#as always i might never end up writing this

[nottsfavoritewitch]

The Other Girls (t.n)

Pairing: theo nott x malfoy reader

Warnings: VERY VERY VERY LONG!!!!! 18+, mdni, smut, some fluff, a little angst, draco's little sister, brother's bsf, choking, nipple play, fingering, heavy cursing, drug use (theo smoking), corruption kink, degrading, praising, google-translated italian, porn with plot, obsessive/possessive theo, innocent reader, inexperienced reader x very experienced theo, lowercaps intended.

Summary: you're draco malfoy's younger sister by a year, and you've had a crush on theo all your life. you and theo were close childhood friends, but when he went to hogwarts, he forgot all about you. you joined hogwarts a year later, and unfortunately got sorted into gryffindor. as a result, theo and you only drifted apart further. he was always surrounded by girls. as the years go by, you try to get theo's attention in every way, but he never notices you. as a last resort, you end up taking advice from the girls that theo hangs around, in hopes that maybe... maybe it might finally work...

Author's note: WARNING: VERY VERY LONG! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! (sorry but i tend to get carried away with the details). This is my first time writing smut, or posting it here on tumblr... Please be nice. Also, many many apologies that this is super, super long... Kinda got carried away.. Enjoy :))

THEO always spent Christmas at Malfoy Manor. Ever since his mother's death, and his father always having some sort of 'business trip,' Narcissa suggested that Theo resided with the Malfoys for the whole Christmas break, and some of the summer.

You had always loved him. Since you were three years old, you used to follow him and Draco around, tagging along after both of them, much to your older brother's annoyance.

Even during your Hogwarts years, you always tried to attract his attention, trying to show him you were all grown up, that you were more than Draco's little sister. But he never saw, he never once acknowledged you as anything other than a sisterly figure.

During your fifth year at Hogwarts, you realized that Theo was never going to reciprocate your feelings, so you decided to try and get over him. You weren't allowed boyfriends. Draco always beat up any guy who dared to ask you out, and Theo did the exact same. Any guy who talked to you, or said something about you behind your back, or even looked at you, would end up in the hospital wing. As a result, you had been stood up many times, wondering why your date never showed up, only to realize he had either been beaten up, or scared away by Theo and Draco. That night always ended up with you crying.

You were never allowed to go to parties, or drink either. Draco and Lucius were always very, very protective over you. You were the Malfoy princess, the youngest child, the favorite, the spoiled little girl...

Yet somehow, right before the Christmas break, you gave in to your little rebellious streak and your friend's persuasion to sneak into one of the Slytherin parties.

The moment you got to the party, you were completely shocked. This was nothing like what you had in mind... Your outfit, a pretty, dainty, little white dress with a skater skirt felt far too modest, and the whole room smelt of weed, sweat and alcohol. People were publicly making out, the girls dressed in the skimpiest clothing you ever saw, and at the center of it all, next to Draco and his friends, you saw him.

Your breath hitched. He was sitting on the couch, legs slightly spread, surrounded by girls, one was even on his lap, and he was holding a cigarette. Smoke surrounded him as he blew it out from his mouth, laughing as his hand trailed up and down the girl's thigh.

All at once, you felt jealous. All the feelings for him you had tried so hard to bury came surfacing, and your blood boiled with anger, hurt, betrayal... What did Theo see in those girls that he never saw in you??

You quickly turned around, before Theo, or your brother saw you, and accepting the firewhiskey your friend had gotten for you— even though you'd never drunk before.

One sip became one glass, and before you knew it, you were intoxicated enough to dance to the loud music, and you were soon surrounded by a small group of boys, who simply couldn't believe you, of all people, were actually at the party.

Theo had managed to catch sight of you, and he dragged you out of the Slytherin Common room after beating up all three boys to the ground, jaw ticking and fists clenching with anger.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" he growled.

Tears pricked your eyes as you stared up at him, but you didn't let them fall. You clenched your jaw, angry at him. He always, always ruined your fun.

"Partying, of course," you replied, a little too sharply for Theo's liking. But then again, you were drunk, after just one glass.

"Does your brother know?" Theo asked, ripping the almost empty glass of firewhiskey from your hand and tossing it aside lazily. "Do you want me to tell him you're here?"

"I don't care," was your reply, you sounded sullen. "You're not my dad, or my brother."

The answer was enough to send Theo into a rage, and he angrily grabbed your wrist with a grip slightly too harsh. "Go," he ordered, his dark blue eyes ablaze. "Go back to your dorm."

That had been the end of it.

Yet somehow, you still couldn't get over the memory of seeing Theo with a girl over his lap, and somehow, you wished that that had been you instead.

After that, you started to slowly eavesdrop on those Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls that usually hung around Theo, and you had managed to learn a few things from them...

One, that Theo loved short skirts, two, that he liked low necklines and tight blouses, and three, that he liked having girls sitting on his lap.

Which is why you were currently wearing the most revealing outfit you'd ever worn in your life, at the moment.

You always gave Theo a present for Christmas, every year, since you were very young, and this year was no different. The only difference was, that instead of leaving it under the tree, you'd be giving it to him in person, this time.

You'd made him some brownies— muggle style. It had been your first time ever baking something, and you were rather nervous of the outcome. Theo loved brownies, since he was young, and for someone who had everything in the world, you felt like something handmade would definitely be seen as more heartfelt.

The little white box of brownies sat on your dresser, wrapped with a pink ribbon— your signature style as you stared into the mirror, scrutinizing your outfit and applying all the finishing touches.

If your parents, or your brother ever saw her in this outfit, she knew she would forever be banned from doing your own shopping.

A baby pink, short, pleated mini skirt rested around your hips, just covering your ass. If you bent over, your ass would most certainly be on full display. You paired it with a lace, white, bralette top, with a deep, plunging V-neckline. It exposed your entire midriff, ending just short of your ribs, the lace transparent enough to see the milky skin underneath.

Your blonde hair was tied into a high ponytail, a few tendrils framed your face. You applied your waterproof mascara and a final layer of lip gloss.

You had never felt so bare. And yet, you felt so confident that you looked pretty.

Grabbing the box of brownies, you glanced at the clock. Ten past midnight. It was officially Christmas. Everyone was in their own rooms, and Theo's was conveniently just down the corridor from yours.

You were completely silent as you left your room, closing the door behind you, and headed to Theo's.

You gently knocked on the door, softly enough for anyone else not to hear.

"Come in," came Theo's lazy drawl.

Cautiously, slowly, nervously, you stepped in, closing the door behind you, the box of brownies held behind your back.

"Hi Theo," you whispered shyly, balancing on your heels.

He hadn't been expecting you. He had probably thought you were Draco.

But God— did his eyes rake your figure when he saw you wearing that tiny fucking skirt. The sight of you standing there, looking so goddamn shy and innocent was refreshing, to say the least.

He was seated on the couch, legs spread slightly, smoking a cigarette. Just like how he had been sitting at the Slytherin party—an empty bottle of whiskey rested on the side-table. The only difference? This time, his shirt was fully unbuttoned, tie draped around his shoulders.

You couldn't help but let your eyes wander down his chiseled abs, his bare muscular chest, and your fingers had the sudden urge to travel down his bare skin.

His hair was tousled, as if he had been running his hands through it... It looked so soft, you wanted to touch it. His dark blue eyes bored into yours with a hint of wickedness. God— he was so attractive.

"Baby Malfoy. I didn't expect to see you," he purred, lips curling into a smirk. "What brings you here at this time of the night?"

Oh, he knew of your feelings for him, he wasn't that oblivious. He knew exactly why you were here.

"I..." He always made you nervous. You couldn't help but stutter. "I came to give you your Christmas present..." you said softly.

"At this time?" he drawled, motioning for you to come closer with two fingers.

His hands.

His fucking hands.

They always drove you insane... Perfectly manicured, long fingers, veiny, defined, smooth... On numerous occasion, you had imagined him holding you with those hands, touching you...

But those were all fantasies.

Slowly, you moved closer, hesitantly, tentatively, cautiously... You didn't answer his question, you merely set the box in his lap and waited for him to open it.

He was quite surprised to see the brownies, to say the least. He had been expecting something else, something... bought.

He raised his eyebrows, looking at you carefully. "You made these?"

You nodded.

"By yourself? The muggle way? For me?"

You nodded again.

Once again, he smirked, and he grabbed a piece, gently biting into it, maintaining eye-contact with you the whole time.

Your heart was beating madly. Your stomach was full of fluttering butterflies, and goosebumps erupted all over your skin, making you feel cold.

Of course, it was winter, and you were dressed in practically nothing.

He chewed it, slowly, still holding your gaze. "It's good," he finally said, licking his lips and placing the box full of the rest of the brownies on the side table. "Good job, Baby Malfoy..."

He spared you no second glance as he went back to reading his book, and once again, you felt a sinking sensation fill you, and disappointment in your heart.

Obviously, he had expected you to leave. But when he still saw you standing there, he raised a brow. "Is something the matter?"

Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away. You shook your head.

He went back to reading.

Until you could stand it no more. He hadn't mentioned one, single thing, one single comment about your outfit. You felt hurt. Hurt that you had put in so much effort, taken so much time to get ready for him, and he hadn't even smiled.

The words slipped out before you could control them.

"Do you like my outfit?" you blurt, sounding a little bit offended. "Don't I look pretty?" you continued, shyly biting your lip.

"You look like a whore," Theo replied coldly, without even looking up from his text.

This time, you couldn't help welling up at his harsh, hurtful words. He never said anything to those other girls when they dressed up like this for him.

"Th-there's no need to be mean," you whimpered, evident hurt in your beautiful silvery gray eyes. You were on the verge of tears. "I.. I spent hours dressing up just for you... and... and then you say—" You broke off, unable to finish your sentence.

That was enough to snatch Theo's attention. His eyes snapped back up to meet yours.

"You dressed up for me?" he echoed, his tone commanding, yet smooth, like he couldn't believe what he was hearing.

The way you blinked and looked away was enough to tell Theo your answer.

"What gave you the idea I'd like your outfit?" he asked, setting his book aside and putting out his cigarette, leaving the end in the ashtray.

Your cheeks turned red, and you averted your gaze back to the floor. "D-Daphne Greengrass and the other girls," you whispered shyly, very, very softly.

"Is that so?" Theo mused, taking in your every expression.

Slowly, you nodded.

"What else did you hear Daphne Greengrass and the other girls say?" he mocked.

You couldn't catch the irony in his tone until it was too late. Somehow, the answer slipped out before you could catch it. "Th-that you like it when girls sit in your lap," you mumbled, your voice sounding troubled, still very hurt by his words.

He really was mean.

You wanted to go back to your room and never see him again.

"Hm," said Theo thoughtfully, before he slid his tie off his shoulders, crumpled it into a tiny ball and flung it across the room, where it landed directly onto his bed.

"And? Aren't you going to follow their advice?" he asked, inching his legs slightly further apart.

Your eyes slowly slid up to meet his, utterly shocked he would even suggest it when he didn't like you that way.

Tears clung to your eyelashes, and you stood frozen, right there, unable to move.

A dry chuckle rumbled through him, and you hated the way it sent shivers down your spine. "Aren't you? Go on, I'm waiting..."

You blinked, a small whimper leaving you as you took a small step back, ready to go back to your room, but when he patted his lap, as his eyes bored into yours, challenging you, you realized he was being serious about this.

You wanted to leave, but part of you wanted to stay. Your eyes fell down to look at his lap.

This might be your first and last chance to sit on his lap, and before you knew it, you gently perched your bottom on his knee, avoiding his gaze, hands in your lap.

The moment you made contact with him, you felt his breath hitch the slightest bit, but otherwise, he remained composed.

"Like this," he ordered, both hands grabbing your waist and pulling you harshly towards himself, until both your legs were on either side of him and you were straddling his lap.

Fire danced on your skin, especially with the frigid metal rings he wore burning into your skin.

You let out a soft, yet audible gasp and your breath hitched.

Having no clue what to do, or what to say, you shied away from meeting his gaze, nervously chewing on your lower lip, unaware that Theo's eyes were burning into you.

"Good girl..." his praise rumbled in his throat, and once again, those butterflies returned in your abdomen.

His praise sent shivers down your spine, and slowly, tentatively, your eyes slid upwards to catch his gaze.

"Such an obedient whore," he murmured in a low tone, and once again, tears began pricking your eyes. No one had ever spoken to you this way, no one ever dared to.

"I'm... I'm not a whore," you whimpered, your teeth sinking harder into your lower lip.

"Well, you're dressed like a whore," Theo replied, faux pity lacing his tone. "Aren't you?"

You blinked, trying not to cry, but the tears only clung to your lashes and threatened to trail down your cheeks any moment.

"Answer me," he demanded, hands pressing your waist harder, cold rings searing your skin.

"Y-yes," you whispered, your teeth attacking your lower lip once more.

"So since you're dressed like a fucking whore, I'm gonna treat you like it... la mia puttana," he purred, lightly swatting your thigh.

That was all it took for you to break.

"Y-you're being mean," you whimpered, a single tear sliding down your cheek, tears swimming in your pretty gray eyes.

"Aww, poor baby," Theo scoffed. "Never had anyone talk to you like this? Never been treated like a whore before?"

He was breaking you, and he was succeeding. You had always gotten what you wanted, since birth. All you had to do was smile and flutter your eyelashes, maybe pout and fake a few tears...

Theo treated you differently. He didn't treat you like royalty, like you were used to... He treated you like... like a whore, and he seemed totally unaffected by your tears, which were real.

"I.. hate you," you cried, your voice breaking. "I.. I put in all this effort, trying to get you to notice me, and you..."

You broke off, choking a sob, pushing his chest in an attempt to get off his lap, but he only gripped your waist harder, setting you down on his lap and preventing you from moving.

"Sit fucking down," he growled, and you couldn't help but obey. "You're not leaving until I say you are, are we clear, amore?"

You nodded, another small sob leaving you as you gulped.

"I need words," Theo demanded.

"Yes," you whispered, sniffling, refusing to look at him, stubbornly glaring at your lap with your lip stuck between your teeth.

"Good girl," he praised, before his gaze softened slightly, realizing that you had probably learned your lesson. His demeanor shifted, becoming less harsh as he gently lifted his hand to your face, gently caressing your jaw.

Surprised as you were by his tender touch, you still refused to look at him. His thumb gently brushed your tears away, from both eyes.

"Look at me," he requested softly, tone low and very, very gentle.

You slowly lifted your gaze up, as if you expected him his sudden gentleness to be a trick your mind was playing on you. Your eyesight was slightly blurred by the tears you had shed, but as you looked at his face, you could see the softened look in his eyes.

"Shh, don't cry now, Principessa," he murmured softly, thumb gently caressing your cheek bone as he looked into your big, vulnerable gray eyes, full of innocence.

"Pretty girl," he murmured, thumb tracing soothing patters on your cheek.

Your stomach flipped at the praise. You couldn't believe your ears— Did he just call you pretty after calling you a whore??

"You're such a pretty girl, so fucking gorgeous," he continued. "You don't need to wear such revealing clothes, show off your body to look pretty..."

You were silent, yet your sniffles subsided. You were now staring at Theo with rapt attention, his praises slowly bringing back your confidence.

"Those other girls..." he murmured softly. "They're not as beautiful as you, that's why they need to show off their bodies... That's why they dress like whores..."

His voice was soft, delicate around you. "But you..." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "You're not a whore, you're a fucking princess..."

One of his hands rested on your cheek, the other at his side, on the seat of the couch, next to his pocket. "Why would you listen to the other girls, hm? Why would you want to be like the other girls?"

"I..." you began, finding your voice. "B-because you like them," you whispered. "You notice them.. I thought.. I thought maybe if I become like them, you'd like me too.. You'd notice me too..."

You couldn't hide the pain in your voice, the longing in your tone. And somehow, as the words slipped out, you realized you had practically confessed your obvious feelings for Theo, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

Once again, you bit your lip, an irksome habit that you'd had since you were young.

Slowly, Theo's thumb gently trailed down your cheek and landed on your lower lip, and he softly tugged it free, away from the grasp of your teeth. His touch was cold against the warmth of your lip, and his thumb lingered there for a while, as if he did not want to pull it away. "I've always noticed you," he confessed, his voice a low mutter.

Your breath hitched, and he chuckled slightly, gently running his thumb across your lower lip.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and your cheeks turned slightly pink at how good Theo's touch felt, even though it was just a little bit.

"You like that, don't you?" he murmured softly, and you nodded singly, just once.

"Use your words, Baby," Theo cooed.

"Theo," you whispered, accidentally blurting out his name.

Once again, he slowly moved his hand back to your bare waist, rings pressed into your skin, and his thumb resting just at the hem of your bralette top, underneath your ribs.

His other hand remained on your cheek as his thumb continued caressing your lower lip, coaxing your mouth to open slightly, before he slipped his thumb through your parted lips.

A small whimper left your lips, and you opened your eyes, your gaze locked on his.

Slowly, without even realizing it, your tongue accidentally brushed against the pad of his thumb, and Theo bit back a low groan as he pushed the entirety of his thumb into your mouth.

Your heart was beating thunderously in your chest, and you had no idea what Theo was doing, but whatever it was, you liked it. You didn't want it to stop... You had his attention, and you wanted it on you forever.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and you enjoyed the way his thumb fit perfectly in your mouth, until you got carried away, tongue tracing the length of his digit.

Theo suddenly lost it. All his control snapped as a growl escaped him. "Does my dumb little whore want her mouth filled?" he drawled, pulling his thumb away.

Hot. You felt hot with the way he spoke, with the way his words drove you insane. Even though he called you a whore, this time, you liked it. Because he called you his pretty little whore.

A whimper left you when he pulled his thumb away, disappointed at the lack of contact.

A smirk curled across his lips and he let out a small chuckle. "Mm, that's what I thought," he whispered, more to himself than to you.

Before you knew it, he had pushed the tips of two of his fingers into your mouth; his index and middle, fingertips pressing down on the pad of your tongue.

"Let's see how long you can suck on my fingers without gagging, shall we?" he cooed, pushing the rest of his fingers deeper into your mouth, until they were all the way in.

A small groan left you, but it was muffled by his fingers, and slowly, you started sucking on his long digits, your eyes fluttering shut as you lost yourself in a rhythm.

Theo pressed harder on your tongue, activating your gag reflex, and he only chuckled when you gagged.

"Just my fingers, I know you can handle it— such a good girl..." he praised, his other hand tightening around your throat, blocking your airway.

You choked, a huge wad of saliva dribbling down your chin, tears filling your eyes because you couldn't breathe.

The thought of his very large, veiny hands manhandling you like this only turned you on, and he had barely even touched you. You could feel yourself grow wetter between your thighs, and the fact that you were on his lap, barely clothed, only caused your heartbeat to quicken.

He only pulled out his fingers when they were covered in your saliva that dribbled down your chin, and gently wiped them on his lap.

Once again, you were disappointed. It was like he was playing with you. One moment he was all over you, the next... he was gone.

"Theo, please," you whispered, your voice hoarse from being choked.

"What?" he asked, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted. He had expressed it very clearly that he wanted you to use your words, and that was only when he would give in to your desires.

"Please kiss me," you breathed shyly.

He did not hesitate. Both hands gripped your face gently as he kissed you.

He started off gentle, his lips gently brushed against yours, just barely. Then, when he felt your hands gently rest against his bare chest, he dove right into your mouth.

His lips collided with yours, his mouth devouring yours like a man starved.

You moaned softly, whispering his name, and that was all it took for Theo's other hand to roughly grasp your waist and slide you forward, pulling you closer, until your hips were flush with his. "Fuck," he gasped. "Such a pretty little moan—"

His teeth harshly grazed your lower lip, and he took advantage of your parted lips to slide his tongue into your mouth, engaging with yours in a fierce tango.

Once again, you felt needier and needier between your thighs, and you were filled with a mixture of fear and anticipation of Theo finding out exactly what effect he had on you.

He pulled away, and your mouth opened to protest, but the sound was drowned out when he attached his lips to your neck. He took a little bit of skin between his teeth, biting your flesh and eliciting a gasp from your lips as he sucked a mark there, his tongue running soothingly over the spot.

When he pulled away, a red spot had already began to bloom against your skin.

He didn't stop there.

His lips began trailing lower and lower as he left hickeys everywhere. Every sensual caress of his lips, every nibble of his teeth sent you into overdrive. His spicy, citrusy cologne kidnapped your senses, only heightening your pleasure.

His lips traveled all over your neck, all over your collarbones, trailing down to your chest. He was leaving hickeys all over the exposed swells of your breasts, your nipples hardening underneath the thin fabric to the point where they were reduced to aching pebbles.

"Wanna feel these perfect tits in my mouth," he murmured, his hands on both your boobs as he squeezed the soft flesh— they were the perfect size to fit into his palm.

You couldn't control your hands as they harshly gripped his hair, your thighs tightening around his hips. Involuntarily, your hand dragged his head down, until his lips came into contact with your clothed nipple.

"So fucking perfect..."

His hot mouth closed over the little nub, saliva dampening the white, lacy fabric. His other hand slowly caressed your other breast, squeezing the soft mound, thumb tracing gentle circles around your nipple through the thin cloth.

He sucked on your tit, before he grabbed the clothed nipple between his teeth and tugged, causing you to yelp.

At last, you could hold back no more.

A loud moan escaped your lips, and you cried out sharply, begging for him. "Theo, please," you whined, begging him to touch you where you needed it most. "I need you— please..."

That was all that was needed for him to unlatch his mouth from your clothed nipple with ragged breathing as he brought his hands to your back and shifted your position.

Now, you were lying down on the couch, and he hovered above you, leaning down to gently kiss you again.

"Tell me what you want, amore," he murmured, lips brushing against yours. He wouldn't push you, he wouldn't do anything you weren't ready for.

Your chest heaved, and you looked up at him pleadingly, your nipples aching underneath the damp fabric of your bralette top and your panties soaked.

"I... I want.. I want.." words failed you, so instead, you took a deep breath and swallowed thickly, gently grasping one of his larger hands in yours, and sliding it from your waist, to your thigh, above your skirt. "Anything," you whispered. "Please, please... touch me..."

Slowly, not wanting to rush you, Theo allowed his hands to gently travel down your bare midriff and your thighs, smoothing down the material of your tiny skirt, the hem barely reaching your mid thigh.

"Gods— so fucking sexy..." he murmured, allowing his hand to slowly slip underneath your skirt and caress your upper thigh, his thumb inching closer and closer to your heat, settling in the split between your thighs, right where you needed him most, resting above your clothed cunt.

"Is this okay?" he whispered softly, thumb gently tracing soft circles over your clit, through the thin, lacy fabric. He did not look underneath your skirt— he kept his eyes trailed on your face, on your flushed cheeks and your pretty eyelashes that kissed the chub of your cheeks every time you blinked.

"Yes," you breathed, nodding softly.

On feeling how soaked your panties were, a hitch blistered in his throat. "Poor baby," he cooed. "You must be so needy..."

You whimpered at the sensation his words sent through you, and you found yourself nodding.

"Let me help, yeah?" Theo murmured, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your panties, hand somewhere underneath your skirt.

He groaned loudly the moment his fingers came into contact with your wetness, and he couldn't help the curses that tumbled past his lips.

His index finger ran up and down your leaking slit, accompanied by his middle finger, whilst his thumb continued rubbing your clit in circles.

He balanced on his knees as he looked into your eyes, his other hand gently sliding the straps of your bralette down, exposing your breasts to the cool air, and to his gaze.

He was hard. So fucking hard.

No one had ever gotten him this hard before, and the sight of you, spread on the couch underneath him, so willingly almost caused him to cum in his pants.

So many times he had envisioned you like this, unbeknownst to you... So many times he had jerked off in the bathroom, imagining what you looked like underneath your clothes.

But he had to hide his desire for you, his obvious need— he couldn't face the wrath of Draco, let alone Lucius.

You were the best Christmas present. The best sight he had ever seen.

"Shit, shit shit—," he rasped, completely speechless, his fingers still playing with your folds underneath your skirt. "You're so fucking gorgeous," he praised, bringing his mouth to one of your nipples as his fingers teased your hole.

You were a whining, moaning, leaking mess for him. You were so wet, you felt like you would explode any moment, yet you needed him— more, more, more.

He seemed to understand, because the moment he licked a long stripe over your nipple, he gently eased the tip of his middle finger into your hole.

"So tight— so perfect," Theo groaned, as your virgin walls fluttered at the invasion, clamping tightly around his finger. He slowly eased it all in, gently pumping it in and out, his eyes watching your reaction for the first time.

Your chest heaved, and your moans grew more frequent at the blissful sensation of having something fill you.

You were content, until Theo eased another finger inside you, pumping both fingers faster into your hole, stretching it. Your eyes widened, and you gripped his hair, tugging on his roots harshly, eliciting a string of muttered curse-words.

"Fuck, fuck— Cazzo, cazzo, cazzo—"

You never realized you could feel this good, and Theo only heightened your pleasure when his two, long fingers curled up inside you, pressing against that fleshy spot.

"Such a tight little cunt," he grunted, words slightly muffled as his teeth attacked your nipple, with roughness that bordered on assault.

You could feel the knot form in your lower abdomen. You spread your legs slightly more as your climax approached, and you made it awfully clear that you were close as your moans grew louder.

"Oh my God—" you gasped. "Theo— ah— please, more... I'm... I feel.."

Theo quickened his pace, his fingers pounding into you as he watched your eyes roll back, your chest heave, your boobs bounce slightly with the way you moved your hips to seek more friction to get you to your climax.

The sound of him sliding his ringed fingers in and out of you was drowned out by your ecstatic moans, as Theo pumped his fingers faster and faster, thumb pressing against your clit. His biceps flexed, the veins popping out as he fingered you, curling and scissoring his fingers to hit that sweet spot over and over again.

His rings were cold against your heat, serving to bring you to your climax faster as they added friction when his fingers pistoned in and out of you.

"You're gonna cum for me—" he promised, hand pinching your nipple harshly, whilst he tugged the other one between his lips, your hips bucking into his fingers.

Her hands were clenched, fingernails digging into her palms as you cried out his name like a prayer. "Theo— ah— fuck... I'm so close... argh—"

That's it, cum for me, lia mia piccola puttana... Cum all over my fingers like a good little slut," he muttered. "Make a mess on my hand..."

With a deliberate force of his hand, he drove his fingers upwards one more time, thumb pressing roughly on your clit to draw out your climax.

With a shudder, and an arch of your back, your walls clenched around his fingers, you finally orgasmed, your body spasming and contorting in pleasure, and there was nothing else on your mind but him.

"That's it, my pretty girl, moan for me," he praised. "You sound so fucking pretty when you moan for me like that..."

Your juices soaked his hand, trailing down his fingers and curling around his wrist, and it was only when your orgasm ended that he stopped thrusting his fingers.

He slowly eased them out of you, blindly sliding your panties back into place with his other hand under your skirt, bringing his long fingers up to his mouth to taste your essence, groaning at how fucking delicious you tasted.

"So fucking sweet," he murmured, licking his fingers completely clean. His dick was hard under his pants, straining against his zipper, but he did not let the attention waver off you.

You watched him, eyes transfixed on his as he slowly slid your bralette back into place, covering your boobs.

"Merry Christmas, Principessa," he whispered softly, gently kissing you.

A smile formed on your lips as you stared up at him, still so shy as you thought about what you had just done. "Merry Christmas, Theo," you whispered back, unable to hide your joy.

You returned to your room a few hours before dawn, before anyone else could catch you. Changing into your pajamas, a constant grin was plastered on your face as you drifted off to sleep.

It lasted for the rest of the Christmas holidays too.

Author's note: there, my first time publishing and writing smut. i hope you guys liked it... please, please reblog/repost (i have no idea how to use tumblr) and let me know if you'd like me to write a part two of this fic.

i know it's super long, but aside from that, i hope it was okay? please let me know your thoughts, comment pleasseeee.

also i take requests, so feel free to send them it!

love, jas.

[mxltifxnd0m]

meddle about ── . ✶ s. winchester

summary: you have a date night with sam and he gets tipsy (and horny)

pairings: established sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x fem! reader warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', porn with very little plot, fluff, mentions of drinking, tipsy reader and sam, smut, oral fem! receiving, unprotected p in v sex, a sprinkle of a praise kink, aftercare, title is a chase atlantic song of the same name, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own word count: 1.7K a/n: i just need to have tipsy sex with sam RN, this was inspired by an ask blondie (@ohsc ugh i miss them dearly T-T) sent me a while back but i was reminded of it recently and decided that i needed to write it. lowkey sped run writing this bc intended it to be a blurb but i love to yap so enjoy the one shot! sam winchester masterlist

SAM USUALLY DOESN’T drink a lot, preferring to stay level-headed and coherent enough to watch out for you and Dean when the three of you go out. There are times when he indulges himself after a successful hunt and gets tipsy, but he is usually sobered up by the end of the night. 

Tonight was different though; the two of you had a date night, which was far and in between considering how often the three of you went out on hunts across the country. But lately, monster appearances were scarce, and other hunters were sent to take care of them. But you were starting to get stir-crazy within the bunker. So Sam took the two of you out on a nice dinner date, having gotten a reservation at one of the nicer restaurants in Lebanon.  

The both of you indulged in the drinks that the restaurant was serving, having copious amounts of wine—which always managed to make Sam a giggly and a happy drunk, his cheeks flushed and a dopey smile on his face. 

You were the one who drove back to the bunker since instead of having one last glass like Sam did, you had some water instead, sobering you up quite a bit. You were glad to see that Sam was letting loose for once and that the tension that he always held in his shoulders had dissipated. But once you got back to the bunker, Sam clung onto you and peppered kisses on your face and neck, stopping the two of you from heading to your room by pinning you against the cool walls of the bunker and pulling you into multiple small makeout sessions. 

You laughed against his lips at his sloppy kisses—they were usually more coordinated and precise. But tipsy Sam was eager and uncaring, but his kisses never lacked passion, whether it was a slow and sweet kiss or a lustful and dirty kiss. 

You managed to finally make it to your shared room with your boyfriend. You weren’t as tipsy as Sam, but you had a pleasant buzz thrumming through you, and you could feel that your face was flush with warmth (or it might have been from how Sam cupped your face in his hands as he pushed you against the wall and kissed you). 

Sam’s hands were on your hips and backing you up until you fell on the soft sheets of the bed. He all but collapsed on top of you, catching himself before he could hurt you with his broad frame. You let out a small laugh, Sam smiling widely at the sound, and you saw the amusement and desire shine in his hazel gaze as he looked down at you. 

“What?” You asked with a smile on your face as you cocked your head to the side slightly as you looked up at the man hovering over you. 

One of his hands came up to caress your cheek. “You’re beautiful. Just can’t believe that you’re mine.” Sam’s words were slightly slurred, but his tone was filled with reverence and adoration. 

“M’all yours.” You said with a breathy smile. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer to you, his body slotting in between your open legs. “Love you Sammy.” 

“Love you too, honey.” Sam placed his lips against your slightly swollen ones, the feeling of love and desire washing over you as his soft lips moved against yours. He tasted like the sweet wine the two of you were drinking earlier and something you could only describe as distinctly Sam. 

The kiss slowly turned hotter and passionate, Sam’s tongue swiping at the seam of your lips before delving into it and sliding his tongue against yours in a sensual dance. Sam started to rut against you—his jean-covered bulge rubbing against your covered core sent sparks of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t enough, and he could tell. 

Sam broke the kiss, and you didn’t realize that you needed to breathe until you almost gasped for air. However, he was relentless with his kisses, trailing them down your jaw and neck. He nipped and sucked at your neck, marking you up as his hands went to the hem of the dress you were wearing for the date and started to lift it higher on your thighs. 

Sam made quick work of your dress, leaving you in only your underwear in front of him and let out a low groan at the sight of your bare chest. Before he could do anything, you sat up and tugged at the button-up shirt that was driving you crazy all night. It was a simple, crisp white button-up (no doubt from one of his fed getups), but the kicker was that he had rolled them up to the crook of his elbow, exposing the tanned skin of his forearms that never failed to make you salivate over them. You had a hard time focusing on him when all you wanted was to stare at his arms all night.

You managed to get all of the buttons undone before Sam’s hands landed on your shoulders and pushed you back on the bed, making a startled laugh escape your lips before it turned into a soft moan, feeling Sam nip at the smooth skin of your inner thighs as his hands trailed up your legs and thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake as his deft fingers found the hem of your soaked underwear. 

Sam’s eyes were honed in on the wet patch of your underwear before leaning in and pressing a sloppy kiss against it, making you jolt from the sudden contact before you heard a rip of fabric. You opened your mouth to chastise Sam for ruining another pair of underwear, but all that came out was a moan of his name as Sam’s dexterous tongue began to lave and lick at your weeping cunt. 

“Taste s’good, baby.” Sam’s words were mumbled into your skin, sending vibrations through you and adding to the already rising heat of pleasure running through you. 

Sam ate you out messily, uncaring of the slick covering his nose, lips, and chin as he drank in your arousal. Your hands were wound in his hair, pulling at it slightly and grinding into his face, chasing your high. 

You could feel sweat coat your body as Sam worked over your heated cunt. You came with a shout as pleasure shot through you and clenched around nothing as Sam kept his lips wrapped around your sensitive clit, sucking on it softly, working you through your orgasm. 

When you came to your senses and calmed down from your high, Sam was in the process of stripping off his jeans, his shirt long gone, and you stared at his bare torso. His sun-kissed skin was littered with scars, some big, some small, and the black ink of his tattoo stood out on his chest. 

“See something you like?” Sam teased as a sly smile grew on his face as he stroked his hard cock. 

You bit your bottom lip. “Yeah, you.” 

Sam let out a small chuckle before getting back on the bed, making you shift up to the pillows as Sam crawled up and over your body. 

There was still a haze over his eyes, but it mainly was lust rather than the haze of inebriation. Sam dipped his head down to kiss you deeply as his bare cock rutted against your slightly sensitive core. 

A groan left Sam’s lips as your tight cunt stretched around his cock. “Fuck, you’re so tight honey.” 

A whine escaped you at the feeling of Sam’s cock filling you up to the brim. The two of you panted into each other’s mouths; the feeling of one another was overwhelming—the air was buzzing with lust and thirst for one another. 

Another whine left you as Sam began to move slowly, pulling out until his tip was the only thing inside of you before pushing back in with a sharp thrust. From there, Sam started to pound into you with reckless abandon; his thrusts were unrelenting as he let his inhibitions run rampant—no longer clouded by rational thought. 

“You feel so good around me– fuck– such a good girl f’me.” Sam groaned out before pulling you into a kiss that was mostly teeth and tongue as he continued to fuck you into the mattress, the headboard thumping against the wall of your bedroom. 

A symphony of moans and groans filled the room alongside the sound of Sam’s skin hitting your flesh. You and Sam ran on your basic instincts and the urge to reach and fulfill your unrestrained desires for one another.

Both of you were unaware of how loud the two of you were being as Sam slammed into you. You were scratching at Sam’s back as his head was buried in the crook of your neck, biting and continuing his work of marking you up— red and purple bruises already blooming in the spots he had already nipped at. 

“My pretty girl, can’t get enough of you. So amazing. Love you so much baby.” Sam’s voice was thick with lust as he murmured praises in your skin and ear. 

He managed to wind one of his hands in between the two of you, Sam’s thumb swirling circles into your clit as he shifted his hips slightly and started to hit your g-spot with every thrust. 

“Gon-gonna cum.” You whined out feeling the heat in your core bloom brighter and hotter. 

“Yeah? Be a good girl and come around my cock.” Sam’s commanding tone made you clench harder around him, a low grunt coming from him as his hips stuttered slightly at the sensation of you wrapped tightly around him. 

Sam pressed down on your clit harder and you came with a sharp cry, your cunt contracting around his thick cock, triggering his own release as he shoved himself inside of you and let his cum fill you up even further.

The two of you stayed connected for a while as the two of you came down from your highs. Sam pulled out his softening cock, a whimper leaving your lips at the sensation of being empty. Sam made his way to the on-suite bathroom and used warm water to wet a hand towel. He quickly cleans you up and then himself up before maneuvering your tired and pliant body underneath the covers—tucking you into his side before falling asleep, uncaring of how he would probably wake up with a slight headache in the morning. 

[hongjoongspoetry]

Okay, wow!

First of all, thank you so much for reading and sharing all of your thoughts with me!!! It was really fun to read what you thought of my characters and the entire fic!

Second of all, hell yeah you should write a zombie au yourself and then tag me in it???? Is that even a question you should ask? Like hello? I would literally eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the rest of my life 😭 So if you ever feel like you wanna write something with zombies, then do it! But I'm honestly so happy that you enjoyed BBATE (and the moodboard too!!!!!! I feel like they get left out but I really love making them) this much! Your excitement is contagious and I can't stop smiling... 🤭

but let's begin with nari's character. when i say i would die for that kid AHAHAHAH she's so adorable! i love how you aged her like you can really tell she's just a kid forced to be mature thanks to what's going on in the world. she was adorable through and through, especially when she got angry at mc in the end, which was very well warranted.

We should start a protection squad for Nari lmaoooo! She is the singlehandedly the cutest OC I have ever created, like in all my years of writing I've never adored a OC like her 😭 As I mentioned in an earlier reblog, I'm so happy that the readers really get the feel that she's a kid, because I did soooo much research on how kids her age act, their mannerism, speech tendencies, etc. Like I didn't want her to speak like a thirty year old while being in her early teens 😭 So that means a lot to hear! Although I really wanted to portray what type of relationship Nari and MC's had throughout the whole fic, I feel like the last scene where Nari confronted the MC in the hospital wing really showed how much they were dependent on each other. I wished to have squeezed in more of their content together to really show that they are like a family, but i hoped that last scene would at least show some of it.

and then before i rant about yunho and mc, the side characters were so good! yeosang as the medic just makes sense, wooyoung's being nosy jokes are much appreciated, hongjoong is so fitting as a captain, and i think jongho was also mentioned? i might be missing some but really good characters here.

Just like Hongjoong in his projects (lmaooo) I always try to squeeze in the rest of the members in my fics, whether it's through a small cameo or by playing a huge part. This time though I couldn't find a good way to include everyone which is a shame, but in the pt.2 I'm planning to release some time during or after summer, I'll try my best to have everyone pop up somehow! I'm happy you appreciate the different roles they got tho :,) Yeosang is just so polite and gentle that I had to make him a medic and Woo's always where the drama is so that one is self explanatory lmaoooo.

RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHILOVETHISSOMUCHRAHHHHHHH (now that i've got that out of my system) mc's character is so relatable. like at least to me. if i were in a zombie apocalypse stuck with a kid, i would turn out like her too (or i would like to believe so). i have a nephew i would die for so the way mc turns out over the 3? years of time gap and how her personality becomes was very relatable. her overprotectiveness of nari, constantly being in survival mode (and being tired of it) and her vulnerability at moments. you WROTE THAT SO WELL BROOO i'm so impressed.

I haven't thought about it before, but I may or may not have projected on the MC. I have a little sister and I would literally kill for her, so it was the most obvious to me that the MC would do the same for Nari, a little girl she has babysat for a while and would do for a couple of years more if the apocalypse didn't break out. We mentioned earlier how Nari grew up faster than what a kid usually does (that isn't in an unfortunate situation that forces them to become mentally older) but we don't talk about the MC enough. It's like you stated: The MC had to take responsibility for a whole other being, like both in ensuing Nari stays alive and raising her to still have somewhat of a normal life. So the MC couldn't afford to take a break ever which is really sad now that I think about it 😭

AND THEN ADORABLE TALL GIANT YUNHO WITH HIS CUTE SMILE AND SUNSHINE ENERGY RAHHHHH i love his character in this so much i can't say enough about it. the way his energy is contagious and the way he breaks down mc's walls. the way he bonds with nari (i would have kneeled right then). the way he calls mc ANGEL RAHHHHHHHH.

THEY ARE LITERALLY THE OPPOSITE OF EACH OTHER- 🥹🤧 oml I love them sm! He literally tried keeping a cold exterior when they met in that dingy shop, but couldn't hold himself from helping them, he's just a lil golden retriever trying to help everyone 😭 Trust, if I saw someone treat my niece the way yunho treated Nari, I would've asked what are we?

and and the shopping mall scene was so well written, it was so breathtaking. like i had no time to collect my thoughts, i was hooked and just reading and watching it play like a kdrama in front of my eyes. it's been 2 hours since i finished reading it and i've been so distracted bc i keep thinking about it

I can't explain how excited I was to write the shopping mall scene!!! This whole fic was born from just that little scene 😭 To have my writing be compared to a k-drama is the best compliment ive received omg 🥹 Thank you so much! I've never written action before, so I was really nervous that it wouldn't give off the feeling of literally having the dead chasing you, but reading this confirms I did something right 🩷

their love confession was so UGH i love a good angst and that was angst well done. the way they were both so angry at each other but so worried, refusing to communicate bc how could you (for different reasons lol) and ugh. the jealous streak yunho had I'M ON MY KNEES. the way they kept shutting each other up by kissing lmao IT WAS SO WHOLESOME. i love this so much.

Angst is the loml (besides Hongjoong). It's like I can't write without including angst 😭 Miscommunication is also *chef's kiss* I love it! I just had to include it in the story. Ngl, the anger on both parts was justified. Yes, I would also be mad if someone sacrificed themselves for me and I would be livid if the guy I liked accused me of making moves on his brother. Just know if there wasn't a world limit on Tumblr, I would've made yunho grovel for her forgiveness. On his knees, begging and apologising- *GUNSHOT* We can all agree they held their feelings back for so long that the moment they confessed they just couldn't let each other go

and lastly, the worldbuilding was ON POINT. idk if you've watched that kdrama 'happiness' but it felt like that in the beginning, yet this was so unique. i'd love to know if you got inspired by any piece of media before writing this. like i'd love to hear your thought process and everything i need to hear your thoughts mina! 😭😭

I have watched like two or three zombie apocalypse kdramas, and happiness was (is) on my watch-list but I just didn't find the time for it back then and it's now collecting dust 😭 But im definitely checking it out to see what you're referring to. It's not every day my writing is compared to a kdrama 🥹

I was actually inspired by the last season of the korean thriller drama "Sweet Home" and then I saw these pictures of woo and yunho that just sent me spiralling lmaooo. At first I wanted to make it a short little drabble because I had so much on my plate both uni and other WIPs, so I just wrote the scene where MC sacrifices herself... then the ideas just wouldn't stop coming while I was making the moodboard 😭 As for the zombies I took inspiration from a lot of apocalyptic video games and series such as The Walking Dead, The Last of Us, Resident Evil, but they are a mix born from the walkers in TWD, and runners and clickers from TLOU. I also realised they aren't usually called zombies in the games/series, so I decided to call them infected and biters instead! The interrogation scene when Hongjoong asks the MC how many infected and humans she has killed, and why was actually inspired by a scene from the walking dead 😭

the worldbuilding, the infected and their descriptions, the action scenes, literally everything was so well done. i loved this so much, and i can't wait to read more from you!! thank you for writing this incredible masterpiece and contributing to the horror/thriller genre in atinyblr. we need that. and THANK YOU FOR THE LENGTH OF THIS FIC this was so deliciously paced. i could read like 40k more words of it so if you ever write a pt 2, i'm gonna be screaming the loudest.

Thank you so much! I can't explain how much that means to me 🥹 Like I don't even know what to say except thank you 🩷😭 (Just know that I have a pt.2 in the plans but it won't be until much late into the year 👀 so I'm definitely looking forward to hearing you scream hehehe)

I second this so much!!! We need more zombie!teez fics out there. I know we have so many talented writers on atinyblr, so it's criminal that we don't get to see more of thriller!teez 😭

The last thing I wanna say is - It's an honor to be at the top of your list yumi 😭 You're going to make me bawl from that alone, like it wasn't enough that you sent me a truckload of feedback, now youre saying that too? Do you want me to cry, answer honestly? 🤧 No, but honestly, thank you so much for writing this and sharing your thoughts with me. Your reblog has actually made me think of something related to this fic that I haven't thought of before! So once again, thank you so much for taking the time out of your day to write this! 🩷🩷🩷

Bones, Blood and Teeth Erode | Jeong Yunho

⚠️ Summary: Taking a child under your wing, tackling complex feelings for a man who didn't make your life easier, and waking up to the entire world wanting to sink their teeth into your skin would make for one hell of a college essay. Too bad you were already done with your studies and working a full time job kicking rotten ass.

⚠️ Pairing(s): Jeong Yunho x F!Reader

⚠️ Genres/Tropes: non-idol AU, zombie apocalypse AU, horror, romance, hurt/comfort, a lot of action, a lil comedy, golden retriever x black cat (kinda, not really)

⚠️ Warnings/Tags: female reader, no use of (Y/N), explicit language, reader has a panic attack, derogatory words (bitch), use of weapons (guns, knives), blood and gore (quite descriptive), (probably inaccurate) gun wounds, losing consciousness, petnames (flower, angel, darling, sweetie), zombies, murder, reader is a badass, attempted murder by strangulation, brief allude to suicide and hanging (just a quick mention), medical needles, disagreements, Wooyoung is a menace, jealous!Yunho

⚠️ Wordcount: 39.3K

⚠️ Author's note: This work has been a fun challenge as it's my first time writing a zombie AU. With that, I'll kindly ask you to please be nice if the gore and action doesn't live up to your expectations! I'm also thinking of making a "sequel" as everything I planned couldn't fit here, but I don't know... I'll leave that for future me to decide. Until then, I'm going to focus on finishing Cold Hands, Warm Heart. Plus, who was going to tell me there was a limit to Tumblr?? Wdym I can't exceed 1000 paragraphs? 😭

This is all fiction and not meant to represent the idols involved in any way or form. This work is NSFW and not appropriate for minors as it contains explicit scenes. 

AO3 Masterlist Moodboard Click on me!

The most memorable moments of life were limited and a majority of them weren’t even stored in the human’s hippocampus until the ages three or four. First words, first steps, first birthday, first time using the potty amongst other things weren’t memories, but rather snippets of stories retold by parents or other significant individuals. With the years passing and flowers withering as snow spread through the country, the less memorable things became. Birthdays were celebrated every three hundred and sixty-fifth day, but were only really a big deal if it was a big number or when the line of adolescence and adulthood was crossed. After that, no one was eager enough to celebrate the less time they harbored in the world.

Then — in some random order — your wallet would be updated with a shiny driver’s license accompanying your credit card, a few pennies and other meaningless receipts you couldn’t bother throwing out. The desk in your childhood bedroom was cleared of coloring books, instead proudly displaying the evidence of graduating college that would eventually be framed and nailed to the newly painted walls of your first apartment. Those were the more memorable milestones you’d think back to in your senior years while relaxing on your porch with a cup of freshly brewed tea. By that point in life, you’d be free of school, work and other duties. The only worry was when your next doctor appointment was or if the neighborhood kids were stealing apples from your garden again.

The universe was known for throwing curveballs when one least expected and no one could foresee the bombshell of death and despair exploding on the green earth, altering everyone’s hopes and dreams to dust. Within hours, the vision of spending your last years alive tending to your garden flowers and watching the sun go to sleep was erased from existence along with your cherished memories, because there was no moment in life you’d remember more than the day the world went to shit.

“How’s little Nari doing? Have you checked the locks?”

“She’s good, as much as a seven-year-old could be. I’ve already put her to bed like half an hour ago. We ate some fruit snacks and watched an episode of Bluey, and poof, she was out like a light,” you chuckled gently. “And yes, I already checked, I double checked even.”

This was your new nightly routine ever since moving miles across the country for more opportunities in the big city. Your mom had yet to accept the fact her baby girl (and only child) wasn’t a baby anymore, but a grown woman with adult responsibilities. Nonetheless, she still called you at least once a day, and as much as you loved her, she sure was getting on your nerves.

“Triple check it… Oh! And see if your windows are locked too. She’s such a sweet little girl. Speaking of, how are the Kangs?”

Leave it to your mom to ask about everyone’s and everything’s wellbeing. It was no wonder she had trouble sleeping at night, the constant worry gnawing on her brain like a mouse with a stolen piece of cheese. Rolling your eyes, you refrained from chastising her for staying up late watching one too many criminal documentaries. You lived on the fifth floor; what did it matter if your windows were locked or not?

“The Kangs are good too, I believe. They’ll be her first thing in the morning to get Nari.”

“They are good people, those Kangs. I’m happy you have normal neighbors and not some weirdos. Especially when they know there’s a girl living alone, it makes you vulnerable.”

“Because a couple in their early thirties definitely can’t be perpetrators. Bonus points if they have a daughter.”

“I’m just concerned for my little baby girl. You know it’s difficult for us now that you’ve moved out. Your father doesn’t say much, but he hasn’t stepped foot in your bedroom after the last box was carried out.”

And as much as you wanted to tell her, ‘Mom, I’m not your little baby girl anymore’, the words wouldn’t roll off your tongue. Perhaps it was the mention of your father’s somber behavior — someone you never saw without a smile on his face — or you were missing them equally as much as they missed you.

“I know, mom. But it was a question of when I’d move out, I mean, it would happen eventually and here we are.”

“Well, I don’t care. You’ll be my baby until they stuff me down below.”

“Mom!”

“It’s true! Adult or not, I’m still your mother and will always be. Doesn’t matter if you’re five, fifty or five hundred. Now, I don’t want to hold you off any longer, it’s quite late and you have an early start tomorrow. I love you, my sweet girl.”

“I love you too, mom. Hug dad for me, would you?”

“Of course. Good night, sweetie.”

“Goodnight.”

Plopping down on the sofa barely big enough for three, your phone lightened with a gentle tap of your thumb. The wallpaper was a picture of you standing behind your parents with the family cat seated on your mom’s lap. It was taken days before you’d leave for Seoul (your mom insisted you take another family portrait to match the collection of the already existing thirty something photos). Your two hours were spent aimlessly scrolling through various social media apps, seeing what news and events you missed out on while entertaining the previously energetic seven-year-old. Amidst your scrolling, the three full bars of the Wi-Fi emoticon turned transparent. Not thinking much of it, you opted for resetting your router, but nothing changed. Even your data roaming wasn’t working.

“Huh? That’s weird,” you mumbled to yourself.

The device quickly lost its value and was forgotten on the coffee table as you reached for the TV remote. That proved to be useless too as a multitude of colors covered the screen with the words ‘No Signal’ staring right back at you. Growing up in the countryside, you weren’t all too shaken over the loss of Wi-Fi, but considering you were now residing in the heart of South Korea, where everything was supposed to be ten times better and faster, you were left with a queasy feeling. Giving the government — or whoever was in charge of these operators — the benefit of the doubt, you decided to get ready for bed. The internet would be back sooner or later, that’s how it was in your hometown at least.

You gently peeked inside your bedroom and with the reassuring sight of Nari still in a deep slumber, you resumed to the bathroom. 

“Maybe it’s a sign to tune in for the night.”

Watching yourself in the bathroom mirror, you shrugged and got to washing up. As you completed the long list of your skincare routine and dried your face with a towel, you didn’t expect to be met with sudden darkness and nearly fell into the bathtub. Regaining your composure, your feet were glued to the floor and ars extra sharp, listening for anything suspicious on the other side of the door. You couldn’t help but think someone had broken into your flat. To your fear, a silent creak echoed throughout the apartment followed by rapid pattering of feet. A whimper — you would’ve missed it if it weren’t for the complete silence — slipped through the tight space between the door and threshold. 

“Auntie?”

The speed you unlocked the door at should be studied by a group of scientists. You wasted no time crouching before Nari which she saw as an invitation to sling herself in your embrace. The few solar sticks shoved into your window baskets provided your apartment with enough light to avoid bumping into furniture as you entered the living room. The TV had gone from a bright rainbow to a void of nothing, enveloping you in complete darkness. A simple fuse going out wouldn’t turn off the power in your entire apartment and you wondered if the whole building was without electricity. 

“Why is it dark?” She whispered against your shoulder.

“I don’t know, sweetie. I think the power went out. Wanna see if there are any candles laying around?”

Grabbing your phone from its place, you quickly put on the flashlight and rummaged through your cabinets for anything useful. If you knew your mother at all, you were certain she snuck in some candles or a real flashlight while you were busy carrying boxes with your dad. Opening the second-to-last drawer, you found what you were looking for and in that moment it was a treasure bigger than gold.

“Looks like Auntie had some candles after all.” 

With the help of Nari — who actually just watched you scatter the candles everywhere — you managed to bring more light into the apartment.

“Isn’t this much better?” You asked and Nari nodded while shuffling to one end of the sofa, her knees brought up to her chest and her hair a mess from the short nap.

“When will the lights be back?”

Honestly, you didn’t know, but sensing it would spread more worry than comfort, you weren’t about to let her know that. She was already spooked from the sudden blackout and you weren’t all that keen on consoling a distressed child a quarter to midnight. 

“Soon. I’m sure of it. In the meantime, how about you go bring me your pretty pink hairbrush and I’ll fix your pigtails for you?”

You watched Nari run off into your bedroom and gave yourself a pat on the back for handling the situation quite smoothly. With the power out, you had no option but to save the battery on your phone, thus turning off the flashlight and relying on the candles for guidance. Not to sound entitled, but you truly thought the outages would be left in your hometown and wouldn’t follow you all the way to Seoul. Trying to go against the odds, you checked your phone again and noticed the service was completely wiped out. The top of your screen looked rather naked as the battery percentage glared at you tauntingly. Now would be a good time to worry. Water seeped through the ventilations in your flat and hastily rose upwards. Parts of your body turned numb at immediate contact and your nightgown stuck to your cold skin. You looked around. Your living room was flooding, but no one did anything. No one came to help. The world was still spinning and you were slowly drowning. As your view was obscured by a beautiful hue of blue everything stopped. 

It was quiet, but your thoughts were loud. Submerging underwater was supposed to give a sense of tranquility yet there you were, struggling to tame the voices in your mind. It was first when you parted your lips for an intake of air that they simmered out and a wave of panic washed over you as water gushed down your throat and into your lungs. Your mouth clamped shut and you made grabby motions as if you’d latch onto a plug and the water would magically go down a drain. The lack of oxygen caused darkness to cloud your sight and a force so tight wrapped around your head you thought it was going to explode. Fire burned your lungs and something clawed at your throat, but you refused to inhale again. It was scary. The fight was slowly leaving your body and right when you heard death calling for you, a bubbly call of your name brought you back to reality and suddenly there was no evidence of the translucent liquid ever being in your living room. 

“Here you go, Auntie.” 

Nari reclaimed her seat on the couch, the only difference being her back turned toward you. Releasing a shuddering breath, you took the brush from her and tried to differentiate between reality and imagination. This seemed to be real, you thought and got to work, despite your heart banging against your chest. With gentle touches, you removed the ties from her hair and combed it until silky smooth. To your relief and her luck, the strands weren’t tangled together and allowed the brush to run freely. Deeming her hair neat enough, you parted it down the middle and into two sections, and redid her pigtails from earlier. It was an easy hairstyle and suited her pretty face. You looped both your index fingers through each tail and giggled at the cuteness.

“There you go. All done, little flower.”

“Thank you, Auntie!” 

Nari turned around and wrapped her arms around your waist, her cheek mushed against your stomach and your heart soared with joy. The display of affection was enough to keep your head on and not worry about all the connected dots seemingly leading back to the power outage. Besides, you couldn’t act recklessly. If Nari caught wind of your unease, you could confidently say she’d spiral into a panic of her own.

“Of course… Now I was thinking with the power out, how would it sound if we raided my freezer for some ice cream? I mean, it will turn bad otherwise.”

The Kangs were quite strict with Nari and sweets, in the sense that they didn’t want her over consuming before bed or on weekdays. Something about having a balanced diet. It wasn’t anything you had a say in and if you wanted to be paid at the end of the day as well as avoid a lawsuit, you were going to ensure Nari followed those rules. But considering something was out of the ordinary and with your endless supply of ice cream, you couldn’t bother with what her parents had to say. 

While she was shifting between eating the flavors of strawberry, chocolate, banana, raspberry and vanilla ice cream, you pondered over the elephant in the room. Knowing now it wasn’t something solely affecting your apartment complex, but the whole city, you were trying your hardest not to freak out. Perhaps some vigilante had hacked into the government and planned on leaking some top secret files? Were you going to war? A sign of an earthquake?

“Auntie?”

“Yes, Nari?” 

“I’m sleepy. I’m sorry your ice cream will go bad.”

“Don’t worry about that. It was too much for just the two of us anyway.” You patted the top of her head and she childishly beamed at you, immediately illuminating the room better than any light source created. “Wanna get ready for bed again?”

As you stood up, you expected Nari to follow, but the child was still seated. Her feet brushed against each other while she picked around her fingernails. She avoided your eyes, her gaze trained on her fiddling hands. 

“Is something wrong?” 

The mumbled words were far too quiet for you to make sense of and with a polite request to repeat herself, Nari spoke again, a tad bit louder than before. “I don’t wanna sleep in the dark.”

A crack went down the middle of your heart and echoed loudly in your eardrums. Her sullen attitude caught you off guard, but knowing the reason behind it, you now wondered if she was used to being chastised or mocked for her fear in the walls of her home. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to endorse that behavior. 

“We could…” You began and waited for her to meet your gaze. Her little eyes carried a plethora of stars and you had to hold back from pinching her chubby cheeks. “Have a sleepover, right here.”

The stars in her eyes grew in size and twinkled brighter than any night sky. Her previously pouty lips curled in a sugary smile that cured any type of sadness. The child was up in seconds, already rearranging the pillow to her liking and claiming her side of the sofa.

“Okay, flower. It’s time for another brushing session.” 

Luckily, Nari didn’t appear like a kicked puppy and happily skipped to the bathroom instead. Your phone looked ginarmouis  in her tiny hands as it lit up her path despite the candles burning for the same purpose. You released a breath of relief and whisked out two blankets from your bedroom as well as Nari’s stuffed toys. She spent enough nights under your watch to know she’d ask for either Sir Fluffington (a rabbit with one of its ears ripped off) or Spiderfrog (a purple ladybug). Coming out of your bedroom, you were surprised to see Nari sitting on the sofa, legs tucked beneath her bum and arms hidden underneath her shirt making her look armless.

“Oh, you’re done already?” 

“The water is not working.”

Dropping the soft objects on the couch, your brows scrunched together. “What?”

“I opened the sink and the water didn’t come. It was first brown, like poopy water and then it disappeared.”

Disregarding her easy mix up between a tap and a sink, you flew across the room to the kitchen and as feared, no water came out. Something was wrong. How big of a coincidence would it be that the electricity, internet and water were out of function? Swallowing the lump growing in your dry throat — a placebo created by the knowledge you had no running water — you faced Nari and ushered her under the covers.

“I’m positive it’s nothing. The water and power will be back when we wake up.” Shuffling beside her, you handed her both Sir Fluffington and Spiderfrog, an easy distraction from the weird occurrences.

“Can we sleep with the lights on?”

“Yeah, I won’t blow out all the candles until you’re asleep. Is that alright?”

Nari nodded and tucked both of her stuffies beneath the blanket then brought it up to her chin. You gave your phone one last glance, sighing at the red battery and lack of a signal. Just your luck, you thought and let it back down. 

“Good night, Auntie.”

Nari’s breaths evened quicker than you could reply back and soon you too struggled with keeping your eyes open. As promised, you blew out the candles — starting a building fire was not a part of your bucket list — and came back to bed. Fatigue weighing more than three bags of flour tugged on your eyelids and it was easier to give into the darkness than fight it. Besides, you’d rather not stay awake and theorize over all the possibilities as to why the country seemed to be out of function.

“Night, flower.”

The trip to dreamland was short and didn’t last for longer than two hours. You woke with a startle, your body covered in a sheen of sweat and heart loud in your ears. It wasn’t because of your neighbor’s early shenanigans of rearranging furniture or a fast food delivery guy knocking on the wrong door, but people talking, or rather screaming, in the corridor of the apartment building. Nari was still sleeping soundly next to you, seeming nothing in the world was able to disturb her. It wasn’t because of your neighbor’s early shenanigans of rearranging furniture or a fast food delivery guy knocking on the wrong door. Still surrounded by darkness, you hastily grabbed your phone and blinded yourself as — what felt like — a hundred suns appeared right before your eyes. The numbers showed it was a little past two in the morning.

A commotion of multiple bodies running and sharp tones turning into faint screams, had you standing on your feet. The walls of the apartment were thin, but not enough for you to make out what was being said. It couldn’t be a normal argument between neighbors if the shouting went from anger to fear, hands pounding against doors with pleas of being let inside. You didn’t move until a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the stairwell. In all your years on this earth, you never heard a being make such painful and horrifying sounds. Not even movies portraying the most gruesome torture scene could be compared to what your ears were witnessing. You couldn’t describe it even if you wanted to. All you knew was that it touched your core, nearly cutting all mobility in your legs. The screaming didn’t stop for a while, but when it did everything turned silent. The silence in the dead of a night with everyone asleep; no engine rumbling, no people talking and no animals wandering around. Complete and utter silence.

By some miracle, you managed to get closer to your door without stumbling into something and for once in your life you were grateful for your mother’s nagging about checking the locks. Something was wrong. Really, really wrong. You could feel it in your bones, like birds sensing the beginning of a natural hazard. It wasn’t something you could explain either and if you tried, whoever was on the receiving end would probably call you crazy, but it didn’t matter because there was no one to convince of said feeling. Nari was too young to indulge in and she was at the age where children questioned everything. Giving her one last glance, reassuring yourself she was still asleep, you stepped closer to the door and prepared yourself to look through the peephole. It was first then you felt the side effects of not having water as your throat was uncomfortably dry and your tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth. Whatever you were going to see — hopefully nothing — on the other side of the door, you weren’t sure if you were mentally prepared for it. 

“Auntie?”

Like the hands of a grandfather clock reaching an hour, your heart chimed loudly in your ears, pushing all the air out from your lungs and freezing the blood in your veins. The childish voice didn’t ease your worries and for a moment you thought a scene from the movie Orphan played out in your life. The crazy thought lasted for a split second until you remembered why there was a child in your flat to begin with. 

“What are you doing?”

Facing Nari, you exhaled and mustered up a gentle smile. “I thought I… Nothing. I’m not doing anything.”

As you stepped away from the door, an internal battle broke out in your head. The logic in you argued it was nothing but a speck of your imagination while your gut feeling threw all sense out of the window and was ready to die on the hill that something wasn’t quite right.

“Did you hear it too?”

That was all the reason your gut needed to push logic out of the window. Swallowing dry air, your tongue darted out over your bottom lip. Inhaling a shaky breath which was a failed attempt at calming your nerves, you decided to see where the conversation would go.

“Hear what, flower?”

What Nari said next confirmed you weren’t crazy.

“The screaming,” she emphasized, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I… uh…”

As you parted your lips to say something — what, you didn’t know — a faint scratching noise sounded from behind your door. The best way to describe it would be a fingernail being dragged along the wooden surface. It was nearly undetectable, but with the silence in the apartment the sound was loud enough to interrupt your conversation and spread another wave of fear through your body. Nari whimpered, obviously still affected by the screaming from before, and quickly threw the blanket over her head with Sir Fluffington and Spiderfrog squished under each of her armpits.

Hanging onto the thin rope of sanity left in your body, you coaxed yourself into believing it wasn’t anything to be frightened over. The whistling wind could be heard every once in a while, right? 

“Don’t go,” Nari squeaked. She was clearly scared of you going out into the hallway and while you admired her thoughtfulness, you had to remind her you didn’t have a single brave bone in your body.

“I won’t,” you whispered back. “I just want to see.” 

If the situation wasn’t so eerie, you’d be laughing at her concern. Nari acted as if whoever was out there would grab you through the keyhole and you’d disappear somewhere akin to Raccoon City or The Upside Down. But you didn’t laugh because the possibility of that happening scared even you, a grown adult with her frontal lobe fully developed.

Exhaling, you flicked the metallic cover of the peephole and stared into an abyss of darkness. The green flickering light of an exit sign illuminated the hallway for a split second before everything turned black again. It continued on like that for a moment and each time the light came back on, you expected something grotesque to stare right back at you, but there was nothing. 

“Ha, like I thought. There’s no one the–”

Your voice died in your throat as the lightbulb flickered only to be brought back to life. The only difference was the figure standing in your line of sight. The green light was gone in a second, not allowing you to see who it was, but when one sense was diluted, the remaining four heightened. 

“Help.”

The voice, if you could call it that, sounded like it belonged to a chainsmoker of fifty years. Raspy — not sexy — and weak. They were wheezing for air and almost choked on their own saliva. It wasn’t until the hallway lit up again that you could make out what was presented before you. Mr. Shin living a floor down with ears that were good for nothing and an obnoxiously loud Yorkshire terrier. However, you couldn’t recall him being a smoker or having a gruff voice. Thinking about it, the elder hated anything to do with cigarettes. The smell, the long list of side effects and not to mention the higher risk of being prone to lung cancer. 

None of those facts were important though, because what you were seeing nearly sent you on your backside. 

Mr. Shin’s head was abnormally tilted to the right and something sharp, and white, boney, stuck out of his neck. The liquid he was choking on was in fact not his saliva, but buckets of blood. Dark, thick, blood seeping out of his neck and mouth, making it hard for him to speak.

“Open… Help me.”

Lights off. Lights on.

A big chunk of skin and meat was torn right out of his shoulder, coating his arm in a wine-red liquid nearly having you spilling your guts out. Clamping a hand over your mouth, both to keep your food inside and not to let out a scream of terror, you moved backwards. You felt sick. Your stomach was up to your chest and your pulse was so quick the beats per minute were impossible to count. The few words leaving Mr. Shin became a jumbled mess of groans and growls. His pleas for help and demands of you opening the door were indistinguishable, something not even an aggravated dog would let out. The scratching turned into slamming fists and jerks of the handle. 

Your phone was useless and there was no other way to get hold of an emergency service. Mr. Shin obviously needed help. He had always been kind to you; he bought you a fresh basket of peaches each month and collected the morning mail for you. There was yet a moment for you to repay him and now would be the perfect chance to give back for all his numerous favors. Not thinking much, you turned the lock west and the door opened on its own as a stumbling Mr. Shin entered your apartment.

“Mr. Shin what happen–”

It was as if he was possessed. The man old enough to be your grandfather staggered over the threshold and grabbed onto your shoulders, forcefully pulling you towards him. Your left hand fell on his ribcage as you simultaneously pressed your other hand against his throat, your fingers digging into the open wound and getting coated in red. As the green lights seeped into your apartment, you saw his lifeless eyes, red mouth and pale face. Your scream was loud enough to wake the whole of Seoul.

Still struck by the image of your kind neighbor looking like the upper part of him was put through a rusty meat grinder, you stumbled over your own feet and fell flat on your rear with Mr. Shin following in tow. Your throat was turning sore from all the screaming that didn’t reach your own ears. He didn’t stop his advances and his mouth was opening and closing in a biting manner, his rotten teeth loudly chomping against each other and overpowering your scream.

“Stop! Mr. Shin!”

It was as if you said the complete opposite as he fought against your pushing hands. Your hand — which was previously on his ribs — jumped up to his shoulder and gradually slid further up his neck. In the midst of your fright and panic, you latched onto the bone sticking out of his body. It was cold and sturdy, and so incredibly nasty that you nearly puked all over yourself like a wasted teenager coming home from a night out in the club. The friendly face of Mr. Shin with deep dimples and moon creasing eyes was void of any happiness. 

“Please, stop,” you cried out. Hot tears kissing your cheeks and lips wobbling.

You were left with no choice. Using all the strength you could muster, you dragged both hands in opposite directions. Like opening a newspaper with force and not stopping until it tore in half, his skin parted in the middle with more blood and tissue seeping out of him and straight down on you, coating your pink nightgown and bare skin. A modern version of Carrie.

A whispered apology left your mouth and what was once whole was split into two. The body of Mr. Shin slumped down over you while his groaning head rolled across your living room floor. You scrambled away from the corpse and didn’t stop until your back was against the couch, where a crying Nari loomed over you. 

“What the fuck? What. The. Fuck!”

Your hands shook uncontrollably. In an attempt to calm down, you weaved them into your hair, gently tugging at the strands while trying to arrange your fleeting thoughts into something rational. It was impossible. There were so many questions and not one answer. You didn’t know how long you sat there for. Maybe ten minutes? Twenty? An hour? Everything blurred together, but it were the wails of Nari that cleared up the mist you found yourself in. 

Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you saw her on the complete opposite end of the sofa. The blanket you provided her with was brought up to her chin. She was red as a cherry tomato, presumably from all the crying. As you somehow got up on your feet, her crying turned up in volume and you realized she was afraid of you. Thanks to the red smeared all over your body, that little mind of hers couldn’t differentiate between you and Mr. Shin. Probably assuming what happened to him got you too.

“Nari, little flower.” She peeked between her fingers obscuring her view. “I’m alright. I’m not…”

I’m not like him. I’m safe. I’m well.

“I’m okay.”

Three years passed since the outbreak started. One thousand and something-something days of moving from location to location, clearing rundown gas stations and seven-elevens, surviving on canned food and dried fruits and nuts. It wasn’t particularly easy living an apocalypse with a child. The first month was spent shifting between crying for her parents and then mentally aging half a year every day. You, on the other hand, promised no more tears would be shed ever since you decapitated your sweet grandpa of a neighbor. A decision made for the safety of both yourself and Nari. The girl that was thrust into your care for a few hours turned into a lifelong partner, however long that would be.

Perched on the roof of an apartment building you spent the past month temporarily residing in, you thoroughly examined all the stuff you needed for the long journey waiting ahead. With the little resources you had left, it was safe to say your time in the capital was coming to an end. Every store in a one-mile radius had been emptied and those that were still full of necessities were in the red zone, also labeled a suicide mission.

A shadow loomed over you, obscuring the sun from your view and providing you with a cooling shade. “You tell me not to sit in the sun, but you’re doing the complete opposite?”

You looked up at Nari, your brows scrunched together and mouth pressed into a straight line. It was a poor attempt at a joke, Nari knew that much, but it didn’t stop her from sharing her lame humor with you even if it didn’t go far. Glancing between a packet of bandages and the bottle of alcohol, you weighed your options before throwing in the alcohol. If either of you got hurt, it’d be better to clean the wound with alcohol than to plaster on a bandage and call it a day. 

Zipping up your backpack, you got on your feet and threw it around your shoulder. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

“That’s no fun.” She pouted and crossed her arms over her chest. The cap you found in a local store shop was one or two sizes too big for her head, but would fit right in about a year.

“Because fun gets you killed.”

You pushed the cap further down on her head and headed for the stairway. The sun was high in the sky and while it would be best to wait for the heat to pass, it would leave you with a lot of walking in the dark. Not the most ideal time to be outside as the biters were more active during the night.

“Okay, so when can I get a weapon? Like a gun-gun. Not a sharp stick.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Nari. The adult has the gun and the child keeps the map.”

“The map won’t help me fight bad guys.”

You smacked your tongue against the roof of your mouth and patted yourself down. The knife was in the holder attached to your hip and your gun was loaded with the safety lock on, resting against your other hip.

“No, but it will help you find safety which means no bad guys to encounter.” You unclasped the big chains looped through the metal handles of the roof entrance and opened the doors. “Ready?”

“As long as we find anything besides chips. Like was there an overconsumption of the salty potatoes in twenty-twenty four or what? Why are the stores full of them? I don’t get it. They taste like eating a handful of salt.”

Inheriting the guardian role of a child wasn’t something you planned to do until much later on in life. You weren’t prepared to take care of another being, let alone be responsible for their growth and not let them take on the personality of a psychopath. Through the long year of parenting and providing shelter and safety, you had a hard time finding the perfect balance between a strict and laid back aunt. While Nari still deserved to experience the life of a normal child, you were aware normal in a world full of rotting cannibals wasn’t the same as a year ago. Instead of playing with dolls and cars, children were taught how to work a gun and where to aim for a hundred percent kill.

Nari knew the theoristics. Their senses were diluted in the day and heightened at night, but a speck of blood would leave you vulnerable at any hour. The heart and brain were the weak points. For absolute certainty it was best to aim for the head even if a bullet was already lodged through their hearts. She knew all these facts, but had yet to take on a biter. Her kill count was a zero whilst you stopped counting after double digits. It was another thing you had taken upon your shoulders. As long as you were breathing and capable of clearing the path off obstacles, Nari’s hands would remain clean.

Before she could walk through the doors and take the lead, your arm shot out and halted her in place. A serious expression took over your features as you held Nari’s gaze.

“Remember; I need to see you and hear you at all times. Don’t stray from my line of vision, don’t just walk away and in case of an emergency–”

“Hide, sit and wait it out or run until my lungs are about to explode and my feet are covered in blisters.”

You inhaled deeply. Future you would either come to regret this decision or thank the heavens. From the pouch wrapped around your thigh, you took out a small switchblade. 

“Good. That’s good.” 

You flipped open the blade and wiped it against your thigh before folding it again. The switchblade wasn’t much of a use to you, ever since you found the combat knife hidden in the armory of some old man’s apartment. It was your companion for a little more than a year and saved you from a lot of trouble, but it was time to pass it on.

“I’m thinking…”

“Is that for me? Am I finally getting a weapon?!”

“As I was saying before being rudely interrupted, I was thinking of giving you my old switchblade.” You could practically see stars light up in her eyes. “But with the promise you won’t use it unless absolutely necessary, okay? That means it’s in your pockets and I only want to see it in your hand if it’s a life-or-death situation.”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Nari shuffled excitedly on her feet and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say your persistent rant entered through one ear and out the other. 

Sighing again, you handed it over and watched with attentive eyes as she tested its functions. Then, as ordered, she stuffed it in her back pocket and gave you a determined nod. Leading the way down the long flight of stairs, you shared the plan you put together over the span of three days while Nari was asleep and you kept watch. 

“I think it’s best if we head south. Most of the infected have probably been drawn by the loud sounds in the big cities, leaving the countryside vulnerable. The only thing I’m worried about is coming across other humans.”

“Sounds good. We can maybe grow crops and have cows or pigs? Aw, man, now I’m hungry for some pork belly.”

It was in these moments you were grateful for Nari’s presence. Her childish takes and questions were what kept your sanity intact. If it weren’t for her, you’d probably be roaming the infected streets like a lifeless monster gnawing at other humans.

“Sure. We’ll see what we can find, but ideally it’d be best to find shelter and then animals.”

“As long as I get to own a fluffy cow, I don’t care when or where. Don’t you think it’d be cool if I put a saddle on it and killed biters while riding her?”

The glare she received was hotter than the scorching sun and sharper than your knife. It was enough to keep her quiet for the majority of the journey, but it could only last for so long before she started firing questions again.

“Can I make a birthday wish this year? I promise to keep it realistic.”

You spotted a secluded shop that was yet to be raided for its goods. The windows were covered by planks — they seemed to be placed in a hurry — placed askew and barely shielding the glass panes behind the wood. The door was untouched, not a scratch on it besides the color chipping away and rust collecting on the chain tied around the handles. Nari was a smart kid. For her seventh birthday she didn’t ask for anything extravagant. A new pair of clothes, preferably a pink shirt and shoes. Because of safety reasons, the shoes were out of the picture unless you wanted to be an easy target. It’d be like spotting a Christmas tree in the middle of July. It wasn’t until her ninth year came around that she asked for the impossible; a dog. You couldn’t find a group of people that weren't out to kill you, let alone a creature with the appetite of a starving jaguar. 

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Teach me how to use a gun?”

The four cans of peaches were placed close at hand and you quickly scooped them into your bag as the question looped in your mind. In a perfect world where people didn’t turn into rotting cannibalistic creatures, you’d never entertain the idea of a ten-year-old handling a weapon. But the world wasn’t perfect and her birthday wish was more logical than her wanting a Barbie doll. You really wanted to say no. Use the excuse of wanting to protect her innocence for a few more years, but what good would that bring her in a moment of desperation? What would be worse, a longer life haunted by nightmares or a short one full of flowers and bees?

“If we find a little one,” you muttered lowly and handed her a pack of sealed batteries. 

She squealed and you masked your own smile with a scowl that immediately had her pressing a hand up to her mouth, a futile attempt to suppress the gleeful noise.

“Gotta make sure we don’t die before that though. You keep watch while I scavenge the place for anything useful. We’re leaving in five.”

The shelves were full. It was harder to pick things when you had more to choose from. You wanted nothing more than to stuff everything into two duffel bags and be on your merry way, but it would get you nowhere. The five minutes were spent choosing between bandages and medicine or extra food and nutrition. As you gave in and stuffed the two sealed medkits, the sharp whistle of a bird sounded through the store. Your head snapped up as cans clattered to the ground. Forgetting about the other necessities, you zipped up your bag and hid behind the shelves in the back where Nari too had taken shelter.

“What did you see?”

“A car. It stopped right out front, but I didn’t see who came out.”

The sound of the door opening killed the hushed conversation. Quite some time passed since you encountered other people, but each run-in was always more unpleasant than the previous and it left a sour taste in your mouth. Avoiding biters was easy — the creatures had rotting brains with no critical thinking — it was dealing with other humans that gave you a fright. There were already psychos in the normal world and you didn’t want to imagine what demons you’d be dealing with now.

Nari quietly slid down and sat on the floor, knees pressed up to her chest and a hand over her mouth, while you pulled out your gun and knife. Your wrists connected, making a human cross and the hand holding your gun rested on top of the one clutching the blade. Your finger was on the trigger with no fear of firing a bullet or two; anything to secure your survival.

The footsteps belonged to one person and you hoped whoever it was didn’t bring a friend. In a circumstance with the dead you’d throw something sturdy in the opposite direction of you, but dealing with other humans would take more than some trick. The best would be to avoid any bloodshed, take the car and leave fast as fuck. 

As the walking ceased so did your thoughts and you were certain your heart could be heard all through Seoul. A can of pears rolled by, passing your hiding forms and stopped as it hit the wall opposite. Whoever was there seemed to have found the tumbled cans, a give-away that they weren’t alone. 

“Come out,” they said calmly. The voice was deep and belonged to a man.

A curse died in your throat. Weighing your options, you glanced down at Nari and signaled for her to stay put. The man was obviously aware of your presence and with you as a distraction, Nari could get out. You weren’t worried about yourself more so over her safety. You could cut and swing and shoot, but Nari could only run and slash, and even that wouldn’t get her far. Left with no choice, you stepped out of your hiding with your arms locked and gun poised straight at the man. 

Yeah, Nari would have a zero percent chance of outrunning this guy. He was taller than the shelves and the majority of his body consisted of legs and muscle. Not only that, but his arms were long too and he’d probably get to you in three steps or less, hands quick to grasp at your shoulders and neck. Hand-to-hand combat would leave you with a guaranteed loss and the safest bet would be to keep him at three arms lengths. Speaking of arms, he wore a black leather jacket. In fact, he as a whole was covered in black clothing — except for the white cap on his head — even his hands were adorned with fingerless gloves. Quite strange as you were in the middle of summer, but you had seen stranger things. Trailing downwards, you noticed a gun was semi-hiding beneath his jacket and you wondered what else dangerous he kept out of view.

The cock of a gun snatched your attention. A much bigger gun than the one in his waistband was in his hand and he made it out to be the size of a teaspoon. It looked ridiculous. Not only was this man tall as a skyscraper, but his hands were big enough to crush your head in.

Appearance wise — besides the overly traumatic analytic of his body proportions — he was quite handsome for living in an apocalypse, and clean too. Dark brown hair that tickled his nape and a fringe which nearly fell in front of his eyes. A long nose and round, but serious eyes which didn’t leave your figure since stepping in his line of vision. His lips, formed with a cupid’s bow, were pressed together and quite dry. If it weren’t for your unfortunate situation and the fact you didn’t care about him, you’d maybe offer him one of the hundred lip balms hanging by the cash register.

“Who are you?” 

It must have been the dumbest question to date. What value did your identity have in a fucked up world? 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“And I asked first.”

You’ve held more mature conversations with Nari than this guy. 

Sensing you weren’t willing to give up any personal information, he tried approaching the situation in a different manner. “Are you alone?” 

“Yes,” you answered without skipping a beat. Your eyes were locked on his, refusing to glance in Nari’s direction. 

The silent battle of not moving lasted for a few more seconds until he decided to break it. 

“I’m Yunho.” 

The muscles of your mouth twitched downward and you tightened the hold on your gun, the trigger still being hugged by your pointer finger. You couldn’t give less of a fuck if his name was Yunho, Bruno or Minho. 

“I’m not here to cause trouble, I’m just looking for supplies. There’s a group of us, all very hungry and tired. We could use some of the food in here.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers.”

The corners of his lips curled in an amused grin. “No, they can’t, but all I’m asking for is a bit of compassion. You’re one person. We are a group of thirty-forty people. You surely don’t need all the food in here?”

A silly question. Everyone was either starving or injured, not to speak of completely sleep-deprived. Of course you needed everything. From the smallest piece of crumb to the canned mangoes five years out of date.

“Compassion flew out the window the moment I was attacked by other people. Who’s to say you won’t do the same?”

“If I wanted you dead, you’d have a bullet lodged between your eyes by now.”

Fuck this guy, you were not giving him shit. 

“That was the wrong thing to say, wasn’t it? However, I don’t think you’d let me leave with anything to be honest,” he chuckled and lowered his gun. A bold move for a guy who was deliberately pissing you off.

“You’re finally getting the hang of things around here. I advise you to leave while I’m still being civil. It’d be a shame to end the life of someone so brave. Risking your life for thirty-something people. That’s hard to find nowadays.”

“Doesn’t take much. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

A comeback rested on the tip of your tongue, but was swallowed with a startle as vehicle lights seeped through the sealed windows and squealing tires stopped outside. You slid back behind the shelf where Nari was still seated on the dirty floor, but shimmied more over to the left so you could fit better. Both flinched as Yunho rounded the same corner. His eyes grew comically in size at the sight of Nari and if it weren’t for the newcomers, you were confident he’d make a comment about her presence. Probably something about honesty getting you far, which you clearly lacked, and you’d argue it left you with nothing but a broken nose. 

As the door opened and multiple footsteps echoed through the store, Yunho stepped closer to you. His right hand came up next to your face as the other raised his gun, ready to attack if given the chance. His right hand was tense against the shelf and the only reason he wasn’t completely pressed up against you. The position was uncomfortable and you could smell a faint fragrance of lavender and some other herb emitting from the wrist next to your cheek. His other hand was raised up to his head, the pointer finger on the trigger and his face turned sideways as if to work out when would be the best time to attack. 

“Be careful, that engine was still hot. They couldn’t have gone very far,” a gruff voice exploded through the store. Great more men.

“Looks like this one wasn’t raided, Boss,” another man announced, his voice squeaky and unpleasant for the ears, as a third guy whooped in delight.

Light as a feather, your fingers brushed against his elbow closest to your head and the brief contact was enough for him to find your eyes. You nodded to something behind him and Yunho held your gaze before slightly turning sideways. A door was left ajar. Usually, you’d never enter a space without checking it free from infected or traps, but it was either meeting these strangers head on with a guy you were ready to blow the head off a few seconds ago or going head on into danger. 

Yunho prodded the side of his cheek with his tongue and pointed at Nari. He wanted her to go first, but you were quick to shut the thought down. As much as it drove you crazy to leave Nari in his wake for a moment or two, it was safer than having her deal with biters alone. Your pointer finger was driven into his peck and Yunho shook his head. What a gentleman. There was no time to argue so you pointed at yourself, then at Nari and lastly at Yunho. He wordlessly agreed and you gave a quick pat to the top of Nari’s head. As you pushed off the shelf, Yunho grabbed your bicep and it took everything in you not to drive your knife in the side of his torso. It was then you discovered one of the men standing in your blindspot and had you stepped out he would’ve definitely seen you. The man turned around and Yunho’s fingers were off you in seconds, giving you the green light to go. Stealthy as a cat and quick as a bunny, you disappeared behind the door without alerting the men.

You found yourself in a passageway leading to a bigger space which you recognized as a storage room. The rest of the room was bigger than the front of the store and somewhere in the far back, behind stacks of prepackaged foods and other goods, you could see a green emergency sign, probably a door leading to the outside world. Your only concern being if something was against it on the other side. Seconds later, Nari came through and the world spun faster than it’s normal at a thousand miles per hour.

“We have to help him!” She hissed and pulled at your wrist back to where you came from.

“Help who?”

“Yunho! They’ve spotted him or, no, they saw me, but he went out of hiding so they wouldn’t go after me.”

“Nari, stop. We have to go.”

“What!? We can’t just leave him.” 

You tore your wrist out of her grip and latched onto her shoulders in return. “The fuck we can’t. He’s not my priority. You are.”

“He tried to help us and even got us both to safety! Please, Auntie, it’s the right thing to do.”

“What did I tell you about playing the hero? We’re not in some video game, Nari. It’s the real world. Just because it’s right doesn’t mean you’ll get out of there alive and I’ve done a lot to ensure our safety. I won’t let some stupid men be the reason I lose you, do you hear me?”

She shook out of your embrace and pushed you back. Tears littered her waterline and lips wobbled from holding back sobs. “Why are you so mean?”

No punch to the gut would make you lose your breath the way those five words did. How would you explain to a child that the last years were all for her own good at the same time as you were letting someone else die?

“Fuck,” you whispered and clutched the roots of your hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

You checked the magazine of your gun and counted six bullets. All you needed was three.

“Okay, fuck. Here’s what we’ll do. You clear this area. Take anything that’s useful and not heavy, okay? I’ll go check the situation outside. Whatever happens, don’t fucking think of coming for us. Do you understand?”

“But–”

“I said, do you understand?”

Hesitation swirled in Nari’s eyes and she gnawed on her lower lip. Agreeing with your conditions meant she was practically leaving you for the dead and while you always returned, safe and untouched, it made her more aware of this being real with no take-backs. Remembering the kindness Yunho showed within the second he met you, Nari couldn’t take it for granted and be selfish. 

“I understand.”

Slamming the magazine back in your gun, you nodded. “Good. If I’m not back in a few, get out and run.”

First, you were unofficially tasked with guarding a literal child, and now you were sent on a rescue mission for a literal stranger.

The door was still not entirely closed and before you dared to peek your head out, a couple voices along with Yunho’s filled the silence. “I’m telling you, I came alone.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that the Wrangler outside is driven by one man only? Be honest, how many people do you have hiding in the storage room?” 

Yunho sighed exasperatedly. “Four less than what’s out here, so you do the math.”

“Boss, this guy thinks he’s funny. Want me to take him out or leave him to suffer?” The pipsqueak asked and by his voice alone you could guess he wasn’t much taller than a fifth grader.

“Don’t do shit, Mouse. I want to find that lil girl first.”

The blood in your veins ran cold at the mention of Nari. Now you had to kill them or they’d circle back to you. 

“Say less, Boss.”

“Lizard, keep your eye on him and Mouse? Go check that room.”

Changing positions, you hid behind the door, handgun exchanged with your combat knife and raised up in front of you. The heartbeats were loud in your ears and mouth dry from nervousness. All you had to do was catch him off guard and the rest would fall into place. 

The door opened inward and you pressed further into the wall, completely disappearing from his line of sight. Gently, you nudged it back in place and stalked behind the supposed Mouse. You were right, the man wasn’t tall and Yunho put him to shame with those long legs of his. Light on your feet almost as if floating through the air, you inched closer to him and advanced. Your hand went over his mouth, index finger and thumb pinching his nose shut, and the knife plunged hard into his back. Mouse barely struggled, which was a given, and you gently let him down. To guarantee he wouldn’t come back and bite you in the ass, quite literally, you allowed the blade to go through his skull, ending any chance of possessed resurrection.

One down. Two to go.

It would only be a question of time until their boss sent out the second guy to look for Mr. Pipsqueak over here and it wasn’t like you could dispose of the body and clean up all the blood. Whatever you’d do next would catch the attention of the leader and you hoped Yunho’s height wasn’t just a show off, but that he could actually take him on. For all you know they could be from the same community. Yunho did mention they were thirty to forty people.

Taking Mouse by his armpits, you dragged the body away from the door and hid it behind some crates. There was still a track of blood smeared all over the tiles leading straight to the body. It was how you wanted it to be. Mouse wasn’t completely useless. A flashlight was attached to his hip along with a fairly bigger gun than your own — you recognized it as a glock — and a taser. These guys were either a part of previous law enforcement or raided the place. You tore the bag off his shoulders and flung it over your own, it wasn’t heavy at all and you hoped he at least had some extra bullets. Feeling like you wasted enough time you hid behind two boxes stacked on top of each other on the opposite side of Mouse. Whoever entered would react to his body first before they’d catch a whiff of you.

Any time now, you thought and crouched into position. As if speaking into existence, the door swung violently and collided with the wall behind, and your muscles tensed. The grip on your knife tightened and you refrained from breathing too loud. You refrained from breathing at all. 

“What the fuck?”

Your plan was in motion as Lizard immediately noticed the blood. Anyone cautious enough would think of it as a biter attack and not something created by a pair of human hands. As thought, the man crossed the nonexistent threshold into the actual storage room and immediately saw his comrade in a forever slumber. He hastily turned around, gun up in the air and eyes wide, a wildfire spread in them as he locked gazes with you. His open mouth formed into a mean scowl and as his finger hugged the trigger, you lunged forward with your arms out. They pushed against his and — to your favor — changed the trajectory of his gun. The bullet was fired up in the sky, marking the start of your fight. 

Lizard shook you off himself and you fell with a roll landing behind more crates and boxes. As you got up on your feet, a pair of hands grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and smashed you back down. The air was knocked out of you and the telltales of a concussion quickly flooded your body. Your brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen and the world was spinning faster than a thousand miles per hour. Lizard threw a knee over each side of your hips and grasped a firmer hold around your neck. The air you were craving didn’t enter your lungs. Panic and the instinct to survive seeped in your veins as you desperately clawed at his hands. 

“You fucking bitch. Think you could take us out, huh?” He hauled you off the floor only to slam you back down. “C’mon, do something now. You can’t, can you? You bitches are good for nothing.” He chucked sinisterly. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it so you feel everything before I let you turn into those devil spawns.”

It felt disgusting. His rough hands on your skin and spit flying in your face. Tears clouded your eyes and the more he squeezed, the more it felt like they were going to pop out of your skull. It wouldn’t surprise you if veins were prominent on your head and neck or your nails turned a creepy shade of blue. You wondered if you looked as scary as the rotten biters. 

Lizard was staring into your soul. He made it his life mission to take you out. To see the life slip from you. If you weren’t on the verge of death with hands restricting your vocal chord, you’d ask him what woman rejected him to be calling you a bitch every five seconds. Too caught up with seeing you die, he was completely unaware of anything else. Eyes crazy and mouth pulled upwards, the happy expression scared you more than anything else and perhaps it was what still kept you going. Your arm was extended, fingers fighting to grasp the knife which was just about out of your reach. Black spots appeared in the air and it was getting harder and harder to stay conscious.

“Dumb bitch, do you think I’m fucking blind?”

Your combat knife landed in his hand — the other still pushing at your neck — and came up against your cheek. The sharp point rested against your delicate skin.

“I should leave a mark. What do you think? You’re quite pretty for a bitch.”

Garbled words were whispered out in the open. Realizing you wanted to say something, he let up on his hold. The inhale of oxygen was sharp and hurt more than it did soothe your lungs. 

“What did you say, scum?”

“I said,” you inhaled deeply and raspily exclaimed, “go fuck yourself!”

Your thick spit mixed with blood launched and landed straight in his eye. The knife was temporarily off your face as he wiped the saliva off his own.

“Should have picked a better choice of last words.”

A subsonic round went off and your heart stopped. When did Lizard get a hold of his gun?

Warm, sticky blood splattered all over your face and your skin burned beneath the thick liquid. Lizard went limp and fell forward, and you wasted no time pushing him off you. He landed with a thud. The crazy from his eyes was gone and now he was left to stare lifelessly at the ceiling of a random storage room. More blood pooled on the floor and you stared at him, chest heaving and oxygen slowly getting back in your system. Your hearing was overtaken by a buzzing sound, like the whistle of a kettle or the harsh wind of a storm, and didn’t fully return until a few minutes later. Noticing a figure, you tore your gaze away from the body and it landed on something more lively. In front of you — not a scratch to his face and a few splatters of red adorning his cheeks and forehead — stood Yunho, one hand holding his gun and the other stuffed in the front pocket of his pants. His eyes trailed all over you, but lingered longer at the area around your neck, for what reason you couldn’t bother grasping as you were too busy catching your breath. Done ogling you, Yunho stuffed the gun in the holster attached to his hip and waited for you to accept his hand.

“Is your compassion back now?”

“Auntie!” 

The familiar voice of Nari snapped you out of the pain. You whipped your head around and were met with a flash of black hair and thin arms circling around you, pulling you closer to a shuddering body. The smell of rose petals and dirt wrapped around you in a secure blanket.

“Nari,” you croaked out. 

“You scared me.”

No words could relay how sorry you were and instead you embraced her in a hug, your hand coming to caress the back of her head as the other was gently laid on her back. Something wet hit your shoulder and seeped into your bloodied shirt. 

“It’s okay.”

You didn’t sound okay and your throat may have hurt, and you’d just gotten the cloud of darkness out of your view, but none of it mattered. Having Nari in your arms unharmed meant you were well too. Yunho silently stared at the intimate moment unraveling before his eyes. The forty people waiting for him back at camp were the equivalent of your one niece and he understood that. Everyone had people they’d do anything for, someone keeping them going in this living hell. Nari was your person. She helped you back on your legs. A bit shaky, but up nonetheless. With the back of your hand, you wiped away as much blood off your face as possible, but it felt like you were smearing it around.

“Here.”

You jumped at the four-letter-word and pushed Nari behind you. Yunho, who was holding your knife, gun and a rag you hadn’t seen before, didn’t take offense to your heightened protectiveness. You nearly died at the hands of another man, he’d be worried if you weren’t cautious of him. He gingerly held out your things and planted them in the palms of your hands. 

“I didn’t think you’d wait around.”

“I wasn’t,” you confessed and cleaned your face. The rag smelled of oil and tires. “But she talked me into it so if you’re going to thank someone, thank the kid.” 

At the mention of her doing, Nari peeked over your shoulder only to retreat as Yunho’s eyes found hers. Cute, he thought and smiled at her timidity.

“I know she makes the last calls, but thanks, kiddo. I’d probably be in a lot of trouble if it weren’t for you.”

A long silence settled over you. The fingers of Lizard still ghosted over your neck, an imaginary pressure squeezing your tendons and making you fight for air. With the expectation to touch the digits of someone else, your fingers ran alongside the tender area and the suffocating feeling disappeared. Yunho followed your movements, jaw clenched and eyes darkening at the sight of gradually growing blue and purple bruises on your skin. 

“We part ways here,” you declared and returned the cloth. 

“You think that’s a good idea?”

Yunho didn’t mean for it to come out as a threat and he backtracked when your stance grew defensive, your hand armed with the knife raised and the other was thrown protectively in front of Nari. 

“It’s dangerous at night and you’re hurt. Come back to camp with me. My people, we could patch you up and give you food and medicine until you’re good enough to go out on your own.”

“Not a chance in hell.”

“Look, I know you’re suspicious of me. I get that, but I won’t hurt you. If I wanted you dead–”

“I’d have a bullet lodged between my eyes. I know, but I could also get a knife lodged through my back or neck snapped when least expected.”

Yunho sighed. “If you don’t think you need the help, at least think of your niece. A week or two where she doesn’t have to wake up wondering if you’ll have enough food and water to last you for the day. Don’t you think she deserves to have a break too? Where she can act her age and not be alert every waking hour of the day?”

What kind of question was that? Of course you wanted Nari to have a normal life. Where she could meet friends, go to the mall after school, have boyfriends and girlfriends, experience her first heartbreak whether it be romantic or platonic. You wanted it all for her. You’d hand pluck each and every star in the sky if she asked you to. What you weren’t going to do, was put her in harm's way. 

“You’re asking me to do the impossible… Choosing between living and surviving.”

A small hand came to rest on your lower back, fingers weaving into your shirt and anchoring you. It didn’t make you flinch, the contact was an all too familiar occurrence by now. A wordless reminder to take a breather and actually think things through. To not make decisions based on what was right or wrong, safe or dangerous, life or death. Throwing a glance over your shoulder and seeing the sullen expression on Nari’s face was enough of a reason to accept Yunho’s offer. 

This girl would be the death of you and you’d have it no other way.

The ride to Yunho’s camp lasted for well over a day, but you didn’t set off until the sun peeked over the tall buildings of Seoul. You were already taking a risk trusting Yunho, the last thing you needed was a run in with the biters at night. On the bright side, it gave you more than enough time to search the store for necessities. There was little to no space left in Yunho’s Jeep and you were assured, if rationed sparingly, the supplies would last his group for a week or two. 

Beautiful scenery of abandoned farms and vibrant, lively forests passed in blurs. You couldn’t remember the last time you were out of the city. Away from skyscrapers, ditched vehicles and hoards of biters. At some point you passed a group of horses that once belonged to humans, but turned wild. Yunho switched the blinker to the left before turning, a built-in reflex from years of driving in normal traffic. He glanced in the rearview mirror and smiled. Nari was sprawled out in the backseat, her bag sufficed as a pillow and a purple stuffie — which Yunho had a hard time figuring out the species of — was trapped in her arms. He wondered how a girl seemingly his age and a child lasted so long without a network to lean back on.

“What did you do? You know, before everything went to shit?” 

The greenery was replaced with Yunho’s profile. You lingered a little, taking in the slope of his nose, pouty lips and pinkish ears. The ends of his hair curled, tickling his nape and falling over his eyes. As he averted his gaze for a split second, you hastily looked back out the window.

“Nothing. I had recently moved to Seoul with a fresh diploma. The plan was to find a job and save up for traveling and other shit, but job hunting didn’t go as expected so I worked part time babysitting my neighbor's daughter until an opportunity would present itself. The outbreak happened before I could put my education to use.”

“She’s not your niece?”

“Not by blood, no, but she’s the closest thing to a family I have left.”

It took a while until Yunho said something else. The running engine and the crunch of tires on gravel mixed with the stillness of the countryside. The conversation sent you down memory lane. Images of your dad teaching you how to ride a back and then a car popped up like an ad that shifted to one of your many girl’s days with your mom. Not bearing the cumbersome memories, you rolled down the window and aired the car out. 

“What about you? What were you doing?”

Yunho jolted and the car swirled left then right until it was back to driving in a straight line. A loud groan came from the back. Nari sat up, eyes squinted and lips pouting as a hand came up to rub against the back of her head. The driver offered her a sheepish smile and a whispered apology. He cleared his throat and pressed on the pedal, the car accelerated and with enough speed he shifted his right foot on the clutch and changed into a higher gear.

“I was working in a repair shop. School wasn’t it for me and I knew a dude whose father worked with cars so he pulled some strings and before I knew it, boom, I was seventeen and employed.”

For a second, you imagined him in blue working pants, a white tank top and smudges of oil on his fingers and cheeks. Maybe far in the future when you bought a car and it eventually broke down or needed an oil change, you’d stumble into his workplace and meet him there. No threat of having your brains blown out or body gnawed on by the infected, but be welcomed by his cheeky smile and the question of what needed to be fixed today. 

“So you can teach me how to drive?” Nari burst your bubble. Her head peeked out from between the two front seats, one arm latched onto the headrest of Yunho’s seat and her upper body completely crossed over to the front. 

“Car rule, kiddo.”

An annoyed sigh left her lips as she dramatically flung back in her spot. With no hurry behind her moves, she buckled the seatbelt and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“And no, he can't teach you how to drive," you added shortly after Yunho.

Nari snapped her mouth shut and sank further down in her seat. You’d reconsider if she asked for it as a gift for her birthday, but that wish was already decided. While it could be necessary for survival, most of the cars you found were already emptied of gas and what good would it bring her if she couldn’t see over the wheel? She was already pushing it with wanting to handle a gun.

“I mean, I don’t mind going through the basics–”

Much like Nari, Yunho sealed his mouth shut at the scorching heat of your glare. No more words were exchanged apart from Nari asking Yunho about this supposed camp. Questions about how big it was, were there animals, were there dogs, what kind of rooms they had and other questions reminding you she was just a kid.

“We have a dog.”

“A dog! What’s its name?!”

Yunho hummed, “His name is Heart.”

As the two got into a nice conversation about the dog, stars glimmering in their eyes and hearts overflowing with joy, you caught wind of movement in the distance. A singular figure stopped in the middle of the road and at first glance it was almost mistaken for a biter, but as they raised their arms up and took on the stance of a functioning man you realized you weren’t dealing with the infected. Eyes widening and brain not functioning to produce the words, you rapidly started hitting the dashboard.

“What?” Yunho glanced over at you and then back through the windshield, still not seeing anything alarming.

“Stop the fucking car!”

The bullets moved faster than Yunho could slam down on the brakes and tore right through the glass, piercing him in the shoulder. Nari screamed and Yunho tried avoiding the shooter, but the pain made it hard to maneuver the wheel and he drove into the person, killing them right on the spot. You turned around to check on Nari, hoping not one of the three bullets grazed her skin and as the car swiveled to the sides, you faced the front again. View obscured by cracks in the glass and shards flying everywhere, it was hard to make out the road and it wasn’t until you got closer to the other vehicles that you screamed.

“Watch out!”

The collision sent you into a deep sleep that would last until the sun kissed the horizon and greeted the moon on her way out. Stars twinkled in the sky, no city lights or air pollution there to dim the pretty view. You woke up with a stir. A heavy ache spread through the back of your head and spread to the front. Chirping of crickets and raspy groans filled the silence. You put a hand up to your head, feeling for a cut or blood or any injury to have you lightheaded, but there was nothing.

“Fuck,” you managed to get out through a dry mouth.

Unbuckling the belt, you turned around and were met with a switchblade in your face and Nari’s teary eyes staring at you. Furrowing your brows, a noise akin to a confused hum left you and your gaze ventured to a passed-out Yunho. 

“Please, please, please don’t be one of them. Please, don’t make me do this. Anyone but you.”

You glanced back at Nari and saw big, fat tears running down her cheeks. The knife in her hand was shaking and her breathing was unstable. Images of the incident flashed in your mind; the shooting, Yunho’s shoulder, the collision, you losing consciousness. 

“Nari, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

As you moved further over the console to see her better, she shimmied backwards and yelped.

“Don’t touch me! Please.”

You weren’t scared of the weapon, but of the one behind it. However, in this situation, you knew Nari wasn’t capable of hurting a fly let alone the one person who cared for her. The knowledge didn’t soothe your mind. Clasping your hands around her shaking ones, you took the switchblade out of her hold and ran your thumb soothingly over her skin. 

“It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“Yunho,” she started and wiped her nose. “He’s hurt. There was so much blood and, and–”

You couldn’t fathom how you didn’t notice his bare body, the bloodied bandage going around his shoulder and chest, or his faint breathing as if barely there. 

“I– I tried fixing it. I used one of our medkits to stop the bleeding, but I didn’t know how.”

Your fingers gently pressed on his bandage and then you hovered them beneath his nose. “No, it’s good, I think you've stopped the bleeding. It’s his breathing I’m concerned about.”

“Why?”

“It’s weak. We have to get him to that camp.” 

You unbuckled his seatbelt and moved his chair further back. With gentle slaps to his face, you called his name. God knows what you’d do if he didn’t wake up. There was no way you’d be able to carry him out of the car and into the backseat.

“Come on, wake up!” You hissed and started pulling at his eyelids. It was after the fifth repeat of his name that he fluttered them open. 

“Angel?”

“Who’s Angel?” Nari asked.

Disregarding her question, you gave him one more chaste slap to the cheek. “Are you with me?”

Yunho nodded and tried to sit up, only to groan in pain and fall back.

“Yeah, buddy. I don’t know if you remember, but you got shot. It looks pretty bad and we need to get you help.” 

“It hurts.” 

“I can imagine. Can you hold out until you’re in the back?”

With a determined nod and sigh of exasperation the plan was in motion. Before jumping out into the dark, you scoped out the area and spotted a handful of biters standing quite far from the car. 

“We gotta be quick,” you warned and ran over to Yunho’s side. 

Throwing open the door and placing his uninjured arm over your shoulders, you helped him — more like pulled him — out of the car. Nari was quick to open the backdoor from inside and move away. Blood drew from how hard you were biting your tongue. He was making quite a fuss and the last thing you needed was to gather the attention of the biters. By the time you were behind the wheel, Nari had jumped to the front from between the seats. 

“Will you be able to see?” Nari gestured to the broken windshield. 

By some miracle, the whole glass was still intact except for the one hole created by the bullet currently inside Yunho’s shoulder. The other shots probably hit something less vital or completely missed the vehicle.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad. Annoying? Definitely, but manageable. Just put on the seatbelt and give me your map.”

Doing as told, you unfolded the paper and turned to Yunho. “Okay, hey. Hey! Are you with me? Good. Now, point out where we’re going.”

Slow as ever and shaking like a baby foal, he managed to press his finger on the paper and you were quick to mark it down with a pen. 

“Good, that’s good. Nari, you keep an eye on him. If he falls asleep, wake him. We don’t want him sleeping for more than a few minutes at a time. If he shows any sign of turning, and I mean any sign, you tell me or we’re all as good as screwed.”

“Got it.”

The most recent time you handled a car, you were still living with your parents and only really used the family car for when going somewhere out of town. Driving was like walking. Once you got it down it was a part of your nervous system. Sure, your skills could get rusty the longer you went without driving, but they sat in the back of your mind like the multiplication table. 

You were an hour into the drive and by your calculations, you wouldn’t reach the spot for another two.

“Who do you think Angel is?”

“It’s none of my concern, Nari.”

“No, but I’m curious. Do you think it’s a friend?” Your silence spurred her on. “Or a girlfriend?” She tauntingly wiggled her brows and you had half a mind not to steer the car into a tree.

“Again, it really isn’t my or your business.”

“What Korean person is named Angel though? Isn’t that, like, really foreign?” Nari gasped dramatically. “What if it’s his child? People are more modern with names these days, but he does look a bit too young to be a dad…”

“Nari,” you said, a sternness to your tone.

“Okay, okay… But what if he thought you were an angel?”

It was going to be a long two hours. 

Multiple signs with poor writing were stationed with a distance of ten miles between each board. The words were in black — whether it be by paint, a marker or a spraycan, you didn’t know — with an arrow showing what direction to follow.

“Sector one, all survivors are welcome. Doesn’t sound that bad, right?”

You scratched the side of your neck. The consistent position of sitting with your arms stretched out and feet on the pedals was giving you an ache in your back.

“I guess we’ll just have to see. How’s he holding up?”

Nari wiped sweat off Yunho's forehead. “He’s still breathing. A bit sweaty, but he’s not burning up.”

“We’ll be there soon enough. Let’s hope at least one of these forty people is a doctor or something. There’s only so much a medkit can do.”

Noticing another sign, you flashed the high beams and lit up the whole road. The only difference about this poster was the additional wooden plank beneath reading, five kilometers away and an arrow showing left. Doing as the sign read, you turned left and came off the street into a secluded path obscured by trees and bushes. It was big enough for three mid-sized cars, but it was still suffocating. If anything jumped out, you’d only have the option to run them over.

“This is scary,” Nari whispered from the back as if a louder volume would draw an army of people or biters from nowhere.

“Agreed.” You stepped on the gas and advised Nari to hold on as the road was getting bumpier the faster you went. Yunho’s head bobbed to the side and hit the window multiple times until Nari placed Spiderfrog between them.

The forest gradually grew further and further away from the road until a chain-linked fence creeped into the view. What came next was like something taken out of a fairy tale. On the other side stood big cement walls with barbed wire continuing all around the top edge. It was already impossible to climb them due to their height, but the steel spikes made it abundantly clear to not even try. Each corner of the walls had a little house, like a treehouse created out of stone, with a perfect sight miles away. The greenery separated the remaining world from the castle-like building and you wondered where in hell you had arrived. As the magic of a fairy tale evaporated into thin air, it dawned on you where Yunho’s group had taken shelter. 

At a prison.

“Look.” Nari’s arm came through the middle and her index finger raised at something so obvious it should’ve been the first thing to catch your eye. 

The Jeep slowed down as you lightly pressed on the brakes and shifted down in the first gear. A sign bigger than all of the previous ones you’d seen combined was nailed to the gates of the chain fence. There were actually two signs, one nailed to each door. 

Welcome to Sector One.

Pulling on the handbrake and turning the keys sideways, you breathed out as the vibrations of the car came to a stop. The keys were left in the ignition. You weren’t going to take chances on an ambush happening and you panicking with finding the right key, inserting it and starting the car without stalling.

Checking your gun and reloading it with the bullets you found in Mouse’s bag, you turned to Nari. “I’ll go first. Don’t get out until I give a signal that it’s clear, alright?”

“Yes.”

You gave them one last glance. Yunho looked peaceful, but lacked the warmness he greeted you with and although you didn’t know him well enough, it was still weird seeing him like that. Treading on the thin line between sleep and death. Then there was Nari. The girl had grown… you wouldn’t say attached, but rather fond of him and his kindness. There weren’t a lot of people who offered you a roof over your heads and food in your tummies, besides, she was still young when the breakdown happened. Not nearly enough time spent in this world to create bonds with more people, especially kids her age. Yunho was — other than you — her closest thing to a friend, someone she deliberately chose to befriend and stand up for. Something was telling you he wasn’t about to leave your lives any time soon and if this place proved to be as good as he was making it to be, you'd be forever in his debt.

You stepped out of the car and quickly surveyed the area. It was still dark out and the moon was high up in the sky. Staying on alert with your gun ready, you stalked closer to the gates. The towers seemed to be empty of watchers and you didn’t know whether to feel happy or wary of it. If the place was safe, shouldn’t someone be on the lookout? The sound breaching your ears seconds before Yunho was upgraded with a new wound to his body went off again and a bullet — you couldn’t see, but feel — skimmed past your toes. If you had a penny for every time you were shot at, you’d have two. Not the biggest number in town, but it sure was crazy considering it all happened in the span of a few hours.

Clasping your gun between both of your hands, you aimed it high and looked around. The bullet came from a place where the shooter had a perfect view of everything. Your eyes widened as a body that wasn’t there seconds ago stood in the tower closest to the gate. No wonder you didn’t see them, they blended perfectly in with the dark swirls of the sky. You’d argue their black clothes — a hood pulled over their head and swallowing them completely — were darker than the background. However, it wasn’t their sudden appearance that had you frozen in place, it was the rifle resting in their embrace.

“Drop the gun and step back,” they shouted and when you didn’t comply, they continued. “Drop the gun or have your brains blown out. It’s your decision, sweetheart.”

Cursing the mysterious person didn’t feel like it would give you free entry into Sector One. Then again, if it meant dealing with armed people shooting without a thought behind their heads then you didn’t want in. For the sake of Nari though, you did as the guy ordered and raised your hands in a mocking gesture.

“Kick it away from you!”

“Are you serious?” You mumbled beneath your breath. The guy was really testing your patience. Playing the part of an obedient dog, you sent your handgun hurling toward the gates.

“Nice Jeep you have there. Where’d you get it?”

“A friend of mine.” 

In any other circumstance Yunho wouldn’t be described as your friend. Heck, you couldn’t even call him an acquaintance. The guy was still a stranger in your eyes, but you wouldn’t test your luck with the rifle-guy. 

He chuckled — dare you say charmingly — and lowered the rifle so it was resting on the rails of the tower. 

“That’s funny because my friend has the exact same car with the exact same logo on the front and last time I checked, he went out alone for some dog food and not with some girl. So, let’s try this again… Nice Jeep you have there. Where’d you get it?”

“Yunho. His name is Yunho. A funny guy, quite tall too.”

Rifle-guy moved with such speed that the hood slid off his head. The weapon was raised again and you were certain he was a millimeter away from shooting you dead. 

“What did you do to him? You better answer fast or I’ll send so many bullets through you, we’ll alert every biter in a ten mile radius.”

“He’s in the back. Breathing, but barely. He offered me a place to stay and we got attacked on our way here… I stopped the bleeding, but there’s no guarantee of his survival.”

Time seemed to stop as the guy didn’t move. You didn’t dare breathe louder and tensed your whole body from moving an inch. Anyone with a weapon aimed at you and their finger on the trigger wasn’t to be trusted. A bullet could be fired with the slightest of movement and you weren’t about to suffer the same fate as Yunho for breathing a little harder or accidentally losing your footing.

Feeling impatient you cleared your throat and spoke up. “I can show you… Yunho. I can show you he’s in the backseat.”

“How do I know you won’t get something to shoot me with?”

“Because people who have something to lose won’t act so recklessly.”

“And, do pray tell, what is it that you value so highly?”

Letting out a shaky sigh, you slowly turned your head sideways and looked through the cracked windshield. The guy couldn’t see her, but you and Nari made immediate eye contact. You flickered your right hand forward slowly and she caught onto what you were trying to convey. The backdoor opened and with a copy of your stance, Nari exited the car, arms high and vacant of the switchblade you gifted her. She came up to stand beside you, a tight-lipped smile on her face. The guard was taken back as a literal child appeared. Of all the people he encountered over the wall, not once had he aimed the muzzle at a kid. It was usually Yunho or some of the others who brought them in. He dealt with grown strangers who were lost or searched for cover. Rifle-guy closed his gaping mouth and lowered his weapon again. 

“Stay there. I don’t want either of you to move,” he explained and proceeded to talk into a device.

A lamp on the other side of the fence lit up and two figures appeared from a door leading into the building. They were heavily armed, so much you could see, and were of a great build. One was challenging the other with his height — he even gave Yunho a run for it — but the other made up with his broad shoulders. Both carried a rifle each and had thick vests going over their chests, leaving you wondering what kind of camp this was. Were all newcomers welcomed with a rifle straight out of the military embassy and a one-month training program to become ripped?

The pair stopped and just stared at you through the fence. The headlights of Yunho’s Jeep reached to their knees, but made their faces more visible. The first thing catching your attention was the freshly bleached hair on the tall one. It looked ridiculous, but his serious expression scared you into being quiet. Not to mention his sharp yet round eyes which told you he wasn’t amused by your presence. He stuck out like a sore thumb. His companion was more subtle, with parted black hair and a short fringe falling in front of his eyes, but in a fashionable way and not the my-hair-is-a-mess way. Speaking of his eyes, they were sharper than Mr. Snow White over there, but held the heat of a bored tiger. He had very prominent cheekbones and naturally styled brows every model dreamed of having. The sleeveless shirt he was wearing gave a beautiful view of his thick arms, you’d argue his one bicep was the size of your head. 

The men were as handsome as they were dangerous and you first realized how unfortunate of a situation you were in. Yunho was a nice guy, but his actions didn’t seem to reflect those of his friends. The sound of the gates opening by a mechanic whirring snapped you out of your worrisome thoughts. 

“Don’t move,” said the white-haired one. His voice deeper than the ocean and struck you to the core. 

You wanted to let him know you weren’t planning on it, the threat of rifle-guy hanging over your head. As Snow White advanced to the car and picked up your abandoned gun on his way, his friend held you at gunpoint. You cast a quick glance to the watchtower and saw rifle-guy doing the same thing, his weapon supposedly aimed at Nari. Their positions didn’t change, not even when the car door opened and Yunho was carefully thrown over his friend’s shoulder. The pair shared a look and you were ushered back in the car before you could ask about Yunho’s well-being. Nari followed shortly and it confused you as to why she sat in the passenger seat. When the black haired guy sat right behind you, gun positioned toward Nari, you understood.

“Drive up to the door. Don’t think of doing anything funny and I won’t hurt the kid.”

Through the rear-view mirror you held his heated gaze and he raised a perfectly arched brow as if daring you to disobey. Giving up, you started the car and did as ordered. If you had known you’d be rewarded with your heroism by having a gun pressed to Nari’s head, you'd have taken the Jeep and left Yunho on the side of the road. Instead, you listened to a freshly turned ten-year-old and got thrown into a jail cell, all for trying to help a guy not die. It could have been worse, you tried convincing yourself. The guards — is what you decided to call them — could have separated you and Nari. 

You didn’t expect much of the prison. The most you knew was from textbooks and documentaries online, and the material didn’t give you the best image of the place. You expected dirt, filth and wickedness everywhere. The prisons you heard of gave nothing to the prisoners, they treated them like animals with shitty food and equally shitty sleeping arrangements. To see your cell furnished with a bunk bed, a table in the corner and blankets, you were bewildered. San — the shorter guy with broad shoulders and a tiny waist — locked you in with the promise of returning shortly. Staying true to his words he came back, but with the company of Mr. Snow White. The only real bad side to this arrangement was them taking away all your weapons. Nari’s switchblade, and your combat knife and handgun were all in the possession of San.

“Up to the wall,” he ordered and didn’t lock up the door until your backs were one with the wall. Mr. Snow White entered first with two trays in hand. Your eyes quickly scanned what he was holding. It was food and water. You weren’t going to lie, the food looked appetizing and you hadn’t eaten a warm meal in a good while, but you knew better than to accept food from strangers.

Mr. Snow White placed the trays on the table and straightened back up. He cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back. “I’m Mingi.”

Your eyes didn’t leave his and the neutral expression on your face didn’t falter. He didn’t move and you realized he was waiting to hear your names. You licked your dry lips and glared harder at him. You weren’t going to tell him any–

“Nari. I’m Nari,” she spoke up from beside you.

You whipped your head toward her and she was purposefully avoiding your gaze. You couldn’t believe your ears. There wasn’t a critical thought behind that head of hers. Glancing back at Mingi, he raised a brow and tilted his head sideways. Being left with no other choice, you gave up your name. Just because you were exchanging pleasantries didn’t mean you were going to be all friendly with them though. They literally took you hostage after you helped one of theirs. 

“Okay… Uh, eat.”

As San fiddled with the jail doors, you coughed up the courage to ask about Yunho.

The jingling of his keys stopped and San looked up at you. The fierce aura from when he held you at gunpoint and growled threats in your ears was replaced by an unexpected softness. His eyes didn’t send blades your way and the corners of his mouth weren't pulled in a scowl. Everything about him was completely different and for a flicker of a second you could see the same compassion lit in his soul as well as Yunho’s.

“He’s okay. He’s better. You did a good job stopping the bleeding. He’s still… Unconscious, but his breathing is more stable now.” San sighed and stuffed the key back in his pocket. “I’d like to ask what happened, but it’s not… Our Captain wants to talk to you first thing in the morning.”

You weren’t surprised at the alias for their leader, it seemed like a lot of people had a knack for weird names.

“I want to talk to Yunho. He’s the only face I can somewhat trust.”

“And you will, but first you’ve got to talk to the captain and then as soon as Yunho wakes up we’ll bring you to him, so eat and rest.”

Neither of you moved toward the food. It smelled delicious though and your stomach was turning in on itself from hunger. Seasoned chicken and potatoes. How they’d acquire that you had no idea. It didn’t matter though. Everything came with a price, before it was actual money, but now you could be forced to pay in numerous ways. Some which you didn’t want to imagine.

“And the food? What do you want for it?”

“Want for it?” His dark brows scrunched together and a little wrinkle appeared on the surface between them. 

“What do you want in exchange for the food?”

As if a light switch went off in his head, he waved his hands around. “Nothing? Nothing! It’s free, I mean, it’s leftovers from dinner… We’re not like that. The thing out front was just a precaution. I promise.” 

His gaze shifted from you to Nari and his expression softened into that of pity. You both kept quiet as his somber eyes trailed over her lean body and you were a toothpick away from pushing her behind you.

“You’re too thin for a kid… Please, eat… And when you’re done, I’ll– I’ll, uh, bring you something sweet, okay?”

“I like chocolate,” Nari whispered.

“Well, I hope you like pudding because we have lots of it.” As San closed the last big door separating you from the rest of the camp with the reminder to eat, you wasted no time chastising Nari for her lack of critical thinking.

“You can’t go around and trust people like that. This,” you gestured toward the area outside the cell, “isn’t permanent. We don’t know what they want or what they do to newcomers like us. Not to mention they think we hurt Yunho.”

“But we can’t always expect the worst to happen. They could help, Yunho said they would help.”

“Yunho isn’t here! It’s just you and me locked up. Out there we could at least roam free, but now, we don’t even know if we’ll ever see daylight again.”

Fatigue tugged at your eyelids and all the muscles in your body burned from overexhaustion. You plopped down on the bottom bunk, arms propped on your knees and head in your hands, as you tried assessing the situation. However you looked at it, you were at a disadvantage. Your only hope would be Yunho waking up and even then you weren’t entirely free from harm. The tall man could still lie and put the blame for his wound on you.

The bubble of darkness burst as keys clashed together and the cell door was harshly opened. You didn’t remember falling asleep or laying down in bed, or the feel of your head hitting the plush pillow. It just happened. Rolling off the bed, you took on a defensive stance with your hands coming up to your face. You were ready to pounce at anyone daring to come inside.

“I thought I told you guys to eat?”

Blinking your weary eyes awake, you took in the disappointed look of San. This guy apparently had a thing for promises because he was standing there with a chocolate flavored pudding in hand. The two trays on the side were once filled with warm food and had turned cold from being out in the open for long. Your stomach growled in retaliation and you tried pushing the thought of regret to the back of your mind.

Regret for not eating. Regret for yelling at Nari. Regret for helping Yunho.

“And I told you I wanted to speak with Yunho.”

Additional shuffling footsteps echoed in the empty block and the familiar head of black locks peeking from around the side of your cell grabbed your attention.

“Calm down now.”

“Yunho!” Nari wasted no time climbing down the ladder. Her imaginary tail wagged violently as if an excited dog reuniting with her friend from the park. Thinking about it, you weren’t that far off with the visual imagination. They got into a small conversation about his shoulder that quickly shifted to questions about Heart. You breathed out and slumped down on the chair behind you. Yunho was alright. He was breathing and talking and walking just fine. The chances of your and Nari’s survival skyrocketed by fifty percent. He gently patted the top of her head and a dimple you hadn’t paid attention to earlier formed on his cheek. The ripped pieces of fabric from last night were replaced by a white loose-fitting t-shirt and — instead of wearing his black jeans — a pair of gray sweatpants covered his long legs. 

“You’re okay.”

Yunho hummed. “Of course. It takes more than a measly bullet to get rid of me.”

'You were closer to death than life,' was what you wanted to say, but held back. It wasn’t your place to remind him of his state. Besides, he wasn't anyone of importance. Yunho was your ticket to safety until you decided to move along somewhere else.

“Not to interrupt your lovely reunion, but Captain wants to see you soooo,” San interrupted. “Let’s go.”

He proceeded to sheepishly smile as you raised a brow at the loaded rifle in his hands. “I’m sorry, but it’s just a precaution.”

A precaution for what? They already took all of your things. How big of a threat could you pose with your bare hands and a kid against a mountain-shaped guy and his skyscraper of a friend? There was nothing you could do to put a scratch on either of them and you were certain you’d get an arm, if not both, broken in return.

“Can we see Heart after this?” 

San’s brows flew up at the question and he turned toward Yunho who was still sporting a bright smile. “They know about Heart?”

The taller of the two men only shrugged, but the gleeful expression gave him away. You didn’t have enough energy to reprimand Nari for her nonchalant behavior. The girl was doing whatever she wanted and you didn’t deem the situation dangerous enough to land either of you in trouble, unless the dog was rabid and attacked at first sight.

“Let’s see what their leader wants first, okay?” You put a hand on her shoulder and guided her out of the cage.

Nothing prepared you for the walk from one empty cell block to another full of people gauging you like circus freaks. It wasn’t that weird considering you and Nari looked to be taking daily baths in the sewers and voluntarily gave each other body altercating wounds, but it annoyed you nonetheless. Fear pooled in their eyes, young as old, and you wondered how out of touch with reality they really were. July turned into August three times since the outbreak started. What kind of rules was Sector One built upon if their people couldn’t hold their own? 

It made your blood boil. You wanted to give them a reason to be scared. Bare your teeth at them and ask what they had been doing while you were fighting for your life day by day. 

“This is where I stop. Yunho will be with you, so just follow him,” San said from behind you. “Captain’s already waiting inside, Yun.”

“Roger that soldier… Come on, let’s not keep him waiting.”

The room they labeled the ‘Captain’s headquarters’ was probably where the previous warden spent most of their time while working. It looked nice. Classy. You could argue it was a different world than the rest of the jail. There was actual furniture inside, two leather sofas facing each other with an expensive looking table in the middle. To your left was a little window looking out on the common room; the area where people ogled you like nothing. Behind the leather set up was a mahogany desk where a man much shorter than Yunho, Mingi and San sat. Two pairs of chairs were placed across from him, letting you know he was expecting your and Nari’s presence.

The most outstanding detail of his was the white bandage wrapped around his forehead and going slightly over his right eye. Captain — as they called him — stood up, a smile taking over his features and his eye creasing from cheesing too much. He had quite a peculiar look to himself; short black hair in the front that grew more at the back and covered his nape like a semi-mullet with the sides freshly shaved. His nose was charming and pointed, quite small too and the lone eye reminded you of a cat’s. Mischievous and cunning. 

Unlike the rest of the people you met, this guy wasn’t wearing plain clothing. A white button-up shirt clung to his thin frame and a pair of black slacks actuated his well-formed legs. It wasn’t something people wore in the apocalyptic setting as they opted for clothes allowing them more movement. To top it off, a green military jacket reaching above his ankles hid the fancy outfit underneath. 

“Take a seat, please.”

While you and Nari did as told, Yunho cleared his throat from behind and the leader’s eyes (or well, eye) lit up with a particular glow.

“It’s nice to see you back on your feet, Yunho, but try not to die when you go out on a mission next time, hm?” 

Said man mockingly saluted and leaned against the wall beside the door. 

“Want anything to drink? Water, tea, juice?”

Your stone cold expression conveyed your answer and the silence from Nari wasn’t hard to decipher either. 

“The offer still stands if you change your mind… Anyways, welcome to Sector One. I’m Hongjoong or as the people call me, Captain.”

You didn’t put up a fight to keep your names a secret. Mingi, San and Yunho already knew of them and it wouldn’t take long until one of the three whispered it in their leader’s ears. 

“I already know of you. I talked to San, Mingi and Wooyoung about it and the guys told me fairly the same things, but I’m still curious about what you have to say.”

“Does it make a difference?” You asked and parted your legs, leaning comfortably against the backrest and your arms coming up to cover your chest. “You’re obviously going to believe your little soldiers before even taking into account what I have to say.”

Hongjoong smiled even wider, not taking his lone eye off you and it was slowly starting to bug you out. Especially when he didn’t blink and just continued holding your gaze. 

“That’s valid, but I’d rather hear your side before I decide on anything. Think of Yunho as an alibi, plus you look quite young to be fending for your life. For both of your lives, so I’m feeling a bit sentimental.”

The insult of him shoving his dick up his own ass didn’t get to be flung out in the open as Nari took the lead of the conversation. She spilled everything from your first encounter with Yunho to your near-death experience as a person appeared out of thin air and unloaded rapid shots.

“And Yunho said you had a dog named Heart and promised me I’d get to meet him!”

Hongjoong, who was resting his arms on the desk with his fingers intertwined and lips touching the skin, sighed and gently sank in his chair. His arms fell on each armrest and his head lolled to the side as if in deep thought.

“We do have a dog named Heart and that does sound like something Yunho would say… Tell me more.”

Always eager to humiliate you, Nari jumped straight into action. “He called Auntie Angel… When he went in and out of consciousness.”

Your body heated at the memory and Yunho’s eyes widened. He had no recollection of that happening. A pink hue which rapidly changed to a darker red settled over his ears and he hastily avoided the curious eye of Hongjoong, much like you. The short man couldn’t hold himself from laughing and you were a molecule away from threatening him.

“Who is Angel?” Nari turned in her seat and stared at Yunho with a curious gaze. She was dead set on figuring out this mysterious person. 

Hongjoong recovered, but the yellow glow of happiness didn’t dim from his face. “Oh, little one. There’s no one named Angel at camp.” He glanced over at you who glared daggers at the pristine white wall. “I’m almost a hundred percent convinced Yunho thought your auntie was an angel coming to save him and I can’t say I blame him for mixing them up.”

“Will you shut up?” You snarled.

“No. I don’t think I will.” He smirked while standing up and averting his attention to Yunho, who wanted nothing more than for the ground to swallow him whole. “Does that sound familiar to you?” 

“Uh… Ye– Yeah.” Yunho scratched the lobe of his ear, growing uncomfortable as they burned more. 

“Good… Now, I’ll consider keeping quiet if you tell me what it is you want. Why did you come here?”

“Yunho offered us a place to rest until we headed back out on the road.”

“So you wanna stay, is that it?” 

Hongjoong didn’t like when people circled around things, you mentally noted. He wanted it served straight to the point and you understood; he was a leader with people to look out for, but it didn’t make it less embarrassing to ask for help. For the sake of Nari, you swallowed your pride, albeit with difficulty, and nodded.

“Then enlighten me. How many infected have you killed?”

The dumbest thing to come out of this apocalypse — after the biters — would be these questions. You didn’t survive this long by hiding and outrunning the dead, it was a common fact and as far as you knew, Hongjoong couldn’t have talked his way out of an encounter with biters. As for other humans, you didn’t doubt his sharp tongue and talent for outsmarting them in getting what he wanted. It was no wonder Sector One was functioning, the whole organization was under his care.

“Could you answer how many breaths you’ve taken since birth? Exactly. It’s too many to count, but it’s well over a hundred.”

A tense silence spread through the room. You couldn’t decipher the look on his face. He would be an infuriating opponent in a game of poker.

“How many people have you killed?”

“Five…” You exhaled a big gust of air and kept your eyes trained on your shoes. 

The memories of each person at the end of your knife or gun weren’t pleasant. They were locked in a chest in the back of your head with no intention to be let out. It took you far too long to get used to their faces appearing in your sleep. Waking up from a rapidly beating heart and heaving chest became a part of your routine until it suddenly stopped. It didn’t mean you weren’t thinking of them whenever you were stuck in a silence too loud for your own inner voice.

“Why?”

Curse Hongjoong’s curious mind and soft spoken tone. You really didn’t want to talk about it, but you also didn’t want to risk being thrown out of the prison — every convicted person was probably turning in their graves — as it was currently the safest place for Nari.

“The first one… It was a mercy kill and the only life I took without the intent of surviving,” you began and avoided Nari’s eyes. No one knew of this. Only you, the victim and whoever was watching above.

“It was still early on in the apocalypse and Nari hadn’t even turned double digits so I rarely ever brought her with me. This was one of the times she stayed in our old base while I went out looking for food. Back then I was scared of searching through stores and my biter kill count hadn’t even gone over five, so I stuck to clearing houses and small corner shops… 

“The house was relatively empty and it didn’t take me longer than three minutes to continue upstairs. It was a boy, maybe around Nari’s age now. I found him hiding in his parents’ bedroom, blanket up to his chin and face entirely wet and red from crying. He was bit and yeah… There wasn’t much I could do.”

Casting upwards, you locked gazes with Hongjoong. The stone-hard expression was still there, but a twinkle of sympathy flickered in his brown eyes.

“The most recent one was when Yunho found us,” you continued. “A group of men wanted to raid the same store as us and well… they weren’t the kindest of guys. It was either kill or be killed. Yunho can vouch for that.”

It was quiet after that. You could faintly hear the people going on about their day in the cell blocks and the small details of life around you. Yunho’s shifting in place. Nari picking on the skin around her thumb. The clock ticking above the doorway.

“You mentioned five people, but we’ve only heard about two.”

You should’ve known better than to think Hongjoong wouldn’t ask about the remaining three. It wasn’t something you were proud of, but it needed to happen or everything you’ve based your new life around would go to waste.

Sensing Nari move in her seat, you decided to keep the explanation brief. “Some men… attacked Nari.”

“That’s all?” Hongjoong asked, curious as to why they weren’t getting a lengthy story.

“That’s all you need to know. They put her in danger and I put them six feet under… I protected my own. Wouldn’t you do the same?”

“I have. We all have.”

The reply was instant. So he did kill someone. Not that he’d ever know, but you were intrigued. How? When? Why? In this time and day it’d be more concerning if he hadn’t killed someone.

“I’m willing to let you stay on one condition.”

He brought you out of your bubble. You squinted and folded your arms. “Which is?”

Hongjoong rounded the desk and leaned back on it. Legs crossed and hands coming back to rest on the edge of the surface. “You may stay in Sector One… but because of Yunho’s injury, one of you will have to look for resources in his place.”

To be frank, the offer wasn’t bad. You were already in charge of scavenging and finding safety over your heads. It was a no-brainer Nari would stay inside the four walls of Sector One and you’d take Yunho’s responsibility while he recovered. It would only be for a few days, you reasoned with yourself, and then you’d take Nari by the hand and leave to a new destination.

“Hongjoong! I’m perfectly fine going on my own–” Yunho was interrupted and stopped advancing forward, his hands hovering in the air as your voice overpowered his.

“I’ll do it, but I have a requirement of my own.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll do the scavenging, clearing areas and helping around the prison if Nari stays out of it all.”

“Auntie!”

“Butt out.” You threw her a look and she sank back in her seat, an angry pout taking over her lips. “Do we have a deal?”

Hongjoong smiled and held out his hand that you shook with strength. 

“Deal… Yunho, fill her in on how things work around here, would ya?”

“...Yes, Captain.”

The agreement to stay a week or two in exchange for risking your life prolonged to a month. But with a little persuasion from Wooyoung — the guy who nearly shot your toes off — and Yunho, you came to the realization that staying in Sector One until further notice was a better option for Nari than living on the streets. 

Week three of temporarily living in the prison was inaugurated by another run for supplies and you were meeting Hogjoong’s demands by going alone. San offered to come with — something he had been every single time — but you told him you could hold your own and that the prison needed him more than you would. He didn’t fight your decision and also refrained from hiding the concern on his face. San was like that, you realized. If he wasn’t planted on the post or following Hongjoong’s orders, then he’d be doing rounds asking everyone if there was anything they needed. 

Another sweet guy who wasn’t all content with you venturing outside the prison walls on your own was Yunho. It was his fault you were doing so in the first place, of course he wouldn’t be happy with you doing runs in his stead. He didn’t want to entertain the possibility of you getting hurt or — even worse — bit. Yunho would never forgive himself. You didn’t have time to reassure either of them you’d be fine. They were both old enough to know such promises wouldn’t hold longer than a goldfish out of its tank. You simply collected requests of the people inside and tried to cross out as many things on the list as possible. To keep everything under control, you made up the rule that everyone could wish for one thing each and it had to be bearable otherwise it would be impossible to shorten the list. 

Today was a successful day. A toothpick wouldn't fit in your bag from how packed it was. Batteries, hard soap, pads, cigarettes, crayons, dog treats, books, pacifiers, chocolate bars, you had it all and headed home. A blue collar with a silver heart attached to it was stuffed in the back pocket of your jeans. It was dirty, the color barely distinguishable from the dust and stains, and the heart locket started taking on a green hue. It was perfect for Heart and would be a shame to leave behind. You were usually strict with your rules and rarely brought back things people didn’t ask for or were deemed unnecessary. The only exception was if it were something for Nari (you had to get better with that, but honestly speaking, you couldn’t care less).

Back at the prison — one hour earlier than scheduled — you circled cell block two and handed out the goods to the respective person. Soon enough you were left with an empty bag and an unsolicited bag of chips in your hands, the extra salty type that made your mouth shrink and turn back in on itself. There was only one person you knew who was dying to eat these.

“Oh, you’re back already?” Mingi greeted you with a smile as you entered block one. 

The giant got up from his seat in one of the round tables and you met him in the middle. “Yeah. I underestimate how fast I actually am on my own.” 

“Better that than to have us running around like headless hens thinking something’s happened… Whatchu got there?”

“Snacks… For Nari. She really loves chips.”

“Cool. Ay, don’t let Yunho see you with that, it’s his favorite flavor,” Mingi chuckled and his boxy smile appeared, and as did his dimples.

“What a coincidence,” you murmured and cleared your throat. “Where is he anyways? Shouldn’t he be on… like, some duty?”

“Nah or well… yeah, but nah?”

You tilted your head quizzically and your eyebrows scrunched together like two furry caterpillars. Mingi waved you away as if you were the one spewing nonsense. Was he or was he not on duty?

“You’ll get what I mean when you see him. He’s in his cell doing nothing… something. No-so-thing?”

Twenty-one days. You had known Mingi for twenty-one days and each time you conversed, he didn’t fail to leave you more perplexed than the last time. His white hair should have been enough of a warning he was somewhat weird or at the very least confusing, but the equal amount of kind.

As you were told, Yunho was in his cell. You moved the white sheet that was covering his cell and admired his peaceful form laying in bed. Arms bent at the elbows and fingers intertwined beneath the back of his head while his ankles crossed over each other. The bed wasn’t quite fit for his tall figure making his feet stick out over the edge. You understood what Mingi meant now. Yunho was put on duty… a duty to rest until healed. Although that didn’t stop him from keeping the positive spirits up in the place. The first few days spent around him and his happy-go-lucky demeanor were enough for you to believe he was putting up a facade. You refused to believe the constant happiness he spread around was genuine. Witnessing even a quarter of the apocalypse was enough to tarnish any positive emotion inside a person and Yunho surely couldn’t be immune to that. But the more you lingered around him, the more you realized he was being himself. His curled up lips and squinted eyes, and a dimple popping out even when sleeping proved to be his true self.

“Are you just going to stare at me or?”

The fabric slipped from your fingers and shielded you from him and his chuckle. Of course he was awake. Everyone who was a part of Hongjoong’s patrol and resource squads was basically walking on eggshells. Slipping in his room, you were greeted with an overly joyous Yunho, a shit eating grin on his face and cheeks puffy and round from the smiling. His brown eyes carried a twinkle of mischief that had you frowning. Not bothering to entertain his poor taste in harmless jokes, you tossed the snacks over to him and plopped on the vacant seat opposite of his bed. A pair of comics were stacked in non-chronical order on the desk — some of which you recognized as Spiderman comics — along with scattered polaroids of him and people from camp, a bag of dog treats and his gun. 

“What’s this?” He asked and immediately sat up. The bag was intensely inspected as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. The gasp that left his mouth upon realization told you he knew exactly what it was you tossed him.

You weren’t prepared for his gaze to find yours. A look of gratitude painted his face and a wave of warmth welled over your body and sent your heart into palpitations. The attention was suddenly too much to bear and you averted your focus on the boring cement walls that were much easier to look at. You grabbed the comic at the top of the stack and aimlessly flipped through it, the colorful pages doing little to calm your heated thoughts.

“They are Nari’s favorite,” you began and stopped on a random page. “I found two and she told me to give you the other one.”

“They are my favorite too,” he whispered as if admitting a sin in a confessional.

There was no reason for you to lie, but the emotion in his eyes sent you into panic and it was like he could see right through you. It was embarrassing to admit, but you didn’t want him to think… You didn’t want him to know what you thought about him. Heck, you were still trying to accept the fact Yunho was slowly infiltrating your mind let alone giving him his favorite things like a poor attempt at a courting offer which it wasn’t!

For such a long time, you were only thinking about yourself and Nari. You never thought to fit a third person– scratch that. You never thought there’d be a third person to fit in your already busy mind. Getting attached to people was dangerous, it made you vulnerable and an easy target. The quickest route to your heart would be through Nari and you didn’t need to involve romance in that mess. Love was the greatest weakness of humans after all. Despite that, you couldn’t help but disguise your worry through acts and harsh words. Giving him painkillers in the dead of night, purposely moving peas from his plate to yours as you heard him complain about them once (without anyone seeing you, of course), or keeping an eye out for those comic books he’s into. Instead of asking how his recovery was going, you’d say, “You can’t be in that much pain if you’re laughing.”

Yunho opened the bag and wasted no time stuffing his cheeks with potato chips. The need to chastise him for eating too fast rolled backwards on your tongue. Feeling like it’d be crossing the line of friendship and acquaintances, you hastily stood up and feigned stretching your back. Yunho peered up at you with his round eyes, pouty lips and puffed-up cheeks, and you nearly stumbled over your own feet. It was… so different having to look up at him and having him stare at you from below. He looked so pliant and what would be your drunken mistake after too many drinks on a night out with your friends. 

“I’m out,” you announced before you could do something you’d regret and ran to the safety of your cell. 

One thing you’d rather do than admit that Yunho made the apocalypse bearable was to take a screwdriver through your eye. Since meeting him, the world splattered in black and white for three-and-something-years was slowly getting back its colors. Perhaps it was his abnormal humor keeping you up way past the curfew set by Hongjoong or his weird faces having you burst out in laughter at the most inappropriate moments. It could also be his natural leadership, taking control over situations and coming up with plans when you were too tired to function. It made you feel taken care of, like you could slow down and breathe once in a while without worrying about what the next move should be. 

It was nice. It was good. It also meant your plan of shielding your heart from intruders failed miserably as Yunho slowly, but progressively, wiggled his way through the five hundred locks surrounding your beating organ. The thought hit you on a random night as the leaves changed into an array of more depressing colors and daylight didn’t last longer than until the afternoon for the second time since passing the gates of Sector One. You were used to a vicious cycle of waking up, operating on survival mode and going back to bed with no anticipation for tomorrow. Yunho, with his small talk and respectfully prying questions, changed that and you found him in your thoughts before sleep, during dinner, when washing up and whenever your mind wasn’t occupied with tactics of survival. You wouldn’t say you yearned for his presence, but you looked forward to seeing him, to hear him talk about the newest car parts he found on his latest run or to play another round of twenty questions (which you answered as nonchalantly as possible and asked the most boring questions known to mankind).

For a little less than two years, you worked on gradually welcoming more people into your life. You didn’t feel the need to hide yourself behind brick walls for protection anymore. You’d always be wary of newcomers — that was understandable — but you were done thinking Hongjoong and his crew had ulterior motives resulting in your demise. You could actually fall asleep around them without a knife tucked beneath your pillow and stopped offering to keep watch during supply runs — the fear of being killed in your sleep was built on the lack of trust — as the moon and sun exchanged places. There was still a long way to go until you could call Sector One a home, but at least it was safe and it was mainly thanks to Yunho.

As you loaded the last bags in the backseat of Yunho’s Jeep, he refilled washer fluid in the designated reservoir while shielded by the bonnet. 

“Auntie, wait! Don’t leave yet!”

Nari came running down the path, doing nothing to keep her volume down with Heart hot on her heels and his joyful barks mixing in the autumn breeze. Closing the doors, you leaned against them and patiently did as requested. She caught up to you and rested her hands on her knees, air heaved in and out of her chest as she tried catching her breath. She raised a hand, asking for a moment to not sound like she climbed multiple stairs.

“Okay,” she started and straightened. “I have something for you guys. Yunho! Come over here and close your eyes! You too, Auntie.”

“Coming,” Yunho muttered and screwed the cap back on and closed the front surface of the Jeep. He did the thing you couldn’t call jogging or walking which did nothing to pick up his pace and came to stand beside you while simultaneously wiping grime off his fingers. He shot you a glance as if to ask what was happening, but you shrugged, knowing as much as he did. 

“Close your eyes and palms up!” She placed something tiny and light in your hands. “And open!”

A smile graced your face. In the palm of your hand was a bracelet. It wasn’t flashy or made out of silver or gold, on the contrary, it was created using two things; a piece of colored garn and the tab of a soda can. Your string was a vibrant red while Yunho got a pastel green. The ends of the garn were tied to each side of the tab thus creating a loop that would go around your wrist. It was simple and probably didn’t take longer than five minutes to create, but it was a gift nonetheless.

“It’s beautiful, flower.” You immediately put it on and showed her. 

Nari clapped her hands enthusiastically and squealed. “It looks so good and now you have a piece of me with you wherever you go!”

“That was sweet of you, Nari,” Yunho said, admiring the poor trinket on his wrist. “I’ve always wanted a good luck charm and now I got it so, thanks a lot, kiddo.”

The grin she sported grew bigger at the praise and Yunho couldn’t refrain from ruffling her hair. His attention was suddenly on you.

“You ready?”

“As ready as one can be.”

“Please be careful.” Nari engulfed you in a hug, and you immediately reciprocated.

“When am I not?”

“Don’t worry about her, Nari. She’ll be under my protection.” Yunho’s chest puffed up and he placed a hand over his heart. His lips did that upside down triangle shape making his cheeks look extra squishy while his eyes tingled in the sunlight.

“She better! It’s my family we’re talking about.”

“Okay, Rambo, calm down before you blow a vessel… And who is taking care of who? Last time I checked, I was the one protecting the both of us,” you trailed off and rolled your eyes.

“Are you two leaving soon or are you going to chit-chat the day away?!” The high-pitched voice of the one and only, Jung Wooyoung, came from the tower closest to the gate. 

“That would be our cue to get rolling. We’ll see you in a few days, kiddo.” Yunho ruffled her hair again, just because, and hoped in the driver’s seat.

Searching for food and other necessities had become a part of your life long before you joined Sector One, the only difference was leaving Nari behind while you stepped out into the danger zone, not knowing if you’d get to see each other again. You wanted to say it was easier leaving with time, that every departure wasn’t as heavyhearted as the previous, but you’d be lying to yourself. 

“Listen to Seonghwa and Yeosang while I’m away. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and if anything happens to the place, and I mean anything, you take your things and you run. I’ll find you wherever you go, okay?”

Nari didn’t reply. Instead, she wrapped her arms around you and hid her face in the crook of your neck. Thinking back to it, three years ago she could barely reach up to your neck, let alone tuck her head into it.

“I’ll miss you.” 

You sighed and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of her head. “I’ll miss you more. I’m going to try and see if I can bring you more of those pictures that fit your camera.”

Yunho gifted her a Polaroid camera for her eleventh birthday. It was a present that started her obsession with photography, the downside being the films were hard to find and were almost rarer than medical kits and unexpired condoms. This year he promised her driving lessons, however, they would have to wait until he was back from the mission. 

“Thank you.”

Two quick beeps was your signal to go.

“Seonghwa and Yeosang will help you with anything you need. We’ll be back in a few days, behave till then.”

“I always do,” she retorted, brows coming together and nose scrunching cutely.

You smiled slyly. “I know… Oh, and Nari?” She hummed and looked up at you through her lashes. “Tell that Eunwoo kid I have eyes everywhere even when I’m out of camp.”

Blush attacked her cheeks and she pushed you away with a noise of embarrassment. The words ‘we’re just friends’ tumbled out of her mouth faster than lightning.

The engine was warm and rumbling when you got inside. A water bottle rested in the cupholder closest to you along with a granola bar. Having spent a lot of time with Yunho, you grew accustomed to his silent checkups. It was his way of giving you comfort without putting it into words or asking aggravating questions that would have you exploding in his face.

“Ready?”

Singing, you clicked the seatbelt in place and nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

The idea of raiding a mall in central Seoul was suggested by one of the civilians in charge of the prison’s crops. With the years, the member count in Sector One gradually grew. You went from thirty people to fifty in a month and it nearly doubled until the next summer. The number was now close to one hundred and ten. Paracetamol and other medical supplies were starting to run short and it wasn’t such a problem until the stores nearby had all been cleared, one after another the shelves were emptied. It was then that the first meeting took place, followed by multiple others to make up the perfect plan on how, who and when.

What was supposed to be a mission of twenty people was cut down to two. Initially, you told Hongjoong to count you out. You weren’t comfortable with doing runs bigger than a local grocery store or gas station, besides, Hongjoong was bound to give you a pass. It was the least he could do, especially as you searched for resources almost weekly, even going out of your way to take up others' scheduled runs. When the time came to decide who the two (un)lucky participants would be, Yunho took the initiative and your choice to sit on the sidelines was forgotten as you raised your hand up and volunteered. It benefited everyone because, honestly speaking, no one really wanted to put their own life on the line. 

The first step of the plan was to find a secure and easy access to the car if in need of a quick getaway. The amount of vehicles aimlessly left by the entrance of the mall clogged up the path. It was best to park the Jeep further away and Yunho contemplated whether to leave it on the road connecting the parking lot to the highway and as you weighed your options, it turned out that would be for the best. The handbrake was pulled up and in a previous life, he’d return to his car already towed away with a ticket waiting for him in his mailbox.

“You nervous?” Yunho asked as he strapped the high-quality vest provided by the prison to his body.

You huffed in reply and did the same. It wasn’t affordable to feel anything beside confidence and even too much of that could get you killed. The best emotion to describe you would be exhaustion. Tired of doing your utmost to survive day by day. 

The thick texture of the vest was uncomfortable and quite tight all over, however, you’d rather wear it than take the chances of being bit. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling anymore. I just… want to get the things we came for and go back.”

Yunho checked his gun, although everything was thoroughly looked at back in the base. A small walkie-talkie was attached to his right peck while yours was hanging on the waistband of your pants. It was a precaution if you were to lose each other in the mall or needed to contact Hongjoong back at the prison. Your hair was tied back with the purpose of not falling in your face during hectic situations, but also so it wouldn’t be easy to grab. You had heard too many stories of women dying because perpetrators used their hair against them, latching onto it when they least expected it, not to mention many of the high school fights you witnessed where girls weaved their fingers into each other’s roots, pulling until chunks of hair fell out.

“To be honest, I think I’d get more bored of guarding the post all day. I can’t fathom how Wooyoung does it. Like don’t the trees eventually bleed into each other?”

“Probably. Then again, it’s Wooyoung we’re talking about. He has a freakishly good eye when it comes to intruders so I wouldn’t be too worried, besides, Mingi and San are quick to follow up if he does miss anything. Although it’s highly unlikely.”

Yunho unrolled a map portraying the inside of the mall on the hood of the Wrangler as you brought two empty backpacks from the trunk. 

“Remember the first step?”

“Technically, we’re already on step two.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered, “Smartass.”

The remark had his dimple popping out as a cheeky smile stretched across his face. 

“So we enter through here.” He pointed at a makeup store. “It’s the only shop we can enter through the backdoor without gathering much attention and the pharmacy is on the same floor. We can look through the salon first and see if there’s useful stuff in there.”

“Like what? I doubt anyone wants cosmetics in a time like these.”

“No, but I’m pretty sure there’s like sunscreen, stuff for the hair and body, shaving things. You know, necessities.” Yunho folded the map back together and slipped it into the back pocket of his pants. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing, I just…” You averted your gaze, but the amused smile was still here. “Didn’t know you were into cosmetics.” 

The pink hue of roses didn’t attack his ears, but his contagious chuckle reached yours and a smug smirk crossed his face. “Yeah? I thought it was a given, like, I’m a sucker for blush if you haven't noticed.”

“Oh, shut up.” You shoved him and he flew sideways as if weighing nothing. Trust Yunho into over exaggerating and making the situation look worse than it was. You didn’t wait for him to catch up — not that it would take him long — and immediately headed for the backdoor entrance. 

“This should be easy.” Yunho tied a black bandana around his mouth and nose to keep dust and bacteria from entering his system while you pulled up the neck tube gifted by Mingi a while back. 

The two of you shared a look and as Yunho nodded, gun in hand and flashlight in the other, you worked the door open and let the darkness of the mall swallow you whole. The storage room was like any other. Full of boxes and crates, and even a few shopping carts containing various make-up products. The layers of thick clothes did little to hold your warmth against the freezing temperature of the storage. Words were exchanged through your eyes, neither taking the risk of alerting potential resting biters or raiders, and Yunho’s light flickered to life. 

You sneaked around the space and took time clearing the area of threats. Confirm there wasn’t an unwanted presence with an urge to pierce your skin and feed on your insides, you could breathe a tad bit heavier and relax your rigid posture. Sweat coated your body and your pulse was loud in your ears. However many looting rounds you’d do, you’d never adjust to the adrenaline and fear that came with as a plus two. 

A faint whistle traveled through the air and your head whizzed up to see Yunho standing by a door, presumably leading to the actual store. He called you over with a nudge of his head and you tightened the grip around your gun and knife. He put off his torch and raised a finger to his covered lips, and you nodded. Taking a step back and planting your feet wider apart to get a sturdier stance, you raised your gun and used your other arm to support it underneath. It wouldn’t be ideal to fire off bullets inside, but if it came down to it, you’d be left with no choice.

Yunho hugged the handle and held up three fingers — his hand big enough to hold the gun with just his thumb and pinky — and began counting down. With his fingers gone, he gently opened the door and you stuck your head out, coming face first with the register. A big table shielded your view of the complete store and you immediately dropped to a crouch and waddled out, Yunho following close behind. It was much brighter out there than in the storage room courtesy of the light coming from the corridor of the mall, most likely from the windows on the ceiling. As you moved to round the corner of the cashier register, Yunho roughly grabbed your shoulder and nearly sent you stumbling backwards. Throwing him a questioning glance, he pointed to his ear. 

Moans and grunts in various tones vibrated through the building. Some were faint, barely there, and others were alarmingly loud. The weight of Yunho’s hand was still there and a soft squeeze of said man was enough to bring you back. He gave you all of three seconds to get your head out of your ass and follow his lead. 

Yunho weaved between the aisles — still crouched down — and as you peeked around him, you quickly realized the make-up store was untouched. All the products were in their designated place and it was abnormally tidy inside. No blood coating the white tiled floor or decomposing corpses laying around. The only thing you could think of was that the workers quickly rolled down the sliding grilles before any of the infected could enter and made their escape through the back. The longer you stared at the shutters, the clearer it became how tilted it was. One side wasn’t completely flat with the ground, you presumed it had something to do with one of the cogs being stuck. If it came down to it, the barrier would only hold so long against a horde of biters.

“How are we getting through that?” You whispered and wiped your clammy palms off your pants.

Yunho plopped down on his rear and moved into a comfortable position; his legs were propped up, creating a triangle passageway, and his elbows came to rest on his knees. You were in a similar stance, but with one of your legs flat against the ground and hands on your stomach. The sides of your thighs touched, but neither were distraught by the display of (accidental) skinship. Stealing a glance, you nearly jumped out of your skin as he hastily turned toward you.

“Okay, I got an idea…”

You swallowed thickly and nodded.

“So… I think I could raise the bar high enough for us to squeeze out. You’d go first and keep it up until I pass. The thing is, we need to have an emergency exit if everything goes to shit and I don’t wanna take the risk of us having to pry it open again and getting caught.”

“Yeah, no, that sounds like a nightmare waiting to happen honestly… I’m thinking we can find something sturdy that will hold it for us and we can just slide through if we’re being chased.”

“Let’s hurry.”

You got up and quickly scanned the store for something useful, but all you could see were make-up products, perfume, brushes and other miniature things that weren't good for your issue. You needed something easy to move that wouldn’t make too much noise and cave in under pressure. Looking around, you lingered on the door you came from and everything lit up as if a lightbulb appeared over your head. A whistling tune cut through the store and Yunho’s head popped up from behind a rack, one of his brows raised and you waved him over. 

“A shopping cart,” you murmured, a high tilt to your voice. “There are plenty in the storage room, they are easy to handle and won’t falter.”

The smile he showed you could easily be mistaken for his natural cheery persona and you convinced yourself it was just that. Yunho smiled at everyone, especially with those glistening eyes of his as if a brush coated in glitter went over them. You were the first to spring into action and it had nothing to do with the clump of nerves gathering in your abdomen from his soft gaze. It wasn’t the time nor place for confusing feelings, you thought as you grabbed the cart and pushed it out. Coming the closest you’d been to the grilles, you hid behind the trolley and looked through the small holes to assess the situation. Chaos was the first term to appear in your mind. 

Broken glass shards littered the previously white tiled floor. It was currently covered in muddy water leaking from the roof, dried blood and weeds sprouting from between the cracks. Rotten meat and rusty metal lingered in the air and it was disgusting, you had never smelled anything like that before. These biters had been there for quite some time, judging by the lack of skin on their decaying bodies and bony figures. They hadn’t feasted in a while and that scared you. Shaking your head clear of such thoughts, you looked in the direction of the apothecary and deflated. A big island of trees, plants and bushes was the first thing you saw. The decorations stood tall and wild, spilling over the fence so you couldn’t see the pharmacy that was supposedly on the other side. The run from point A to B suddenly got overcomplicated.

How would you know if the apothecary was open? And if it was, how many infected were there inside? What if everything was already taken? Then the whole mission was a fail. A waste of time, a waste of gas, a waste of–

“Everything okay?”

You could feel the heat emanating from his body and the aroma of his detergent and pine needle-like scent as he got near. In fact, you could feel him too, where his chest pressed up against your back and his left hand weaved into the grid of the cart, wrist centimeters from touching the top of your head. His close presence was dizzying and attacked your senses at the worst possible time, but at least it overpowered the stench of death. Compelling yourself to get over his spell, you explained the situation and Yunho, ever the optimistic, pointed out the positives.

“At least it isn’t teeming with biters as we thought. Look.” He gestured to the biters. “They are just standing there like statues so we can easily sneak past, plus, we have a few hours until the sun sets, meaning?”

“They are slow as fuck.”

“Bingo. We should be fine as long as we don’t set off a chain reaction and wake the whole building. Otherwise, we’re pretty fucked.”

“It’s risky,” you stated the obvious.

“Everything is nowadays, but don’t worry your pretty little head about that because I’ve got a plan.”

He thought your head was pretty–

“We can use that forest thingy as cover. The bushes and leaves are big enough to cover us completely. I say we use that to check the situation and see where we go from there.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

“Which is?”

“I can use the bushes to check the situation and then call you over depending on the situation. Both of us shouldn’t throw ourselves out there. It’s dumb, what if it’s locked? It’d be a waste of energy.”

“Okay, I’ll do it.

“No, I just said I’d do it. Yunho, think about it. I’m quicker, harder to notice and there’s more things I can hide behind. You’re freakishly tall, where would you hide?”

He pondered for a moment and agreed in the end, but not before voicing his distaste for the idea. “I don’t like it when you’re right.”

“I don’t really care, just get the shutters would you?”

You positioned yourself behind the cart and watched as he rolled up the security shutters just enough for you to slip the metal hunk on wheels underneath. Still crouched down, you waited to see if the biters were drawn to the light clinking noises, but — much to your pleasure — it didn’t attract any. Before you could cross over to the danger zone, Yunho grabbed your bicep. 

“Be careful,” he whispered tenderly, like talking to a distressed dog. His hand remained until you nodded, but even when he drew back, the warmth spread out through your chest to the very tips of your toes and lingered to what felt like an eternity. 

It was pleasant. Safe. Yunho’s arms were safe, you concluded and wished to feel more of. Both his touch and the protection he provided.

“You too.”

You didn’t wait, wholeheartedly believing you’d stay back if you looked at his doleful expression for a second longer, and slid out. The biters were oblivious to your presence, but you weren’t about to abuse that privilege until it had run its final course. Like the existence of a ghost, you floated through the mall on your tippy toes, knife trembling in your tight hold and eyes frantically searching for trouble waiting to pounce out of nowhere. Considering you were always reaching for the short end of the stick or possessed more bad than good luck, it was no surprise you were constantly thinking five steps ahead. There was no need for that now though because you made it to the decorations without getting your knife bloodied. The greenery was bigger than what could be seen from the make-up store, a result of constant sunlight, water dripping out of a broken pipe and no one there to keep it tidy. You just hoped you were alone in the idea of hiding there. 

The pharmacy was open to the public. You didn’t know whether to deem it a win or a loss. Easier access was always good, but that included everyone and a bigger chance of the place already being looted. Not much more thinking and strategizing had to be done though, and you immediately signaled Yunho over. The inside wasn’t completely trashed either. It wasn’t as neat as the make-up store, but from what you could see, there were still things that could be of use or it was your wishful thinking kicking in.

“This is good… right?” It was so quiet that you nearly missed it.

“It’s less of a hassle getting in, so I’d say so. Our best bet would be that one keeps watch while the other gathers as much shit as possible, unless we want an early date with death.”

“There’s a pet store behind us too, maybe we can pick something for Heart on our way back.”

“We’ll s–”

A growl was quick to shut you up. The sound sent unsettling vibrations down your spine and you snapped your lips together as a biter staggered right past you. Its sudden appearance reminded you to get your asses moving. Neither breathed until its figure was far, far away from you. 

“Fuck…” Yunho exhaled. “Okay, you keep watch and I’ll look around, you know, see if there’s stuff on the higher shelves or something.”

He handed you one of the baseball-sized rocks strewn across the dirt on the island — the kind you’d find at the beach — and snagged one for himself too. In a previous life they were used to make things prettier for the eye, but now it was something you bashed rotten heads in with or threw across the room to distract the biters.

Of everything you've done so far, getting into the cursed pharmacy was by far the easiest and least nerve-wracking. 

“Go, be quick!” You hissed and crouched behind a table closest to the entrance while Yunho zoomed past you, hastily unzipping his bag and filling it with things. You had half a mind to chastise him for the rattle of bottles and rustling sounds, but withheld. Your voice would reach farther than objects clashing in his backpack. 

Your hyper-focus was glued to the front. You were nothing better than a dog waiting to attack, body stiff and on high alert. Adrenaline coursed your veins and it was hard keeping still, head jerking in every direction and your hand frozen around the hilt of your knife it sent tremors up your arm. Teetering on the edge of control, you struggled not to slash at the slightest of movements and sound. Yunho’s request for your empty bag breached your concentration and the breath you inhaled was like waking up in the middle of the night and clenching your thirst with the glass of water you set on the bedside table hours prior. It didn’t take long before the other backpack was filled too and the curse of being stupid not to bring a third fell from his lips. 

“You got everything?”

“Not even close. Come over here.” 

And like the good guard dog you were, you heeded his command, leaving the post unattended despite the turmoil in your abdomen. 

“Put as much stuff as you can in your pockets. I won’t sleep at night if we leave all this behind.”

The amount of money worth of drugs you had in your pants right now was beyond your comprehension, but you knew the bidding between a local druggie and vitamin obsessed grandmother would be hectic. Glancing in Yunho’s direction, you did a double take at the blue tinfoil packages in his hands and grew hot from embarrassment. Your look was all it took for Yunho to defend himself.

“What? I doubt people want to reciprocate at this time.”

He wasn’t wrong, but it didn’t make you feel any better or stop the sensual image of Yunho. His naked body tangled in sheets looming over you and the very same condom you just saw in his hands, now stuck between his lips. Then you shook your head, as if to make the thought disappear before it could delve into an even more lustful scenario. The naked Yunho was gone, but the heat burned your cheeks worse than the sun on a summer day.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

If he noticed your flustered state, he didn’t mention it. With bags on your backs and weapons at the ready, you found yourselves in the bushes again.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?”

“What?”

Yunho scratched the spot behind his ear. “That everything is going… smoothly? Like it’s too easy?”

“What?” Your brows drew together. “Do you want it to be difficult?”

“Obviously not. I’m just… pointing out the obvious. It’s never been this easy.”

He had a way with words because not even a fraction of a second after, he jumped out of the bushes and evoked a high-pitched, squeaky noise that reached every nook and cranny of the mall. He breathed out a soft “fuck”, the tone dripping with disbelief. Beneath him, squished and still peeping the more Yunho raised his foot, was a blue, rubber pig. Its mouth pulled in an open smile and snout scrunched.

Fucking petstore. Fucking pig. Fucking Yunho. 

You popped out of hiding, knife pulled out but violently trembling in your hold under the gaze of what felt like a thousand translucent eyes peering at your warm bodies. The one watching your life through a squared screen pressed pause on the remote and then when it was resumed, everything went to shit. The biters lunged for the first piece of meat they’d seen in months while you stood rooted to the ground, legs refusing to cooperate with your nervous system.

“Go, go, go! Fucking move!” 

You did, in fact, not fucking move. You watched him drive his blade into the head of a biter, blood dripping everywhere as the rotten body slumped down and you fell with it, ass bruised and brain too scrambled to understand what was happening. You were going to die. You were never going to see Nari again. You going to turn into a–

Yunho was there in seconds to haul you off the ground, his hand grabbing the back of your shirt, shouting at you to run. “Are you deaf?! Go!” 

It was the harsh push to your shoulder that finally got you moving. Slow and uncertain steps, but moving nonetheless thanks to Yunho barking orders behind you. One would think you had never stepped foot outside the prison walls, let alone gone on numerous resource runs. Everything between his push and you reaching the make-up store was a blur. The blood covering your knife and hands — along with the trail of corpses left behind you — being the only proof you had been involved in the massacre. 

“I told you to get inside!” 

You jumped as Yunho’s hand landed on your forearm, tugging you toward the store. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you counted over a hundred rotting heads. The shutters would only hold a dozen until it broke and they tore you apart. 

Yunho watched the gears turn in your head and got a whiff of what you planned to do. “Don’t.”

The foreign depth in his voice did nothing to change your mind and he noticed it too, thus holding onto you until his fingers turned white and the veins of his hands protruded. You snapped out of the haze as another forceful tug bruised your arm. Determined to see your plan till the end, you used the element of surprise to your advantage and bore your teeth into his wrist, just enough for him to loosen his hold on you and give you the chance to step back. You ripped your bag off your shoulders and slung it at Yunho, who caught it with an ‘oomph’, successfully keeping him down on his rear for a few extra seconds. His raspy call of your name clawed at your heart. Something was eating you from the inside, but you ignored the wails of your soul and kicked the cart with all your might, allowing the shutters to fall with a bang. Your stubbornness wasn’t the sole thing to stand between the two of you anymore.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

You paid little attention to the burning feeling in your chest and the flame dancing across his features. Leaving him there would hurt, but it would be hell to see him get ripped to shreds knowing he had a chance of surviving. Back at the prison, you only had one person to look out for while Yunho was a pillar for many. You couldn’t do that to them. To Hongjoong, Mingi, Wooyoung… Heck, you couldn’t do it to yourself. Angry Yunho was a fleeting image. It would pass, but the Yunho with cheesing eyes and heart-shaped lips pulled in a joyous smile was forever engraved in your memory. 

“It’s not going to hold,” you gestured to the stupid shutter. “Get home and make sure the stuff gets to Hongjoong.” 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m leaving without you!”

“Tell Nari I love her–”

His fist slammed against the metal cover and for a moment you thought it would crumble beneath his touch. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. You’re going to tell her yourself because we’re going back together!”

There was so much on your mind. What to say, what message to leave the others; apologies and closure or a last round of advice? What would Nari think? There was no doubt in mind she’d be heartbroken. You were the last piece of family she had left and it would be downright evil of you to make her lose another parental figure.

“I’ll find you. Outside, I’ll find you. I’m not dyi… “ Your throat tightened at the empty promise. You didn’t know if you said that to reassure him or yourself. “Ten minutes. If I’m not outside in ten minutes, you’ll leave. Yunho, promise me you’ll leave.”

If only you knew what you were doing to his poor soul. Asking him of the impossible. He could promise you anything you wanted—anything in this cursed world—and he’d hand it to you on a silver platter. Anything, but that. Leaving you behind was like signing his own death sentence. He’d be nothing, but the shell of a man. An empty, hollow, useless shell with the bitter taste of resentment for both your selfless and selfish sacrifice. Yunho knew agreeing to keep the promise would give you peace of mind, yet if anything happened to you, he’d be haunted by the memories of you until his very last breath. 

Across from him, you waited as if time wasn’t about the most sacred thing you could have. A mix of concern and determination wedged in your beautiful features and Yunho knew he had to speak, although he didn’t want to because the words rolling off his dry tongue would be some kind of agreement to your request. 

“Yunho, please.”

The burning fire in his eyes dimmed as a wave of tears washed over them. They looked magical, even when obscured by grief and longing for the one still alive. His bottom lip formed into a pout to keep from trembling just as his hands balled into fists for that same reason. The sand continued seeping out of the imaginary hourglass, no matter how much Yunho tried scooping it back inside, the universal clock wouldn’t stop ticking. 

With great effort — his lips parted and the shaky breath released aimed straight at your heart as did the tears brimming his red eyes which were a reflection of your own — he nodded. “I promise… but don’t make me fulfill it.”

In another life, the vow would be exchanged in a happier setting, surrounded by friends and family. Vacant of gloomy clouds and death knocking at your door, and filled with belly laughter and tears of joy instead. A time where the promise of sacrifice was made out of love and not for survival.

“Yunho, I–”

The remaining seven letters died in your throat as cold and wrinkly fingers sank into your shoulder. Yunho watched you scramble from the touch, his heart pounding for your safety, and felt completely useless. He couldn’t breathe until your blade was driven into the side of the biter’s head and the creature landed with a thud, blood pooling at your feet. The growling worsened and you needed to get a move on if you ever planned on seeing another shift between the sun and moon. 

“Come back to me, do you understand?” 

Your eyes met for what could be the last time and you drank him in like he was a part of the seven wonders of the world. His messy oak strands falling over his equally dark brows, knitted together with a crease in the middle that you wanted to smooth out. Trailing down to his naturally puffy eyes reflecting a storm of emotions — thundering anger and heavy anguish — threatening to spill over with tears. Your throat tightened. You couldn’t bear seeing the pain you inflicted upon him and hastily followed the slope of his pretty nose, red as a ripe strawberry. A beautiful blush, probably stemming from his anger, kissed his round cheeks and spread to his ears. The need to reach out and touch him, caress him with reassurances that everything would be fine grew at the sight of his trembling lips.

The angel on your shoulder whispered for you to run. Another whisper — this time from the devil — tingled your ears with the statement to stay a little longer. You wanted to heed the little red fella, but what you wanted wasn’t what you needed, so with a final nod, you tore away from his painful gaze and willed yourself not to turn back around because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to leave. 

With fear and adrenaline pumping through your veins and the promise of returning alive, you slipped on the mask of a soldier — putting a pause to the war in your head — and faced the army of the dead. 

“Come get me, fucking assholes!”

Hungry groans and aggravated snarls echoed loudly around the mall, each vibration reaching your bones, but your loud whoops and hollers didn’t waver. Not even when one of the infected got dangerously close to you, its teeth making a loud chopping sound like a knife violently smashing against a cutting board. You grabbed a chunk of its hair, guiding the monster as close to your skin as possible without it getting to sink its teeth into your neck. You were done being the prey. It was time for a change of roles. The taunting click of your tongue colliding with the roof of your mouth launched into the open as you sinisterly smiled at the biter.

“Go to hell.” 

The sharp point of your knife pierced the underside of its jaw until the whole blade could be seen through its open mouth. Your hand, covered in red and wrapped around the hilt, was flat against the jaw and continued pushing upward. The anger, hurt and worry mixed into a new emotion that took over all of your senses. Revenge. With a new force of purpose, you pushed and pushed until the lower half of its face and jawbone ripped from the body like pieces of fabric. There was so much blood, tissue, and muscle beneath. . 

Bile crawled up your throat as the corpse stared at you with an open mouth, if you could even call it that considering the nose and jaw were somewhere on the floor. The sight wasn’t for the weak and you were anything but that, yet the amount of blood gushing down and coating both you and the biter would follow you into the grave. It was an exact replica of the oral cavity poster in your local dentist’s office; the tongue, uvula, and tonsils were all in their righteous place. You forced down what was once your breakfast and wiped the blood, or sweat, maybe both, off your face and let the body fall.

The next kills were faster and less gruesome. There were a bunch of them after all and if you did a little show of each and every one, you wouldn’t return home until late into the night. Throwing a quick glance at the cosmetics shop, you relaxed at the empty spot that was once occupied by Yunho. He listened. He kept his promise and now it was your turn. Running for a brief escape, you whipped out your gun — the magazine full and waiting to be used — as you climbed the escalator — taking two steps at a time — just enough to get some space between you and the human eaters. You had both hands on the firearm to keep it steady and fired in quick succession. The first shot was loud and foreign, and the hairs on your body stood up, but you kept hugging the trigger as if it were your one purpose in life. Your ears got used to the deafening crack of thunder after the third round. 

You counted five, ten, fifteen, twenty shots before you slipped the hot gun back in your holster. Always keep one bullet for emergencies, you used to tell Nari. Going out with a bullet piercing your brain was less painful than being shredded to death was what you liked to think. A bonus point if you do it correctly; you don’t come back as one of them.

The number was still high and if you were to count, you’d reach at least somewhere up to fifty biters. You didn’t even want to think of those unintentionally hiding or stuck in a store. It didn’t matter though, because you weren’t leaving until every infected was put to rest. For that to happen, you needed to stay alive and from the rapid speed the biters were going up the stairs (one would think they’d lost all sense of coordination when their brains turned into purée), it didn’t look so bright for you. 

“Fuck,” you whispered and continued up to the second floor. 

It was significantly darker and vacant, but you didn’t want to take your chances of getting cornered in a random shop. Although killing your way out of the mall was taking a toll on your body and sanity, that was something you already lost. The second floor was a completely different world than what was going on downstairs. The windows were intact, not a single speck of blood coated the walls and everything was in its place. It was like the disease stopped spreading after coming in touch with the escalators. A glass railing went around the whole second floor, giving you a perfect view of the chaos downstairs. The height difference wasn’t too big and a jump down wouldn’t cause you any harm, unless you fell unexpectedly. That would be a different story.

Pushing that to the back of your head, you passed a hardware store with a bunch of crowbars set on a display outside. Grinning to yourself like a child on Christmas Eve, you grabbed one of the many crowbars and gave it a swing. It’d be far easier welding a long piece of metal than your four-inch knife. Plus, it wouldn’t just be used to smash the heads in on biters, but to pull shit apart. Like doors.

“I think I’ll call you Maneater.” 

The rustle of clothes worked as an alert. Right on cue, an infected staggered out of the very same store you got Maneater from.

“And you’re going to be my guinea pig.”

The loud, sickening crunch of bones breaking was eerily loud as the curved end of the crowbar met with the side of the biter’s head. Now, the second floor was tainted with a splatter of brains, and blood and everything in between. It didn’t disturb you anymore. How could it when the majority of you was drenched in a rotten, red liquid?

Some of the biters that followed you from the first floor had finally caught up. Their spine shaking groans announced their arrival and you gave one more twirl to Maneater.

“I’ve always wanted to try out for the baseball team,” you admitted and swung it again. “But mom said sport wasn’t for girls.” 

Another biter fell limply. Its skull cracked open and one eye squeezed out of the socket at collision with the metal rod. You grunted and raised it high above your head. “This is as close to baseball as I’ll get.” 

Swinging it down, you screwed your eyes shut to keep the grime and blood from splashing into them. The feel of Maneater plunging into the meat of the biter didn’t vibrate up your arms, but the sharp inhale of air getting caught in your throat did as you were pushed off balance. Tripping over your own feet, you crashed into the delicate railing which broke at immediate contact. Shards descended like snow around you and shimmered like thousands of miniature diamonds. The crowbar slipped out of your hold as you tried grabbing the air for support, but in the end, all you could do was watch the ceiling of the mall shrink while your arms and legs flailed out of your control.

Time slowed down as the realization set in. You were going to die. You didn’t keep your end of the promise and Yunho would return alone.You wouldn’t be there to teach Nari how to use a gun.

As you were falling to your death, a bitter smile took over your lips. You really had no regrets. And it seemed that even with one foot in your grave, you couldn’t stop lying to yourself. There were no regrets when it came to Nari, that much was true. Everything you did was for her safety; the murders, the running, the fights, everything was for her. But what about you? 

Did you have any regrets for yourself? The answer was simple and short, only needing five letters to spell it out. Three vowels and two consonants to be exact. Yunho.

A sharp prick seared through your shoulder followed by the ground kissing your back. The pain was unlike any before and you immediately felt yourself losing consciousness. Everything hurt. The sudden headache was worse than any hangover you experienced in your college days and your shoulder burned with the slightest of movements. Lying there unable to move, you fought diligently to stay awake, eventually succumbing to the tired voice lulling you to sleep with the whisper to just close your eyes.

The fog surrounding you was thick and cold to the touch. Wetness seeped into your clothes and hair, and droplets echoed around you, but you couldn’t see a water source anywhere. Just a black void, much like space, that seemed to go on forever. 

“Hello?” Your voice traveled through the vast darkness and no reply came back.

You didn’t understand. Where were you? What was this place?

“Auntie… wake up.”

Your head jolted to where the sound came from and your body followed. It was distant, but you’d recognize that voice any time of the day.

“Nari?” You cupped your hands around your mouth. “Nari!?”

“Auntie!” Her childish giggles swirled around you, once coming from your left and then the right. You turned in every direction, but the little girl wasn’t with you.

“Where are you?!”

“You need to wake up.” 

“What?”

“Wake up, Auntie. They are coming.”

Your brows scrunched together as you tried making sense of her words. “Who is?”

“The monsters. They are coming for you… You need to wake up. Wake up!” 

An invisible force with a presence so heavy ran through your body and threw you off your feet. A scream of sheer surprise and fright crawled out of your throat as you fell backwards, the faint presence of Nari standing before you — a dull expression painted on her features — as she did nothing to help you. It was unsettling. Landing in the water again with the darkness wrapping around you like a silk sheet, you woke up with a startle. You felt everything at once. The pain of the sharp object lodged in your shoulder blade and heat attacked your feet while your head was cool. Your throat was parched and hurt as you swallowed to soothe the itch, but it only made you taste dry blood.

Managing to turn your head sideways, you were greeted with a biter and the events from you didn’t know how long ago came surging back. It was the biter that caused all of this, lying face down beside you with parts of its body scattered all over the place. If the situation were different, you would’ve hung the fucker using its own intestines, but it wasn’t and all you could do was give it a glare and send your wish of it going to hell. Sluggishly slapping along your chest, you hoped to grasp the walkie-talkie that was supposed to be attached to you, but the little device wasn’t in its usual place and you cursed at your bad luck. Through your blurry vision, you could see shuffling further in the distance. The imaginary weight resting on your chest suddenly lifted and small gasps of air finally entered your lungs. 

Muffled moans, something akin to being underwater, were the string pulling you back to reality. The eerie warning of your subconsciousness played in your mind. Grinding your teeth together, you mustered up little of the strength you had left and rolled over on your stomach. Your hands lay flat against the tile, the broken glass cutting into your skin as you lay in a pool of your own blood. Something shifted in your shoulder blade, and a cry of pain and desperation erupted from deep within.

“Fuck!”

Death would’ve been a better outcome than this.

Opening your eyes — that closed without you noticing — and blinking back tears, a laugh of disbelief almost slipped out at the object before you. 

A blue piggy. 

The blue piggy was staring at you. Its happy expression irked you beyond belief. It was all its fault. The biter and this stupid pig were to blame for everything. Your upper lip curled in a snark as you squeezed the living shit out of the toy and pushed to sit back up on your knees. Heart was getting a gift and you hoped to see the toy shred into pieces.

Commanding your body to stand up was harder than expected and your legs nearly gave out. The searing burn of agony spread like a wildfire all the way down to the tip of your toes. There was no point in trying to feel around as it would only hurt more with every twist and turn of your torso. The exit sign in the far back of the pet store flickered violently, as if it were trying to get your attention, and even though you didn't believe in miracles, you reconsidered your values then and there. 

“It’s the only shop we can enter through the backdoor without gathering much attention and…”

Hours later and you still remembered his words. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice. The make-up store was a no-go and you didn’t have the energy to prance around and look for a safer exit. Who even knew how much time you had before your body would give out? The shuffling in the distance paired up with hungry grunts was getting louder, and with your condition, they’d reach you in no time. You had played it safe so far and received nothing but near-death experiences, what was one risk against ten precautions?

You bit into the material of your neck tube to stifle the cries made with each step. Staggering up to the emergency door, you leaned your forehead against the cool metal and jerked the handle, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Of course.”

The one thing you saved for yourself had to be used on something else. Letting the almost empty gun rest in your hand, you stepped back and aimed the muzzle straight at the lock. You had to make this count. You inhaled, exhaled, and pulled the trigger. A loud blaring alarm sounded through the whole mall and you had no need nor obligation to linger around until every biter in a mile radius crowded the area. With the piggy in hand and your other gripping the side of your torso, you limped out of the cursed place.

The weather was dull and gray, but brighter than inside the shopping center and it took a while for you to adjust to the light. Heavy rain pelted from the sky yet, the reason behind your wet clothes wasn’t to be blamed on nature. Standing in the middle of the parking lot, a trail of bloodied footsteps followed you only to be washed away as if they never existed in the first place. Raindrops trickled down your red-smeared face, revealing streaks of your skin beneath. The freezing temperature sweeped over your body, cooling off your muscles and rewarding you with the possibility of a cold which didn’t sound too bad. Glancing up at the gloomy clouds, your hand came to shield your eyes from the rain slapping harshly at your cheeks. It was impossible to tell if the moisture on your cheeks came from tears or the rain.

Your ten minutes were up. Yunho was gone and the weather portrayed your inner turmoil. The emotions you suppressed while on survival mode hit you fast and hard. You were happy he stayed true to his words, but the little part deep in your heart, cried and trashed around, disappointed he didn’t wait for you. At least you were alive. Dirty and hurt, but alive. 

The storm would clean you up by the time you got home anyway, if you didn’t die from hypothermia that was. With a weight on your chest, a knife carrying the deaths of many and the will to see your family again, you headed home. 

You weren’t angry with Yunho. How could you when it was you who made him promise to leave? When it was you who threw yourself to the wolves, better yet, to the brain-eating corpses and — more or less — locked him in a shop with no way out besides the backdoor. If anything, he had every right to be angry with you. 

What if you died in front of his eyes? Or got seriously hurt? 

There was no coming back from that, you knew that much yourself. The memory of putting that poor boy out of his misery resurfaced every time your eyes shut. Every thump reminded you of striking his head with the butt of your knife. You still remembered driving that same blade deep through his stomach until your hand touched his shirt, a dog taking up the majority of his tee. It was the first time you felt actual blood. Not the three drops from a paper cut or a harmless sample, but the slimy and warm kind that came in buckets. It was everywhere too; your hands, your clothes, his bedding covered in happy dinosaurs and rainbows. Days passed until your hands returned to their natural hue, but the nightmares never ceased. It was quite funny. You had seen a lot of fucked up shit, but the least violent death was still looming over your head.

Bright yellow lights blinded you. Throwing up a hand to reduce the damage and get a better look at what was happening, you peered between your fingers and saw the shape of a car slowing down. You couldn't find it in you to run. Everything hurt everywhere and your muscles ached with as little as a breath. The emergency alarm hadn’t stopped and hoards of infected would turn up any minute. The rain — which you already thought was heavy — turned harsher and bounced off the pavements like small shining diamonds. The sound of the car door opening and slamming against the metal hunk followed by rushing footsteps frightened you into a defensive stance. 

You were tired of death. You were so tired of killing things, but the universe didn’t seem to care as she continued sending you threat after threat. The rope wrapped around your emotions slowly slipped out of your grip. Its rough texture grated along the skin of your palms and frustrated tears coated your waterline. The sob — a wail of utter fatigue — that slipped out was smothered by the rain and ear-piercing siren. You really tried holding on, but you could only suppress your hectic emotions for so long until your hands went limp and everything came crashing down. A tear streaked down your cheek, followed by another and another. 

The figure ran head first at you and as you waited for a hard impact to plummet you to the ground, a pair of warm arms wrapped around you instead. Clean clothes and wet trees filled your senses.

“I got you.”

“Yuhn–Yunho?” You sluggishly asked, making sure it wasn’t another trick of your mind.

“Yeah, Yunho’s got you, angel. I’m here.”

You buried your nose in his shoulder and inhaled his comforting scent. Shutting your eyes and curling your fingers in the fabric on his back, holding onto every piece of him for dear life. You released a shuddering breath. The shirt smelled like him and his body was very real beneath your fingertips. That alone proved your subconsciousness wasn’t deceiving you. This was Yunho. The real Yunho. Your Yunho.

“I’m going to pick you up now, alright darling?” 

His arms were gentle just like his soul and he handled you with absolute care. It made you feel warm despite the weather only Zeus himself could inflict upon the world, and you were oh-so-tired. Your empty stomach wasn’t a match against your full heart as it was all you needed to fall asleep. The last noise entering your consciousness was Yunho’s frantic voice.

“Hey, hey, hey! Stay with me. Come on, just stay with me!”

Yunho stood his ground as you went limp in his hold and his face paled at what he saw. A shard — not shorter than his palm — protruded out of your shoulder, somehow managing to diagonally cut into your skin and avoid the bulletproof vest. Just your luck. He wasted no time scooping you up bridal style, as if you weighed nothing more than a sack of potatoes, and thanked the heavens your head found his shoulder instead of lolling to the side in sync to his fast legs. His mechanic's heart hurt at leaving the engine running, but on second thought after feeling the warmth on his face, Yunho almost praised himself for his unintentional thinking. Despite that, he still stripped you off the first layer of clothing — cutting the shirt right in the middle — and decided to leave your tights on. The heat was as good as useless if you were completely wet. He maneuvered you to the side and covered you with the soft quilt he stored in the vehicle for emergencies like getting stuck in a storm or something.

The ride back home was done in silence minus the rapid patter of the rain and squelching of tires on asphalt. Much against his wishes, Yunho was plagued by the brief image of your bare torso, the black bra that left little to the imagination as well as his concern for your state. The glass was bloody and looked uncomfortably lodged in your shoulder blade. Shaking the beautiful and horrid image of you out of his head, he remembered why you passed out on him in the first place and the anger that disappeared at seeing you emerge from the mall resurfaced. A flurry of emotions swirled in his mind; concern, anger, sadness, relief… He couldn’t pinpoint if his heart beat erratically out of rage or desire. 

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Yunho sighed as your chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. As long as you were breathing everything would be fine. Going under a surgical blade in the hands of Jeong Yunho would do you no good, unless your insides consisted of automotive parts. Spoiler; they didn’t. Pressing his foot flat on the pedal, he broke a handful of traffic rules holding as much significance as the first man on the moon in this time of day.

The next time you opened your eyes wasn’t in the backseat of the familiar Jeep Wrangler, but in the medical wing which was technically just a room not much bigger than Hongjoog’s office, but illusioned to be smaller because of the multiple lined-up beds. Turning your head to the right, you stared confusedly at the IV bag connected to your arm. A sudden coldness swept over you and you instinctively pressed your free hand to your stomach, expecting to meet with a blanket and not goosebump-covered skin. Distraught, you glanced down. Your shirt was missing — that alone should’ve had you on high alert — and in its place was a gauze going around your chest and over your right shoulder. A delicate feel kissed your fingertips as you gently ghosted it over the bandages. The tenderness quickly changed into harsh bites stemming from your back and erupting all over like fireworks.

The mall. The Apothecary. The hoard of biters. Yunho. The piggy. Leaving Yunho. Man-eater. Falling. The rain. Finding Yunho. Safety. Darkness.

It was too much information at once and your back pain was accompanied by a headache growing rapidly. It didn’t help that your mouth was unbelievably dry. The IV-bag seemed to be doing an awful job of keeping you hydrated. Feeling sluggish, but determined to get answers, you freed yourself of bedrest and ventured out in the hallway. Yeosang turned the corner and stopped abruptly. His stoic face fell into an expression of utter panic seeing you out of bed. A chart of some kind and a pencil clattered to the ground as he crossed the distance between you, gentle hands cupping your arm and elbow.

“When did you wake up?”

And when you couldn’t form a response because of your dry throat, he immediately steered you back into the room with strict orders to stay and not move until he was to return. What he failed to mention was the ten-something people he’d bring along, all equally happy to see you awake, but some more furious than others. To his credit, they were forced to wait outside as you got the chance to drink water and change into something more comfortable. The excuse of you needing rest could only hold them off for so long until Wooyoung barged through the doors, an accusing finger finding you like a moth drawn to a flame. The threats spilling out of his mouth faster than the shots of a machine gun were excused as a waterfall of tears sprung down his cheeks. 

The words of malice came from a place of worry and love, and if you reciprocated that by masking your discomfort as he tightly hugged you —  nearly opening the wound Yeosang diligently stitched together — no one had to know besides you. The reunion didn’t last long, all thanks to Yeosang’s strict orders that you needed a quiet recovery and Hongjoong’s authoritative voice backing him up. Being left alone with your thoughts was worse than having a group of chatterboxes asking you the same five questions every ten seconds. Because out of everyone there, out of everyone who came to see you, the two faces you searched for weren’t there and you didn’t know how to take that.

You expected it from Yunho. The radio silence and cold shoulder served as a punishment for your careless and considerate acts of heroism. Nari surprised you. More so the lack of her. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t sting a little. In other words, it hurt a tenfold of the stabbing pain coming from your shoulder. You missed her. A lot. 

But like Yeosang said — hours after he came to drop off dinner and medicine — there was nothing you could do but wait her out, quite literally as you were trapped inside the makeshift hospital room. If it weren’t for his unmatched beauty and pleasantly calm demeanor, you would’ve sent him to hell a long time ago. Not only was he forcing pills down your throat and feeding you disgusting celery soup, now he was giving you unwanted advice concerning a child you raised since the stone age. Your agitation went up in smoke as the doors opened and a blur of black strands strode inside instead of Yeosang’s exasperating chestnut hair announcing dinner time in a sing-song voice.

Perhaps Nari missed you too and perhaps Yeosang was right, and perhaps you were imagining things as the girl stopped in front of your bed, both arms crossed over her chest and eyes cutting yours like she wanted you dead. Her sour frown left a bitter taste in your mouth. Soft taps filled the heavy silence and Heart — her true companion — sat down on his rear beside Nari. The blue piggy was caught between his teeth. It was good to know not all of your doing was in vain. 

“You’re angry.”

The annoyed scoff and roll of her eyes was the second surprise.

“No, I’m so clearly happy.”

You heard the false chirp in her voice and scrunched the sheet in your hand to keep from snapping at her sudden bratty attitude. It’s justified, you told yourself and let her have her moment.

“I am so happy that the only person I care about nearly died. I am so happy my best friend sacrificed herself without a thought of what it may do to the people around her. I am so happy I almost became an orphan for the second time in my life! I am so happy, happy, happy!”

“Nari–”

“No! Ju–uh– just listen to me! Be quiet and let me speak!” She left no room for negotiation and snapped your mouth shut. The same shame of being reprimanded by your parents settled into your every bone.

“Just so you know, I’m only speaking to you because Yunho forced me to or he’d take away my Heart privileges…” She heaved in a breath of suffocating air and her voice cracked just as the next words separated your heart into two. “I’m so angry with you.”

Staring at Nari was like looking in a mirror. Your lips trembled and cheeks were wet from the salty tears slipping down to your chin and dropping on the pristine covers. You imagined your eyes to be red and irritated from the crying and it was a miracle you could produce more tears.

“I told you to be careful, right before you left. I said, be careful and you said, when am I not? Never! You’re never careful! I ask you to do one thing and you do the exact opposite! How come I have to act like the adult and you the kid? You’re the grown up, not me! I’m not supposed to see you bloody and barely breathing!”  

“Nari, I’m sorry–”

“You don’t get to be sorry, okay?! A sorry won’t make things right again! What you did wasn’t fair! Not to me, not to you and definitely not to Yunho! Sacrificing yourself?! For what?! For who?!”

“You,” you wanted to scream at her. Everything was about her. Everything you did was for her. For her chance of living longer, living better.

“Do you know how it felt to see you so, so, so… close to death? Don’t answer that, of course you don’t. I couldn’t breathe. I was in hysterics and it hurt. Everything fucking hurt. I thought I lost you. And I can’t get it out of my head; Yunho screaming and crying, carrying your lifeless body in his arms and that shit lodged in your back… It’s– You’re–”

“I’m alive. I’m breathing. I’m okay, we’re okay.”

“Except we’re not! You don’t get to do fucked up shit and just say, ‘Oh, we’re good’ when giving us a scare! Giving me a scare! Are you fucking dumb!?”

“Hey, watch your mouth!”

“I will when you start acting like an adult. So do the adult thing and stop sacrificing yourself for others! I need you, okay?! I don’t care about the others! I don’t even care about myself! I need you and only you!

“I– I don’t know what to say to make that go through your head! What?! You want to hear about my parents?! Do you think I remember my mom?! My dad? You’re the closest thing to a family I have left! You are my mom and my dad! I can’t lose my family again! Please, don’t make me lose–”

Nari hid her face behind her hands and let the thundering sobs wreck through her body. Heart whined and nudged his snout against her thigh in consolation. It wasn’t enough. Nothing could be of comfort enough to erase the gut-wrenching image of your limp body or mend her inner wound. Not even when you got out of bed and guided her head into the crook of your neck did she feel better.

“I’m sorry, flower. So, so sorry.” You kissed the crown of her head. “You’re right. It wasn’t… I was in the wrong and I’ll do better. I’ll be better. Not just for you, but for me too, alright? You won’t ever have to worry about being the adult again… Can you forgive me?”

The little nod against your shoulder was delayed, but you didn’t care. You’d wait years if it meant her forgiveness.

The next time Yeosang came to check up on you — a tray of dinner in his hands — he silently backed out of the room as if never entering in the first place. On the hospital bed lay you and Nari, her nose hidden in the crook of your neck and a ticklish trail of air loomed across the exposed skin. Your chin nuzzled her forehead and your hands were light against her head. Nari’s arms were loosely stretched around your waist and would grow numb from the awkward position. Your legs wove into each other like a pretzel. The human-sized golden retriever was also there. His head a dead weight on your calf and the rest of his body pressed up against your back, tail tickling the exposed skin on your bicep. It was cramped and sweaty, but you wouldn’t change it, not even if the world went back to normal.

Disappointment. The bitter reaction of not getting what you expected and hoped for. If green was used to describe jealousy and yellow stood for happiness, then gray would be the color representing disappointment. 

The reason for your disappointment? A man with brown hair, warm eyes and a laugh contagious enough to heal a wounded soul. Yunho didn’t visit you for the remaining time you were under Yeosang’s care. He came through stories told by the others, always hovering over whoever was your latest visitor and asking questions regarding your recovery, but never doing more than that. Never actually stepped foot inside the room. The week after you were discharged wasn’t any better. Hongjoong put you under strict orders to not go out on runs until you could move your arm without as much as flinching from pain and everyone walked around you on eggshells. As if you were a delicate piece of glass just waiting to break at the slightest inconvenience. At the news of your freedom, Yunho vanished into thin air. It was quite amusing how he was both the yellow you desperately wanted to see and the gray standing (figuratively) in your way. 

The loud clanking against your cell diverted your attention from the cement ceiling to whoever felt the need to disturb your peace. 

“He still hasn’t talked to you?” Wooyoung asked and sat down beside your feet, which you kindly shuffled more to the left. 

“Talked? I haven’t seen him since I passed out in his arms. I don’t think talking is an option considering he’s a walking ghost.”

Wooyoung moved further up your bed. His back pressing up against the wall as his hands weaved together over his stomach. You laid your legs over his lap and breathed out a frustrated gust of air.

“I’d say give him time, but it has been, what? Two, three weeks since you got back. He’s just being petty at this point. Wasn’t it him who forced Nari to speak with you again?”

You nodded and Wooyoung huffed out a dry chuckle. “Very mature, Yunho… So what’s the plan?”

“There is no plan.”

“Oh, come on! You both can’t be self-deprecating, it’s only somewhat alright if one of you is being stupid, but both! Nuh-uh!” Wooyoung flopped beside you. His chin rested against the palms of his hands with his fingers squishing his cheeks and making them really pop.

“What do you want me to do, Woo? Yunho obviously doesn’t want anything to do with me. If you haven’t noticed, he’s avoiding me like the plague. The least I can do is stay out of his way if it means he’ll hang around everyone more. He was here before me, after all. His family before mine, no?”

“We both know that’s not true and if Yunho heard you speak like that, heck, if anyone heard you say shit like that they’d give you hell for it. You’re family as much as anyone else is, old as new members. So stop thinking like that… As for what you can do, how about you just, oh, I don’t know… Talk to him!” 

You averted your gaze as the words wrapped around you like a hug. The rational part of your brain knew Wooyoung was right. That you weren’t intruding on anything. It was your family, your friends and your space as much as Yunho, Wooyoung and everyone else’s. However, the stubborn part of your brain feasted on your self-deprecating thoughts. It was why you didn’t fight Wooyoung on these matters because somewhere down the line of getting to know everyone, you realized Wooyoung wasn’t just a package of teasing and mischievous remarks. When he wanted to, he could say the things one needed to hear the most.

“We’ve already ruled that one out. The talking won’t happen until he wants it to.”

“Well, he’s acting like a loser, a really sore one at that.”

And as much as you wanted to agree with Wooyoung, to call Yunho a few mean words of your own, you couldn’t find it in you to voice those thoughts because they didn’t exist in the first place. All you saw was Yunho who took on the qualities of a golden retriever. The Yunho who would go up and beyond to turn a frown into a smile. The Yunho who would adopt every dog he came across and name them something sweet like Cheesecake or Muffin.

“I don’t care. Everyone has a right to process things in their own way, even Yunho.”

“I wish he didn’t. It’s dumb. Yes, you kind of messed up by putting yourself in danger and whatnot, but it wasn’t like you did it for shits and giggles! If it wasn’t you, then it’d be him. Trust me, I know that guy better than myself.”

You kicked Wooyoung’s thigh and sent him a teasing smile. “Yeah, because you’re always in everyone’s business but your own.”

The dramatic gasp filling the room was followed by your laugh. 

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You knew Wooyoung only meant well, but his well wouldn’t bring anything good to the situation. Yunho wouldn’t give in and there’d be just one extra person involved in the war of cold shoulders and purposeful absences.

“Don’t bother. He’ll seek me out when he’s ready to hear what I have to say. I’ll just… lay low and give him space.”

“You do know you don’t have to sit here and hide all day, right? You can always come and hang out with me or San at the towers. Jongho could use some help in the weaponry, counting bullets and other boring shit if that’s more to your liking.”

“I know, Woo…”

As the silence took over, Wooyoung patted your calf and got up on his feet, simultaneously throwing a finger gun in your direction. “Well, duty calls. You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Hey,” you called out after a second of contemplation and he arched a brow in question. “Thank you… Umm, for being there… For being my friend, I mean.”

“Brother would be more fitting. We’re way past being friends, but I get what you mean and don’t mention it. We’re family, that’s what family does.”

Damn Wooyoung and his heartfelt words. The tears made an appearance as soon as he disappeared behind the corner and you wiped them away, not up to explaining why you were crying if someone were to pop out of nowhere. For so long, Nari was the only person you could call family. She was your home, your rock and your will to move forward. Your new family expanded to a little more than a handful of people ready to help you in their own peculiar ways. Your home still didn’t take on the form of a place or a building, but another person. Someone who couldn’t stand in the same room as you for the time being.

Turning over, you buried your nose — much like Wooyoung did with others’ businesses — in the pillow and threw the thin blanket over your head. Sleep was a great activity to make time pass faster, something you discovered while being chained to the hospital bed in Yeosang’s unit. For what you didn’t know, it didn’t seem like Yunho would search you out in the near future and it was alright. You had plenty of time to think over what to say. Until the options became too many and you couldn’t decide which was the best one. Apologize and admit your mistakes or reason for your actions and die before you ask for forgiveness. It was like Wooyoung said, Yunho would have done the same thing if you hadn’t beaten him to it. Then what? Would you treat him with the same coldness he showed you or would you stick to him like the gum on school desks? 

The question was constantly on your mind and you were at war with yourself. In this moment, you liked to believe you’d forgive him, but there was no saying you wouldn’t be absolutely furious with him either. It was better to sleep on it, you consoled yourself and you closed your eyes. 

Your dreams were scary and although that wasn’t anything new, it was unsettling. Instead of reliving the day you took an innocent life, you watched the mall mission like a movie. The only difference was you never made it back alive. Everything was the same up until the fall, because the moment you landed on your back, you startled back to consciousness. Drenched in cold sweat and a concerningly fast beating heart, you’d use the first few seconds awake to take in your surroundings. To remind yourself you were very much alive and in the safety of your room. It had been your routine for, give or take, two weeks. Sleeping was both a blessing and a curse. Escaping one reality for another — arguably one of the worst coping strategies you could choose from — wasn't something you’d ever get used to, and if it was your way of punishing yourself for hurting Yunho so much that he couldn’t stand breathing the same air as you, then so be it. Wooyoung called it self-deprecating, you saw it more as reaping what you sowed.

The moon was halfway up in the sky when you awoke from your rather restless sleep. Swirls of purple, yellow and orange mixed beautifully on the baby blue canvas wrapping around the earth. It was Wooyoung who, once again, came to check on you with the news that Mingi and Yunho were back from their weekly hunt and had actually managed to bring something back. A stew of deer meat cooked over the fire outside and the whole prison stood in line waiting for their share of the food. You soon joined them with a bowl of your own.

“Next!”

You shuffled over, your gaze unfocused and glued to the ground as you handed over the bowl. When they still hadn’t taken it out of your hands, you looked up with furrowed brows and a questioning tilt in your eyes only for it to be replaced with pure chock. Yunho looked as pretty as the day you last saw him. 

You were just staring at each other, both surprised by the sudden encounter that neither showed signs of sweeping the awkward tension under the rug and getting on with the day. The people around you grew irritated at the uphold, the hunger and standing in the cold weather getting to their heads, and you — wanting to get out of there as soon as possible — literally pushed the plastic bowl in his hands so that he was left with no choice but to pour the stew and watch you disappear somewhere far out of his reach. If Yunho wanted space then space was what he’d get, you thought as you spotted the familiar head of Yeosang sitting around a fire. Hauling your ass over there, you occupied the empty spot beside the self designated nurse. He was startled at your sudden appearance and took in your disheveled state.

“Why does it look like you’ve seen something you shouldn’t have?” Yeosang asked hesitantly and sipped on his water.

To put it bluntly, Yeosang was very observative and a great friend of Wooyoung. Whatever Wooyoung knew, Yeosang did too, including your and Yunho’s feud. Trying to stall for more time, you scooped up a mouthful of deer stew. What you didn’t take into account was that Yunho served it straight out of a boiling pot. It burned your tongue and all of your tastebuds. Acting on pain and panic to stop the fire in your mouth, you snatched the paper cup right beneath Yeosang’s nose and downed the whole thing. Yeosang, being an angel in disguise, gave you his second glass too.

“You want more?”

You shook your head and set down the stew, deciding it was better to let it cool off first.

“So… What happened?” He tried his luck again.

“What do you mean, ‘What happened’? I just burned the shit out of my tongue!”

“Not that, you idiot. I’m talking about you running here like your ass caught fire.”

The glare you scrutinized him with did nothing to change the topic, instead he challenged you with a quirk of his brow.

“I saw Yunho.” The words were barely audible. 

“What did you say?” 

You leaned over to land a punch on his shoulder, but missed with a narrow distance as he moved.

“Think of your stitches, think of your stitches!”

“Whatever…”

Yeosang sheepishly smiled. “I’m just messing with you. So you finally met the guy and… How was it?”

“Good, we were actually talking about the rising economy. How do you think it was?”

“Awkward, probably.”

“Bullseye. I ran away after.”

“I noticed.”

“You know, for being a nurse who’s supposed to have some therapy knowledge, you really do suck.”

“Thanks, I’ll jot that down for our future sessions.”

Your next punch wasn’t futile.

As the sun gradually descended and a darker quilt laid over the green earth, more people joined you around the fire. You saw Nari and Eunwoo share a blanket further away from the group, pointing toward the sky full of stars as their sweet giggles weaved through the talking voices of the adults. They did sit a little too close for your liking, but you let it be. She couldn’t experience the normal sneaking around with a boy phase and that would be the closest she’d get to it.

Some time between the laughter and conversations shared with Yeosang and the other people, Yunho was added to the mix. He sat right across from you between the broad shoulders belonging to Mingi and San. You didn’t utter a single word in his presence and moved in on yourself to appear smaller, an attempt at going unnoticed by him. He sipped on the whiskey bottle being passed around the circle while giving Seonghwa his full attention and you took the chance to stare at the side of his face. He was absolutely ethereal. The orange glow of the fire kissed his cheeks and his eyes were even warmer, more inviting. 

He looked happy.

Your eyes went wide as he suddenly turned to you. The smile fitting him perfectly dimmed and was replaced by a neutral expression. You pictured yourself reflecting that same blankness. He was the first to break contact and the corners of his mouth went up again as he re-entered the previous conversation. You let out an anxious breath, wondering if you really brought him that much misery. An arm laid over the bridge of your shoulders, the palm attached cupped your bicep and pulled you toward them. Glancing up, you were met with the side profile of Wooyoung. You must’ve been too caught up in your own thoughts to notice him slipping in beside you. The faint, barely-there squeeze was him letting you know he bore witness to the wordless exchange between you and Yunho. The top of your head touched his neck and he nuzzled his cheek against your hair, soft puffs of air going over your strands. And while you were usually opposed to skinship, you let Wooyoung spoil you with it, not having the mental energy to push him away as well as you found it to be quite comforting.

“You alright?”

“It’ll pass. Just like it always has.”

Although Wooyoung wasn’t really in tune with what you were referring to, he still nodded and gave you another supportive squeeze. Sadness, grief and anguish. All the emotions belonging to the color blue would resurface every now and then. The last memory of your parents, failing your math tests in high school, breaking up with your first serious boyfriend… Those were all sad occurrences in life that left a scar in your heart, but were somewhat mended with the essence of time. Some took longer than others and some never really healed, but either way, they passed. The brief moments of blue passed. Thus, you were certain this thing with Yunho would pass too. The question of whether you’d remain friends or go back to strangers wasn’t something you wanted to entertain with the heat of the flames caressing your cold skin so you left it for the future you to mull over. 

The warm meal and nice company completely drained everyone as they just sat and enjoyed the stillness of the night.

Hongjoong, always having everyone’s best in mind, clapped his hands together. “We should call it a night.” 

Albeit everyone would rather stay out more and bask in the comforting atmosphere, Hongjoong’s words were law and no one wanted to disobey the law, not even in a raging apocalypse. You took it upon yourself to collect the quilts while someone else put out the fire or cleaned up the stray dishes. A bunch of knitted quilts were swung over your left arm and as you bent down to pick up another one, your knee buckled making you lose your footing and head into the blazing fire. 

Yunho scooped you up, his arm circling around your waist and flinging you off the ground to face away from the fire. Your back was pressed to his front and the rapid pounding of your hearts synced. Yunho’s hot breath curling over your ears and the sudden close proximity sent your body into overdrive. The autumn wind was useless against your burning skin. Your chest deflated in disappointment as he let you down, not a word of worry or comfort leaving his lips. Desperate and tired, you swung around and wrapped your fingers around his wrist, stopping him in his fleeting movement.

“Yunho, wait!”

Perhaps it was the honey dripping of your plea or the soft and delicate touch of your skin (that he missed so much, but would never admit) or it was simply him being curious as to what you had to say. Whatever the reason, Yunho did as told and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t come to regret it for the second time around. But now, with his eyes on you and his pretty lips pressed in a determined line, you forgot what you wanted to say. 

Hearing Wooyoung’s half-hearted advice from that evening echo in your mind, you cleared your throat and–

“You know, if you wanted to talk you could’ve just done so. There’s no need to bring a third party into,” he gestured between you, “this.”

“What?”

“Wooyoung.”

You kept replaying his words in your mind, dissecting each term, putting them together and so forth until they lost their meaning and you were back to the start trying to figure out what he meant. 

“What?” 

“Nothing, forget I said anything.” 

Seeing him roll his eyes and hear his tongue click the roof of his mouth was your breaking point. Smoke huffed out of your nostrils as you grabbed the blankets from the ground, marched in front of him and stopped him right in his tracks with a hand on his chest. It was one thing to ignore you for weeks, but it was a whole other pain to hear him say demeaning shit to your face.

“You don’t get to do that,” you furiously spat. “You don’t get to disappear and then tell me I should have just talked to you. Yunho, I couldn’t find you even if I turned the whole prison inside out! An– and– and Wooyoung?! What the hell?!”

Your emotions were a tangled mess that not even the most talented hairdresser could unknot. Hurt, sadness, anger, disbelief, everything bled into each other until you couldn’t put a name to them anymore.

“Listen here. I don’t know what you think you saw, but it’s not like that and even if it was, why the fuck do you care?” 

Your question was met with silence, but a wave of fury swayed in his eyes and you wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. You expected to hear a lot of things the day either of you confronted each other, but nothing could’ve prepared you for that wild and disrespectful assumption.

“I wanted to apologize for my selfish actions back in the mall, but I don’t think I’m sorry at all… Actually, I’m sorry I wasted my blood on you. I’m sorry I sacrificed myself for a guy who can’t bring himself to check up on me while bedridden or– or that the first thing he says to me is that I’m making ‘moves’ on his friend, on his brother! From the bottom of my heart, Yunho, go fuck yourself.”

You threw the blankets at him and walked off. Your job there was done. You heeded Wooyoung's advice only to have it all blow up in your face, although you weren’t going to fault him for the loose mouth of Jeong Yunho. The roles reversed as your wrist was trapped between Yunho’s slender fingers and the roots of the grass twined around your ankles keeping you in place. The grip tightened as a result of you fighting back, yanking and shaking as if touched by something poisonous. 

“Don’t… Don’t go,” he pleaded. “That was stupid of me. I didn’t mean it. I just…”

Lost my cool. Got jealous. Missed you.

“You just what?”

You spun around and a fuming swirl of wind slapped him in the face. The growl ripped out of you drilled shame and guilt into his bones, and although the angry load Yunho carried for weeks evened it out, he couldn’t feel his blood boiling without red tinting his ears.

“I’m talking to you now, am I not? Are you going to answer me or stand there doing nothing, because I really have no issue with going back to you forgetting about my existence. I know I sure won’t have a problem with it.”

“You think I forgot about your existence?” He asked in disbelief, a broken expression lacing his features. “It was the only thing I couldn’t do. I could blame you and think of you as selfish, stupid, reckless, immature, irrational, anything, but you were still there. You occupied my mind every hour of the day, every dream and every nightmare… And when I wasn’t busy…” Yunho paused, seemingly searching for the right word. “Blaming you, I was turning gray from worry. So no, I can’t go back to ‘forgetting about your existence’ because I never did nor could forget about you!”

“Then what was it? You were too busy worrying about me to take a quick peek in the hospital wing? You couldn’t put your hatred aside to ask Nari, Yeosang, Wooyoung or whoever the fuck about my well being? You think I’m going to believe you cared when you couldn’t even show it? That on our first encounter since a month ago you couldn’t even say something simple as ‘Hi’ without looking absolutely shell shocked at my presence. I haven’t forgotten about you my ass, your face told me everything I needed to know.”

“If I fucking forgot about you, would I be dying to do this?”

Yunho stepped forward, determined to show you just how wrong you were. The feel of his hands — large, warm and slightly callused — cupping your cheeks was unexpected. The yelp of surprise died in your throat as he forced your face up to his and slothed his lips against yours. They were as chapped as they usually looked, but soft and carrying a hint of chocolate and whiskey. Your own arms hung limp by your sides, eyes wide and heart thumping against your ribcage. There was nothing besides Yunho, no anger baiting you to clamp down on his lip or a spiral of sadness telling you to push him away. You were completely consumed by him. His scent, touch and taste. It was all just Yunho.

As you failed to respond, he slid his thumb over your cheek and drew back. Before he could get as much as a centimeter of air between your mouths, you latched onto his wrists and lifted your chin to properly meet his lips, and closed your eyes. It was the most beautiful and tender first kiss you had ever shared with anyone before. It was innocent and sweet, a bit rough as you pushed your heads as close to one another until you were on the brink of hurting. You poured your all into it and broke it off as the need for air somehow grew bigger than your need to feel him on you. Chests heaving and lungs burning from the oxygen shortage, you didn’t dare to look away, afraid either of you would disappear.

“I could never forget about you,” Yunho breathed out, his hands gliding down to adorn your neck like a 24-karat gold necklace. His thumbs found your pulse point while his pointer finger caressed your nape in a slow manner, treading lightly on the strand between teasing and adoring. 

Words failed you in the moment you needed them the most and to add fuel to the fire, your internal thoughts were a jumbled mess of nothing. You kept replaying the feeling of Yunho’s lips on yours, the heat that prickled your mouth after and how you wanted nothing more than to do it over and over again.

“Please say something.”

Realizing Yunho was as far gone as you was the push of confidence you needed to fulfill your wish. Using more force than intended, you tangled your fingers in the front of his shirt and pulled him into another kiss with mouths smashing and teeth clicking together. It was a stark contrast to the first one; needy, searing and desperate to reciprocate Yunho’s cryptic confession. You took Yunho's bottom lip between yours and worshiped him as if your life depended on it. His hands trailed gently all over you; waist, hips, even daring to give squeezes to your ass. You didn’t know how long you stood there, exploring each other like horny teenagers, but by the time you parted for air — hair messy, lips swollen and glossy, eyes intense with a burning desire — everyone had escaped inside. 

The fire was long extinguished, but you were still warm all over and a different kind of flame ignited inside of you, born in your core and pulsed harder each second you weren’t touched by Yunho. The scorching hot butterflies fluttered more violently as his thumb swatted over your bottom lip, spreading the spit — his or yours, it didn’t matter — more, but he stopped as the weight of the situation dawned on him. Jumping right into bed after the agonizingly long weeks of ignoring each other and brewing an irritation that could only be cured by talking didn’t sit right with him. 

A pregnant pause filled the space between your spit-swapping action and the beginning of Yunho’s next words. 

“I really need you to say something or I’ll go crazy. I don’t think you understand how much you mean to me, so please, say something. Anything.”

“I… You– uh…” 

It was so much easier to act than to speak. Why must he torture you? Wasn’t the kiss enough? Didn’t he feel your desperation seeping into his bone and very being? What more did you have to say for him to get it through his head that you were honestly, truly, completely in love with him? 

You grabbed his amusingly large hand and placed it on your chest, right over your beating heart. As if feeling Yunho’s touch, the thumps came stronger and quicker. The chance to explain yourself wouldn’t come at a better time than this.

“You mean everything to me, Yunho. That thing back there in the mall? I did it because…”

“Because what?” His whisper was delicate like a summer breeze filtering through your hair and swooshing the seam of your sundress.

“Because I didn’t want you to die. Fuck, I didn’t even care what would happen to me, I just needed you to be safe and– and–”

“What about me?” He interrupted. “Did you even think what it would be like for me if you wouldn’t have made it out of there alive? Watching you hobble out, bloodied and looking more dead than alive hurt like a blade through the heart. I thought I lost you…”

“You didn’t though. I came back. Barely, but I did come back… To be honest with you, I didn’t think I’d affect anyone with my passing. Nari is an exception, but that’s about it. You’ve known them for longer than I have and… I thought it would hurt less if I was the one to go and not you.”

Tears filled his eyes and grew red at the saltiness. Yunho pressed his palms against them and breathed irregularly. Through his soft sobbing, his words came out drenched with disbelief. “How could you say that?! How could you–”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“You can’t say sorry. That’s so fucked, why would you even think like that? Fuck, I felt like dying just looking at your limp body in my arms and you were the one on the verge of death, not me. Yet I couldn’t breathe until I got you to Yeosang.”

Yunho’s cries were loud and it was getting harder to understand him. You think you understood what he meant by feeling the pain of a blade through the heart. You closed the gap and circled your arms around him. He fell into you, his tears soaked through your shirt and his fingers almost tore holes into the material from how hard he was holding on. You rubbed soothing patterns into his back and patiently waited for his crying to subdue with a few reassuring pecks left along his shoulder and collarbone. When the silence was filled with his light sniffles and shuddering breaths, you continued from where you last left off.

“Is that why you didn’t come to visit?”

Yunho nodded and cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy and muffled from crying and being pressed against your skin. 

“I did come. I stayed the whole time you were unconscious, I was right there. That chair might have fucked my back forever, but I vowed not to move until you were stable…”

“I didn’t know,” you lamely admitted.

“I’d kill them. I said, if word got out that I was there, they’d wish a biter got to them before me.”

You cradled Yunho’s face and firmly pried him out from the comfort of your shoulder and directed his focus to your eyes. A watery smile curled your lips as the threat sounded so foreign coming from him. The Yunho who wouldn’t dream of hurting a fly, and who the children adorned and pets seeked out for comfort. Then a snippet of your first encounter flashed before your eyes and you remembered it to be the same Yunho who didn’t think twice when putting a bullet through the head of your perpetrator. Suddenly, the threat sounded more promising.

Yunho grew shy at the intense eye contact and enveloped your hands in his. He ran his thumbs over your knuckles in various patterns to divert the attention elsewhere, a coy trick to easier say what was on his mind without having your beautiful eyes dissecting him for his thoughts.

“I wasn’t angry then either. For those two weeks I felt nothing but fear for your life and it wasn’t until you came back that I let everything wash over me. That’s why I didn’t come after. Because I was so angry with you, but I need you to know I never, never, hated you… There’s another thing too, but it’s stupid.”

“Tell me,” you demanded. 

It took a while. He managed to circle a couple of figure eights on the brass skin of your hands before revealing the embarrassing secret that tugged at his heart every night prior to falling asleep. 

“You got hurt because you were trying to protect me so I thought, if I wasn’t there– if I wasn’t in your life anymore, you wouldn’t have the need to put yourself at risk for me ever again.”

“You’re so stupid, Yunho. That would never work. You could literally hate me, wish me dead–” You ignored the glare he sent you, “But it wouldn’t matter because I’d do it again, over and over again if it meant you’d be alright.” 

Yunho deeply sighed. Your words made him hot and he was trying hard to ignore the heat fluttering inside of him. “Don't say stuff like that, it makes me want to kiss you.”

Always putting others' needs before yours was the path you molded for yourself and reaching for what you wanted wasn’t something that came naturally. But as the stars cheered you on with their soft twinkles of encouragement, you did the unimaginable and connected your souls for the third time that evening. The hour long nights spent talking about one another with the moon as your only witness paid off as she lovingly gazed down on your beautiful rendezvous.

“I guess there’s going to be a lot of kissing then,” you breathed out and moved a few stray hairs out of his eyes. 

Since the outbreak started, you never once entertained the idea of finding a romantic connection. Your main focus was providing Nari with a safe future ensuring her a life where she could at least live past the age of thirty. Even if it meant sacrificing a few things. You didn’t realize how miserable you were until you crossed through the gates of Sector One. There was only so much you and Nari could do to quelch each other’s needs. Your start at the new camp was rocky. It was tough, yet you broke through everyone’s prejudice and showed them you weren’t just a suicidal bastard, but a woman with interests and feelings like everyone else. The apocalypse hadn’t erased the person you were before, it just took soft spoken words, gentle touches and a whole lot of understanding for you to come out of hiding. 

In the meantime, you’d patiently wait. Maybe the world wouldn’t ever return to what it once was and maybe it would only go further down hill from there, but standing in front of Yunho as his eyes darted all over your face — the challenge of trying to figure out what part of you he wanted to admire the most was impossible to solve — melted away those worries. As long as you were surrounded by people keeping the flame of survival alive, you’d be fine. 

© HONGJOONGSPOETRY 2024 - All rights reserved. Copying, editing, reposting or translating my work is not allowed.

[hivemuthur]

Hi! Thank you so much for your beautiful work!! I hope it’s okay to make a silly little request

So I’m in my 20s (late 20s I might add) but I’ve never ever even kissed anyone yet and I kinda really want to so… Would you consider writing modern au!Viktor with a virgin!f!reader? Something about a first kiss or maybe having sex for the first time or first relationship..? Anything first in general 👉👈

Anon, I am beating my chest that it took so long and hope that you will get a notification that it is published (I sometimes don't when I ask anon questions). I was a late bloomer myself and it has some massive advantages. Though I hope you get to kiss someone nice soon!

First Rites

viktorxfemale!virgin!reader mature, kissing and making out :)

author’s note: Nothing smart to say here, really, other than I will probably write a part two of this :') @rennethen beta read!

word count: 1,8K

—

Your eyes sweep over Jayce’s tongue on Mel’s before you catch yourself staring. And even that doesn’t stop you. You analyse the movement of their hands, the way Jayce’s hips press into Mel’s, memorising all the smacking sounds they try to muffle into gentle giggles, hoping that you and Viktor are doing a decent job of not looking. When in reality, it’s the exact opposite.

It always goes the same way: the clack of heels echoing through the corridor outside the lab already has Jayce perking up. He grunts, clears his throat, and gets up slowly to avoid raised eyebrows and Viktor stating the obvious, like, “I guess this means you’re off for the day?”

Then, Jayce gives an apologetic smile and strolls toward the door, opening it before Mel can even knock. He exchanges a shy, stupid, cheek-reddened “Hi” for her sultry, thick “Hi yourself.” Their greetings die somewhere in their mouths when their lips meet in a first hello kiss. That one doesn’t last very long—soon, it shifts into an I missed you kiss. That lingers before melting into an I want you kiss or an I’d rather eat you than dinner kiss. And those are your favourites.

Even when you try very hard not to imagine what kind of kiss might follow that, you can’t help yourself. You end up blushed and flustered, your mind spinning with curiosity.

So you stare—impolitely, some might say—but for you, it’s research. You study and memorise, committing their courtship to memory so you can replay the scene later, your fingers wandering over your own lips as you imagine what it would be like. To have someone’s lips on yours, someone’s tongue in your mouth. It doesn’t sound all that appealing or hygienic, but it looks fantastic. It makes you feel a very much welcomed weirdness in your chest and belly, and having nothing else to supplement those feelings with, you just outright stare.

“It’s quite rude, if you ask me,” Viktor’s voice cuts through your thoughts just as Mel lets out a small, startled sound at Jayce’s hand cradling the back of her neck.

“Uh, I know. They should take it somewhere else, really,” you whisper back, but your tone is far from condemning. You say it absentmindedly, your eyes still glued to their mouths, chin propped on your hand, your scribbling abandoned the moment Jayce stood up.

“I meant your intense staring. But yes, such activities should be performed outside of work areas,” Viktor mumbles, not looking up from his notes.

Your blush deepens into an intense red hue as you finally look away and cover your face with your hand.

“Oh, I um… I didn’t mean to, it’s just—”

“All right, we’re off! Don’t work too hard while I’m gone!” Jayce’s beaming laughter cuts you off. Before you or Viktor can reply with a snarky comment, he sweeps Mel by the waist, and they disappear into the hallway. The sound of Mel’s giggle and the uneven click of her heels on the stone floors make you wonder if Jayce is kissing her neck or pressing her against a wall.

“It’s just?” Viktor insists, finally looking at you, his face forming an unamused expression.

“Nothing. It’s just nothing,” you respond quickly, picking up your pen with a shaky hand. You force yourself back to scribbling, even though your handwriting comes out ragged, suffering from both the excitement and the fear of Viktor’s prying eyes. But you do it anyway, desperate for any kind of shield.

“It does not look like nothing,” Viktor pushes, rotating in his chair to face you fully. You deepen your hunch, almost pressing your nose into the paper. How mortifying.

“I understand the concept of unrequited attraction, but you should really do yourself a favour and quit this self-flagellating practice of ogling every time Mel picks him up. It doesn’t lead to anything beneficial and impacts your focus,” Viktor drones, his nasal tone close to scolding.

You feel so scrutinised that you don’t even bother to correct his misunderstanding of your habit. You just sigh and continue your fake note taking.

“Trust me, I would know,” Viktor adds.

That catches your attention. How would he know anything about what you’re going through?

“Whatever do you mean by that?” you ask, keeping your face turned toward your notes, though your eyes wander to glance at him. He looks… unhappy? Mildly irritated? Annoyed at your lack of shame and focus?

“I am merely stating that lusting after someone out of reach is, at best, futile and, at worst, a path to ruin. For your own good, I would refrain from such practices,” Viktor says quietly.

You blink a few times as the words settle in your mind. He thinks I’m in love with Jayce? Lusting after him? It’s almost funny when you think that what you’ve been doing is in fact, just lusting.

“I can assure you, I am not attracted to Jayce. Or Mel, for that matter. I just—”

“Oh?” Viktor’s head snaps up so fast it surprises even him. He internally scolds himself for the involuntary reaction, but the undeniable punch of hope makes him lose control of his body for a moment. His pupils are wide, his brows lifted all the way to his forehead. “You’re not?”

“Uh, no,” you sigh, finally turning to face him properly. Your head dips as embarrassment weighs you down, but maybe admitting it will make it easier to carry. “I’m just… collecting research. For whenever I’ll have the opportunity. If ever. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever—”

“What?” Viktor’s voice comes out too sharp. Shit. He scowls at himself—internally, of course—for how poorly he masked his shock. Way to be sensitive.

You wince, sinking deeper into yourself.

“Oh. Forgive me. I didn’t mean to… offend you,” he says carefully, trying not to sound too excited. His hand hovers over your knee while he calculates whether it would be proper to comfort you with a gentle touch. If you would like that. If you would like him to touch you.

But before he can decide, you turn back to your side of the desk, avoiding his gaze. “I’m not that easy to offend. It’s just not something I’m comfortable with. I’m a bit… too old for that, you know.”

And as if having a mild upper hand in this situation pumps Viktor with extra courage, he twists your chair back and rolls it close to his, until the sides of your thighs touch. “I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable, then. I actually mean for the opposite of that,” he breathes and allows himself to glance over your lips, briefly. But you notice.

“Viktor?” you whisper, feeling an invisible force pulling you closer to his face. His arm extends over your legs, gripping the edge of your seat, and you feel the mild heat radiating off his body. You can smell his scent lingering in the space between you as you indulge in small glances at his eyes and lips.

“If you allow me, I could provide you with… some hands-on experience. Unless, of course, I am not—”

“Yes,” you answer quickly, and Viktor exhales into a relieved smile. He mumbles an “okay,” as if bracing himself, and closes the little distance left between you. His mouth presses against yours almost innocently as he takes your upper lip between his. His lips are soft and warm. It’s a long, lingering peck that has your eyes fluttering shut and a pool of heat blooming in your belly. You find yourself leaning into the kiss, your hips on the edge of the chair, to the point that your chests almost press against each other.

When he disconnects from you, it’s only to breathe against your mouth, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” you say shakily, your lips brushing his. You open your eyes only to see a pretty pink blush splattered across his cheeks and ears. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth when he asks, “Would you like me to continue?”

“Please, continue,” you exhale, and something glints in Viktor’s eyes. Emboldened by your enthusiasm, he slides the hand gripping the stool to the back of your seat, pulling you closer until you can almost feel the flutter of his heart against yours as your chests meet. His other hand cradles the back of your neck, and oh, it’s the same gesture Jayce granted Mel that you’ve longed for so dearly, and you feel your skin prickling under Viktor’s touch.

His mouth is back on yours, this time the press is firmer, as he parts your lips with his tongue and—oh. Just oh, as your eyebrows knit together and the warmest of feelings floods your chest, making your hands jolt out to fist his vest, and you sigh the sweetest of sounds into his mouth. And he doesn’t stop there—the hand from the chair slides up your side, rests on your ribcage, fingers digging in when he—oh—also makes a sound. The hottest of sounds, a honey-dripping moan that makes you bite his lower lip, craving to eat him up with a long spoon.

And when he loses himself a bit—grunts and sighs into you, his hands wandering to rest at the base of your spine and cradle your cheek in a firm grip—you don’t even know how it happens, but you slide your hips to straddle his and press yourself down on him. To your delight, he has many more of those pretty sounds, some even forming something close to your name, making you melt into his arms.

When he pulls away, it’s only for an inch. “Oh, my,” Viktor mutters, rubbing his face against yours and kissing your neck. You like that too, but you already miss his hot tongue in your mouth. “A natural talent, I see,” he chuckles, and you blush even more at the thought of what he would say if he knew how much practice you’ve done on the crook of your fist alone in your room.

He looks up at you, all flustered and pretty, swiping his thumb across your glistening lip. He doesn’t know what’s come over him when he says, “If you wish to explore this further, I can offer my… expertise.” What he wants to say is that he’s been thinking about this too many times to count, leaving him flustered and pretty countless times before, but he doesn’t want to scare you away. So he just keeps looking at you expectantly, willing his mouth to shut.

“I would like that,” you mutter shyly, noticing how Viktor’s chest sags with relief. To think that he was there, willing and within your reach all this time makes you feel silly for all those times you stared at Jayce and Mel longingly. And you’re convinced you’ll continue to watch them—not with longing, but with anticipation for when they finally stroll off to their date, so you can sink your lips onto Viktor’s.

[sometimescharlolette]

JOEL MILLER X F!READER (BRAT TAMING)

Synopsis: You disobey Joel, putting your life at risk once again, his patience runs out, and he teaches you a lesson.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: +18, age gap, p in v, rough sex, punish sex, dirty talk, possessive behavior, degradate, orgasm denial, age gap not explicit

A/N: Hello pretty people, valentine's day is coming, and I thought I'd write a few things to celebrate this special day. There will be five in total, starting today and ending on the 14th. I hope you enjoy this idea as much as I do. In any case, comments and feedback always motivate me to keep writing and trying to improve. Kisses 💜💜

How many times would Joel have to repeat himself until your stubborn little head got it through your thick skull? Keeping you within the perimeter wasn’t some arbitrary punishment—it was survival. He wasn’t the bad guy for trying to make sure you didn’t get yourself killed. Or worse, turned. The thought alone made his stomach churn, a bitter taste rising in the back of his throat. He had already lost too many people. He wasn’t about to lose you, even if it meant keeping you under lock and key.

And yet, there you were. Again.

He found you near the HQ containment zone, cigarette dangling from your lips, laughing at something some idiot had whispered in your ear. Smoke curled from your mouth, slipping between soft, pink lips as though the world wasn’t on fire around you. As if you had no care at all.

Joel never wanted this job. Never wanted to be responsible for you. But Tess, of course, had volunteered to keep an eye on you, which meant he’d been dragged into this mess, forced to play babysitter to a reckless brat who didn’t seem to give a damn about how dangerous things were outside those gates.

“Let’s go.”

His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument, the crunch of his heavy boots against the gravel matching the unwavering determination in his eyes. He didn’t slow as he approached, didn’t hesitate as he wrapped his fingers around your wrist, yanking you away from the wall you were leaning against.

“Wait—” you whined, twisting in his grip, but he didn’t stop. The cigarette slipped from your lips, embers snuffing out against the cold ground. You cast a glance at the others, as if hoping one of them might step in. But no one did. No one ever did. Not when it came to Joel.

With a frustrated growl, he had enough. In one swift motion, he hauled you over his shoulder, one arm locking around your thighs as you yelped in protest. You kicked, fists thudding against his back, hair falling over your face as the blood rushed to your head.

“Joel, put me down! You caveman—”

He ignored you, jaw clenched tight, stride unwavering as he carried you back to the apartment. Your struggles were useless against his iron grip, every squirm and protest met with nothing more than a gruff sigh. Only once he crossed the threshold, locking the door behind him, did he finally let you go—unceremoniously dropping you onto the worn couch.

You landed with a huff, limbs sprawled in a graceless heap. “What the hell was that?” you snapped, glaring up at him. “I’m not a damn child.”

Joel exhaled sharply, running a rough hand down his face. His patience was gone, his body taut with frustration. His dark eyes locked onto yours, voice low and edged with exhaustion.

“No. But you sure as hell act like one.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching as his gaze pinned you in place. He was tired—tired of chasing after you, tired of dragging you back from the edge when you so eagerly danced on it.

Joel stepped closer, looming over your sprawled form on the couch. He could see the defiance in your eyes, the stubborn set of your jaw. It was infuriating, but it also stirred something primal in him. He had to put an end to this reckless behavior, one way or another.

"Listen up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once," he growled, voice rough and low. "You can't keep pullin' this shit, darlin'. It ain't safe out there."

He grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to look at him. His calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a rough caress that felt a jolt through you. "You're playin' with fire, and you're gonna get yourself burned. I won't let that happen."

Joel leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Maybe it's time I taught you a lesson about listening in' to your elders." His other hand slid down your side, coming to rest on your hip. He squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"Wh-what are you doing?" you stammered, a flush creeping up your neck. You tried to pull away, but he held you firm.

"Shh, just relax," he murmured, voice a low rumble. "I'm gonna make you understand, one way or another." His hand slid higher, brushing over the curve of your breast. He could feel your nipple stiffen beneath the thin fabric of your shirt.

Joel captured your mouth in a demanding kiss, swallowing any protests. His tongue delved past your lips, claiming your mouth with a hunger that stole your breath. He kissed you until you were dizzy, until you could only cling to him for support.

When he finally pulled back, your lips were red and swollen, his chest heaving. "You're not leaving this house until I say so," he declared, voice rough with desire. "And if you try, I'll just have to punish you again."

His hand slid under your skirt, finding the heat between your thighs. He groaned at the dampness he found there, a finger tracing your slit through the fabric of your panties. "Fuck, you're already so wet," he muttered. "Guess you like bein' manhandled like this, don't you?"

He ripped your panties away, tossing them carelessly to the side. Then his fingers were on your bare flesh, stroking through your slick folds. He circled your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to make your hips buck up against his hand.

"Joel..." you whimpered, head thrown back in ecstasy. "Please..."

"Please what, baby?" he taunted, fingers delving deeper. "Please stop? Or please don't stop?" He pumped two fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot inside.

You could only moan in response, lost in the pleasure he was giving you. He worked you closer and closer to the edge, until your thighs were trembling and your walls were clenching around his fingers.

"Please, Joel, keep it up, I'm, I'm gonna cum," you moaned breathlessly, your head thrown back on the arm of the couch, your chest rising and falling with the scorching heat building in your pelvis, but before you could get caught up in the sensation of pleasure, he pulled his fingers out.

Joel smirked at the confused, frustrated look on your face as he abruptly pulled his fingers from your aching, desperate cunt. He could see the need written all over you, the way your body trembled and your chest heaved with each ragged breath. It was a delicious sight, seeing you so wound up and wanting. He planned to take his time with you, to make you beg for release like the needy little thing you were.

"Please, Joel, I can't-- ah!" Your protests turned into a yelp as his palm cracked against your sensitive pussy, the sharp sting only adding to the fire burning under your skin. He could feel your slick coating his hand, your arousal dripping down your thighs.

"Listen up, you brat," he growled, voice low and dominant. "You don't get to cum until I say so. This is your punishment for being such a reckless little fool."

Joel grabbed your ankles, pushing your legs up and back towards your shoulders. He held you in a tight hold, folding you nearly in half as he loomed over your exposed, dripping cunt. His cock strained against his jeans, rock hard and aching to be buried inside you. But he had other plans first.

Leaning down, he ran his tongue along your slit, tasting your essence. "Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your flesh. "Sweet as honey." He delved deeper, tongue plunging into your entrance as he ate you out with eager.

Your moans filled the room, back arching as much as his grip would allow. He could feel your walls fluttering around his invading tongue, desperate for more. But he pulled back, leaving you wanting once again.

"No, please Joel, I need-- I need to cum," you whined, voice high and needy. Your hips bucked, trying to grind against his face, but he held you still.

"Not yet, you don't," he chided, giving your clit a sharp nip. "You don't get to cum until I say so. Until I've had my fill of you."

Joel released your legs, letting them fall to the couch. He undid his belt and jeans with quick, rough movements, freeing his hard cock. It sprang up, long and thick, the swollen head already leaking with need.

Joel fisted a hand in your hair, gripping it tight as he rubbed the leaking head of his cock along your cheek. The scent of his arousal filled your nose, making your mouth water with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, the weight of it as he painted your lips with his pre-cum.

"Open up, baby," he ordered, voice rough with lust. "If you do a good job sucking my cock, maybe I'll let you cum. Would you like that?"

He pressed the tip against your lips, demanding entrance. Your gaze flicked up to meet his, seeing the dark hunger in his eyes. He wanted to use your mouth, to fuck your face until he spilled his load down your throat. The thought sent a thrill of excitement through you.

Reaching up, you wrapped your small hand around the base of his thick cock, feeling it throb against your palm. Slowly, you parted your lips, letting the head slip past them. Your tongue darted out, lapping at the slit, tasting the salty essence leaking from the tip.

"Fuck," Joel groaned, hips jerking forward slightly as your tongue caressed his sensitive flesh. "That's it, baby. Take it deeper."

He pushed more of his length into your mouth, the thick head hitting the back of your throat. You had to relax your jaw, letting him slide in further. He was so big, stretching your lips wide around his girth. You could only take about half of him before you started to gag, throat convulsing around his shaft.

"That's enough," Joel growled, pulling out abruptly. Strings of saliva connected your mouth to his cock, dripping down your chin. He wiped the head of his cock across your cheek, smearing your spit mixed with his pre-cum across your skin.

"On your knees," he commanded, voice rough and demanding. "I want to fuck your face properly."

You quickly complied, slipping off the couch to kneel before him. The hardwood floor was cold against your knees, but the heat of his body was warm against your face. You looked up at him, waiting for his next instruction, ready and eager to please him.

Joel gripped your hair tighter, fisting it like a handle as he began to thrust into your mouth. His cock pushed past your stretched lips, hitting the back of your throat with each pump of his hips. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving chest as he used your face.

"Take it, you cock-hungry slut," he grunted, eyes dark with lust as he watched your lips stretch obscenely around his shaft. "Fuck, your mouth feels so good."

He set a brutal pace, fucking your face with long, deep strokes. The head of his cock slammed against your throat again and again, making you gag and choke around him. But he didn't let up, too lost in his own pleasure to care about your discomfort.

"Touch yourself," he ordered, voice strained. "Play with that needy cunt while I use your mouth."

You quickly slid a hand between your thighs, fingers delving into your soaked folds. You circled your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub in tight circles as Joel continued to pound into your throat. The dual stimulation was almost too much to bear, pleasure and pain blurring together until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

Joel could feel his release approaching, balls drawing up tight against his body. He thrust harder, chasing his end with single-minded focus. With a guttural groan, he buried himself deep in your throat and held himself there, spurting jet after jet of hot, thick cum directly down your gullet.

You swallowed convulsively around him, trying to gulp down every drop of his release. Some of it leaked out, dribbling down your chin and onto your heaving tits. When he finally pulled out, you gasped for air, coughing and sputtering, face flushed and eyes watering.

"Good girl," Joel praised, tucking himself back into his jeans. He hauled you up by your hair, crashing his mouth against yours in a filthy kiss. He could taste himself on your tongue, the salty flavor of his cum mingling with the sweet taste of your own saliva.

"Now, beg for it," he demanded, hand drifting down to rub your clit hard and fast. "Beg me to let you cum, you dirty little brat. Beg me to give you the release you so desperately need."

Joel smirked down at your lascivious state, taking in the way your face was flushed and smeared with the evidence of your debauchery. He could feel your hips writhing against his fingers, desperate for more friction, more stimulation, more of anything that would bring you the release you so desperately craved.

"Please, Joel, please let me cum," you whimpered, voice high and thready with need. "I'll do anything, I'll be so good, just please let me cum!"

He could feel your pussy clenching around his fingers, greedy and hungry for more. He rubbed your clit harder, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves with rough, calloused fingers. His other hand slid up your body to grope at your tits, squeezing the soft mounds roughly.

"Beg harder," he demanded, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. "Convince me of how badly you need it. Tell me how much you want to cum all over my fingers like the desperate little slut you are."

He pumped his fingers faster, plunging them in and out of your soaked cunt. The obscene sound of your arousal filled the room as he fingered you hard and fast, the wet squelch of your pussy echoing off the walls.

"Please, oh god please!" you cried out, head thrown back in ecstasy. "I need it so fucking bad, Joel. I'm so close, I can't-- ah! I can't take it anymore!"

He could feel your body tensing, your walls starting to flutter around his invading digits. He knew you were on the verge of cumming, teetering on the razor's edge of the most intense orgasm of your young life.

"Cum for me, you filthy girl," he growled, rubbing your clit with quick, rough circles. "Cum all over my fingers like the vicious brat you are. Show me how badly you craved it."

With a scream of pure pleasure, your body convulsed, back arching as your orgasm crashed over you like a tsunami. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, rippling and squeezing as you gushed all over his hand, soaking his palm and dripping down onto the couch.

Joel worked you through it, fingers pumping and rubbing, drawing out your pleasure for as long as possible. He could feel your juices flooding out of you, your body shaking and trembling as the aftershocks rolled through you.

Finally, as your orgasm started to subsid, he pulled his fingers out of your dripping cunt. He brought them up to his mouth, sucking your delicious essence from the digits and groaning at the taste.

"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured, eyes dark with renewed lust. "I think I'm going to keep you, baby. Keep you here, so you won't put your pretty ass in danger"

He pulled you close, crashing his mouth against yours in a esurient kiss. He could taste himself on your lips, the flavor of your shared pleasure mingling together. His cock was already hardening again, straining against his jeans and pressing insistently against your hip.

"You will take seriously what I say," he declared, voice rough and low. "If I tell you not to leave the perimeter, you don't, if I forbid you from going out alone, you obey. Understand?"

You could only nod, still dazed and pliant in his arms, your body humming with satisfaction. You knew that no one would ever make you feel as good as he did. And god help you, but you couldn't wait.

"Good," Joel mused softly, pulling your limp body closer to him, holding you affectionately, "cause I don't want to chase you around to save your ass anymore."

[sylus-doll]

Synopsis: Sylus has always lived a lonely life, unfamiliar with pleasant company. Being with you again is something he must get used to. He's learning how to, and so are you.

Warnings: Lowkey doesn't make sense because the author is exhausted but wanted to churn something out for you guys. Also mentions of blood. Might be a little angsty.

Author's note: I've gotten busy recently, so I won't be able to write as often. Sorry! I come bearing lowkey dependant Sylus. Comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

Throughout his life, Sylus has spent all his time alone. No one would count enemies as company, even if they do trail him and keep an eye on his every move. They were the ones who wanted to see him fall off his throne; cause and spectate his suffering. A walking target. Sure, he had Mephisto and the twins he took under his wing... But could a mechanical bird count as a friend? Or a pair of twins who work directly under him, following his commands? No, that is obedience.

Sylus did not have anyone to call his own. No one to trade secrets with or share his warmth. And in turn it has made him cold, self-reliant, for he cannot trust in another person. He had never learned how. But he takes comfort in the teachings he does know— the ones of his only love. Melodies dance in the air, a comforting tune. He attempts to hum along, taking pride in the fact that he is able to unlike the past. A respite he is allowed to have in this harsh world.

When the both of you are reunited— albeit, unknowingly on your part— Sylus is at a loss. He had thought that you, too, would remember the past just as he did. Yet you stare into his eyes with the guarded malice of a stranger. It is a gaze he should be used to by now. And he is... Just not from you. Where has his beloved's familiar softness gone? Only your fierce claws and teeth remain. Sylus does not know how to fix this. He was never taught to build relationships or tenderly lower defenses with the patience of a saint.

Your relationship is rocky at first; like oil and water. Both of your lives are completely different from the other. With the Hunter Association actively hunting down Sylus, whatever you have with him is illegal. Forbidden. Although... Surely they would not mind if you stuck around? Gathering intel for them could be useful in the future. This is fine, you are simply using him, you are not delusional. Humans have always desired for what they cannot have.

“You're sticking around for intel on Onychinus? Well then, be my guest. Don't be shy when using me.” Sylus's sardonic smile is etched into your mind.

He tells no one that being of use to you is the only way he knows how to keep you close to him.

Be disgusted, you will yourself. Be repulsed, resent him for all he has done and will do. You will only come to regret being so entangled with his life. This is insane and you are supposed to be a good, law-abiding citizen of Linkon. A hunter. Yet you cannot help feeling like prey— engulfed by a predator who kills and comes back to you with blood soaked hands. Most times, even his own. How will you ever learn to hate someone who learned to be vulnerable with you?

Over time, you start to notice that Sylus is quite... lonely. You are the only one who checks up on him, through text or call. The only one who visits, who teases and jokes, who surprises. You, you, you. Comfortable and happy with someone so dangerous. So of course he eventually craves your presence in your absence. Sylus will make up whatever excuse, put himself in any situation, just to be able to spend some time with you. When it ends, he is distraught.

“You're abandoning me when I'm no longer useful to you? Your skill in being heartless is assuring.” His tone is teasing, as always. But his eyes hold a far-off melancholy.

It feels as though your heart has been punctured with shattered pieces of a fragile thing.

“Abandon? You're sorely mistaken. Useful or not, you're stuck with me, you have no other choice.” You reach out, grabbing his hand.

Something new for Sylus to learn; that you will not throw him away when he does not serve any purpose to you. You are his companion— his beloved who cares for and loves him. Not because you owe him or as an obligation. Simply because you do. And you are both still learning. It will be okay. Having each other means neither of you will ever have to face the cruelties of this world alone.

[lila-went-missing]

reader AND vis first time

I saw this and got so excited to write it I'm not even gonna lie.

Warnings: Smut (duh), fluff at the end, switch Vi (kinda), body worship. Lmk if I missed anything.

Vi's body slotted perfectly on top of yours, like two pieces that were missing from a puzzle.

Her weight on top of you quickly turned into one of your favorite sensations. Her chest pressed against yours. That's exactly where she is now. Her arms rest on either side of your head, one hand cupping your cheek. Your tongues slide against each other in a sloppy but unbelievably passionate kiss.

You gasp as her knee presses against you.

"Fuck, VI." She breathes out a chuckle against your lips.

"Feel good Cupcake?"

"Mhm.." Her mouth moves to your neck, licking and sucking at your pulse point. A hand grips your hip and pulls you up against her.

Her own shirt is thrown off somewhere, you don't bother looking where. Not when her bare chest is right in front of your face. You sit up, legs caging her in. You pull her waist up against you and attach your lips to one of her nipples.

You lick and suck, pinching the other with your hand. Hickies are sucked into the surrounding skin. Vi isn't a super vocal person, usually letting out small grunts and huffs. But now whimpering more than you've ever heard her. You would've done this a long time ago if you had known her tits were this sensitive.

"Mmh shit Cupcake, keep doing that."

How could you ever say no to her?" You switch your mouth and hand sides, giving her exactly what she wants. Her hand cradles the back of your head, short nails scratching at your scalp.

After a few seconds she pulls you away, attaching her mouth back to yours. Your hands grope at her tits, unable to pull away.

"I've never- I've never done this before." She tells you. It's not often you see Vi looking nervous, but right now, she does.

"Me neither." You tell her. Something in her face changes and you can tell she isn't as worried. "We can go slow." Your hands slow down with your words, as if proving it.

She nods and crawls back on top of you, slower this time. It's nice, not as rushed. The feeling of her body relaxed against you makes you happier than anything else has in a while. You're more aware of how warm she is, how soft her skin is.

She pulls your own shirt over your head. Her hands drag over your body with more appreciation than you've ever felt from a man. Probably why you always left them way before anything started.

"You're so beautiful, baby." She eyes your chest before showing you the same attention you showed her. It's your turn to run your hand through her hair, lightly pulling it.

She works her hands at your belt, pulling your pants down your legs.

"Can I taste you, baby? Please?" You can't deny her anything, especially not with that desperate and whiny tone in her voice.

You nod but she's already pulling your panties down and diving her tongue into your pussy. Her hands wrap around her thighs, your thighs wrap around her head. She decides then and there that if she ever were to suffocate, this is how she would want to go out.

You've never felt anything like this. There's a warmth in your belly pulling tight as she goes. Her tongues switch's between kitten licking and suckling at your clit to fucking against your g-spot inside of you.

Time ceases to exist, she could've spent anywhere from a minute to a thousand years between your legs. You wouldn't know the difference.

Just when that coil is about to snap, she's pulling back and licking her lips.

"Vi..." Any other time you'd be embarrassed of how whiny you are, but not tonight. She's slipping her own bottoms off and slotting her legs in between yours.

"I want you to come against my pussy." She mutters against your lips.

Holy shit.

Those might be the hottest words you've ever heard in your life but you wouldn't know. Because the second her clit catches against yours you lose any memory that she isn't in.

It's fiery in a way you've never felt. The pleasure is all consuming, wrapping around your limbs pulling you into her. Your hands grab her hips, keeping her up against you. Your own hips buck up into her, amplifying the pleasure.

"Oh my- gosh Violet." You choke out. Her own voice is whimpering out. You hear the word "fuck" multiple times.

"Oh, Cupcake please.. you're so wet, fuck baby. You feel so good."

You throw your head back into the pillows. You wanted to last a lot longer than this but that's just not possible. Not with the way she's grinding her dripping pussy against yours. The sound of your juices mixing together is so lewd it throws you over the edge.

"You gonna cum for me? Come on, cum on my fucking pussy baby. Let me have it."

You don't remember anything that you say. Your orgasm is so powerful that you black out. You faintly hear the words coming out of her own mouth, but you know she's having an orgasm just as powerful.

She falls on top of you, arms wrapping around your waist. Yours come up around her back. You trace the ink of her tattoo, more content than you've been in a while.

Her lips press into your neck. It isn't sexual, just loving. You wouldn't have it any other way.

"I love you." You tell her, honestly.

"I love you." You know she's being honest too.

[applestorms]

i don’t think people give ciel nearly enough credit when it comes to his emotional intelligence/how self-aware he is.

like, yeah— ciel is a brat, he’s a stuck up little privileged rich kid, he’s pampered and spoiled and struggles massively when he’s forced to live without the luxuries he’s always grown up with. but he also recognizes that, in a way that is actually quite mature for someone of his age and class. he’s cynical, he’s pessimistic, he has incredible little (if any) respect or hope for humanity left— but this is something he applies to himself and the others at his same social standing just as much as anyone else, if not more. he clearly connects and empathizes with finny (and honestly all of his servants) because he sees himself within him, trusting him like a (his) brother during the emerald witch arc. he understands where joker is coming from with regards to his desperation to take care of his family and doesn’t pass judgement on him, to the point of even planning to take care of the very family he thought he’d left behind after joker dies. he even seems to have some degree of genuine respect for lizzie, assuaging her insecurities by trying to see her for who she is and not who she wants to be or feels like she must be.

honestly, i think that in most of the cases where ciel is being a full on Brat™ it all goes back to one thing— ciel trying to asset his Power, and take back control over the situation.

ciel is a character who is very very very easily underestimated at first glance by most people who have just met him, and even a few people who know him longer than that. he’s literally a sickly victorian child with asthma and CPTSD-motivated panic attacks, the kid is frail as fuck, not to mention— a kid. the fact that ciel might have something of an inferiority complex is obvious enough even if you don’t bring the whole lesser-twin thing into it, his minute stature is something literally every fucking character brings up upon first meeting him.

sometimes, ciel can use this to his advantage, so he does. he puts on the cute little boy face and flutters his eyelashes and uses other peoples’ empathy against them to achieve his own goals (see: arthur, and also like the entire public school arc, etc.).

most of the time though, ciel doesn’t really want to do this, not only because it’s somewhat demeaning but also because he Does have a reputation to uphold. ciel needs to constantly be both on guard and on the attack for his job as the queen’s watchdog, he is basically obligated to constantly stand as the biggest threat in the underworld. much of ciel’s Brat behavior to other people comes down to this— him asserting his status, not really out of any pride for the title, but because he is a Threat and other people need to fucking know it. sometimes, this means shoving his (and sebastian’s) power in their face until they get the fucking picture and/or die trying to understand it, particularly in the case of more asshole-ish characters like all the random evil businessmen with criminal agendas that ciel puts through the evil haunted demon house schtick. other times, this manifests more in the form of a kind of genuine empathy— you Should get the fuck away if you actually care about the things you claim to care about cuz i will not hold back, etc.

speaking of— in the case of sebastian specifically, the fact that this is ciel’s desire to take back agency becomes even more clear.

sebastian and ciel’s dynamic is one of, if not the most compelling aspects of this series to me, in large part because of how goddamn codependent they are while simultaneously being inherently at odds with one another. this series Will end with sebastian eating ciel’s goddamned soul— i honestly think that even if the rest of the cast eventually becomes more aware of the specifics of sebastian’s demonic nature or their contract, ciel himself will stop them from trying to save him or break the deal somehow, and sebastian himself certainly doesn’t have nearly enough of an attachment to humanity as a whole to bother actually stopping himself from chowing down, even if he may regret it somewhat more than he expected afterwards. yet at the same time, right up until we reach that exact point, they have every reason to need and want to collaborate with each other— something that they do, even if it is with full knowledge of the exact sword hanging over their heads the entire time that they’re playing nice.

i really love the analysis from this post, which points out the fact that all of the three core rules ciel establishes for their contract are perfectly designed to turn sebastian into someone that ciel can trust. highly recommend reading that essay, but to elaborate a bit more in my own words— ciel knows that sebastian is going to eat him one day. he is incredibly physically fragile and aware of this, perhaps even aware of the ways in which he has been made mentally weak due to his traumas, and especially of the fact that he is vulnerable specifically in comparison to sebastian. every single time that sebastian saves ciel, it is another reminder that This is who ciel is going to die to. he is chained to this starving, rabid monster just as much as the monster is chained to him, and one day, those roles are going to flip. he’s not going to be in power forever, and he knows it.

therefore: when ciel is a Brat™ at sebastian specifically, i read this less as ciel actually being unaware/childish/stupid/etc., and more as ciel tugging on the proverbial chain to make sure he is still the one pulling the strings. ciel has a habit of emphasizing the fact that he is Ordering sebastian when he is in a stressful situation or panicking for any given reason, focusing on the language that he Knows sebastian will respond to. and it’s a trauma response. IT’S A TRAUMA RESPONSE!!

what i think ciel Hates, above all else, maybe even more than he cares to consciously admit, is not having power. he can’t stand to not be the one in full control of a situation. he can’t stand having his agency taken from him, not after Everything that he’s been through.

if there’s one thing that watching his entire family be killed while also being viciously abused by a cult taught (not) ciel, it is the feeling of having No power. he was helpless to stop his parents’ murders, he was helpless to stop the cult from violating and abusing him, he was helpless to stop his own brother’s death. ciel connects more easily and often more deeply on an emotional level with the lower class characters in the story because he knows what it feels like to be completely powerless in the face of the absolute worst of humanity. thus, when ciel acts like a Brat, when he asserts his title as an Earl, someone Respectable, or as The Queen’s Watchdog, someone Threatening, when he demands that everyone bend over backwards to serve his will— it is ciel taking back all the power that he can and gripping it as tightly as he possibly fucking can, because he knows what can and will happen if/when he lets it all go.

and there is no character for which this is more true than sebastian. one of the most powerful entities in the series, easily the one closest to ciel, who he depends on so incredibly— but who is also Destined and Required to bring his end once all this is over. ciel kicks sebastian around, treats him like shit and shows him rare moments of kindness and care, all for the affirmation that He is still in control. absolutely nobody can ever meaningfully hurt ciel again, so long as sebastian is there— and sebastian won’t hurt him either. not yet. but, instinctively, he needs to keep testing that bond. just in case. just to be sure.

honestly, i think that’s where the real tragedy of the series comes from— ciel never really grows, never really changes, because he Can’t. he guaranteed that for himself. at his absolute lowest point, ciel lost all faith in humanity and god and Himself. he lost his childhood naïveté, and the ability to believe in goodness in any form. ciel knows that one day, he’s going to be hurt again, that someone is going to snatch him up and chew him alive— all he wants now is the control to dictate for himself when that inevitable end will happen.

[frillydolle]

hiiii !!! so i dont know if it was u who wrote an arthur x reader fic where reader wears their fathers glasses to read? im pretty sure it wasnt, but i thought of it as a good idea. so, what im asking is, would u be comfortable writing something with reader wearing glasses but instead of not seeing things near they don't see things far away. so they're going through life blurry and arthur notices because they keep bumping into things bc they have no sense of depth without their glasses. offers to make them an appointment for eye doctor and helps them choose the glasses and everything ? thought it would be cute (⁠╥⁠﹏⁠╥⁠)

arthur morgan x blind female reader

꒰ 𝝑𓏲 ꒱ wearing my glasses right now as i write this :)

“sweetheart, 'm right here— no, 'm here—... y'alrigh'?”

“... i think so.”

that was probably the fourth time u have walked into something? no one else wasn't really sure why, but only because u didn't tell anyone. it was like a secret of urs that u have kept for a long while.

arthur was really the only man who knew u struggled with ur eyesight for as long as u can remember. shooting was a huge problem that u avoid as much as u could despite living in an outlaw gang, arthur would do best his best to help u, but it never went well. u couldn't even hit a bottle!

shooting was definitely not in ur skills. no matter the number of times that arthur willing helps u shoot a gun or help u aim better, nothing worked. u always still managed to shoot a tree or shoot at.. basically nothing, u always missed the three empty bottles he placed for u to gun at.

“mr morgan, i can't— i can't see that bottle, 's too far.”

“want me to bring it closer?”

of course he did. undeniably, he's always had a soft spot for you, but it's not like he'd admit anyone else in camp or you, especially. he treated u like a fragile girl, which u weren't too far from. having bad eyesight did make u feel more vulnerable and fragile, and arthur knew this. makes him just a little protective with you as he's often seen with his fingers intertwined with urs or his arm rests around ur waist. it gave yoy sense of safety and.. comfort.

sometimes the silly man might forget just how blind you really are:( he'd never mean to! he'd just be so so focused on something and he'd bring you with him and it just slips his mind simply!

“arthur, wait—!” you'd say as u try to catch up to his pace, ur hands slightly out just in case u fall. “oh, 'm sorry, sweetheart. 'm right 'ere.”

but now, he decided to help you, proper this time. the two of u are on his horse whike trotting away, your hands around his torso tightly incase you fall or anything like such. you had no idea where he was taking you though, his words being “'s a secret, but nothin' too big, y'know?” nonetheless, you were just glad that he out if camp, noticing how stressed he would be until his blue-green eyes would set on you:(

“... saint denis? what do you have planned, arthur?” you say with a small giggle, looking at him while he's looking straight onto the road in front of him. “jus' a nice day out. you 'n' me.” he replied. huh. a nice day out. just a day out. but days were him were never often that simple, usually ended with someone recognising from blackwater or another robbery, or you talking him out of beating a man for making you uncomfortable. you thanked him regardless, making sure you're safe and well.

then he hitches off his hourse, you follow suit...the doctor's office? what was he doing here? i mean, he's fine, right? you're fine too except your eyesight, of course. wait, was he—

“c'mon, darlin'. yer fine, i promise ya.” he says as he sticks his arm to you, waiting for you to hold his arm before walking into the building. he knew you were slightly anxious about it, but he was willing to help you in any way he could.

a man like him... blood on his hands, lives taken because of him, rough and callous from hard work, a man like him with all bite and bark like a violent dog. that man bring a sweet girl like you to the doctor's office to get you sorted out with a new pair of glasses. ♡

[gatorbites-imagines]

I’m not picky just wanna be fussed over & cuddle

Peter Parker x sick male reader

Headcanons

You can imagine most Peters in this scenario, though I always write with comic spidey in mind. Aka, adult, own apartment, job, etc. but I don’t think it’s really mentioned in this. At first, I was gonna write about Trafalgar Law, but I feel like he would we way too much doctor, not enough cuddling.

Not that long, but I hope it’s enough.

I have a feeling Peter would realize before you that you were sick. Like, hed notice a change in your scent, your body temperature or how sluggish you would get.

Noticing early on wouldn’t stop a cold obviously, but he would start getting ready for it, most likely without thinking about it. He just catches himself gathering blankets and your favorite snacks that he knows you can stomach when sick.

Would he make a nest out of webs when you got sick? Maybe? It depends on how spidery we imagine this peter. I feel he would at least stick blankets and pillows together to make the most comfortable bed for you to lay in.

He would try to talk you out of going out or going anywhere when he notices you getting sick. But Peter is known for dating stubborn people, so it would shock nobody if you still went out, thinking you were fine, only for you to get really sick.

Hes never mad about it though, Peter loves you too much. He does tsk and crack a few jokes about it, how your neighborhood spider-nurse needs to take care of you.

Peter would patrol and work less when you are sick, or not patrol at all, depending on how bad it is. If crime is at the normal amount he might stay home anyways, just to spend time with you and make you feel seen and cared for.

I feel like his healing factor keeps Peter from catching common colds and fevers, so he doesn’t worry about kissing and cuddling you. He does joke about the kiss being extra germy, which you would have pushed him out of the bed for, if you weren’t so tired.

Peter likes you feed you when you are sick, since he thinks you should use all your energy to fight whatever sickness you have. He also just thinks it’s kinda romantic.

Peter is also the kind of guy who always worries if you’re drinking enough. He doesn’t just bring you water but all kinds of juices, gatorades, whatever you can think of. You always end up with like 10 different drinks by the bed “just in case you want something else babe”

Not having to worry about getting sick also means Peter will cuddle you. Having a very flexible spider boyfriend also means he can fit right around you inside whatever blanket nest you guys have made up.

His hugs are always so comfortable, since he’s got the strength to give you a good squeeze. Peter would spend this time massaging sore areas of your body, if you are fine with that.

The policy that kisses make it better lives through Peter, so your forehead gets a lot of kisses too.

He also keeps your hands inside his own or under his shirt if the fever makes your hands cold, to keep you warm. You always feel nice and toasty with Peter, there’s no way he’s letting his lover freeze.

Peter also never finds you off-putting or gross when you are sick. It’s just human nature to be sick, and honestly? Seeing you sick makes him love you more, since it means you trust him to be vulnerable around him.

So, peter might be somewhat clumsy and messy in the beginning setting it all up, panicking about getting you everything you need. But he’s a great nurse and cuddlebuddy. When he’s done all his research and gotten all the things though, it’s all cuddles and pampering.

Be careful or he’s gonna bathe you too and not let you lift a finger until you are all better again. Make sure to give him extra kisses to show you are thankful, even if he says its just what boyfriends are meant to do.

[pkg4mumtown]

Scream (‘Til There’s Silence)

Pairing: Ghostface!Hotch x GN!Reader

Rating: Explicit / R

Summary: A serial killer comes to your small town. Will the FBI finally catch him?

Content Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, murder, stabbing/knives, manipulation, stalking, sexual content, strong violence, choking, GN!reader (no Y/N, usage of ‘mouse’ as a nickname), strong language, first person POV, Ghostface is his own warning

A/N: HEED ALL WARNINGS!! Keep yourself safe, seriously. Just because I wrote this does not mean I condone any of these actions in real life. This is a work of fiction. Also, if I missed any warnings, please let me know.

Now, POSTING TWO FICS IN ONE WEEKEND?? Who the hell am I? I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Also, enjoy the art and custom Ghostface costume that Hotchy-boy wears. Also, do not talk to me about plot holes lolll

I made an unsub playlist inspired by some of the Criminal Minds unsubs. I’ve embedded it below. A few in that playlist that gave me vibes for this fic were: Change (in the house of flies), Scream, Possum Kingdom, and Tear You Apart.

Also available on AO3

Aaron POV

Thump.

Thump.

…

Thump.

…

…

Thump.

…

A satisfied hum left Aaron’s throat as the young woman's heart finally stopped beating underneath his hand.

It was his favorite part, feeling the life drain out of their bodies. Choosing who and how each innocent person met their end. It felt different from killing an unsub on the job, which didn’t satisfy him whatsoever. In those cases, he usually preferred the satisfaction of outsmarting them through the legal system. He had only killed a handful of unsubs as Ghostface, ones that were legally elusive to the BAU and needed something more permanent. Still—it wasn’t the same. Sure, he still felt them die but they never fulfilled his prey drive. The terrified screams, the vulnerable situations…no. People like him didn’t do that. They fought back with anger, stoicism, and a little glee. They watched their back, paranoid of the government. They were armed more often than not.

Not satisfying at all.

Only once did he have to kill an unsub as Ghostface to protect his identity, the unsub having profiled him right back with terrifying accuracy. Foyet was able to clock that monster inside of him and despite the expressionless façade he gave the older man, it was jarring. Dare he say he was actually scared for once in his adult life. So, Foyet had to go, simple as that. But he let the older man die with his suspicions confirmed about Aaron. Let him watch the grin that pulled across Aaron's teeth as the knife slid into Foyet's heart with a satisfying grunt. It was poetic, and okay, maybe a little satisfying.

Ghostface had become such a problem that he was made a priority case for the BAU, the file having permanent residence on their desks since the killer—since Aaron—drove Jason Gideon to leave the FBI. Since Ghostface was directly responsible for David Rossi's reinstatement with the FBI. Since SSA Aaron Hotchner was made the golden boy to spearhead the Ghostface investigation. Oh, how giddy it made Aaron to see the rest of the BAU's frustration every time a new case popped up.

Yanking the long hunting knife out of his current victim's body, Aaron squinted underneath his mask for anything he might have missed—a rarity, but he liked to take precautions anyway. He had designed a mask that provided very little in the way of field of view, so he always took extra care with his surroundings. It was entirely his fault for the poor design but he wouldn't be caught dead in that cheap, plastic costume mask. Plus, he enjoyed the design process and threw in a little flair for the dramatic with sharp angles and pointed teeth.

He checked his watch, clasped neatly over a black, stretchy base layer he wore to keep his body hair at bay. It made him sweat like hell underneath the ribbed, long sleeve thermal, tactical pants, and cowl he wore but this was how he lived his life.

The plan was relatively simple each time. Aaron picked a city when they had a stretch of time off, drove there—because planes were obviously out of the question—paid cash for everything, found an easy victim, and terrorized the town for a few days. Usually racking up two to four bodies to get the police on high alert. His team unwound with vacations and family. Aaron? He preferred a different kind of alone time to unwind.

When the BAU was inevitably called in he would terrorize the town a little more in between working the case and find an easy scumbag to pin it on.

It was stupid how easy it all was when citizens and police were desperate to find a killer in a small town. They were willing overlook discrepancies and blame just about any bad guy in the town if they remotely fit the bill. They usually chalked it up to Ghostface copycats and despite the profile saying otherwise—Aaron didn’t mind a damn bit that the murders were blamed on a copycat. Anyone but him was good enough.

They didn’t even have a definitive profile on him, too many theories about whether he worked alone or if these “copycats"—copycats that didn’t exist—were a network of unsubs posing as Ghostface killers. Theories on if the continued murders were because they were catching the wrong people and the real Ghostface wanted recognition. In reality, it was easier for people to believe that one person couldn’t be this demented and bloodthirsty.

This was his last one for this stretch, having terrorized East Liverpool, Ohio enough for the moment. He had to report to work in oh…twenty-seven hours anyway. Roughly six hours to drive back to Virginia with no toll roads—cameras equal bad—time to stash his spare car, clean his equipment, etcetera. It was a full day ordeal.

Checking his secondary phone, one he set up to receive voice-mail from his work phone—which sat lonely in his apartment—showed a lack of incoming messages. He was grateful because it was a pain to locate public Wi-Fi or spoof a location on short notice, especially at 3:00 AM.

Humming to himself, he exited the house. He made sure that the neighbors security system caught a blur of movement as he arranged some staged, bloody equipment as a false disposal site and took off.

Aaron’s actual bloody equipment was wrapped neatly in plastic and stored in an aftermarket storage he created in the car—just in case he was pulled over. When he was safely in his spare car, Aaron still didn’t take his face covering—the one he wore underneath the Ghostface mask—off right away. He was too cautious of cameras despite the small city. He would wait until he was on a dark stretch of highway where he could quickly put some normal clothes on and change his license plate.

It's not until he does just that, that he feels wet, slick mud transfer onto his hands as he takes his boots off. It’s not the texture that makes him curse. It’s not even getting his hand dirty that makes him stop. It’s how high the mud was on his boot and how clear of a print he might have left that makes him overthink and wonder. Wonder where he left it, specifically, and if it would even get noticed.

Aaron quickly shook it off. He’s on a highway and doesn’t need to draw attention to himself.

People were dumb.

He was smart.

It would all work out.

-

It took all of two days for the small town of East Liverpool to get overwhelmed. The East Liverpool Police Department had a whopping twenty patrol officers to cover the nearly ten thousand citizens. Their station was lacking in equipment, forcing them to call in the Columbiana County Sheriff's Department for assistance with the three murders Aaron left behind. CCSD was barely any better in the personnel department.

The BAU was called in by the ELPD Chief, something Aaron expected, though he gave them much less credit and had estimated a day at most. The flight was quicker than the twelve-hour round-trip Aaron subjected himself to.

As soon as they arrived, Aaron was splitting his team up amongst the different crime scenes. He sent Rossi and JJ to the first murder to see if they could get a handle on victimology and patterns. Reid and Morgan went to the second to see what else they could get for their profile and set up a timeline.

Aaron needed to be at the most recent one to see if he really did fuck up. The evidence there was the freshest, so if he needed to fix anything, he would do it here without alerting Prentiss.

Aaron and Emily arrived to the modest, single-story house with police tape blocking off the front lawn. A few citizens were gathered, worried expressions as they murmured amongst each other and stared down the federal agents. Their glares felt like they blamed the agents for the massacre.

Well, that was sort of true.

The scene was quiet, eerily so, except for the murmur of officers and the clicking of cameras. As many Ghostface crime scenes as they’d been do, Emily couldn’t help the breath that left her throat at seeing the blood all over the walls as the victim was chased—hunted—in their own home. The interior was disturbingly pristine with no overturned furniture, no forced entry, nothing impulsive. Just controlled violence.

The body was in no better condition.

Cuts were strewn over the young woman's body, a common torture seen in these murders, with deeper stab wounds, and ending with a final deadly stab to the heart.

One thing that had always helped Aaron was his lack of preference in victimology. Well, maybe “vulnerable" was a preference but he could make just about anyone feel that way with a little bit of effort. The ones that spiraled into madness were extra special to him.

A detective—Hotch presumed—stepped out of a hallway to greet them, accompanied by a crime scene investigator with a camera hanging around their neck.

“Detective Miller,” she introduced herself. “We were both brought in from Columbiana County,” she gestured to the tech.

County or city didn’t matter. In an area like this? Aaron was confident wherever he left his boot print wouldn’t matter.

“Run us through it?” Emily asked.

The detective looked at the forensic investigator, who comically pointed at themselves in question. Another urgent nod from the detective and the nervous investigator finally started speaking.

After introducing themselves, they stuttered before speaking under the heavy gaze of the federal agents. It was irking Aaron that they couldn't get a word out but also gave him more confidence that these departments were not equipped to handle this.

“R-uh-right, so the killer entered here through the side window. We have a couple boot prints on the floor, but they’re too smudged to see much. Looks like the killer ambushed her here in the living room and started slashing. The sprays here and here indicate they were running toward the hallway where the victim fell. They didn’t move from there and the pooling suggests this is where the victim died. No prints or hair here but we did find camera footage from a neighbor across the street showing the killer disposing of evidence in the foliage. I did bag some traces of hair from those clothes that we’re testing now back at the county lab.”

Aaron was surprised. Not necessarily at any of the information because it was pretty spot on but surprised at the accuracy and detail as the forensic investigator continued explaining. The hairs were also not surprising. He planted those himself on the false evidence with short, red hair he snatched from someone in town.

He liked his chances, so far.

“Anything else?”

“Yea, well,” the investigator started and stopped. “Yes, actually. But a thing about the hair we found with those disposed clothes...it felt…I don’t know. Out of place?”

“I told you not to speculate like this,” The detective interrupted sternly.

Aaron cocked his head, intrigued at what the investigator had to say but would wait patiently.

“Sorry, Miller,” they shifted awkwardly.

Hotch nodded along, feigning impartial analysis. Internally, he scrutinized the investigator, watching for any sign that they picked up on anything else that was crucial.

Emily chimed in, “This level of organization is consistent with the other two. It’s almost surgical how controlled the scenes are.”

The investigator’s eyes brightened despite the glare of the detective warning them to back off.

“T-that's what I thought, too,” the investigator blurted out. “I’ve read up on the past cases you worked and I know there’s stuff left behind often but it doesn’t feel…right. The murders are so meticulously planned, with no evidence, and the killer throws stuff in a bush or makes rookie mistakes? We found a boot print on the side of the house and I know some of the ones you’ve caught haven’t even done that. I’ll show you. Follow me and—er—watch your step.”

As everyone stepped outside, two more SUVs rolled up to the house, the rest of the team getting out and walking toward the house. None of them looked like they had anything important to share which pleased Aaron.

“We found a boot print back here in the mud. It was raining early last week, so the ground has been pretty soft,” the investigator guided everyone around to the side the killer entered from.

Aaron suddenly remembered feeling like he had lost his footing climbing in through the window. It was the mud. He hung back in the group following behind Reid.

“Just watch your step he—”

The forensic investigator was cut off as the front of Hotch’s shoe met the instep of Reid's foot as the group turned the corner. Reid stumbled and Hotch did his “best" to grab the back of the younger man's collar to yank him back but wasn’t fast enough. Reid's foot stepped in the mud next to the print, distorting the print near the heel.

“—re…” the investigator sucked their lips in, an awkward smile pulling across their features. “And I thought the city guys were bad.”

Morgan snorted as Reid pulled his foot out of the mud. The rest of the team consisted of varying levels of cringing and head shaking while Aaron did his best to hold in the devious laugh threatening to bubble up.

“Sorry…” Reid mumbled.

“It’s alright, we took the cast yesterday and they’re analyzing the print now. We’re estimating size eleven boots and one-eighty to two hundred pounds.”

Aaron’s elation promptly died. He kept his hands in his pockets, fingers digging into his palm.

Derek stepped forward, frowning. “So, we’re looking at someone fit, strong, tall? Especially if he can get into this window. It’s a bit of a pull up.”

Emily nods. “Clearly trained if we're running with the idea that planting those clothes are forensic counter measures?”

The investigator turned back to the group, “I’m guessing you’ve seen that before?”

The forensic investigator’s eyes fixed mostly on Hotch, who looked calculating but conflicted.

“We have,” Rossi murmured.

Hotch's mouth formed a grim line but not because that theory is absolutely in one of their profiles of Ghostface. No. For the first time, Hotch studied the investigator not just as another mediocre forensic scientist, but as a genuine threat.

-

MC POV

Doing all I could at the underfunded and understaffed ELPD station, I made my way back to the Columbiana County Sheriff’s Station. About half of the BAU joined the twenty-minute drive to the station for a closer look at the findings our lab eventually called about.

The hair didn’t match DNA from any known criminal investigations, bringing us to a dead end right away. All we knew was that the color was a natural red, fairly thin, and that the hair was forcibly yanked versus falling out naturally.

The BAU theorized to no end.

“The hair could have gotten stuck to the mask when he ripped it off?”

“Could have ripped the hair off someone, too.”

I wasn’t satisfied with the dead end and left their conversation in the conference room Sheriff Tanner let them convene in, a step up from the dinky broom closet Chief Banks set up for them at ELPD. I retreated to the lab, moving on to the boot print. The forensics lab was cold, humming with fluorescent lights, the kind that made everything feel clinical and impersonal but I was too focused on my work. It was also empty, many of the other investigators having left for the night with no other evidence to examine in these murders.

That boot print shouldn't have been there.

Everything else was methodically cleaned up—no DNA, no fibers, no obvious traces. But the print was deep in the mud near the side of the house and was hidden enough in the bushes that most would have overlooked it.

I only noticed it by accident, seeing the bushes dented unnaturally as I examined the outside of the house.

We ran the tread pattern through several databases, cross-referencing it against law enforcement, military, and civilian models. Unfortunately, it was a common brand, nothing special or expensive.

But something about it stuck with me. A gut feeling I couldn’t seem to shake despite there being nothing helpful to go off.

This was a mistake.

An actual one. Not whatever cover ups were passing for mistakes in the other cases the FBI worked. The Ghostface murders rarely, if ever, had actual mistakes in the hunt itself. The killer took far too much pride in it to leave mistakes like that.

Then, my phone buzzed and interrupted the eerie silence. I clenched my jaw, worry building up in my throat despite knowing there were officers and agents just outside the doors.

Unknown Number.

I hesitated before answering, not usually one to answer unknown numbers, but something told me it was important.

“Hello?”

Silence.

Then a distorted voice crackled over the line.

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

I rolled my eyes, how had someone gotten ahold of my number for prank calls?

“I’m hanging up. It’s a crime to prank call police departments,” I sighed, hoping to scare whatever idiot was on the other line.

My thumb hovered over the red circle to end the call, when the voice spoke again.

“You like playing detective, don’t you?” His voice sounding harsher but still robotic like a modulator. “You should be careful. It’s not good to be too smart.”

A cold shiver ran down my spine as his voice vibrated unnaturally.

“Who is this?” I asked dumbly. At this point, I knew full well who it was.

A soft chuckle passed through the receiver.

“Come on, sweetheart, you don’t have to dumb it down that much,” he just about giggled. “I’ve been watching you work. It’s impressive, really.”

The seriousness of the interaction finally dawned on me and I frantically tried to get my desk phone working to have Detective Miller run a trace.

“Ah, ah, none of that.”

“None of what?” I mentally cursed as I typed the wrong extension.

“Trying. To trace. The call,” he growled. “Maybe I was giving you too much credit. You’re playing dumb a little too well to be acting.”

I stopped pressing buttons, clenching my fist closed.

“We don’t want you getting hurt, do we?”

“Okay,” my throat tightened in fear, my breathing increasing.

I had hoped that the more he talked, the more I might recognize the rhythm of his voice. Unfortunately, it wasn’t recognizable, not to anyone I knew at least. But, the way it spoke—calm, assured, with a hint of humor—it made my stomach turn.

“What do you want?” I finally worked up the nerve to ask.

“I just wanted to say how much I admire your work,” he cooed, voice shifting to another ragged growl in an instant. “But you’re getting a little too…interested…for my taste. Not that I don’t appreciate the enthusiasm, really. It makes me wonder how enthusiastic you are for cock,” he snickered over the line.

All I could do was clench my teeth. Any threat I wanted to throw at him was meaningless, not when he could easily do to me what he did to those innocent people. I made a mental note to keep my gun out and ready at home until this case was solved.

“I’ll see you soon, little mouse.”

Click.

The line went dead.

-

Hours later, I had changed gears again, going over crime scene photos and camera footage from residences. I was waiting on the FBI’s analyst to look over the footage for height estimates. Most of the footage was unusable, but the blurred mask in the corner of the screen was haunting me.  It was like he did it on purpose, got just enough of himself in frame to guide us where to look.

And we were falling for it.

I was startled out of my trance by a hand on my shoulder. Reaching for the wrist quickly, I grabbed ahold and turned my chair in one motion.

Oh.

“Agent Hotchner,” I sighed, gulping and putting a hand over my rapidly beating heart.

“Reflexes are good but you should probably not have both of those in,” he gestured to my earbuds.

“Yeah, um,” I cleared my throat. “Was there something I could help with?”

“Oh, no. We’re going to get some shut eye and come back with fresh eyes,” he leaned his hip against my desk, glancing briefly over the files on my desk. “Long night?”

“Long couple of days actually. Just one murder scene is rough enough on us. But three? Most of the techs that went home today hadn't slept in a couple days.”

“I imagine it would be hard to considering...,” he added.

“Yea,” I glanced at my screen again. “It’s freaky. How do you guys manage?”

“We usually partner up and sleep in shifts,” he sighed. “You shouldn't be here this late, though. Finish it at home.”

“I was probably going to sleep here. Feels safer.”

His head cocked slowly to the side, looking at my expression where I was focused on the screen and not on him, “Did...something happen?” His gaze flickered to the entrance of the lab before looking back at me.

“I just—no—I, uhm,” I stumbled over my words, lying poorly through my teeth.

His gaze was so heavy. Why was it so heavy? Why wouldn’t he look away?

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

I hesitated, but the pinched look on his forehead softened and he let himself smile just the slightest.

Was it stupid considering my thoughts on the killer?

Yes.

Would it be stupid to leave alone?

Also, yes.

Would I hate myself if I fell asleep under my desk?

Most definitely.

I nodded, and picked up the file to look over at home, stuffing my notes underneath all of the official paperwork in the file. I gathered my other belongings and shutdown my computer for the night.

The air outside was crisp and cold. I felt myself looking around wildly at each pitch-black space created by the old street lights and dim glow of the moon. The streets were mostly deserted, the only cars left in the parking lot being the night shift deputies. Even Agent Hotchner’s team was gone.

“Where do they have you holed up?” I asked as I climbed into the SUV.

“Uh, some motel back in East Liverpool.”

I knew the one. There weren’t even many options anyway. One motel there and one bed & breakfast. One hotel across the river (and state lines) and one a half an hour north.

I directed Agent Hotchner where to go, my house being just on the outskirts of East Liverpool. You could say I was a little invested to catch the serial killer based on that fact alone. The leather seats had barely warmed up to my body heat when he spoke again.

“Your talents are wasted here,” he spoke.

If I had a nickel for every time someone complimented my work today...well, I’d have two. And one of those was from a serial killer, so I didn't know if I even wanted the nickel.

“Thank you?”

“Just saying. You’ve caught a lot of details that many small departments miss in cases like this. A lot of them are so eager to see it go away that they don't make conclusions based on the evidence.”

“It’s my job,” I stated simply.

“It is,” he agreed. “But you’re better than your average forensic investigator. Have you ever thought about bigger departments? The Bureau, even? I can pull some strings if you ever wanted to apply.”

“I like helping the communities I grew up in,” I shrugged.

“Shame,” he hummed.

He soon pulled up to my house, following my directions to a T. Agent Hotchner put the car in park but I didn't immediately move to get out. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, he looked over at me as I stared out through the windshield.

“I lied earlier,” I finally murmured, glancing at my dark house with only the porch light on.

“About?”

“I think Ghostface called me.”

“What did he say?”

“That he’d ‘see me soon’,” I punctuated with finger quotes and scoffed. “Can you believe that bullshit?” I shook my head, feeling the fear rising like bile.

“He has an obsessive personality. There's been evidence of victims being stalked and called repeatedly. You’ve seen the phone records,” Agent Hotchner shrugged. “So, yea I can believe it.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek and glanced at the house once more. I was being ridiculous.

“Let me walk you up and clear the house,” he nodded his head toward my house.

“It’s fine, that’s not necessary—,” I shook my head and moved to open the door.

“Humor me,” he smirked and shut the car off.

I finally relented and jumped out of the SUV, leading the tall agent to my front door. I hadn’t led a man to my door in ages, but that was beside the point. I unlocked the door and stepped aside, following him into the house and shutting the door behind me. His gun was drawn and his steps made virtually no sound—besides the old wood creaking beneath his weight—as he cleared every inch of my house. Every movement was practiced and deliberate from years of training, each lock, window, and room checked with efficiency.

It was kind of hot.

Which was a big deal for me as I tended to ignore the advances of the cops at the station.

I poured a glass of water as he finished up in my living room, setting the file I brought with me on the counter and my bags on the floor. I heard the back door open, as he presumably checked outside, then closed and locked again.

“You live alone?” his voice was casual, as he came into the kitchen, but the realization of it made me uneasy. “Not even a dog?”

I shrugged.

He stared at me again, a little too long, just like before.

“That’s dangerous.”

I nearly choked on the water I was drinking. Clearly, he thought just about everything I did was dangerous.

The way his voice deepened when his voice lowered in volume and the way he smiled, small and almost imperceptible made my skin tingle. I couldn't tell if it was a bad feeling or a good one and I was just out of practice.

“Well, this area doesn’t normally have trouble like this.”

Silence hung heavy between us as he made no move to announce his exit.

“I’ll stay,” he offered.  “You’ll be safe and you can get some rest.”

“That’s not necessary,” I protested weakly.

“Well, I think it is. He’s threatened all of us at least once.”

I chewed the inside of my cheek, finally nodding, “Okay.”

Agent Hotchner nodded, “Be right back.” He opened the front door quickly and jogged outside and I was compelled to watch is back as he opened the back of the SUV to get his go-bag.

I let out a breath as he came back in safe and sound.

He ditched his bag near the door, finding his way back to me in the kitchen and leaning on the counter.

“Hungry?” he asked.

I shook my head, “Not really.”

“Yeah, me either.”

He looked down in thought, then took a step closer. His eyes darted all over my face, looking for any sign that I would push him away. He stepped closer still, hand reaching out and brushing the wrist of my hand that was propped on the counter while the other held my water. If I had been any weaker, the glass would have probably slipped out of my hand. His touch lingered longer than necessary, the tension growing in the room. His half-lidded expression casted the slightest of shadows over his eyes with his eyelashes.

 Wow, they were pretty.

As if he expected me to drop the glass, he gently took it from my hand with his free hand. His stature, demeanor, presence...it was all overwhelming—commanding, like he could see right through me. The logical part of me screamed that he had no business standing this close and looking at me like that.

This was exactly what you didn't do in a scary movie.

And yet, when he leaned in, my breath hitched.

“You should trust me,” he murmured.

I didn't have the bandwidth to analyze the choice of words.

‘Should.’

Not ‘can’.

‘You should...?’

‘You can...?’

Against my better judgement, when I felt his mouth on mine, I responded by immediately grabbing his lapels and pulling him closer.

-

Aaron POV

Aaron didn’t normally do this: sleep with the object of his obsession. He killed them. That was the whole point.

But, they were so scared.

So alone.

So brilliant.

So willing.

From the second he walked into the lab and to their desk, he fantasized about how easy it would have been to drive his knife into their back. Over. And over. And over.

He saw that spark. The one he saw when his victims were fighting that fear, trying to keep from spiraling out of control. And, oh, how he wanted to make them crack.

With how guarded they were, Aaron was surprised they even told him about the call.  As they did, though, he had to dig his thumbnail into his finger when they called his carefully crafted praise, ‘bullshit’. He would address that later.

He could see the fear in the way they shifted in his car, staring at the dark, empty house. Oh, it made him so excited. So, he played the action hero: clearing the house and making sure there were no cameras, animals, or lovers to get in his way.

No cameras? Check.

No animals? Check.

They tore into his dress shirt, belt, pants, boxers. Oh, that was warm, oh. His fingers gripped the counter tightly, his head thrown back in pleasure.

No lovers? Check. Double—no—triple check, even.

Aaron wasn’t averse to sex by any means. It was the people, the feelings, the time, and the effort that all made him grimace at it. Luckily, it was easy to ignore with his day job.

Pulling their mouth off his cock—why were they so good at that—he practically dragged them over to the bedroom he located earlier and pushed them not-so-gently onto the bed and stripped whatever garments were left.

It was almost cute how they fumbled in their drawer for a condom. Aaron was actually grateful for the precaution, not wanting to leave more DNA here than he needed to and waited impatiently for them to grab everything they needed.

His patience was short-lived.

He was a busy man, after all.

Clenching his jaw, he took the items and unceremoniously dropped them on the bed. Wrapping a large hand around their ankle, he dragged them back down into a laying position and covered their body with his. As calculated and methodical as Aaron was, he was rushing. He had a limited amount of time to put them to sleep, dig through their shit, drop another body, and get back in their bed before it was time to get back to work. If he was lucky, he might get to enjoy another round in the morning.

Pressing into their warm, welcoming body was a struggle of control. He wanted nothing more than to take and take, but he was Aaron Hotchner right now—a simple, sex deprived, busy, stoic, charming government agent. He had to check in, be attentive, and obviously make them cum, too.

Ugh.

So, he slowed down, mindful of his fingers digging bruises into their body. The last thing he needed was them looking at their arm and realizing the prints were the same size as the prints on the victims. It was a long shot, but Aaron had already fucked up with the boot.

He stared at them amidst the thrusting, no longer looking like a staring idiot since they were otherwise preoccupied. The way they moaned his last name, reaching for him and the weight he provided, the way they gripped his hair...it was all so needy. He hated to love it. He'd much prefer to hear them scream. Actually—he could do that part. But he’d enjoy their screams of terror so much more.

Hotchner

Hotchner

Hotch

Hot--

Oh, there was the scream. And it was pretty damn close.

Their neck was tense and long as they came. It was so inviting. It would be so easy to tear into and make a mess. He didn't even let himself bite down and have a taste of their skin, knowing he’d get too carried away. Kissing them was much safer.

He came shortly after with a series of grunts, sighing against their lips. Pressing one last kiss there, he retreated. Aaron was careful to not make a mess as he tied off the condom, wondering how to get this wrapped up and into his bag without suspicion.

“Water?” he asked and they nodded gratefully.

It was a little brave to bring his bag into their house but a little thrill never hurt. Plus, he was prepared. Digging through his bag, he pulled out some over the counter sleeping pills that he’d crushed ages ago.

It should be relatively tasteless, though, tasting the water...

He grimaced.

The chalky pills might actually be an improvement.

Ensuring they dissolved and his DNA was safely stashed away, he drank an untampered glass of water, washed the cup, and brought the other back to the bedroom with a damp paper towel for any messes they might have made together. When he did, they were staring out their bedroom windows through the cracks in the blinds.

“Are you okay?” he asked, snapping them out of their thoughts.

Aaron handed over the glass, eyes widening as they gulped down the entire thing.

That was easy.

“Yea, just thought I saw...something...outside.”

Aaron fought back a snort. The paranoia was setting in, goodie.

“I can do a sweep outside really quickly?” he offered.

“No, no. I think I’m just tired and imagining things,” they settled deeper into the covers.

Wordlessly, he slipped in behind them, wrapping an arm over their waist and brushing his lips over their shoulder, “Just let me know if you need me to make you more tired,” he hummed, smiling as he pressed himself against their back.

They laughed. An honest to God laugh.

Aaron didn't get those much. It was...weird.

The pills set in quickly, but Aaron gave it a good hour to make sure they were in a deeper sleep. The way the front door had creaked loudly when the two of them came in meant he was definitely using the back door he checked.

First, though, he needed to look through their notes. Untangling himself from the bed carefully, he placed a pillow in his place. He started changing, wanting to be ready to dash if he needed to. Dressed, except for his Ghostface mask and cowl, he flipped open the file. He had watched them throw the notes into the file earlier—where were they?

Tucked behind all of the documentation were handwritten notes. He was a little excited to see what they thought. The first thing there made him freeze.

“Possible law enforcement?

·      BAU suggests he understands police procedure.

·      No DNA, no prints, no physical evidence in kill area – knows what we look for.

·      Different states (if the copycats are frames) but consistent method.

·      Aware of local jurisdictions not cooperating but continues with FBI involved? Travels on purpose in car,  ‘05 Honda Accord.

‘05 Honda Accord

·      Located car on residence footage, plates not visible.

·      Tracked to cameras on US-30 E, Pennsylvania State Police combing footage.

Forensic countermeasures

·      Footprints – too careless, actual mistake?

·      Red hair and stashed evidence – too convenient? No matches

·      Why bother misdirecting if no one saw? Panic? Copycats? Framing?”

Finally, Aaron got to the last part of their notes in all caps, circled and underlined.

“Is he inserting himself into investigation??”

Aaron had to resist the urge to crumple the notes and throw the file across the room.

Fucking.

Nosy.

Ass.

Shit.

He had warned them and one chance was all he afforded people; his next phase was set in motion. But first? He had some anger to let out. Shoving the notes back in the folder, he grabbed his mask and cowl and headed to the back door, silently opening it and stepping outside. He fitted the cowl over first, keeping the cold away from his body, then fixed the mask over his balaclava.

Committing the murders when the team was in town was trickier. One, he didn't have his car and would have to hoof it. Two, it was much harder to hide his clothes and make sure no blood was on him when he went back to work in the morning. It was a challenge, but he liked that.

Luckily, he’d done some recon while they were in town and the trek to his next victim wasn't going to be as rough as he expected. His sleeping little mouse’s house wasn’t a far hike from the next victim.

Aaron was extra careful around the mud this time around. He really needed to rethink how narrow the eye slits were in this mask.

 His next victim lived alone, spending his evenings getting shit on in first person shooter video game lobbies. Aaron had briefly watched from the window, wondering how any of that could be appealing when the real thing was so much more fun. Slipping his lock pick set from his pant pocket, he made quick work of the backdoor and slipped side. The light in the office where the resident was playing video games had been on as he was casing around the house, so Aaron was safe for now in the opposite corner of the house.

Aaron’s steps were silent as he swooped around the house, figuring out where to begin his hunt.

Screw it.

He leaned against the counter, feeling over confident in his post-coital haze. He pulled out a burner and dialed the man’s number, which he acquired earlier in the day during interviews.

Aaron could barely hear the phone ring over the man’s shouting at the game. He sighed as the call rang out and called again.

“What the fuck!?” Aaron heard from the room, followed by a clatter.

The bastard threw the fucking phone.

Aaron’s head hung in discontent.

Unbelievable.

No one answered their phones these days.

He was still too pissed at the notes he read to be patient and try something else. This one was going to be bloody.

Making his way over to the room, he leaned against the threshold, arms folded as the man was hyper focused on the screen. He hadn’t seen a webcam through the window, so nothing would be live streamed—he wasn’t a monster. With the shouting clearer now, he was talking to someone, though, Aaron couldn’t be sure how many people as he squinted through the mask at the screen.

At least the headphones had a visible microphone and were hardwired to the computer. That made his job a little easier.

Not bothering to take out his knife yet, Aaron stalked toward his victim, standing behind them and watching the screen flash. Did this guy have zero self-awareness?

Reaching forward and grabbing low on the wire, Aaron gave it a hard pull. The wire gave way, whether it ripped out of the ports or broke the wires itself didn’t matter to Aaron. The chair spun; his victim startled with hands ready to fly.

The fight left his body immediately. Flight wasn’t even an option as the man stared at the menacing figure in front of him. No, freeze took hold.

“It’s rude not to answer someone’s phone call,” Aaron sneered through the modulator in his mask.

He grabbed the man by the throat, pushing him back on the chair so roughly that both man and chair flipped back onto the floor. That seemed to knock some evolution into the man and—surprise, surprise—flight kicked in.

The whimpering man scrambled to get up to his feet while Aaron watched the pathetic attempt but the arms of the chair slowed his escape down.

Sighing, Aaron stepped forward, pressing the front half of his boot onto the man's trachea and kneeling down to the ground.

“You’re not making this fun for me.”

He only received gurgling in response.

“Does it help if I show you this?” Aaron unsheathed the knife strapped to his chest under the cowl that draped across his body.

The man’s movements became more frantic form both the pressure on his throat and the sight of the sharp knife.

“Then get to running,” he growled, taking his boot off the man’s neck and watching him scramble to his feet.

The man was halfway to standing, ready to take off into a run with his weight poised on his front leg. Aaron might like the hunt but it wasn’t supposed to be fair. He kicked in the side of the man’s knee, hearing a sickening crack and pop followed by screaming.

“Fuck you! You sick fuck!” he screamed.

“Aww,” Aaron cooed. “You’re making me blush.”

The man hobbled out of the room, propping himself up on the hallway walls as Aaron strolled after him. He made a beeline for the front door, making Aaron chuckle through the modulator. Aaron hopped over the sofa that the man had to hobble around, making it to the door first and stalking toward him head on.

“Wrong way, peanut. It’s like you’re not even trying.”

Aaron was enjoying the moment of hopelessness on his face. Doing his best to turn and run, the man made a very slow break for the back door.

Aaron checked his watch.

He hummed sadly, not having enough time to play anymore. He grabbed the collar of the man’s shirt, shoving him roughly to the floor.

“Sorry I can’t play longer,” Aaron sighed sadly, stepping over and straddling the man’s ribcage as he groaned on the floor.

To prevent the man from grabbing Aaron's weapons, he slid up to his upper chest, stapling the man’s biceps to the floor with his knees. Between the pathetic sobbing, screaming, and effort, the man was struggling to breathe even more now.

Aaron trailed the tip of his knife down the man’s forehead, to his nose.

“I want you to pick a number between one and...twenty.”

“W-wh-y?” came a strangled sob.

“Because I fucking ask you to,” he snapped. “Maybe you’ll get lucky.”

That little sliver of hope glimmered in his eyes for a second, quieting his sobs briefly.

“Uh-uhm.”

“I don’t have all night,” he pressed the tip harder into the sensitive flesh of his nose.

“Twelve! Twelve…please,” the man wailed again. “Please don’t kill me.”

“Wow,” Aaron breathed. He pinched the man’s cheek with a gloved hand, “You’re so brave. You won twelve stab wounds…are you ready?”

“N-no-no—" his screams filled the living room as the knife slid into the muscle of the man’s shoulder.

“Count with me,” Aaron requested. “One, two, three, four, five, six—look, we’re half way done—seven, eight—no, no, no nine not ten—mhm good boy, now ten, eleven…”

The blood was pooling rapidly and as excited as it made him, Aaron took precautions to be covered in as little of it as possible. He had his knee and shin across the man’s stomach with his other leg planted out far for stability, just beyond the edge of the pooled blood.

Aaron pressed the tip of the knife where he knew the man’s heart to be underneath the shirt. Slowly but surely, Aaron put pressure down, “Twelve.”

The life finally faded from the man’s eyes. Aaron stayed there, staring at the widening pool of blood. He was still angry. If he bothered to profile himself right now it would be the irritability and anger that made him play with his food a little more than usual. He felt the need to take control again after feeling derailed by those notes—how, when did they find so much and would they even be able to scrounge up evidence for some of those claims? Either way, making the hunt more fun reinforced his need to dominate every situation blah, blah, BLAH.

Aaron continued staring.

The blood was inviting.

He wasn’t stupid enough to write with it, though he’d love to write that cute little investigator a letter in blood. Describe how good they felt on his cock. He was right about them being enthusiastic after all, he laughed to himself.

It was tempting but no.

He grunted as he heaved himself up, careful to not step in blood. As far as blood went—he looked down at himself—he didn’t do too badly.

Pleased with himself, he gingerly exited the house, careful of what blood he did have on him and stripped the outer layers off, mainly his heavy cowl, mask, and gloves which he doubled up with rubber gloves underneath. He stuffed them into a clean plastic bag he’d brought with him and took off into the dark.

Entering his little mouse's surprisingly quiet back door, he carefully stripped the rest of his clothing, leaving the door unlocked. It was all intentional, aiming to imply Ghostface broke in—because he did.  Once his balaclava came off, he could breathe clearly again.

He’d memorized some of the squeaky floorboards on his clearing of the house and used that knowledge to make his way over to his bag and stashed his gear. Peeking in to make sure they were still asleep, Aaron checked himself in the bathroom for any blood and was happy to find none.

The body odor?

Well, a little hand soap would have to do.

Coming back out of the bathroom, he spotted their gun on the nightstand.

Naughty little mouse.

He grabbed a couple tissues and picked it up, ejecting the magazine, clearing the chamber, and unloading all of the bullets. He snapped the magazine back in with a sharp click and placed it back. They weren’t a cop; they didn't carry the gun out with them but he didn't need any surprises the next time he paid them a little visit.

Aaron gingerly climbed back into bed, feeling the steady rise and fall of the breathing next to him.

-

MC POV

The morning light filtered through the blinds in thin, slanted lines, cutting across the disheveled sheets. My body ached—not entirely unpleasantly—but there was a strange heaviness to my movements and an unease that gnawed at the edges of my mind and woke me up.

I didn’t actually want to open my eyes. Not because of what might lie beyond my eyelids, but because they felt so damn heavy. My head and arms did, too.

For a few moments, I let myself exist in that haze, the warmth of another body beside me was unfamiliar but not unwelcome. Then, reality began to settle in. It wasn’t just a body.

SSA Aaron Hotchner was in my bed.

I slept with the lead agent working this case. With a literal serial killer on the loose. Was I stupid?

For the millionth time, this was how people died in scary movies.

Finally opening my eyes, I was startled at how close his face was. His breathing was slow and even, his bare chest rising and falling rhythmically. In the dim light, he looked almost peaceful—normal, even—from the robotic stoicism he held in the field. But something in my gut screamed that something was wrong.

I shifted to sit up, nearly jumping out of my skin when his eyes shot open. He stared at me, almost as equally confused as I had been from the looks of it.

Fragments of last night flickered in my mind: the ride home, the way he insisted on checking the house, the way his gaze lingered too long. The way his touch had burned—slow and deliberate.

“You’re up early,” he commented, looking at the clock over my shoulder.

It was barely 6:00 AM.

“Yea, I don’t know. I just felt weird,” I furrowed my brows. “I just feel so heavy.”

He stared at me for a beat before his features grew mirthful, “Last night took a lot out of you?”

My face heated up, “Shut up.”

I turned over, facing away from him. He hummed behind me, shuffling closer. His hand drew a wide path over my hip, rising higher until he could pinch my nipple. My hips involuntarily pressed back against him.

He laughed softly, pressing his nose against my ear, “We have some time to kill.”

I ignored the poor choice of words and chewed my lip, finally nodding, “Yea, okay.”

“Stay there,” he rolled away to find the drawer I’d rifled in the night before.  

I shivered as the cool air made its way under the blankets, but I didn’t have to wait long before his warm skin was pressed up against me again.

The slicked-up condom was as cold as the air above the covers, making me jump as he prodded around.

Stars, he hit the lottery when they were handing out dicks.

My mouth dropped open as he fully seated himself, the fullness forcing out a gasp from my throat. He controlled the pace with a firm grasp on my hip and used his other arm to wind under my head, grasp my jaw and force my face to look at him. My mouth was all too willing to open for him and the way his hand engulfed my jaw made my brain buzz with excitement. He was just so large.

The hand on my hip slipped low, working its way between my legs until it landed on my heated, sensitive flesh. I could feel his mouth spread into a satisfied smile as I practically moaned into his mouth. He moved his hand in time with his hips, stroking faster until I was shaking in his arms.

“Sh-fuck,” I felt the pleasure building.

I was so close.

“Ho-otch-chn…” I moaned.

“Aaron,” he corrected.

“Aaron, please.”

That seemed to shift another gear for him, his movements rougher, his teeth scraping my skin.

“That’s it,” he grunted. “Come on my cock. Need to feel you.”

Holy hell, the mouth on this man when he wasn’t buttoned up tight.

And just like that, my orgasm hit me hard. My loud moans breaking the silence of the early morning. His hand didn’t let up, making me grasp at his forearm to get him to stop as overstimulation set in.

He didn’t stop.

His teeth scraped my neck this time and I wondered if he’d finally do it—sink his teeth into my neck as he came. I could feel him holding it back, not wanting to ask and not wanting to just spring it on me. He didn’t, and I was only mildly disappointed. He buried his face into my neck, moaning loudly as he finally came.

We lay there, not moving except for our heavy breathing making our chests expand rapidly. Aaron’s tongue laved over my sweaty skin, pressing a kiss, and then another.

Do it.

Do it.

With one more kiss there, he pulled away with a soft groan.

“Mind if I use your shower?” he asked, groaning as he stretched.

“Go ahead, I’ll get some coffee started.”

Aaron smiled gratefully and went to grab his bag, bringing it into the bathroom with him and closing the door.

I pushed myself up to sit upright on my bed—which was a total mess that I wasn't looking forward to cleaning. My limbs still felt heavy and yeah, maybe he was right and I was just out of practice. I stood and stretched, pulling on underwear and a t-shirt from the floor while I waited for my turn.

I padded over to the kitchen, my feet softly scraping the old wood. I doubled my usual coffee routine and looked out into the living room from the kitchen as I leaned back against the counter. My eyes drifted over the counters, seeing the glass he washed last night—very considerate—before landing on the file I brought with me. Some of the pages were sticking out. I didn’t think I threw it there so casually that papers fell out—well I did end up in bed with a federal agent so anything was game at this point.

It was my notes that made me freeze when I opened the folder. I distinctly remember putting them in the back before leaving the station with Aaron. The paper was haphazardly shoved back in, crinkled deeply in some parts where it looked like someone was holding it tightly.

What the fuck?

I hadn't realized how long I stood there looking at it when Aaron emerged from my bedroom in a black polo and dark jeans. It was a far cry from the suit he showed up in but I’m sure suits weren't exactly space savers. I wasn't complaining either, the way the sleeves clung to his biceps and contrasted with his pale skin made my mind race. His hair was still damp, flopping innocently onto his forehead.

“What?” he stared at me with a half-smile.

Ripping my eyes off the way the polo stretched across his chest, I shook my head, “Uh, did you go through the file last night?”

“No, why?”

“Because I know where I put these when we left the station,” I gestured to the notes. “And now they’re in a different spot.”

His smile was gone, replaced by a pinched expression. His eyes darted around the room, hand automatically flying to his hip.  Silently holding out a hand to me to tell me to stay put, he made his way to the living room taking overly cautious steps. It was unlikely that Ghostface would be out in broad daylight but everyone was on edge already.

“I locked this before...well, you know,” he was stopped at the back door, both locks undone.

My heart dropped into my stomach.

Ghostface been in my house.

I was frozen. I hadn’t heard a thing. How could I be so stupid?

“I-uh,” I wrung my fingers together, suddenly terrified. “I’m gonna get ready, coffee’s almost ready.”

The shock settling in was distracting. Ghostface knew my suspicions now and if they were anywhere near true, I was in deep, deep shit.

I made my shower quick and was putting on my shoes when our phones rang at the same time.

Damn. That can’t be good.

“Hotchner. Okay, be there in a bit.”

My conversation went mostly the same. The coffee was packed in to-go cups and only upon stepping through my front door did I realize I didn't have my car or my spare kit.

“Oh, fuck me,” I groaned.

Aaron made a noise of amusement from his throat.

“Not a word,” I grumbled. “My car with my spare kit is at the station. Those fucking oafs are going to ruin my crime scene.”

“It’s okay, we have lights,” Aaron grinned as we got in the SUV and flipped the lights and sirens on, letting us speed up the road to retrieve my kit, then back down into the residential area for the crime scene.

We arrived at the same time as the rest of the BAU. I had a one-track mind to catch this fucker and ditched Aaron, grabbing my kit and racing to the house. Detective Miller was already inside, along with a few other officers which made my eye twitch.

“Can you get them out?” I asked her, gesturing to the cops who were standing around. “Who found him?”

“His online friends called the station, I guess he was playing some video game with them and his microphone got disconnected. He wasn't answering his phone and he never logged off the game. I guess he’d told them there was a serial killer so they were worried. Rightfully so, too. ELPD did a welfare check and saw him through the window. Back door was unlocked so, looks like he came in through there.”

Marking what I immediately saw, I squinted at the body. I snapped pictures of the deep stab wounds, the way his knee was caved in at the wrong angle, and zooming in on his neck.

“Look at this,” I tilted his head up. “He was stepping on his neck. That’s not just playing with his food. He’s mad.”

Fuck. I had to tell her.

“I think I know why, too,” I continued.

Detective Miller looked at me quizzically.

“My back door was unlocked, too. We—I had locked everything before I went to bed.”

“We?”

“I.”

She looked at me pointedly, “We?” Her body leaned to look around me at where the BAU was talking outside, “Which one was it? The old one? I know you prefer salt over pepper.”

“Oh, fuck off, Miller.”

She laughed, making eye contact with Aaron by chance as he glanced inside through the open front door.

“No...” she gasped. “The Neo looking, mother fucker? Come on. He’s weird.”

“He’s not weird. The kid is weird.”

“No, he’s cute.”

I stared at her, gesturing to the body on the floor to remind her of why we were here.

“Did he at least have a big—”

“Yes.”

“You do know this means your place is a crime scene now,” she scribbled notes on her notepad.

“There was nothing of use, I looked. He went through my notes and left. I’ll document it.”

“Deal,” she sighed. “Struggle started over here,” she cocked her head toward the hallway.

Walking into the small office, I got an overview of the scene, moving to the desk first. The computer was still on, the game having disconnected from the servers for inactivity. The entire computer tower was skewed from the headphones being ripped out so violently, that one of the wires had ripped off of the jack. Pictures of the computer and chair were snapped, then Miller directed me to the phone across the room.

“Dent in the wall here and the phone over here,” she commented.

Once I took the pictures, I clicked open the phone. It was locked but I could see the recent notifications. Several Discord notifications from the guy’s gaming friends and two missed calls from an Unknown Number.

“Maybe he tried to call 911 and Ghostface chucked the phone?” Miller suggested.

“One sec,” I grabbed the phone and unlocked it with the body on the floor of the living room. “Sorry, buddy.”

The phone immediately opened to Discord, not the phone keypad. I scrolled through the recent calls and only saw the two missed calls from the unknown number, nothing outgoing or incoming after that. Making my way back to Detective Miller, I sighed.

“But, we know he calls his victims to taunt them. What if the guy didn’t answer and it made him mad? That coupled with the notes? Guy is sitting here, playing. The phone keeps going off and he throws it because, I don’t know he's frustrated with the game?”

“It’s a theory. Got everything? I’ll call them inside.”

“Yea, let me check the back really quick.”

I went out through the back door, photographing scratches where the lock was picked and looking around for anything out of place. Anymore boot prints, blood, anything.  Looking out into the lawn I saw one of the ELPD officers reaching for a plastic bag.

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop!” I shouted but he had already grabbed it and stood.

I heard a commotion behind me, several footsteps hurriedly rushing out the back door.

The officer looked at me cluelessly, “What?”

“Are you being serious right now? You’re not wearing gloves!”

“Just trash, I mean...” he shrugged, thrusting the bag toward me.

I need a vacation.

“It’s an active crime scene, Christ.” I pulled an evidence bag out, shoving the plastic bag inside and grumbling to myself.

“Everything okay?” Aaron and a few of the agents had rushed out of the house with guns drawn.

“Sorry,” I sealed the evidence bag, writing on the outside. “Going to have to eliminate his prints now,” I commented, annoyed.

“You found that here?” he questioned.

“He did, yea. Then, grabbed it without gloves,” I shook my head. “Might take you up on that FBI offer.”

I heard him laugh softly next to me.

“Want me to—” Aaron offered his hand to hold the bag as I couched down.

“I got it,” I cut him off clutching the evidence bag like a lifeline, I photographed the area around where I saw the officer pick it up but nothing stood out.

“I want to hear your thoughts on this come on,” he indicated his head back inside.

“So, I know he likes to taunt people, but I thought the phone was strange,” I said as they followed me to the office, stepping carefully around the mess.  “He called the guy twice, neither call was answered, and the phone ends up thrown over here.”

“So, maybe he was trying to call the cops when he saw him?” the blonde one, JJ, I think answered.

“Maybe, but he had headphones on and was playing this video game. I find it hard to believe he heard much of anything. He was playing with other people, who said he just cut off—and look, the cords were yanked out of the computer. I don’t think he had time to call.”

“So, the unsub gets mad that he's not answering, then,” the older agent, Rossi, chimes in.

“Video games, particularly first-person shooters like this one, have been shown to increase aggression, especially when players experience frustration or failure. Studies suggest that competitive gaming can elevate cortisol and adrenaline levels, leading to heightened emotional responses. If the victim was fully immersed in the game, already experiencing stress, and then received repeated phone calls, it’s plausible that he reacted impulsively—throwing the phone out of frustration rather than fear.”

I blinked at the information that fell out of Dr. Reid’s mouth but eventually nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly.

"And that would explain why he didn’t bother to check who was calling. He wasn’t worried about being watched—he was just annoyed,” Emily agreed.

“Which pissed off the killer,” Morgan ran a thumb along his facial hair.

The only one who hadn’t spoken at this point was Aaron.

“It’s possible. Repeated interruptions, especially in the middle of a game, could have made him dismissive of the calls instead of suspicious. The unsub might have expected a different reaction—fear or immediate compliance—but instead, they were ignored. That could have triggered an escalation,” Reid continued.

“Which lines up with the scene. The killer physically yanked the cords out—cut him off from the game entirely. If he was already feeling slighted by being ignored it could have been a way to force the victim’s attention back on him,” I turned around, pointing back to the living room. “I have more for you.”

I led them out of the office and to the body.

“This guy was mad, like he was being mean...” I started, stopping and cringing at myself. “...okay murder is mean but he was meaner than the other three.” I crouched, mindful of the blood, “This here looks ante-mortem, he was stepping on the victim’s throat for an extended period causing this bruising. And then this bruising here is also ante-mortem,” I pushed up the sleeves of the victim’s t-shirt. “I was going to say he held the victim’s arms down with his hands but he has one on each arm and it's not tactically sound to have both hands occupied. I’m thinking he was kneeling on the guy's arms and he was sitting on his chest. I don’t know if the twelve stab wounds has any significance to you guys but each murder had a different count, so I don’t have anything there. But, his knee is shredded, look at the angle. No wonder he didn't get very far.”

“Didn’t we interview him yesterday?” JJ tilted her head to get a better look at his face.

“Mm,” Detective Miller located his wallet, “Tommy Crites?”

“We did,” Prentiss nodded. “Maybe he knew something?”

“Why do you say he was being “mean”?” Rossi asked curiously.

“Well, ripping the cords out and making the guy pay attention was easy, right? He could have killed him there in the chair. The guy has to get out of the chair or off the floor and the killer is just standing there watching him struggle? He was taunting him, playing with him.”

“He wanted to be in control,” Aaron finally spoke up.

“Yea. So, he takes back control,” I paused taking a breath. “And I think it was because he saw some of my notes. I think he broke into my house last night and didn't like what he saw.”

“What did you write?” Rossi asked.

I paused, surrounded by the very people I was accusing.

“That he might be law enforcement and inserting himself into the investigation.”

The BAU looked at each other grimly.

“So, he sees your notes, gets pissed off that you’re getting too close, and comes here to blow off steam,” Morgan murmured.

“We’ve all been threatened by him, welcome to the club,” Reid smiled sadly.

We leave the body to the county coroner and begin to leave, immediately met with several media vans outside. The reporters are being held back by a few deputies but could easily overwhelm them if given the chance.

“Who called the media?” I looked over at Detective Miller.

“Don’t look at me,” she glared, looking pissed at their presence.

Questions were immediately bombarding us as we tried to leave:

“Is the BAU any closer to identifying the suspect?”

“Is it true that the killer has been targeting people at random, or is there a pattern to the victims?”

“Some sources claim the killer has made direct contact with law enforcement. Are you in communication with him?”

"Do you believe he’s local to the area? Could he be someone within the police force?”

I almost stopped walking at that. Aaron shifted next to me, looking for who asked that question, his expression cold and unreadable.

“We can’t comment on that,” he answered.

“Then, should we be looking for a 6-foot, red-haired male, 180 pounds, with size 11 feet?”

Everything stopped there.

The words slammed into me like a physical blow. That information hadn’t been released to the public. I hadn't even mentioned the height that the BAU’s analyst had managed to figure out from the video footage in the notes.

My stomach twisted as I finally located the reporter in the crowd and snapped toward him, my voice sharp, “Who told you that?”

The reporter just laughed, shrugging. “Can’t reveal sources, you know how it is.”

Before I could stop myself, my hand shot out, grabbing the front of the reporter’s shirt and yanking him closer.

I was furious and practically shaking, “Who. Told. You?”

The cameras flashed more frequently at the scene. The reporter looked startled, but also amused.

“Touchy, aren’t we?”

A firm hand clamped down on my shoulder. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that it was Aaron’s hand.

“Let him go.”

For a beat, I didn’t move and my grip tightened. Then, I realized how bad it had to look and shoved the reporter back, storming off toward the SUV.

From then, the station was a madhouse.

The tip lines were ringing off the charts. The town had gone feral in a matter of hours after learning about the description.

Someone—an anonymous “inside source”—had leaked that the partial evidence suggested a red-haired suspect, male, with an approximate height and shoe size matching a partial tread found at the scene.

The result was pure, unfiltered chaos.

Every red-haired man within a thirty-mile radius was getting side-eyed. People were calling in tips over neighbors they’d known for years. People called to tell on their male friends who recently changed hair colors from red to something else. The worst one was a young man who worked at a family-owned auto shop in East Liverpool getting the shit beaten out of him by some overzealous vigilantes because his hair was lightened by chlorine and the sun from his time on the high school swim team.

The kicker was that it was all bullshit.

I knew it and the FBI knew it, but there was nothing we could do to calm the panic. The shoe print had been a lucky find, but something about the way the case was unfolding reeked of misdirection and I couldn’t help but think that the killer released the information, further supporting my theory that he was working on the inside. The evidence was just too convenient—just enough to keep people focused on the wrong thing.

The plastic bag at the scene was a dead end, too, forensically. The only prints we managed to pull were the cop’s and he was far too stupid to be our killer. The killer must have had several bags and dropped one in his haste to protect the evidence from us.

I was hesitant to start picking out who it could be. One, it could piss Ghostface off even more. Two, accusing the wrong law enforcement officer is a surefire way for me to get fired. Three, based on just this case alone, I was absolutely certain it was the real killer and not some knock off. Which, four, meant that he wouldn’t be from here with all the traveling he did and the fact that neither the East Liverpool Police Department nor Columbiana County Sheriff’s Department had any recent transfers. He couldn’t insert himself through local channels—so that only left federal.

And ‘federal’ was a scary word. Connections were everything and I had zero, except maybe Aaron but he could very well be on the suspect list, too.

My own weakness for dick was apparently shooting me in the foot.

If I had to make a list, Prentiss and JJ were not on it. Not because they were women—I'm an equal opportunity accuser—but because of the height and weight. Rossi was on the shorter, older, and therefore potentially weaker end, still possible but not in my top three. No, my top three would be Morgan, Reid, and, unfortunately, Aaron. All three fit the height requirements though Reid was maybe on the lighter side of the three. All three men were also highly intelligent with in depth knowledge of law enforcement tactics and forensics.

All that to say: I really should not have slept with Aaron.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when Sheriff Tanner barged in to the lab, which was a rare occurrence when he had several detectives to do that for him.

“I need all the reports you have on the evidence from these Ghostface murders,” he barked, ‘Ghostface’ leaving his lips with a scowl.

“Yes, sir, but the hair—”

“I asked you for the reports, not your opinion.”

“But, Sheriff, it’s not--"

“ELPD has ten thousand frightened citizens blowing up their god damn phones and ours. I’m done with Miller entertaining your conspiracies. If you still want a job after all of this, shut up and give me the reports.”

I begrudgingly handed him the reports, following him as he stormed back out into the main bullpen. The BAU was lined up in front of the press just finishing up their interview, trying to ease the public about what had been fed to them.

The Sheriff was on his way to tell them to go to hell and follow the evidence.

I stormed into the media briefing behind the Sheriff, cutting through the sea of reporters.  The consequences of my actions were the least of my worries when compared to a serial killer.

“Sheriff, this entire investigation is a cover-up!”

The bullpen went dead silent, the only sounds being the rapid clicking of cameras. Video cameras snapped toward me, away from the federal agents they had been focused on.

Aaron, stood among the BAU and other law enforcement officials. He barely twitched at my exclamation but his eyes locked onto me with an unreadable expression.

I was already putting my foot in my mouth, so I kept going.

“You’re looking for the wrong person. The real killer is someone in law enforcement, and you all are wasting time hunting some imaginary suspect instead of looking deeper!”

At that, the reporters started whispering, murmuring. Sheriff Tanner’s face turned an ugly shade of red.

Aaron, though, Aaron didn’t look angry.

He looked amused.

Like he was enjoying this.

-

Aaron POV

Oh, his brilliant, little mouse. His brilliant, stupid, little mouse.

It wasn’t enough that they read his beautiful kills like a book, dissecting every piece and fucking up every ounce of his enjoyment. Then, they had to go and do it in public when he had specifically told them not to.

He was lucky that the plastic bag didn’t have any forensics on it. That was mistake number two of East Liverpool, Ohio and he wondered if he wasn’t as sharp as he used to be or if his infatuation with this smart, insignificant, funny, irritating, fool was messing up his game.

They were gone by the time the team had decided to call it a night—Sheriff Tanner having told them to pack their shit and get out—which worked out in his favor. Aaron snuck out of his motel room late that night, when he was sure the rest of the team was asleep. He’d slipped Rossi some of the same sleeping pills, ensuring he’d be asleep for the rest of the night. Not like he needed to worry about Ghostface trying to kill him, Aaron laughed to himself.

Aaron stepped out into the dark, melting into the shadows of the barely lit town. It would have taken him close to an hour to walk to their house, which he cut down to about twenty-five minutes by running the couple of miles. He took off his cowl to be a little more aerodynamic so he wasn't weighed down by the wind resistance, and shoved it in his backpack. The backpack he carried made the feat a little more challenging, but it was all for a good cause.

His cause.

As he approached, he slowed down, blending into the bushes that separated the investigator’s house from the one next to it. He pulled out his burner, seeing them through the blinds just enough to see that they were distraught. Their knees were pulled up to their chest, head heavy in their hands. Smiling to himself, he found their number, double checked his modulator, and made the call.

At first, he was sure they wouldn't answer. But then they lifted their head up a little, peering down next to them on the bed.

Stupid blinds, he cursed to himself.

“You really don’t know when to quit, do you?” Aaron asked with a disappointed edge to his voice. “That was a cute stunt.”

“Not when some asshole is threatening my town, no, I really don’t.”

“I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Doesn’t mean I had to listen. Why don’t you come shut it yourself?” they responded, irritated and coarse.

Oh, his mouse. His brave, little mouse.

“Answer me this,” they spoke again. “Why haven’t you killed the feds following you? Surely, they pose a bigger threat?”

“I’m not bulletproof, baby. And I’m not stupid enough to poke a hornet’s nest.”

“Hmm,” they hummed over the phone. “See you soon?”

“See you soon,” he practically giggled.

He watched the bedroom light flick off.

His mouse wanted to play?

Oh, he would play.

Aaron hugged as close to the house as possible, already at a disadvantage since the outside was now illuminated by the moon while the inside of the house was pitch black. Was it too obvious to use the back door again? Yes, but he would have a more silent entrance that way.

Unlocking the door with his lock pick set, he let the door swing open, waiting—listening—before making his first step over the threshold. He dropped the backpack near the back door to be more mobile.

Where, oh, where could they be?

They wouldn't hide or cower, no, his mouse was pissed, so Aaron needed to be ready for a fight. He tip-toed gently around the house, mostly remembering where the creaks were except for a couple. With his hand gripping the handle of his knife—where it sat strapped to his chest—he started passing the kitchen, free arm reaching out to push open the bedroom door.

Before he could step toward the bedroom, two arms wrapped around his leg from behind, emanating from the kitchen floor.

Like an actual little mouse, oh, sweetheart.

One arm wrapped around the outside of his ankle, the other wrapping through his legs and on his quad. Feeling a strong push on the back of his hamstring and a yank on his ankle, he was soon careening down to the ground face first. Aaron had to let go of the knife handle to brace his fall with both hands, stuck in a sprinter’s stance. They still kept a hold of his leg, trying to drive him onto his hip, but his foot was able to twist free. It took him two tries to yank his foot back to him enough to donkey kick back, landing directly into their chest if the resulting wheeze was anything to go by.

“Not bad,” Aaron consolidated his limbs, standing back up and trying to anticipate their next move in the dark.

A punch barely grazed the edge of his mask. Reaching out, he grabbed the forearm of that arm, pushing it away from him so they were turned around—back against his chest. From there, it was easy to entrap both of their arms with his and lift them, dragging them to the bedroom.

“Oopsie,” he laughed in their ear. He flicked the light on with his elbow, glancing around and spotting their cellphone set up suspiciously. “Sweetheart—tsk—filming me? Really? I didn’t consent to that...”

“Fuck you,” they spat back.

Aaron laughed, the modulator making it all the more terrifying. Been there, done that.

Throwing them on the bed, he straddled their hips and reached over on the nightstand for their phone.

Pause.

Delete.

To add insult to injury, he snapped the phone in half and tossed it across the room.

“You won't be needing that.”

He was so preoccupied with the phone that he missed their hand travelling under their pillow until a pistol was pointed in his face.

“Oh,” he taunted. “And what are you going to do with that?”

“You said it yourself. You’re not bulletproof.”

“You’re right,” he wiggled, making himself comfortable in their lap. “Come on, then,” he urged, pressing the forehead of the mask against the end of the gun. “You feel that power? It feels good, doesn't it?”

Their hands shook from the adrenaline and fear.

“Are you like me?” he grinned under the mask. “Are you going to get off after you pull that trigger?”

They readjusted their grip on the gun, their sweaty hands making it slippery.

“Do it, Mouse,” he pressed harder. “Do it, don’t be a little bit—”

Squeeze.

Click.

The shock on their face was priceless.

“Performance anxiety is super common, baby, don't worry,” Aaron teased, prying the empty gun from their hands and tossing it to the floor. “You should always check your chamber before starting a fight.”

To avoid any more surprises, Aaron turned them on their side and zip tied their hands behind their back, laying them back down on top of their hands. He enjoyed the way they struggled as he shimmied his way up their chest.

“Just kill me, you coward,” they spat, still struggling. “Hiding behind a mask,” they scoffed.

He leaned down, keeping his weight balanced by framing their head with his hands on each side as he brought the mask to their cheek, “Oh, I’m not here to kill you. You’re far too smart, I need you.”

“I’m not helping you.”

“Frankly, I don’t need your permission for that.”

He gripped a fistful of their t-shirt, hooking his fingers into the collar and pulling the fabric across the centerline of their neck so it pulled taught against their carotid artery. With his free hand, he made a fist and pressed it slowly into the other artery. He kept his face close, hovering just above theirs as they worked to loosen their hands to no avail.

There was silence between them, just the sound of struggling.

“Which one of you is it, huh?” they laughed, smiling through it all. Their consciousness was struggling to hold on as the blood was slowly cut off from their brain. “Is that you, Aaron? Gained my trust by being a knight in shining armor and fucking me?”

Aaron just stared, clenching his jaw tightly.

He hated them.

“Or sweet little Dr. Reid? Pretending to fumble and mess up the crime scene?”

He cocked his head to the side, pressing harder with his fist.

He loved their brain.

“Or Morgan? So, charming, strong, and witty.”

He was stronger. He was better. He was smarter.

He could see them fading away. It was relaxing, watching them fight it. If the shirt had been any thicker, they would likely be asleep already but he had to hold this one a little longer.

Aaron got sloppy, leaning too far into them to see their teeth scrape the edge of the mask and bite down. He felt a tug and yanked back, the mask staying and his head exposed. This was why he wore the balaclava. But it didn't matter.

Recognition gleamed in their eyes as they met his rich, honey, brown eyes, darkened from the shadow he was casting over them.

They opened their mouth to say something but it was too late. Their eyes shut and their body went limp.

-

MC POV

My eyes blinked open slowly, the blinds drawn tight in my room. My head and body felt heavy and I wondered how long I’d been out. Waking up after being choked was usually fairly quick, unless it's so long that brain damage or death happens. But, I was very alive.

Aaron.

Fucking. Aaron.

Then, I remembered how I felt after waking up the other morning after we slept together. I felt just like this.

Had he drugged me?

Feeling around for my phone, I realized it had been destroyed last night but my alarm clock blinked at me.

 10:42 AM.

Brief panic set in before I realized I didn't have anywhere to go. No words needed to be said as Sheriff Tanner basically fired me yesterday—’pack your shit’ was explicit enough.

I needed to go, I needed to explain to the Sheriff—to Miller—about yesterday. Trying to sit up was a feat as my body protested. My chest and neck throbbed and I was sure I had a fist sized bruise on one side of my neck. I had to catch myself several times as I looked for clothes, barely managing to get pants on when my front door was kicked open with such force that pieces of the threshold went flying.

Fight? Flight? Freeze? I couldn't do any of it. The room was still spinning, making me feel nauseous as I finally successfully buttoned my pants after attempting for the fourth time.  When I was able to focus on the commotion around me, I couldn’t process much of the screamed orders at me, but I focused in on several guns pointed my way.

Morgan. Prentiss. Aaron.

They were all in the front, sights trained on me with unwavering focus.

My eyes locked onto Aaron’s.

“Oh, this is rich,” I laughed, not able to do much besides stumble and barely catch myself.

Aaron holstered his gun, giving the everyone a command to search the house as he pressed me up against a wall and cuffed me.

“Ow, that hurts,” I winced uncomfortably.

“You think Tommy Crites thought that when you stabbed him twelve times? What about Carolyn Turner when you stabbed her six times—” he snarled.

Bastard.

“Oh, what a load of shit,” I spat. “I’m the wrong shoe size—the wrong, everything!”

“But you’re just the person to be able to fabricate that,” he chuckled.

“I can't fabricate video footage, asshat.”

I could hear the police and agents tearing apart my house like rabid animals. Papers were falling to the floor; evidence bags being filled with things I’d never seen before. I watched, craning my neck as a knife was pulled out from under my sink, bloody and dark clothing from under my floorboards and—

The realization crashed over me as Morgan pulled muddy boots out from under my bed.

Aaron was framing me.

He squeezed my wrists tighter, daring me to say something.

“Are you kidding me? Those aren't even my size,” I struggled against Aaron’s firm grip.

Morgan peeked inside the boots, seeing padding stuffed into the toes to mitigate the wrong size. His glare was almost as deadly as Aaron’s as he left the room to log the evidence.

“You’re sick,” I whispered harshly to Aaron under my breath.

“Maybe,” he leaned in laughing softly, his warm breath ghosting over my ear. “It really is a shame you couldn’t keep your mouth shut when I told you to,” he said, sounding regretful. “I really do like you.”

“I’m going to nail you for this—”

He shoved me harder against the wall, making me wince as the wall bit into my brow and cheekbone, “You’re going away for four murders. You’re not getting me for shit.”

The cuffs bit into my wrists as he pulled me off the wall and led me outside. Reporters were shouting over each other, cameras flashing like strobes but the noise barely registered. My mind was racing, trying to find a way out—any way out. I looked around for a familiar face.

Miller.

Miller, please.

She refused to even look my way.

Aaron matched my wobbly steps, following at a measured pace. His presence was so heavy at my back. How could I have let this happen?

Just as we reached a patrol car, he leaned in again. His voice was low and calm, with such malice behind it that it sent another wave of nausea through me.

“You’ll call me,” he stated.

I jerked against his grip.

“Like hell I will.”

He only chuckled, like I was telling him a god damn joke.

“You will. When you get tired of rotting in a cell. When you realize no one else can help you—you'll call me.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze over my shoulder, challenging his domineering stance.

“I’d be happy to reopen an investigation,” he continued, feigning nonchalance. “Get you exonerated. Clear your name,” he paused, his voice shifting. Almost affectionately he cooed in my ear, the venom so much more pronounced without the robotic tin of the modulator, “But you’ll owe me.”

His words settled over me like poison.

“You’d work for me,” he murmured, tilting his head. “You’d go where I tell you. Do what I tell you.”

I swallowed hard, my jaw clenched and tense.

“You’d be free,” he promised, eyes shimmering with something dark. “And I’ll own you,” he smiled sweetly. Aaron opened the car door, hand on my head as he guided me in roughly. “Plus,” he pouted, mouth so close that I felt his lips skim my ear as he bent over and looked at me through the still open door, “you’ll miss me so much, little mouse, I just know it.”

He slammed the door shut.

I barely registered the car starting. I didn't even register Detective Miller getting in the front passenger seat, flipping down the visor and looking at me through the mirror.

All I could hear was his voice echoing in my head.

-

Aaron POV

Aaron watched the patrol car drive away.

Would they call him? Maybe not today. Maybe not even this year or the next.

But Aaron was a patient man and he always got what he wanted.

-

Some extra art:

[haytan]

WILDFLOWER | G.A

inspired by billie eilish's wildflower. I think you can already predict that it's very angst. I cried writing this and I love it even more because of it.

𓍼 WORD COUNT: 3390

𓍼 SUMMARY: after listening to Two People on Good Riddance tour something invades you, like a fever.

𓍼 WARNINGS: angst, good ending...

good riddance had been out for a few months now, yet you still remembered the nights when gracie came home late from the studio. it might have seemed like a bad thing, but she always found a way to make it up to you—small surprises, late-night apologies that always ended with her between your legs—so, in the end, it was never really that bad.

one of the things you admired most about her was her honesty, especially when it came to her feelings. while working on the album, she never let you forget how much she loved you, how important your relationship was, and how those lyrics were nothing more than echoes of old wounds.

more than anyone, you understood what this album meant to her. it wasn’t just a way to express everything she had been through, but the first project that was truly hers, a piece of her heart laid bare. and you had been there for every part of it.

before love ever crossed your mind, you and gracie were just friends. and you had the luck—or maybe the curse—of knowing her ex-boyfriend, of watching them grow together and, eventually, fall apart.

it should have been easy to let time wash it all away, to accept that the past was nothing more than that. you had promised yourself it wouldn’t matter anymore. you had promised gracie, too.

but then two people started playing.

and when gracie sang that one specific line—

"and you know, you know every inch of my body"

that was when the tears started falling, before you could even think about stopping them. that was the night you started seeing him in the back of your mind again when you started feeling like you were burning alive.

but you knew she didn't mean to hurt you.

so you kept it to yourself.

…

the next morning, usually filled with kisses and silly conversations, is ruined by a tension that settles between you like something unspoken—thick and heavy. the air inside the apartment feels too still, as if it’s holding its breath, waiting for one of you to break the silence.

gracie leans against the sink, absentmindedly stirring her tea, though you’re not even sure if she actually intends to drink it. her fingers tap a slow rhythm against the ceramic mug, eyes fixed on some distant point.

you sit on a stool by the counter, arms crossed, so close yet so far away. the hum of the fridge, the faint ticking of the clock on the wall—everything sounds too loud in the midst of the silence between you.

"are you really not going to talk to me?" gracie finally says, her voice quieter than usual but heavy with frustration.

you exhale through your nose, hearing your own heartbeat echo inside your head. "i don’t know what you want me to say."

"i want you to say whatever it is that’s bothering you."

you shake your head, staring at a spot on the floor. "it’s nothing, gracie."

she laughs, but there’s no humor in it. "liar. you shut down the moment we got home. you barely looked at me all night. just tell me what’s going on!"

"i already told you—i’m fine."

"no, you’re not." she leans forward slightly, exasperated. "and i’m tired of pretending i don’t notice when you’re upset just because you refuse to talk to me."

your chest tightens. part of you knows she’s right. but another part—the one that’s been burning since last night, since that damn song and the way it made something ugly take root inside you—wants to resist.

you run your hands through your hair, a habit stolen from her. "maybe i just don’t want to talk about it, okay?"

gracie shakes her head. "god, why do you always do this? why do you always push me away when something’s wrong?"

"because i don’t want to fight with you!" you snap, your voice rising as your patience wears thin. "i don’t want to ruin the morning or… or make things weird before your show!"

gracie exhales sharply, setting her mug down on the counter harder than she intended. "and you think not talking makes everything better? because right now, it just feels like you’re shutting me out."

you press your fingers against your forehead, breathing heavily. "i just need time, okay?"

"time for what?" her voice wavers now, a trace of hurt seeping in. "for me to stop asking? for me to just sit here and pretend i don’t see that you’re upset?"

"for me to figure out how to talk without sounding like an idiot!"

that makes her pause. the tension between you crackles in the air, the silence stretching too long.

gracie swallows, the sound making you shiver.

"you know what? forget it," she says, turning back to the sink and picking up her tea.

you close your eyes for a moment, inhaling deeply. "gracie—"

"no, i get it." she cuts you off, taking a long sip. "you don’t want to talk. fine."

gracie turns back to you, searching your face for some sign of regret, but she finds nothing but confusion.

"in the end, i’m always the only one trying to fix things," she says before walking away, the sound of her heavy footsteps echoing as she climbs the stairs.

you stay there, sitting on the stool, staring at the empty space where gracie stood just seconds ago.

your fingers grip the edge of the counter, and you let out a shaky breath, frustration still pulsing beneath your skin. this wasn’t how you wanted the morning to go. this wasn’t how you wanted things to be before her show.

but now it’s done.

you rub your face, trying to clear your thoughts. but everything feels blurred, tangled—a mess of emotions you don’t know how to unravel.

the apartment suddenly feels too small. the air inside it, too heavy.

you need to get out.

standing up quickly, you grab a sweatshirt draped over a chair and shove your keys into your pocket. the soft click of the door unlocking echoes through the apartment, but there’s no sound from upstairs. no attempt to stop you from leaving.

a part of you wishes there was.

you walk down the stairs slowly, hands buried in your pockets, with no real destination in mind. you just keep moving.

the cold morning air hits you the moment you step outside, and an immediate urge to cry swells inside you. your nose starts to sting, your eyes well up, and before you know it, those words are replaying in your head again.

"and you know, you know every inch of my body."

you know she loves you. you should let this go, shouldn’t you? but he lingers, always there, in the back of your mind.

last night, when gracie wrapped her arms around you, kissed the nape of your neck, and told you she loved you, you wanted to turn around, hold her tighter, tell her you loved her more, and start a silly argument over it.

but every time she touched you, all you could think about was how he felt.

had gracie ever looked at you and seen him? in the dark of the bedroom, between kisses and whispered promises, had a part of him ever slipped into her mind?

and if, just for a moment, she had wished it was him instead of you?

you try to push the thought away, try to hold onto the certainties gracie gives you—the way she reaches for your hand without thinking, the way her eyes light up when she talks about you, the i love yous that sound so real.

but doubt creeps in, spreading like a loose thread unraveling everything.

what if they’re not?

what if, deep down, you’re only here because he’s not?

the thought tightens in your chest. you swallow hard and keep walking, unfamiliar streets closing in around you.

but nothing feels as endless or inescapable as the maze inside your own mind.

…

the lights dim, and the crowd erupts into cheers. the air is electric, pulsing with anticipation, and gracie feels it thrumming through her veins. she grips the microphone tightly, fingers trembling just slightly, but she forces herself to take a deep breath. this is her moment—her show. no matter what happened this morning, she needs to push through.

but she knows better than to think she can just shut it out.

as she steps onto the stage, her eyes scan the audience, moving quickly over the sea of faces. the adrenaline in her chest spikes as she catches sight of you.

standing near the back, hands buried in your pockets, shoulders drawn tight, looking at her like you’re not sure whether you want to be here or not.

the moment stretches between you, thick with words left unsaid.

gracie knows that for months she has been exposing you to these painful memories embedded in her own songs. but she also knows that they are past pains, without weight or meaning, and she expected you to know that too. if something was wrong, you would tell her. wouldn't you? but as she stands there, watching you from the stage, doubt grips her chest.

did i cross the line?

abrams swallows hard, forcing herself to keep moving, to wave at the fans screaming her name, to smile like she’s okay. but her mind is already somewhere else, stuck in the heaviness of this morning, the way you looked at her, the sound of the door clicking shut behind you as you left.

she drags in another breath, stepping up to the mic as the opening chords of the first song hum through the speakers. the setlist is the same as always, but tonight, everything feels different. she wonders if you can feel it too, if the weight pressing down on her is pressing down on you as well.

and then the next song starts.

the one that ruined everything last night.

the crowd sings along, voices blending with hers. her gaze, however, is locked on yours. she sings the line without hesitation, without breaking, watching the way your jaw clenches, your eyes darkening just slightly. she wonders if you can tell that she’s looking at you. if you can hear what she’s trying to say through the words that once meant something else.

i didn’t mean to hurt you.

it’s just a song. it’s just a song.

but that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?

the song ends, the moment passes, and yet, the weight lingers. the rest of the show blurs together—flashes of movement, chords, applause—but that moment stays lodged in her ribs, burning like something she doesn’t know how to name.

by the time the final song fades, the crowd’s cheers ring in her ears, and gracie barely remembers getting through it. sweat clings to her skin as she steps backstage, her heart still pounding too fast, and she doesn’t know if it’s from the performance or the way you looked at her.

she doesn’t have time to figure it out before she hears movement behind her.

turning slowly, she finds you standing there, just a few feet away.

you’re still wearing that same guarded expression, the one that makes something in her ache, but there’s something else beneath it now. something hesitant. something like regret.

she wants to say something, anything—but what is there to say?

where were you?

are you okay?

i’m sorry?

but before she can choose the perfect false words, you take the first step. "we should talk… at home."

"yeah, definitely," she says almost automatically.

you hold each other’s gaze for a moment, both fidgeting with your hands—shared habits.

the ride home is silent. the radio plays some random melody, but neither of you really listens. gracie keeps her hands on her thighs, fingers restless, resisting the urge to reach out. she doesn’t know if it would be welcomed. if she still can.

on the other side, you stare out the window, your hand so close to hers. close enough that if one of you just…

but no one moves.

back home, the silence is just as heavy. gracie drops her bag on the counter but doesn’t step away, fingers gripping the marble as if she needs something solid to hold onto.

this time, there are no distractions. just the two of you and the space between you.

"can we talk now?" gracie asks, her voice low.

"yeah," you answer hesitant. but it takes a moment before you can actually speak.

gracie’s breath seems caught in her chest as she waits, and you hate it—hate how uncertainty spreads across her features, like she’s bracing for something bad. but the truth is, you don’t even know how to put what you’re feeling into words.

you run your tongue over your dry lips before finally saying:

"that song last night, two people… it really fucked me up."

gracie blinks a few times, surprised by the raw honesty in your voice. she swallows hard before responding.

"i didn’t…" she pauses, the words dying before they fully form. "i didn’t mean for it to hurt you."

"i know." you squeeze your fingers, letting out a heavy sigh. "but it did."

gracie nods slowly, eyes fixed on you, unsure of where to step. "you never said anything before. about the song, about…" she hesitates. "him."

"because i thought i was fine," you admit, your voice coming out rougher than you intended. "i thought i had let it go. but hearing it—hearing you sing it—just brought everything back, and i hated it. i hated that it still gets to me."

gracie stays silent for a moment, her gaze locked on you like she’s searching for the right thing to say. then, in a hesitant, almost resigned tone, she asks:

"do you want me to stop singing it?"

do you want that?

"because if you do, i will."

"of course not," you say, shaking your head. "that’s not the point, gracie."

"then what is the point?"

"i don’t fucking know!" tears start streaming down your face, and suddenly, you’ve never felt more exposed than now. "i’m sorry…" you bring your hands up to your face, as if trying to hide somehow.

gracie doesn’t think. she just moves.

before she can second-guess herself, she closes the space between you, wrapping her arms around your trembling frame. you tense at first, your body stiff against hers, but then, slowly, you sink into it.

your hands clutch the fabric of her jacket, desperate for something to hold onto, something solid in the middle of everything unraveling inside you.

gracie presses her face into your hair, eyes squeezing shut. "hey," she whispers, voice barely steady. "it’s okay. you don’t have to be sorry."

but you shake your head against her shoulder, fingers tightening. "i hate this," you choke out. "i hate feeling like this. like i’m stuck. like i—" your breath catches, breaking apart in your throat.

gracie pulls back just enough to look at you, cradling your face in her hands, her thumbs brushing the tears from your cheeks. her gaze is searching, pained, but steady. "then don’t do it alone." she almost whispers. "let me be here. let us figure this out together."

"look at me," she continues, tilting your chin up with gentle fingers.

your breath hitches. "gracie—"

"i love you."

you swallow hard, eyes flickering between hers. "i know that you love me."

"no." her grip tightens, not to hold you in place, but to make you feel her, to feel the weight of what she’s saying. she looks at you like she’s searching for something deeper, something that words alone can’t reach. "i don’t want you to just know. i need you to feel it. i need you to feel it in every vein in your body, how much i want you, how much i love you, y/n."

your chest tightens, throat burning with unshed tears.

"you’re my baby, my girl, my fucking adorable, sweet princess," she breathes, her forehead resting against yours. "i’d give you the whole damn universe if you asked me. and i’m sorry for not noticing how hard this has been for you."

"you don’t have to do anything," you shake your head. "it’s not your responsibility. it’s not your fault."

gracie lets out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, brushing a stray tear from your cheek with her thumb. "i’m your girlfriend, of course it’s my responsibility. but it’s not just that—i want to. i want to be here. i want to hold this with you."

you let out a shaky breath, your forehead still pressed against hers. the warmth of her hands, the closeness of her body, it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

gracie watches you, waiting, giving you space even as she holds you close. there’s no rush, no expectation. just her, just this moment, just the steady rhythm of her breathing mixing with yours.

"i don’t know how to stop feeling like this," you admit, voice barely above a whisper.

"you don’t have to figure it out all at once. we’ll take it one step at a time. no pressure, no rush. just us."

you close your eyes for a moment, letting yourself lean into her, feeling the warmth of her presence wrap around you like something safe, something solid.

then, after a beat, you whisper, "say it again."

gracie pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, her lips curving into a soft, knowing smile. "i love you."

you shake your head. "no. the whole thing."

her hands tighten around your face, eyes dark and unwavering as she speaks again, voice like a vow:

"i don’t want you to just know how much i love you. i need you to feel it. in every breath, every touch, every part of you. you’re my baby, my girl, my sweet, adorable princess. and i’d give you the universe if you asked me."

tears slip silently down your cheeks, but this time, they don’t feel heavy. it’s love, because of love.

gracie catches one with her thumb, her smile turning just a little teasing, a little mischievous. "and i’m never singing two people again unless you say it’s okay."

you let out a breathy, tearful laugh, shoving her shoulder lightly. "i never said that."

she grins, eyes crinkling, before she leans in and presses the softest, most deliberate kiss to your lips. like a promise. like a beginning.

gracie doesn’t pull away right away. she lingers her lips barely brushing yours, memorizing the shape of you, like she’s making sure you feel every ounce of her love in that kiss. when she finally does part from you, it’s only far enough to rest her forehead against yours again, her breath mingling with yours in the small space between you.

"you okay?"

you nod, a little shy now, a little overwhelmed but in a way that doesn’t hurt as much anymore.

she smiles, thumbs still tracing light patterns on your cheeks before one hand slips down, lacing her fingers with yours. "come here," she says, giving your hand the gentlest tug.

abrams leads you to the couch, pulling you down with her, and before you can even think, she’s tucking you against her side, wrapping you up in warmth. it’s so easy, so effortless—the way your body finds its place against hers, the way her arm fits snugly around your waist, like you were always meant to be here.

"do you wanna talk more?" she asks after a moment, her voice soft. "or do you just wanna stay like this for a while?"

you don’t answer right away. instead, you shift, pressing your face into the curve of her neck, breathing her in. she smells like vanilla and something distinctly her, something comforting.

"this," you murmur against her skin. "just this."

gracie hums, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. "okay, baby. just this."

and so you stay there, tangled together in the quiet, her fingers trailing lazy patterns along your back, your hands resting against her chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of her breathing.

it’s not perfect. there’s still a lot to talk about, a lot to work through. but for now, in this moment, in her arms, you feel safe.

and that’s enough.

guys…

thanks for reading <3

back to nav

[tackytigerfic]

Writer interview game

Thank you to my pals @arminaa8, @citrusses, @garagepaperback, @houndsinhades, @sorrybutblog, @sweet-s0rr0w, @wholahoop for tagging me - as always i'm deeply late to the party, due to an anxious few weeks/horridly busy work month! so love being tagged in these things though, i appreciate you all and loved reading yours.

how many works do you have on ao3? 69 😏 under tacky and 2 under BrassTacks (the account I set up when I was going to migrate all my fics over to a new name for some reason)

what's your total ao3 word count? 679,422 (nervous laughter) (also this is just the tacky account)

your top 5 stories by kudos? (a clear indication that kudos count means fuck all imo, three of the five of these are very much not my best imo - but which three?!)

If It Takes All Night (E, 11k)

A Lick and a Promise (E, 55k)

Modern Love (E, 62k)

And One To Play (E, 22k)

Through the Window, Clear Skies (M, 1.4k)

do you respond to comments? I used to reply to all, then i fell hugely behind with Modern Love, and then life got exceptionally busy and for ages it was either reply to comments or write new fics. i am currently working my way through comments on my new long fic though - really trying to catch up, albeit slowly.

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? People might say my MCD fic Last Offices. I would say The Quiver of a Heartstring.

what's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? First Watch, imo - i think they really had to work for their happy ending, and also it's a double Drarry happy ending

do you write crossovers? I have a rough idea for an F1 crossover based on the Grosjean fiery crash/coming back wrong trope

have you ever received hate on a fic? a few times, that stuff doesn't really bother me though. personal unpleasantnesses are much harder to deal with but luckily don't happen often.

do you write smut? yes i do! it's something i've been actively working on improving, in fact. my most recent fic Standing in the Way is probably my best (though the sex scene at the end of First Watch was the one I found most satisfying in terms of the resolution of the fic)

have you ever had a fic stolen? yes, had a few put on that AI voice-recorded site recently.

have you ever had a fic translated? yes, a few - always a great honour as i see translation as an art in itself

have you ever co-written a fic before? yes! and it was very fun. Body Electric with @shealwaysreads and the Dreaming Skies Dronarry fics with @sweet-s0rr0w

what's your all-time favorite ship? look i've been reading drarry since around 2002 so...

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? Dudley with a magical baby/forced marriage/drarry on the run after Muggles find out about magic. MoD Harry who keeps dying but not for good having to go retrieve Draco from death. Draco going through the Veil to get Sirius back. Vicar Harry that I started years ago and would probably need a full rewrite. Caravan park worker Draco in a holiday camp in France. Seer Ron. I have lots. Though I do hope to finish them at some point!

what are your writing strengths? probably immediacy of emotions/ a strong visual style?

what are your writing weaknesses? sloppiness, sameiness, trying to be concise but just making it dull. getting discouraged at never being as good as the writers i really admire.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i... don't really have many? if someone in the story speaks a foreign language and doesn't speak english then I'd find a native speaker to help me translate their dialogue. I would never write an accent/dialect phonetically a la JKR though (RIP Fleur and Hagrid, you deserved better)

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? F1!! I have two WIPs, a Maxiel non-racing AU where Daniel owns an organic farm shop and Max is a finance bro who makes friends with him and joins his 11-a-side amateur footie team and they hook up on a stag do while dressed as mariokart characters, and a Galex fic with Vicar!George.

what's your favorite fic you've ever written? First Watch! I think it's a really good fic (relative to my writing i mean), it does exactly what i hoped it would, and the people who like it seem to really genuinely love it, which is the best feeling. Also I do love the Voldemort-Wins trope and we don't have a huge amount in Drarry so I'm happy I wrote one.

Since I'm so late I'm not sure who's done this already (will try a few F1 pals too in case this hasn't reached you yet) @beloved-child-of-the-house @boxboxlewis @disarmd @elskanellis @epitomereally @faiell @kendra-vendetta @maesterchill @magicalrocketships @powerful-owl @saxamophone @skeptiquewrites

[satyricplotter]

time lapse (you're always at the same place, looking the same)

pairing: tim drake x reader (kept gn, one use of they pronoun) word count: 2,804 words lol rating: gen notes: i finished writing this five minutes ago and im not gonna edit it :p i also wanted to make this WAY angstier which... i might stlll do... if i ever continue this... anyway, title from this song by miss never married but divorced three times kim taeyeon. used this map for the metro, and this map for the districts.

while working a case, tim runs into an old ex. not that he notices.

.

tim can sense the approach before the hand wraps around the back of the only other chair available. he doesn't look up —vainly hopes you're only here to grab the chair and pull it toward one of the very empty tables. who knows? maybe you just need an odd number of chairs to feel comfortable.

of course, he is not so lucky. you clear your throat, call his attention.

"hello, stranger," you say, voice wavering at the end.

he looks up, resigned to lose a few more minutes of his precious time. it's not your fault that tim's feeling so irritated right now. sleepless night after sleepless night pouring over this case have dragged him out to this café at a monstrous hour of the morning because he couldn't stand staring at the four walls of his bedroom knowing he's been getting nowhere. he's not getting anywhere here either, but at least the brew's better.

really, any other time, tim might've entertained it. straightened and smiled charmingly, gestured for you to sit, paid for a treat on top of the coffee you're carrying. you look very sweet and nervous—white-knuckling the back of the chair, smile straining but firm—which he likes. easy to unnerve, but with a spine. just his type.

not today, though.

"what is it?" he says, eyes flickering back to his computer screen. just polite enough not to get a scalding latte thrown on him. he does not need third degree burns right now. he's close enough to calling it quits and committing some murder as is.

even as the silence stretches, you don't leave. tim is not feigning disinterest—he is disinterested, he just wants you to leave, so he looks up again, eyebrow raised. you're staring at him, unreadable expression in your face. and the longer you look at him, the more something pricks at the back of his neck. an uneasy feeling washes over him.

then you grin. broad and amused. tim blinks, dumbfounded. what? he was just gearing up for those burns and now you're grinning?

"hey," you say, voice way lighter than before. maybe you take rejection super well? "can i sit here?"

of course not. tim sighs, rubs the bridge of his nose.

well, whatever. he can commend perseverance. maybe a little distraction won't hurt. he can always leave.

"sure," he says, gesturing to the chair. "just be quiet."

"you got it."

you make true with your promise. the table's big enough that you can sit across him, pull out your own laptop, and work in silence without bothering him, and as soon as you get in the groove of things, it's as though you're all alone in this café. tim's not so lucky. if you had cast a spell on him, it would not be quite as effective as your silent, unbothered presence is at distracting him. the fact that the case's not moving at all—no matter where he prowls, searches, spies—is not helping. after an hour of fruitless pondering and texting steph and duke (monitoring the switch in the patrols, more like), he gets up to grab another americano. whatever. it's cold outside.

you pay him no mind, only nodding when he asks you to watch over his stuff.

it's a little annoying, actually.

he studies you as he waits at the counter for his name to be called. that same sense of unease pokes at him, a thread waiting to be pulled to unravel… what, exactly? certainly what he is feeling now is a sense of recognition, but where has he seen you exactly? he tries to picture you in the places he frequents and fails miserably. then maybe he hasn't seen you in the flesh, but elsewhere… photos? just now he was going through the victim's family archive. again he fails to place you.

the victim is a 26 year old, white male doing a masters in arboriculture and urban forestry. he'd been working on mercey island to study the degradation of a specific type of tree around the sewage treatment plant. had taken line 1 on angelo and mysteriously wasn't on the train when it got to arena. police had determined the subject had gotten off in bolland to catch the ferry and slipped in the banks. (why would he even take the ferry? the connection with line 5 was two stations away and it would've taken him straight into newtown, a few blocks away from his apartment instead of going all the way round to rogers basin and then what? catching a cab? paying triple fare? c'mon. some of us aren't stupid.)

so the common sense explanation was they'd killed this guy to shut him up about something. the issue was what he'd found out and who had killed him for it. almost everybody in the family agreed with this. steph was of the opinion the guy had not really found anything, but he'd gotten close enough. he and barbara thought he'd managed to hide something given the general paranoia he'd exhibited in the cctv vids from his last few hours alive, but where he'd put it was far beyond him. even if he hadn't, the people who'd killed him certainly believed he had and it was a grave enough offense to warrant a rush job on this guy's murder. a visit to ivy was par for the course in flora related cases, but she'd refused to lend them a hand and so tim was drawing blanks on the hows, the whys and the where.

until you. a possible connection.

he looks at you again. his parents had been pretty important wall street brokers. your coat is tailored. your phone's seems like a recent acquisition.

maybe.

he settles down in his seat with his steaming cup and slides a raspberry croissant over to you with a smile. you stop typing, arch an eyebrow at him.

"a sorry for being rude earlier," he says, charmingly. raises his cup with a little laugh. "not a morning bird!"

you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, eyes twinkling in amusement. "is that so?"

tim nudges the pastry closer to you. "will you forgive me?"

your smile unfurls lazily and a little bit cocky as you take the croissant quite deliberately without touching him. "we shall see."

(kinda hot, honestly.

okay, focus.)

"are you an early bird?" he asks.

"mm, not quite," you say, peeling off the wrapper. tim knows it's still warm from having carried it over, but by the way it flops a little under your fingers, it must be from the last batch of yesterday's pastries. well, he would've bought you a new one if they had any.

he tries again. "so you've stayed up all night? you don't look it."

"you do," you say, popping a bite of the pastry in your mouth. a little bit of the raspberry jam sticks to your cheek. tim grabs his mug so his fingers he can't reach out to wipe it. what can he say. big fan of hygiene, him.

"big nights at work," he says, hiding a yawn behind his hand. "are you working overtime at your… job?" an embarrassed smile, well-practiced. "sorry, i don't actually know what you do."

"of course you don't," you say, simply. "i haven't told you."

tim's fingers tighten on the mug. "well, i am asking. in case it wasn't obvious."

you munch on another piece. the jam is still there. "why do you wanna know?"

right. why does he want to know? it wouldn't take that long to track you down and doxx you if he wanted to. would probably be easier. he could do it in his sleep, if that time were ever to come.

a man is dead, tim, he reminds himself. play nice.

"well, how am i supposed to pick you up after work if i don't know if you're working overtime?" he says, faux smoothly.

that shocks a laugh at out of you, and tim drinks only to hide the satisfaction of getting a hit.

"cute," you say, giving him a once over. "but i've got a boyfriend."

that's news. tim doesn't feel disappointed. not really. it's just another door shut in his face. he'll have to find another way in.

he shrugs. "that's a shame."

"well, don't play demure now," you laugh. "what are you working on? you've been staring the hell out of that screen."

tim smiles sheepishly. "do i look as stuck as i am?"

"little bit," you admit. "anything i can do to help?"

bingo.

"i can't say much," he says, "because the case is technically still ongoing, but i'm helping out the mayor's office trying to draft a proposal to improve the city's urban safety measures. coming up blank because i want people to be safe, but still be able to enjoy the city without everything being gated, you know? there's only a few pleasures in gotham, after all."

you nod, thoughtfully. "that's laudable. what are you thinking?"

"thanks. the most straightforward way—and cheapest, probably—would be to install railings, hire guards around the parks—"

"they're gonna be bought off immediately, dude."

"well, yeah. and the railings are not gonna deter anyone who's willing to gamble their life on line 1 being late. or jumping over to the beach and slipping down the bank, like that guy last week."

"slipping down… oh! you mean tony!"

tim blinks, affecting surprise. "you knew the guy?"

"yeah," you say, slipping into sorrow. tim shifts in his seat. well, of course if you knew him, you'd care. dude was dead. "we went to gcu together, got in the same study group for organic chem. he used to take the train with me every thursday, got off at the same stop and he'd walk me home. didn't talk to him much after college, but it's a shame he passed."

"must've been. he seemed young," tim says.

"he was! last i heard he was doing his masters. his poor mom's devastated."

his surprise this time is genuine. "you know his mother?"

"we didn't date, if that's what you're thinking," you rush to explain. "i used to live in chinatown back then, not so far from the banks, actually—the flooding was awful back in 2016, by the way, you should do something about that—and tony loves the sea, so he'd always take the ferry back home even though it was the long way around. i think he lived in the east end back then? but the ferry station was only like three blocks away from my apartment, and sometimes i'd make the journey over to his mom's house with him—just to see what it was like, you know? see the world through his eyes. tony loved nature. he loved it despite everything steel and concrete eating it up more and more. didn't even mind that the ferry had to pass blackgate if he got to stare at the open sea, even though i damn nearly pissed my pants every time we heard the noises—sorry, i'm talking too much, aren't i?"

"no," he croaks. clears his throat. "it's not too much."

"really? you look a little pale."

tim shakes his head. "it's fine," he says. "go on."

it is fine. he'd just forgotten. forgotten this guy was human. had friends. had family. people who missed him. who would continue to miss him even after the case was closed. forgotten what he was doing this for. not to solve a puzzle, but to give the people that he'd left behind the closure they needed. and the truth. always the truth.

"anyway, so we went a few times. we'd get off by loeb bridge and stay a few hours at his mom's house, and when it was about to get dark, he'd walk me over to grayson station and i'd take the green line back home. i sent his mom a message right after i found out—she really was distraught. the insurance company is making a right mess out of things. i hear they went to check over his apartment and apparently they left no stone unturned looking for the suicide note that was never gonna be there because when they left, it looked like they'd ransacked the place. it's disrespectful, is what it is, and just so his mum can't cash in the life insurance."

"the insurance company did that?" he asks. "are you sure someone didn't just… actually ransack the place?"

"who knows." you shrug. "but his mom said she'd left the place spotless before they came in, and i trust her. maybe you should tell the mayor about that. it can't be the first stunt those guys pull."

"no, probably not," tim says absently, tapping his fingers on the table. in fact, you've probably hit the nail on the head. it cannot be the first time they do this. he checks his watch. 07:34 AM. he can squeeze in a morning visit, why not? "listen, i gotta get going. i've got a meeting across town."

"oh, yeah, no worries." you wave him away. as he shrugs on his coat and stashes his laptop in his bag, you steal one of his pens to jot down something on a napkin. you slide it over to him. "don't be a stranger."

tim grabs it and turns it over. written on it is tony's mother's name and phone number. he knows this, because he already has them on file. he looks at you askance.

you wink at him. "help her make her case."

tim blinks, then grins. "will do!"

"it was nice to catch up with you!" you yell after him as he goes, waving. tim waves back, still grinning when he hits the asphalt.

two blocks away, stephanie pulls him into an alley. "you have the devil's luck, tim, you really do."

tim grins. "you got all that?"

"yep," she says, tapping on the comms device oracle gave her to upload the recording of the conversation to her server. "can't believe you had the comms on you."

he shrugs. "was listening on your patrol, that's all."

"ha! no one's paying you to babysit, control freak." she shakes her head. "can't believe you randomly walked into a lead when we've had no luck for days—"

"heh. what can i say? it's the—"

"—and coming from your ex of all people? dude."

"—talent of the master—what?"

"what?"

"what do you mean?"

"what do i mean by what? the lead? it's obviously the insurance company—"

"no, fuck that," he says. stephanie scowls, incensed at the nonsense and the interruption. tim doesn't care, he can't care, what does she mean? "my ex?"

"yeah? back in school—oh my god, you did not notice?" stephanie scrambles to get out her phone, furiously scrolling through her gallery, and then shoves a picture underneath tim's nose. "oh, you idiot—see?"

he sees. he sure fucking sees. right there, grinning up at him is.. you. the picture is one of an outing back in… what? junior year? it's you, and tim, and steph amidst a group of other high schoolers, absolutely demolishing the manbat special at batburger. he has his arm around you. fuck.

fuck.

"tim, tim, look at me, don't hide your face in your hands—you didn't notice you were talking to your ex?"

tim groans into his palms, slides down the grimy, disgusting wall onto the grimy, disgusting floor.

that's why you were familiar. that's why the sense of unease. that's why you were nervous—

oh, no, he'd been so rude. he'd broken up with you and then you'd tried being nice when you saw him again after all these years and he had forgotten about you.

"ha, ha!" stephanie laughs. is she recording? fuck, she's recording. tim tries to push the phone away, but she's quicker. "cass, can you believe this doofus?"

"badly done," cass says. oh, they're facetiming.

tim groans again, stands up to walk away. "i gotta—i gotta apologize— i have to—"

stephanie holds him back by the scruff of the neck, which is to say, the hood of his sweatshirt. "no can't do, mister. we've got to pay a morning call to that lovely insurance company playing whack-a-mole in our crime scenes. that's why you got the mother's number right?"

"oh, no," tim says, freezing. "was it… was it obvious i didn't know? is that— do you think — do you think that's why i got—"

"do i think the fact that you did not recognize your ex in the flesh directly influence the fact that you got the victim' mom's number instead of, you know, theirs? uh, yeah. man, you're hopeless."

"yep," cass echoes.

tim slumps back down to the floor in despair.

"man," steph cackles. "i can't wait to text jay about this."

[mayxxday]

Well-Conditioned : Katsuki Bakugou

Katsuki was acting oddly. And that was underwhelming of a statement to put it because he was all over the place. Fidgeting, crackling, and irritation were through the roof. Katsuki was barely in his seat even. Bouncing his leg, he couldn't help but feel like he did something wrong. Why else, wouldn’t you kiss his cheek as you always did whenever he did something for you?

Katsuki sucked ass when it came to talking love. But it wasn’t that he didn’t show it through his actions. Softened gaze dripping honey each time he wiped his sweat palms on his pants before cupping your cheeks. There was no way he’s gonna get the sticky vile flammable on you—his precious. 

Katsuki showed his love when he snatched your backpack off your shoulder, throwing it over his while he dragged you out of the class. He earned himself a sickly sweet kiss on his cheek, showing that you acknowledged his actions and their meaning. It wasn’t an ‘I love you,’ but that’s what anyone but them would say.

Katsuki wasn’t big on grand gestures of love either but he made do with little trinkets and stickers he bought because ‘he thought of you’. And you like it that way. Or at least that’s what he inferred when you would jump into his arms, kissing all over his face.

He surely couldn’t write about his love, he tried that crap and ended up charring his desk black. But he packed you bentos whenever you were to travel back home from the UA dorms. He made sure to put in extra effort and make the fanciest dishes in case your parents were to see the food and judge him off it ( a good potential husband?). Before you would have seen the inside contents or noticed a lacking love note he should have written to you, he would have his arm tugged down, his precious on her toes, to press a big smooch to his cheek. 

Katsuki was more than gentlemanly for you, he was your boyfriend, so, of course, he tied your shoelaces for you (why do you still use the bunny ears method, is his excuse), draping his jacket over your legs whenever you wore skirts, all because he knew you liked to manspread worse than him. He carries pads and hair ties in his bag, but which boyfriend wouldn’t? He holds your heels with a grumpy frown, holding your waist to ensure you didn’t trip in his shoes because you thought you could handle being in heels all day. 

Katsuki did all this not for praise or compliment. No, he wasn’t obligated to do these either, but he did it because that’s what a good boyfriend would do for you. That however didn’t mean he didn’t appreciate or relish the kisses he received each time he showed his love through his actions. 

So what was different today? When he draped his jacket around your shoulder today, why didn’t he get his kiss? And he knows you noticed it, turning your head to him offer your sweet smile, before returning back to your conversation with Mina. 

THAT’S IT? Katsuki was confused, he had even leaned in to receive his daily dose of kiss, instead of awkwardly standing back straight noticing his instinct. Was he desperate? No. Was he needy? Maybe. Why can’t a man get his share of kisses?

Staring at you annoyed he waited for you to notice. 

BUT YOU NEVER DID.  

He even huffed thrice, each time only receiving a distracted rub on his thigh while you gossiped with Mina. Gosh, he wanted to explode her right now. When he finally got over his petty subtle hints he just grabbed your face to face him. 

"How long will it take ya' to kiss me, brat?” 

Katsuki was easy though. Maybe not for everyone, but his little doll had him wrapped around her finger. When you just smiled innocently at him, pecking his lips without a question. The beast was finally appeased. 

“Thank you for the jacket, ‘Suki”

Goddamn, this woman really had conditioned him to seek her kisses without a clue in her pretty head.

likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated >.<

please lemme know if you wanna be added to my taglist. my inbox is open for any requests too if you guys might have any.

[pynkhues]

What is your favourite aspect of Gabrielle's character? Are there any scenes or dialogues you most want them to adapt in Season 3?

I love that she's unavailable to others. I love that she's selfish, I love that she's a survivor, with no interest in being anything more than that, I love that the second she gets the chance to live a life that's only her own, she takes it, and that as a character, she chooses to exist in her own interiority.

I've mentioned it before on here, but there's this really recurring theme in the books of these vampies wanting to be known and understood by others, to be seen in ways that might not always be the truthful version of themselves, but somehow never stops being something honest too.

Gabrielle fundamentally doesn't need or want that as a character, and it really sets her apart to me. She doesn't ever ask to be understood, to be known, to be seen, she only ever wants to live a life that belongs to her. I don't think there are many characters like that in the series, but I actually don't think there are many characters like that in general. We tend to imbue characters with our own need for connection, no matter how twisted up or arm's-lengthed or badly-motivated, but Gabrielle truly can lie down at the hearth within herself, stoke her own fire and be enough for herself.

Is that learnt? Did she claw her way inside herself to try and keep what she could in an abusive marriage, to fill the space of too-many dead children, to survive a life that told her she was never more than her parents' money and a womb? Or was she born that way? I don't know! That's what I love about her character. Every time she's given a voice, she uses it to tell us that her life, her interiority, her self is none of our business, and in an age (and a series!) that lives and dies on oversharing, I just think that's neat.

There are so many scenes that I want from the book - I want her madcap rescue of Lestat and Louis at the end of it all, I want her and Armand facing off, I want her teaching Nicki how to hunt (and oh, I want it juxtaposed with her never having taught Lestat how to read, and Armand telling Lestat that nobody has ever loved either of them enough to teach them anything - education as an act of love, my beloved), but I think more than anything, I want her monologue about childbirth after the wolfkilling.

I love that scene, and it's incredible writing from Anne, but the comparison of Lestat killing the wolves to Gabrielle's experience of being in labour, of birth and death being ever connected to her (and maybe Lestat too), of this idea of being utterly alone in acts of creation and destruction, and knowing that no one can ever bridge that divide - - it's a scene of all time for me, and I hope the show delivers.