that he shoves Will, shrieking, into a giant basket of pillows for making him think it.

“Obviously I don’t want that.”

“You are such a turd! I’ll get you, di Angelo!”

He does not. Nico is way too sneaky for him, and after the fifth time Nico manages to give him the slip, he gives up, sulking in a display for a bedroom of a nine year old girl.

“Fitting,” Nico teases, gesturing to the princess wallpaper. “You drama queen.”

“Buzz off.”

Next, they look for furniture. It’s pretty easy — Nico doesn’t need much, and he’s not too concern with cut or style or anything. He quickly picks out two dressers, one to match Hazel’s bed frame, and one to match his, and then a couple bookshelves.

Four hours into their trip, Nico is exhausted. They have a three hour drive ahead of them, they’ve been out all day, and he wants to go home.

But Will stops him before they go get all the boxes for their furniture.

“This is still pretty bare bones,” he says quietly, then grins at his own accidental pun. Nico shoots him a venomous look, warning him against making it more obvious, and for once he actually listens. “You know, we’re still under budget. We’ve got around $200 left — we can get a motel, stay the night, then we don’t have to drive back right away. And tomorrow, maybe we can check out some other stores, look for smaller decorations and stuff. And if we don’t have to drive back tonight, we’ve maybe got another hour in here, if you wanted to get a couple more pieces.”

Nico opens his mouth to refuse — that’s way too much effort to spend on one person’s cabin, c’mon — then pauses, thinking about it.

Chiron hadn’t even thought about it before handing them the money. Will had barely gotten the words out before he’d started counting out the bills.

“I want you to make a home here,” the centaur had said, touching his hand. There was a pain in his kind eyes, stopping any protests. “I made a mistake, Nico, the first time you came here. In another life, you felt welcome enough to stay the whole time. Take what you need.”

What does he need? What does home look like, to him?

“There was a beanbag chair, in our room at the Lotus,” he says, pushing the words past the lump in his throat. “Me and Bianca used to fight over it.” His voice shakes. A tear gathers at the corner of his eye, and he blinks it back. “It wasn’t real fighting. When I called mercy she’d — scoop me up and throw me on it and squish in after me, and we’d sit together and play video games. Or read. She liked to read.”

Will squeezes his trembling hands. “We can get a beanbag chair.”

“And I — don’t like the blackout curtains. The dark makes me think of — the pit.”

“Okay. They sell lotsa lamps here, too. Might be nicer than the Greek fire.”

Nico nods. There’s — more, far more ideas, now, flooding his brain; Hazel crowding over him on a rug-covered floor, shrieking as he teases her about Frank; a desk tucked in the corner where Will sits, mouthing along to his textbooks as Nico sharpens his sword; Jason running his fingers along rows of books on a big, cluttered shelf; Reyna with her fist curled around her mouth, studying a chess board across from him, hair shining under the natural light from the window.

He can have that. He can have that.

Thankfully, all their stuff fits in the back of the van. Despite his insistence earlier, Nico hands Will the keys, and he drives around until he finds a shitty motel with a vacancy sign flashing out front. He pulls into the farthest corner of the parking lot, killing the engine, then waits.

“You okay?”

Nico shrugs. “I’m…not sure.”

“That’s okay,” Will assures, pressing a fleeting touch to his shoulder. Nico grabs his wrist before he moves away, tugging down his hand and linking their fingers together.

For once, it doesn’t make him feel all sparky. The warmth of Will’s hands is grounding, and so is the gentle squeeze, the smile he feels pointed in his direction.

“C’mon. Let’s check in and sleep, huh?”

Nico’s exhaustion compounds in the walk from the car to the lobby, so by the time Will is speaking quietly to the host, he’s half asleep, leaning on Will’s shoulder. He vaguely feels it when Will shifts his weight, sliding a hand around his waist to hold him better. He blinks and they’re standing in front of a door.

“Almost there, Death Boy,” he murmurs. “Hold on a sec.”

It takes him six separate tries to make the keycard work. He gets huffy when Nico snickers tiredly at him.

“Finally, yeesh.”

He guides Nico in, dropping the backpack he brought somewhere near the door. As soon as the bed is within Nico’s sights, he makes a beeline, barely remembering to shuck his shoes and jacket.

“Please do not sleep in your jeans.”

“Mmmfuck off,” Nico groans, already sliding under the covers. He’ll regret it in the morning, but whatever.

“Goober.” Callused hands brush through his hair, resting lightly on his forehead. “Goodnight, Nico.”

Nico’s out before he can even think to respond.

———

He wakes up, in the middle of the night, scream caught in his throat and heart pounding in his ears. The air smells like smoke and fear. The rushing of the Phlegethon is so loud it’s overpowering.

A loud snore knocks him back to reality.

Crawling desperately towards the source of the sound, he hangs over the bed, eyes adjusting rapidly to the dark to see a curled lump on the floor, head resting on his own hands. A quick glance behind him confirms the other half of the bed has been left untouched.

“Stupid,” he mumbles, tiny smile chasing away the last of his fear.

He tugs the blankets off the mattress, pulls off the two pillows, and joins his dumbass, selfless friend on the floor.

———

“Question,” Will asks, swallowing the last of their disgustingly delicious greasefest of a breakfast. “Were you alive when Walmart was invented?”

“I was alive before your great grandmother was.”

“No, I mean — were you out and kickin’. Have you strolled the endless aisles of corporate soullessness, basking in the wonder of American overconsumerism?”

“…You’re such a weird, particular person.”

Will looks delighted. “You’re a Walmart newbie!”

He pulls into the dead, cracked parking lot way too happily for this hour in the morning. Nico would even say he takes the nearest exit to get to the store gleefully. He is embarrassed for him.

Walmart is…underwhelming.

As stupid as it is, Will had hyped it up so much that Nico was almost a little excited. It just looked like any other basic superstore. Will, for whatever reason, seemed delighted by that fact.

“I do not like this store,” he explained when Nico asked, expression not matching his words, “it just means so very much to me that you are joining me in the misery of having experienced it.”

They spend more time than they mean to just dicking around. At one point they nearly get thrown out by management, because Will finds a pair of NERF guns that some child dug out of its packaging and no words need to be spoken. They gear up and scamper off, hunting each other through fluorescent-lights hell.

“Please just get your shit and leave,” says the very tired looking manager, and they have the good gall to at least appear embarrassed as they mumble, “Yes, ma’am.”

It doesn’t take long when they have their head on straight. They get some fairy lights, a couple cool posters, dorky little trinkets that Nico probably doesn’t need, per se, but what was he supposed to do, leave the little plastic crow skeleton behind?

Unlikely.

With his own money, Will buys several cans of paint and a CD. He explains neither of these purchases. The look on his face gets steadily more infuriating as they make their way through the line, and Nico really, truly considers leaving him behind.

The purchase of the CD becomes very obvious very quickly. Even though Nico is driving, and therefore Nico should get music control, Will pouts and pleads until Nico gives in and lets him play his stupid country album. He justifies his decision in his own brain by noticing the radiance of Will’s smile as he belts out the words, badly, at the top of his lungs. He then spends the rest of the drive back to camp convincing himself not to be embarrassed for having said thoughts.

They get back to camp about lunch time, and Will destroys any attempt for a subtle reentry by whistling the second they cross the property line.

“Austin! Kayla!” he hollers, making Nico jump. “Come help us unload!”

“We coulda done it ourselves,” Nico grumbles.

Will pats his head condescendingly. “It has been twenty-four long, long hours since I’ve bosses my siblings around, Neeks. I need this.”

It does go by quite a bit quicker with Austin and Kayla’s help. Lou Ellen, Cecil, Yan, and Gracie come to help, too, but Gracie’s too little to carry much more than a small desk lamp. Instead, they lay down the biggest box — Nico’s bed frame — and let her climb on top of it, carrying her like she’s a queen atop a throne back to Nico’s cabin. She has the time of her life, giggling to herself like a madwoman.

By the time everything’s unloaded, a couple hours have passed, and the Hades cabin looks like a clusterfuck.

“Maybe you stay in Apollo a couple more nights,” Will suggests.

“Might have to,” Nico agrees. Will looks inordinately pleased with himself.

All in all, it takes about two days to disassemble the old furniture, get rid of it, and start putting together the new stuff. Will helps for most of it, but he has a few shifts in the infirmary, so Nico ends up trying to do a fair bit on his own.

“May the wrath of Zeus come down upon this fucking piece of shit, no good, poorly designed garbage-looking idiotic mother fuc —”

“Maybe time for a break from furniture assembling?” suggests a voice, accompanied by a quick knock in the open door. Will leans on the doorframe, grinning, box propped up on his hip.

“Will, thank the gods,” Nico sighs, relieved. He angrily shakes a tool in his direction. “Allen wrenches are fucking useless. I’m three seconds away from throwing this through the window.”

“Definitely time for a switch, then.”

Will’s smile is wide and crinkles his eyes. He’s got dimples, too, Nico is now noticing, and then very rapidly un-noticing then because gods above that is a dangerous path.

“Did you and Rachel get into another prank war?” he asks, praying the flush on his cheeks goes away.

Will glances down at his paint-spattered clothes. “Nah, this is just my painting outfit. Why ruin more than one set of clothes, you know?” He sets down the box in the middle of the room, then heads for the half-built furniture sprawled all throughout the cabin, tugging it all towards the middle. Nico inches towards the box, curious, and finds it full of dozens of paint cans and brushes, including the ones he got at Walmart.

“I didn’t know you painted.”

He flashes another grin in Nico’s direction. This one has a little mischief to it, a little teasing. His stomach swoops.

“Gotta have at least one artistic talent or my dad would disown me. Help me tape down this tarp, will you?”

It takes them twenty minutes to prep the room, protecting the floor and the furniture. Once everything is ready, Will jogs over to the CD player he gave Nico a few days ago, flicking through the stack of CDs and choosing one at random. Soft opera music begins to float around the cabin.

“Okay,” he begins, clapping his hands, “first we need a base coat. Get the white paint and the rollers.”

It takes them the rest of the day, painting until dinner, then waiting past sunset for it to dry. Nico follows Will back to his cabin that night — he wouldn’t let him sleep around the paint fumes — and the two of them return the next morning, re-donning their paint-spattered clothes. Will braids his hair, this time, tucking the little pigtails behind a kerchief. It makes Nico smile every time he looks at him.

As much as he’s in painting clothes, Nico doesn’t really do much of the painting. He stays in the centre of the room, half assembling furniture, half watching Will bring his walls to life with more colours than he’s ever seen in one place.

Will doesn’t ask what Nico wants him to paint in his murals. Instead, Nico watches as the streets of Venice begin to unfold on one of the walls, bright and blue and exactly as he remembers, even though he knows for a fact Will has never been. The shining fruit of his stepmother’s garden is next, with a notable absence of the pomegranate tree, and then the hills of New Rome, the sunflower field in rural New York Nico used to visit, the Chinese mountainscape from the first big shadow travelling jump he ever made. Even the poplar forests of the Underworld, looking much kinder and livelier in Will’s rendition than in real life, with Mrs. O’Leary and Cerberus chasing each other through the flickering leaves. Beautiful, colourful, breathtaking scenes; Nico’s favourite places, Nico’s many homes.

“I get a lot of dreams,” Will admits, dragging a smear of rich purple near the ceiling. “You’re in a lot of them. These are the places you’re smiling, the most.”

“They’re beautiful, Will.” Nico’s throat is drier than any desert he’s ever been to. “Gods, they’re more beautiful here than they are in real life.”

“Liar,” Will teases, although his smile is shy.

Nico has never seen him smile like that. He’s seen a lot more of Will in these past few days, actually; his softness, his kindness, his love.

He has only knows Will for a little over a month, he thinks. But Will loves him. That much is obvious.

“Hey.”

“Hm?”

His eyes are still trained on his work. He is on his tiptoes on a step stool, one leg extended precariously, tongue peeking out of the corner of his mouth. The curve of his brush is careful, meticulous. Only the best for his friends, for Nico. That’s Will.

“Hey,” Nico says again, more urgently. He steps forward, wrapping his fingers around his wrist.

“Just a sec, Neeks, as soon as I’m done we can —”

Nico pulls until he loses his balance, falling into Nico’s arms. He stares into wide, blue blue eyes, for one second, two, then presses their lips together. Will’s squeak of surprise is swallowed by his mouth, hands sliding up his arms to cup his face, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh,” he sighs, eyelashes ticking Nico’s cheeks as they flutter close. “Oh.”

He melts into Nico’s hold. There’s a thunk and a crinkle as his paintbrush falls from his loose fingers, splattering onto the tarp, and paint-wet hands tangle into his hair. Nico finds he doesn’t mind.

“You love me,” he murmurs in between breaths, lips brushing Will’s with every word.

“Yes,” Will breathes. He kisses Nico again, and again. “A lot.”

“Good.” He’s not sure if it’s the paint fumes making him lightheaded, or the odd, slightly uncomfortable position, or the intoxicating, delirious feel of Will’s warm skin. He’s not sure if he cares. “Good.”

It’s not quite an I-love-you-too. The words won’t form on his tongue, so instead he tightens his hold, sending them that way, and presses closer, closer, closer.

Will smiles into the kiss.

He understands just fine.

#i could write an essay about how i think they’re dynamic would be immediately post three days in the infirmary #also i fit SO MANY of my personal headcanons in here hell yeah #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #nico/will #will/nico #gently falling in love #love #i’m tagging it bc. will loves so clearly in this one it kills me a little #fic #my writing #longpost

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n-agiz · 1 year ago

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VISIONㅤboyfriend! fushiguro toji x fem! reader — smut + (some) fluff [ 3.4k+ wc ] cws filmed sex + oral (m & f) + edging + fingering + cervix fucking + overstimulation + creampie + there’s a sliver of fluff with a little bit of aftercare at the end ++ toji and reader are extremely playful throughout the whole thing ! MDNI

toji, for some reason, adored filming you.

it was usually cute moments, like you both (attempting) to bake on a sunny afternoon, or when you were too focused on something to even noticed he had a camera pointed at you — he had, however, been wanting to try something new, to record you both doing something not as innocent.

“c’mon baby, just let me try it this once… i promise it’ll be worth it!” you sat down relaxed on your living room’s couch, looking up at your boyfriend, while he stood before you with one of his cameras in his hand, and you almost felt the need to laugh at the situation.

toji was a big guy, hours spent at the gym reflecting on his well built physique, but in that instant he reminisced a kid asking — or better yet, begging — his mom for candy with how he was looking at you, the difference being he wanted to move your furniture around just to get a perfect shot (or what he claimed to be the perfect shot) of him fucking you, instead of a sweet treat that he shouldn’t get.

you weren’t too thrilled about accepting it, rightfully so, the last time toji tried to redecorate your home just for a shot having ended with you wrapping his bloody hand in bandage while pieces of what once were two glass cups occupied half of your kitchen’s floor, not to mention what he wanted to record right now was of a much different essence than the one from his previous attempt — however, your boyfriend didn’t seem any more intent on giving up than he did at first, even after long minutes of begging that only seemed to end with negative replies coming from you. he was persistent, that was for sure, and although you didn’t stand too far behind, you were beginning to think that giving in maybe wasn’t that bad of an idea after all, the whole concept seeming kinda fun even if you refused to admit to it — which was how, sooner than you would like to admit, you ended up laying on your bed, your comfy pajama still on your body as you watched, very much not amused, as your boyfriend moved your bedside table around, testing what distance it should be from the side of the bed as one of his work cameras was propped on top of it, constantly checking through the little visor what angle worked best, which one caught most of the mattress and allowed the best lightening to flow in through the window.

“you ready?” he asked after long minutes, standing up and looking at you through mischievous eyes, his expression having been all too quick to turn from a focused, and even serious, one into one clad with swiftly overpowering lust. you simply nodded, very clearly not as excited as your boyfriend. he clicked the little button on the camera, signifying it was now recording, and walked towards you, getting on top of the bed and hovering over you, fitting snugly between your legs, pressing his pelvis against yours while his palms rested on either side of your head, face hovering over yours. “this will be fun, baby, trust me” you sighed, suddenly completely against ever agreeing with anything toji said, but also started trying to relax, stopping tensing up your muscles and wrapping your arms over your boyfriend’s shoulders, earning a wide smirk from him.

toji began kissing you, pecking you gently and slowly before starting to grow more desperate, sucking on your lips more eagerly, pressing his tongue into your mouth and sucking on yours, moving his hands to instead cup your cheeks, moving his body even closer to yours, making sure his chest was clutch against yours while slowly humping his growing erection against your clothed sex, groaning loudly against you when he felt your wrap your legs around his waist, trapping him as close to you as possible.

breaking the kiss momentarily, toji flipped you two over, you now being the one on top, thighs spread over his lap and hands planted on his chest, letting out a small squeal at the sudden change of position. without losing any time, he pulled you in again, kissing you just as fervently as before, if not even more, desperate to taste as much of you as he possibly could. he started pressing his crotch up into you harder, faux thrusting upwards into you, making you feel his now fully grown erection, big cock pressing painfully against his sweatpants, not even the layers of clothing able to stop you from feeling his cock twitch when pressed against your covered pussy.

“fuck baby” he mumbled against you, a string of spit connecting your lips as you pulled away, sitting up straight on top of him, watching as he looked up at you through hooded eyes, desire darkening them. you almost forgot you were being filmed in that moment, then noticing once more the black camera on your peripheral vision, deciding to not allow the final footage to have any boring parts in it.

slowly, while never breaking eye contact, you lowered yourself, shifting to instead kneel between toji’s spread legs and bending over so your face was centimeters away from his bulge, your ass up in the air purposefully so he could get a perfect view of it while you fiddled with the strings of his sweatpants, teasing him but eventually untying them, pulling the soft pants down alongside his underwear, biting your lips as you watched toji help you by raising his hips, and moaning softly when you saw his hard cock slap against his lower abdomen, thick length standing up proudly, one single thick bead of pre-cum already drooling down his pink tip, making its way down the underside of his dick. you stuck your tongue out to lick it, tasting its saltiness against the flat of your tongue as you took a, purposefully dragged out, lap up your boyfriend’s cock, humming loudly at the taste, giggling when you reached his tip and heard him let out a deep moan, covering his eyes for a second before focusing on you again, watching attentively when you wrapped your lips around him, sucking just the head of his dick while flicking your tongue against its slit.

you enveloped one hand around his base, feeling the short, dark hairs around it scratch against your fingers, while the other one was placed on his inner thigh, your thumb massaging against that one spot you knew he liked. you started to properly suck toji off, head bobbing up and down his cock until you reached about halfway, your palm taking care of the rest of his length as you stroked him, making sure to pull back and spit on it before continuing, not needing to look to know his eyes were fixated on the movement of your hand, how it followed your mouth, slightly rotating it around his dick with each move.

you could hear your boyfriend’s moans become louder, more recurring, so you decided to play with him, trying to push him off the edge just to stop halfway. you pulled back, stroking toji’s dick slowly for a bit while catching your breath before placing only his tip inside your mouth, sucking on it with greed while using both hands to jack him off, moving them up and down the remain of his dick in unison while rotation each one in different directions, listening closely to how he was starting to moan louder, even letting out a deep groan and throwing one of his arms over his eyes while thrusting his hips upwards into you, the second you noticed his dick starting to twitching against you being the one you completely pulled away, hands flying away from toji as your lips left his dick with a loud pop. you giggled, watching as he grunted very clearly displeased, sitting up as you did so and looking at you through an almost pained look.

“i hate when you do that” he said, moving to kneel before you and wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, his cock pressed up between your bodies. you giggled in response, aware of just how much what you just did annoyed him — not that toji ever showed it, knowing that you liked to tease him just as much as he liked to tease you.

toji kissed you again, tasting himself on your tongue, before laying you down, now being your turn to rest with your back on the mattress while he spread your legs apart, slotting himself between them. he pulled your pajama pants off with ease, leaving your underwear on purposefully, liking to see just how wet you had already made it.

“you’re soaked” he smirked, earning himself a kick on his side, laughing harder at it before saying a simple “don’t forget that’s on camera, baby”

toji tapped the pad of his index finger against your covered clit, slipping it down your slit, feeling your hole clench around nothing under his touch.

“do you think you deserve to cum?”

“i’ll go on strike if i don’t”

“fair enough”

without hesitating anymore, toji leaned over, leaving a soft peck on your pussy through your stained underwear before finally pulling it to the side, looking enamored at your glistening cunt, impatient to get a taste — so he did, wrapping his arms around your thighs and propping your legs over his shoulders before diving in. he licked a fat stripe up your pussy, tasting your slick and humming against your clit, looking up at you when you moaned, green eyes dark with lust.

he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue against the bundle of nerves and circling it softly while caressing your thighs, gripping the tender flesh hard, keeping one of his arms laced around one of them while the other moved under so he could play with your pussy. he continued sucking on your clit, but also began teasing your entrance with the tip of one of his fingers, slipping it in with ease because of how wet your slick and the strings of his saliva that dribbled down your folds left you, thrusting it in and out experimentally before adding another digit, starting to pick up a faster rhythm before also implementing a bending movement, pushing his digits all the way into you before pressing their pads against the spongy spot inside your hole that made your eyes roll, your moans growing louder then as your hips starting to buck up, thighs quivering at the combine stimulation, your pleasure growing by the second.

“keep going, please… just like that…” you mewled, eyes shut and mouth forming a perfect o shape. your pleasure was overwhelming, almost burning you from the inside out.

toji started sucking harder and even more attentively on your clit, and when his fingers became even more precise with their trajectory, you felt waves of crushing pleasure wash over you harshly, almost too suddenly even, your release so great it almost caught you off guard. you screamed your boyfriend’s name, both hands moving to the back of his head and gripping strands of his black hair to keep him in place, only pulling him away when you started feeling overstimulated. toji looked up at you with a smirk adorning his face,the way your slick mixed with his saliva dripped down his chin forming a sinful sight, which he made sure to show off to the camera, smiling towards it before reaching over to grip it, bringing it so the lens was directed at your soaked pussy. toji adjusted the focus, making sure it displayed your cunt clearly, one hand holding the camera steadily while the other spread your folds, showing you off for the video. he pulled your panties off you carelessly, not minding that he almost ripped them in the process, and slapped your pussy harshly, making you whine in surprise, the look you directed at him afterwards comical.

“you spent so much time getting the angle right just to pick up the camera eventually” you said, still breathless, watching your boyfriend put the device to the side, placing it on the bed beside your bodies before taking his shirt off, leaving him completely bare.

“i’ll get better angles like this” he said, lowering himself to be on top of you, chuckling at how you rolled your eyes at his reply — even if a smile stretched across your lips — so he could peck your lips, helping you pull your shirt over your head before unclasping your bra and throwing it across the room too.

carefully, toji picked the camera up again, continuing to hold it with one hand, which made you doubt if he wasn’t about to drop it any second, and on top of you probably, to make it worse — but you didn’t comment, preferring to leave him to it.

he decided to direct the lens towards your middle, watching as your pussy came into view on the small screen, then putting his dick into frame, showing how he slipped his length in between your folds, his erection still strong, visible veins running down its entirety, his tip now a darker shade of pink, almost red, thin beads of pre glistening on the sensitive area.

“can i cum in you?” he asked, gazing at you but leaving the camera focused on your sexes. you nodded, biting your lower lip after grazing your tongue over it, and toji chuckled, adding a simple “good, because i don’t think i’ll remember to pull out” which, in turn, made you laugh, his horniness amusing.

with one hand wrapped around his base, toji pressed his dripping dick against your clit, bumping softly into the bundle of nerves before lowering it to your hole, circling it teasingly, waiting for your whined protest to actually force it into you, sighing pleased as he felt your warm cunt hug him, giggling at your strained moan and how your walls clenched around him.

“still so fucking tight…” he said, now in a much darker tone, bottoming out and staying there for a second, with his dick kissing your cervix and his entire length stretching you out, before slowly pulling back just enough so that only his dick’s head was inside you.

toji’s thrusts started off slow, gentle even. his right hand held the camera up, every now and then directing his eyes from how your pussy swallowed up his cock to make sure the recording was still focused on the right thing, while his left hand rested on the outside of your thigh, his fingers digging into it every now and then almost as a way of grounding himself. his movements eventually became sloppier, though, as he tried to speed up and give both of you more pleasure, the lack of support becoming apparent — so he stopped for a second, dick still stuffed inside you to the hilt, so he could place the camera on the mattress, the angle similar to the one it had while on top of the bedside table, just much closer.

“gonna fuck you right now” toji said, while positioning himself so he hovered over you, his thighs keeping yours apart as he propped his elbows by your shoulders, his hands cupping the sides of your head to make sure your eyes stayed on him.

“oh yeah?” you asked, with a teasing, almost doubtful, tone — but he didn’t even bother replying, instead showing you, starting to thrust into you hard, way faster than before, his movements merciless, rough, and if it wasn’t for him having prepped you before, you were sure you wouldn’t have been able to handle toji’s pace. you felt so good though, so good that almost instantly your eyes rolled into the back of your head, hands going up to rest on your boyfriend’s shoulders, looking to ground yourself even if it meant digging your nails into his skin, the sudden pleasure not only catching you off guard, but also leaving your mind to become mush instantly, no more coherent thoughts coming out of you as toji fucked you, cock dragging in and out of you rapidly, pressing into your cervix in a way that felt entirely too good.

“look at me, baby” he said, his tone low, almost dark, and when you finally focused your sight on toji you could only wonder how he was so composed. “feels good?” he asked smugly, the corner of his lips raising ever so slightly when you nodded, barely able to mutter out a simple “s-so good”

“want you to cum on my cock, can you do that for me?” your boyfriend asked after a while, still fucking you just as roughly as before, his cock reaching as deep inside your pussy as it could, pressing into all the soft spots that made you unable to focus on anything but on how damn good he made you feel, each thrust that made his tip bump against your cervix bringing you closer to your high — so, as a reply, you nodded, continuing to look at toji, focusing solely on him, your whole world suddenly all about him, nothing else important enough to pop up on your mind in that moment.

“‘m so close” you mewled, one hand reaching up to pull at toji’s hair, making him groan, while the other scratched the back of his neck, now his turn to roll his eyes back in pleasure, moaning for you before focusing back on fucking you, continuing to ram his dick into your cunt, biting his lower lip before lowering his face down to your neck, pecking down it’s side before moving up to just behind your ear, kissing that spot faintly and biting your earlobe before whispering a low “cum for me, baby, please cum for me”. his tone was filled with want, a small whine behind it, as if he was truly begging for it, and suddenly, as if that was all you needed in that moment, you came again, this orgasm hitting you harder and faster than your previous one, making you scream toji’s name louder than you had that whole day as you threw your head back, back arching and thighs quivering all while your pussy spasmed around his cock, your pleasure so intense you swore you were about to black out.

toji didn’t stop though, if anything, when faced with your so clear pleasure, only going faster, harder, slamming in and out of you with no care, watching closely as your expression twisted into one of pure pleasure, as sinful and lust-filled as it could possibly get.

“b-baby, please… ‘s too much” you managed to mutter, overstimulation starting to hit you after he kept going even after your high had started to fade away, your pleasure becoming overwhelming — too overwhelming, all too much for you to handle.

“i know baby, i know” he comforted you, kissing your forehead and holding your face gently but showing no interest in stopping, continuing instead, going even harder, fucking you sloppily, losing any precision he had maintained before until he was finally filling you up with his warm cum, letting out a guttural moan as strings of his milky seed filled you up to the brim, spilling out between you two as he still thrusted into you, losing his tempo as his orgasm overtook him.

“fuck, fuck!” toji groaned, stopping completely after a second and catching his breath, his cock still halfway inside you.

he looked down at your pussy, how it wrapped around his girth while globs of his cum dripped out of you, and without a second thought he picked up his camera again, straightening himself to focus it on what was going on between you, his heavy breath probably all you would be able to hear on the final footage as he looked at the tiny visor, almost mesmerized by the view.

it took him a second, but toji eventually caught his breath, putting the camera to the side again before leaning down to hug you, enveloping you in a tight embrace as you were covered by him completely. you laughed, kissing his shoulder and feeling him peck your cheek after, leaving multiple fast kisses on the area before pressing his lips against the tip of your nose, then your other cheek, and then your lips. you giggled through it, at your boyfriend’s sudden wave of affection, feeling him give your body one last squeeze before getting up, finally pulling his dick out of you with a low hum, tapping his almost completely flaccid length against your swollen, cum-covered pussy.

“i need to get you cleaned up” toji said, finally stopping the recording before getting up, also helping you up so he could prepare a warm bath for both of you.

N-AGIZ '23ㅤ REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED !

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