#when my wrists are too fucky

[bones-n-bookles]

Why did my coworker call me handsome twice today

[blrblob]

my wrist has been bugging me for two days now and its not enough to be truly impeding, but i do notice it like every 5 minutes whenever i move my hand wrong.

the only upside is that its my left hand (non-dominant), cuz it would have been so much worse if not.

[niceboyeds]

okay but Eddie’s face when you show him a nude you’ve taken for the first time? you cannot tell me he wouldn’t be so flustered from seeing you pose seductively in lingerie you picked out just for him.

18+ MDNI

“do you like it, baby? i thought black was your favorite color?” you tease, seeing his face redden at the sight of you in the photo.

“i— fuck i love it. i love it. you look so fucking good.” he stumbles out, eyes still roaming the polaroid that he holds oh-so carefully in his hands.

“oh good. i was worried the photo wouldn’t do that set justice.”

“it uh… it most certainly does.” he gives an encouraging nod, looking back and forth between you and the picture.

“well that’s kinda too bad. i mean, i wore it over here just in case so you could really see it. but if the picture is perfect then i suppose it’s not necessary.”

you continue to tease, pulling your shirt down to confirm that the lingerie is underneath your clothes.

seeing the black strap of the bra is all he needs to set the polaroid down and make his way over to you. you could feel just how hard he was through his jeans as he collided with you.

“you better fuck me better than you’ll fuck yourself to my nude later, Munson.”

“oh baby, you’re so much better than my hand.”

he rips off your shirt and jeans, leaving you in the black lace, before stripping himself down completely naked. you go to help remove your bra and panties but he instead reaches to pin your hands above your head.

“leave it on. god i mean, look at you?! fuck i could cum just at the sight of you like this.”

“yeah? you like seeing me pinned underneath you in nothing but a couple thin pieces of lace? you better prove it.”

with one hand still holding your wrists, he uses the other to pull your thong to the side and guide his cock into your wet hole.

he pushes in slowly at first, both of you moaning at the feeling after waiting what felt like an eternity. in actuality it was maybe 10 minutes, but the wetness that pooled in your panties begs to differ.

“fuck Eddie!” you whine out, feeling him bottom out inside of you and craving more friction. “please move.”

“so funny how the one who did all the teasing is now the one begging for more.” he smirks, looking down at the mess you’re making on him.

you start to grind your hips against him, urging him to move but he says strong. moving his head down to your chest, he licks your nipple through the mesh lace bra. the feeling makes you shudder, but still needing more.

“Eddie! please fuck me!” you moan out, feeling his cock pulsing inside of you. and with that last plea, he does. he fucks you hard.

his mouth continues to move up and down your chest and neck, leaving marks everywhere they linger. his strokes are hard and fast as he brings his free hand back down to your aching cunt.

using his fingers to hold your panties out of the way, he rubs his thumb against your sensitive clit. he rubs harder and faster as his strokes become more sloppy, a tell-tale sign that he’s close but wants you to finish first.

you can feel yourself approaching your climax, it’s growing more and more intense as he continues to fuck you harder than he has before.

“shit Eds! i’m so close!”

“cum for me doll, show me how much you love it when i fuck you in your little panties and bra.” you moan loudly at his words, nearly forgetting complete that this all started because of the photo you gave him.

but with one final pump, you finally reach your orgasm. he follows behind with a few more strokes, letting his warm cum soak your dripping pussy.

he removes his cock from you and releases your wrists from his grasp. you feel your thong get placed back to cover you up before you start to drift off to sleep.

he crawls up beside you on the bed, holding you close and his fingers roam your body softly as if to soothe you.

with a yawn you cuddle into him more, whispering to him that you’ll make sure to take more photos for him. and you will certainly have to if it means he’ll keep fucking you like that.

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 41: Stuck In Limbo

TW

This chapter :D It hurts :D It's really sad and kinda fucky. I don't technically have any trigger warnings for it, besides making sure you have tissues on hand. I'm, again, so sorry for my transgressions. I am evil. I know. It…kinda gets better from here, promise. :D

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The space around you was bright white. You were floating on a blank canvas ready and begging to be colored to life. 

Your head felt light, no ill thoughts currently gracing your mind. You tried to figure out where you were within this unknown light void, turning your head too and fro in hopes to get an answer. The void extended as far as your eyes could perceive. You attempted to call out but no words left. 

Lifting your arms to look at yourself, there were no rope burns that you believed should be there. The step you wanted to take forward didn’t do much, but your body felt weightless yet heavy, like you were moving through mud or sludge. You took in the clothes you had on; a loose, white shirt and flowy, soft black pants. The pants contrasted heavily with the pristine white that surrounded you, yet it gave you peace that there was something that was different here. 

Out of curiosity you started in the direction in front of you, taking the movement slow since your movement was slightly hindered. You couldn’t tell the time, but walked and walked through the empty space, hoping something would appear before you. Again, you tried to call out to no avail. 

Were you dreaming? You didn’t remember a dream so void of anything in the past, but everything seemed fuzzy. 

Why did you think you had rope burns? Where did that come from earlier? Swallowing thickly, you raised a hand to rub at your chest, flinching at the sudden pain just under your collarbone. You pulled the collar of your shirt, finding the fabric stuck uncomfortably to your skin. Glancing down, you could see a raised X on your chest. It stung and itched painfully but as you touched it, it didn’t hurt. 

What?

Your eyes flitted to your wrist, cut up and dark, dark bruises staring back. Rolling your wrists, it hurt, however, like your chest, it didn’t hurt as you touched the wounds. It confused you, questions spinning in your mind.

Come on . A voice rang around you, whipping your head around to find where it came from. Help me get her up there. 

Turning around, you came face to face with a black door. It appeared out of thin air in silence, but…the voice was coming from within. You’ve heard the voice before, it was familiar, yet you couldn’t place the name or the face. 

Looking over your shoulder, you questioned if the void was safer – if it would protect you. Yet…something inside told you that it wouldn’t, that whatever was beyond the door was better than being here. Safer .

Taking a deep breath, you reached for the door handle and pushed it open, coming face to face with a second void, this one pitch black. 

Yeah, let me get the x-rays, I’m going to get an MRI too so we don’t need to move her later.  

You stepped inside, peering around curiously, and an unseen force slammed the door shut behind you. 

“Hello?” You called out, surprised to find you could talk. “Anyone?” 

Biting the bullet, you took another step, hoping for a change, anything – but whatever you considered the floor was gone and you were falling. You screamed, sharp pain in your sides, face, chest, and soreness through your limbs creeped up quickly, only to be soothed by a numb sensation washing from head to toe. 

I gave her some pain meds and antibiotics. Another voice started. When will they get here? 

Unsure, I just called that we have her in a bed but they could still be listening to Wonwoo and Seokmin. That…Yeah, that sounded like Jihoon’s voice. 

The falling feeling stopped, now simply floating aimlessly in the dark space. 

She has a lot of injuries. Definitely a concussion, her heart is beating a little weird too. Broke ribs, internal bruising probably. She had some water in her lungs too. Let alone anything else we can’t see along with that branding. That sounded like Seonghwa’s voice now that you thought about it, laced with concern. 

You focused on his words for a moment, and everything hit you like a truck. 

Kihyun, Monsta X, and the torture they put you through. It was vivid like the first time it happened. You swore you felt someone’s hand on your hand, holding it gently, and you wished you could pull away and hide. 

I won’t know the real extent until Mouse wakes up. That is the part that is worrying me more. 

I don’t think she will be okay. Jihoon had sighed from what you heard. Look at her, Seonghwa. I’ll be surprised if she is anywhere close to the same when she wakes up. 

Enough of that. Just focus on being there for her when she wakes up. His voice was further away and the sound of a door opening followed. Leave her alone for a bit. We have food here. 

But-

Doctor’s orders.

Dude, you don’t even have a PhD. 

I basically do at this point, but hush, come on. 

You felt the grip on your hand loosen and fade away, a sigh of relief leaving you. The feeling was…uncomfortable. You didn’t want anyone to touch you right now. 

At least you had confirmed you were safe, hopefully your mind wasn’t playing any tricks on you about that. You probably hadn’t been out long, maybe a few hours, and they had given you some medicine. The question you had was why weren’t you waking physically? If they were actually there and you were listening, conscious in your mind, shouldn’t you be awake? 

“Maybe to let me heal.” You answered yourself out loud, relaxing in the vacant space. 

You couldn’t tell if you were facing in the right direction, though you weren’t sure there was a correct direction. There was nothingness all around you, a numb feeling from whatever medicine they pushed through you. You wondered when you’d wake up. How long would your body need? 

Yes, you could rationalize here in the in-between space, you could tell yourself you wouldn’t change, but the reality could be much different once your eyes open. Day to day might be horribly different. That left a foul taste in your mouth. 

You heard heavy footfall, a shout from someone and the door slamming open loudly. There were many voices surrounding you, someone grabbed your hand tightly and a head rested near your shoulder. 

Oh, my baby. The sob in Jeonghan’s voice was heartbreaking, but your skin crawled at his touch. 

Someone else brushed some hair back from your face and you flinched in the void. We are here, Mouse… That shaky voice was Joshua’s. 

Why isn’t she waking up? You think that was Jun but his voice wasn’t that close. 

I have no answer for that, only some guesses. Seonghwa’s voice got close and there was the beep of a machine or two. She was tortured, starved for a few days, and dehydrated. Shock could be a good reason, self preservation to get her energy and strength back. That’s the medical thoughts. 

Medical? Do you have some other thoughts? Jun didn’t sound happy. 

Someone cleared their throat. Spiritually, she could be in her own Limbo. That was Mingyu, voice rough. 

You sound ridiculous, Gyu. 

He…isn’t though. Seonghwa sighed. I’m not saying you have to believe it, but if her heart stopped at any point, some say the person questions whether to come back.

But her heart is beating now . 

It doesn’t matter. Mine stopped and started again. Mingyu continued. I...I got to pick. I chose to stay. We might need to let her…pick. 

Staring into the darkness, you took a deep breath and closed your eyes. 

Had your heart stopped earlier? You had no clue if it did, but there was a chance after Kihyun pumped epinephrine through. You remembered how fast your heart raced and it slowed so quickly before you passed out. Thinking about it, the chance could be a strong yes… 

But…you thought going through the door earlier into this space was your decision to want to come back. You were hearing your family as your physical body laid unconscious wherever you were taken to. 

That meant something, right? 

It meant you wanted to wake up…

Right? 

New rule because you all are way too many here. Three to visit each. There was a chorus of complaints flying around. Unlike your warehouse, I do open this place to people in need of free medical care.  

Then why not transfer her to us instead? Seungcheol asked, sounding tired and concerned. 

You guessed Seonghwa sighed. You and I both know that isn’t a good idea. If something was to happen, heavens forbid, your team might not be able to handle it professionally.

Clearing his throat, it sounded like Minghao spoke next. Cheol…It’s okay. I agree with him on this… 

You all can visit any time, I’ll keep the back unlocked but no groups bigger than three. I need to be able to violently push you out of the way if anything happens. 

That is so unfair. Jeonghan sniffled, the grip on your hand tightening. 

It is unfair, but she won’t recover any faster with all of your hovering. I’ll have a guard on her twenty-four seven with you here or not. Yunho, Yeosang, and I will be no more than fifty feet away in the other room most times. Seonghwa continued. Plus, SVT isn’t going to be the only ones that would like to see her. 

Give them, like, half an hour. Yeosang advocated somewhere in the room. 

There was a pause before Seonghwa reluctantly agreed, stepping out of the room to leave you with your family. 

How sure are you that it was them? Minghao asked, to who you didn’t know yet. 

I’m fifty percent sure, but I don’t have any way of confirming it until Mouse wakes up and tells us. Wonwoo sighed and a warmth was present beside your leg and you felt the bed dip as if he sat down. Whenever she wakes up. 

Someone sat on the bed opposite of him and the claustrophobia panic settled in your chest. Everyone was too close. You couldn’t push them away if you wanted to. The once comforting presence they had when close was replaced with the overwhelming need to be alone, away from everyone – far away from everyone. 

Then we wait. Seungkwan said reassuringly, confident even. When she wakes up, hopefully we will have an answer. For now, we just pray she wakes up soon and that she remembers who did this. We just need to be here when she wakes up.

Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seungcheol were the first three to stay under Seonghwa’s new rule. The rest said goodbye but said they would, in fact, be drawing straws for who comes in next to kick them out, along with the other groups getting a turn. 

They were silent for a good while, the only thing you were able to hear was the occasional sniffle and a sigh. Jeonghan still held your hand tightly and Joshua, you believed, was resting his head next to your other arm. His hair always felt different from Jeonghan’s. It still left that icky feeling in your stomach. 

I- Seungcheol started but groaned. I should have given her that tracking thing we talked about or something like that. It could have prevented- 

Jeonghan cut him off. You didn’t now, none of us knew this would happen. 

Still- 

No, Cheol. It happened, okay? Don’t go around blaming yourself like Seokmin did, it isn’t going to change anything in the past. 

What he said. Joshua sounded exhausted, voice muffled. We just need to take steps forward.  

Another bout of silence came before a groan and a sharp inhale was heard, along with Cheol speaking.

Fuck- This sucks. He sounded like he started crying. I’m sorry, Mouse- Fuck! I- We should have found you sooner. I’ll kill them, whoever they are, for them. I promise this will be made right. 

Why did Seungcheol crying pull something in your chest? Why did your heart feel heavy? 

He tried to keep himself quiet, the sound muffled but he choked out a breath. The space where Joshua’s head was growing cold, probably moving to comfort the leader. Soon, all three were crying. Tears were felt wetting the skin of your hand, the one Jeonghan was holding. Subconsciously, tears welled up in your eyes, floating off your cheeks and into the ether out of sight.

“I just want to wake up.” You pleaded the unknown, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Why won’t you let me?”

I don’t think I can stop crying . Seungcheol gasped, clearing his throat. I- We are a mess- 

I am so tired and have no energy to cry but shit, I can’t stop crying. Joshua signed, clearing his throat. I just want her to come home.  

She will come home soon…  

You wiped your face, signing heavily. 

There was nothing you could do to fix the situation. You didn’t know how to wake up or help yourself to begin with. Nothing made a lot of sense at the moment. Your attempts to find your footing didn’t find any solid place to stand or lay, leaving you suspended in the air. 

You didn’t enjoy the unknown, not that anyone really did, but this was another level of unknown that was harder to traverse. How long would you need to contemplate in the void before you were given a chance to decide your fate? What was there even to contemplate in the first place? 

She was only gone for a few days and I miss hearing her talk. I miss her smile. Joshua spoke softly. I miss talking to her about anything. 

Seungcheol hummed. This is going to sound a little weird, but I miss her cooking. Everything was thought out, homemade, and like she genuinely wanted to cook.  

I miss curling up on the couch and just being close to her. She is so…comforting. Jeonghan’s hand released yours then gently ran a hand up your arm to your shoulder. She is so gentle. A calm presence. I’m scared she will be so different later on when awake. 

Trauma changed people. We just need to support her through the changes. Minghao’s voice piqued your interest, not hearing the door open of anything else really. 

Are you kicking us out? Cheol huffed. 

Yeah kinda. Mingyu answered next. We won the coin toss against most of Dreamcatcher and I made food back at the penthouse. 

There was a loud, gurgly grumble heard close to your body and a stutter left Jeonghan. 

That- okay, maybe I am hungry…

Go, we’ll keep watch. Minghao sounded close, near Joshua’s side you believe. 

Someone kissed your forehead then a soft whisper from Jeonghan to tell you he’d be back soon. Someone took your hand and kissed your knuckles and the last kiss was to your cheek. That sick feeling of being touched jumped tenfold when you were kissed and you desperately tried to push it down. The nausea didn’t last long, they moved away thankfully, but you hated it. Hated that you didn’t, somehow, didn’t feel fully safe. Only Safer than what you were. It didn’t make sense.

They exchanged goodbyes and the scrapping of chairs surrounded you. 

Do you think she can hear us? The tremble that accompanied Seokmin’s voice had you focusing and trying to internally force yourself to wake up. 

I’d like to believe so. Minghao hummed. Even if she couldn’t, I’d still think she could to give me a sliver of peace. 

Mingyu sighed. Once she wakes up, I’m going to cook all her favorite foods like she did for me. 

I don’t think any of us will let her raise a finger for herself for a while. Seokmin’s comment had the three snickering. 

She might go crazy if she doesn’t get to do something. 

“He isn’t wrong.” You scoffed. “I’d like to see them try to make me stay still.”

Mouse is putting up one hell of a fight in there. 

Of course she is, she is a fighter! Mingyu huffed. And when she wakes up, we can tell her that she is a strong person. Mouse’ll feel like she lost all confidence and will feel really weak. We gotta hype her up. 

One of them took a deep breath before a long, wobbly sigh followed. You felt the air on your arm and shivered in the void. 

Wonwoo is getting a note for an emergency leave of absence from work, but…She might have to quit. I don’t want to make that decision for her but the people above me are starting to ask too many questions. Seokmin groaned . And I have to go back, but I told Cheol that I am gonna quit too. There is no way I can stay there with all the questions and rumors. 

Minghao clicked his tongue. Maybe it's for the best. Whoever did this could be vindictive enough to expose us and you both should get out of there. I never liked the idea to begin with. 

I spoke to Jongho earlier. Mingyu hummed and you felt a pinkie link with yours. He said we need to tear apart her apartment and find this chicken pot pie recipe she has from her grandma. He rambled that she made it when needing comfort or during special occasions. 

Didn’t she make it for Christmas? 

You sighed and laughed, smiling at nothing. “Of course that little shit would remember that to tell them. 

Have either one of you told her what happened before you joined SVT? The question from Minghao caught your interest. 

Last week she asked and we talked . Seokmin answered. Why? 

I dunno. I thought telling her would let her know we’ve all had some sort of trauma. That we understand that moving forward isn’t easy sometimes. 

Mingyu snorted. Okay, dude, some of your stories are insane though. I was just a gambler that was really good at card counting. 

You spend six months in jail, scammed other inmates with your card counting, and got the shit kicked out of you. There was an unamused tone in Seokmin’s voice. 

Seven months in jail and a five-thousand dollar fine, thank you very much. Oh! And I’m banned from ten casinos worldwide. I’m the only one in this group with a federal record and was on probation. 

Congrats, you were a prison bitch. 

Nothing wrong with that. It was stupid how proud Mingyu sounded, but he was one of your idiots so… Out of the three of us, Hao, yours is the most complex. 

I won’t compare our stories, we all have had different experiences with life. Minghao tried to justify but the silence that followed had him scoffing. Okay, shut up with your expressions. 

Yeah, can’t compare mr. ‘I’m a trained assassin’. Sure. Mingyu snarked but chuckled either way. Truly you are the drama movie life here. 

Him and Jun. 

For two cry babies that could barely breathe earlier, you both sure yap a lot. 

Don’t act like we didn’t see you silently crying in the corner. 

“You all argue like children.” This was a nice change from the tears you guessed. 

They shared a laugh, a warm, fuzzy feeling flooding your heart.

Come on, tell Mouse your story, or do we need to leave the room to give you some privacy? Seokmin snorted his words out, hearing Minghao sigh in return. 

Both of you are insufferable. 

Insufferably irresistible~ Mingyu hummed. 

Maybe you should leave, both of you. Minghao cleared his throat. 

Fine, but I’m going to see if Yunho has food here. Come on, Seok. 

The pitter patter of footsteps faded and a familiar hum came from the youngest of the three. 

I’m not really sure if you can hear me… Mingyu said he kinda could when he got shot… Minghao sighed through his nose. I grew up in a place that trained children to be assassins. Think…Avengers Black Widow but not as dramatic. Though- Okay, maybe from the outside it is dramatic. 

He laughed to himself, his voice sounded closer when he spoke next. Anyways…Jun and I have similar backgrounds actually. Trained killers that really didn’t know any other way of life. It’s why I indulge a lot in the finer things now. I didn’t even know my parents because of my upbringing. It’s why Jun is also a little childish, but we understand each other decently. It’s why I’m great with a gun and fighting. It’s why I know every way in and out of a building I walk into. 

I’ve hurt many people, seen horrors I didn’t and still don’t know how to explain. Most of my scars couldn’t even compare to the ones you’d be waking up to. 

I used to be told that emotions were faulty things that hindered the job I needed to get done. If we cried, they’d punish us. If we, as children, threw tantrums, we were locked in these pitch black rooms so we could reflect on our mistakes. For so long, it was all I knew. Missions, debrief, repeat, nothing else mattered. 

He took a shallow breath, linking pinkies with you as Mingyu did earlier. 

Someone that managed me – I guess I’d call her my handler – was sweet, always trying to break the emotionless shell I was. She was an amazing cook and made me try food from all over the world. Looking back, in a lot of ways, you remind me of her. Maybe that’s why I became close with you. You both are easy to talk to, when I learned to speak for myself in her case. 

She was the one that helped me leave them. It took a while but she did it and I was…free for once. However, for a period of time, I was alone until she got out too. He chuckled quietly. I survived off ramen and rice for two weeks until she came. She said we needed to flee the country so we came here. We weren’t here long until someone came to kill us. 

“Let me guess…Jun.” You laughed. 

And that is the story of how I met one of my brothers in person- Minghao giggled. But really, he tried to kill us under orders and I knocked him the hell out. Don’t think he expected the lamp to the back of the head, gave him a decent scar under his hair. Truthfully, I can’t even place how we got him to defect so easily. 

“Maybe it was the concussion you gave him, Hao.” 

The only problem after was finding a purpose. All our lives were as I said earlier. Then…she died in an accident. She was crossing the road and a truck’s brakes stopped working and it hit her. She died instantly, thankfully she didn’t suffer, and it was the first time I cried since I was a child. Jun and I were really alone after that. We applied to jobs with no experience and we stumbled upon Seungkwan and Chan by accident. 

“Note to self, ask about Seungkwan’s background…” You snorted. 

Seungkwan took us in, no questions asked and gave us a home. We all ended up meeting Jeonghan together and worked to build up Pledis and SVT. I…it was dumb maybe, but I asked if I could continue to do as I was trained, even if it was a little bit, if needed. It was the only thing I was good at at that time. They helped me grow into the person I am today, and I’m grateful for them always supporting me and having my back. 

He gripped your hand gently in both of his, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. When you wake up, Mouse, I’d like you to learn her name, my handler, but you need to ask me once- 

Alright, loser, we gave you plenty of time to spill your guts. And we have raided their snacks. Mingyu’s voice boomed through the room, the sound of bags crunching and crackling getting closer. I left a hundred bucks so no one gets mad. 

Slowly, their conversation came secondary to the tired, lethargic feeling that crept up. Your brain was fatigued, overworked, and you let their voices ease you into full unconsciousness.

Your eyes fluttered open to the divine smell of freshly baked, warm pot pie.

Confused, you weren’t met with the dark void, but rather your childhood bedroom laying in bed with your childhood sheets. 

You barely remembered it truthfully. The furniture and all the pictures on the wall were so foreign, a distant memory, long forgotten. You weren’t even close to the same person this room reflected. This person, this girl , had very different dreams, a blood family even if it was hiding an addiction secret, and a decent amount of stability. She wanted to be a nurse to help people like her father did. 

All those dreams got crushed the day her parents died. 

“Little Bear, are-” The door to your old room opened and your breath caught in your throat, seeing your grandmother standing before you. “Oh! You’re awake, I made your favorite.” 

Staring at her, any words that were in your mind slipped into the abyss and faded away. 

She looked so full of life, smiling brightly at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Her hair was neat, make up neatly done, and her favorite wash-faded, fuchsia apron wrapped around her front that you got her many many years ago. 

“Aren’t you hungry, Little Bear?” She stepped over and brushed some hair over your shoulder. “You haven’t eaten in so long, you must be. You are looking a little thin.” 

“I’m-” Swallowing thickly, you continued to take her in, seeing her for the first time since she passed away. “How-” 

“Come on, I’ll explain downstairs.” Your grandmother took your hand and gently got you up, leading you out of the room. 

Your home was the same as you vaguely remembered, homey and orderly. Your mother never left a mess, a busy body needing to fulfill her stay at home wife role. The floral scent with mild hints of cinnamon was nostalgic to say the least. Mom always loved making common buns…Dad’s favorite treat… 

“Are-” 

“It’s complicated, Little Bear.” She started, bringing you into the kitchen. “You and I don’t have a whole lot of time together. I wanted you to myself for a little while before they returned.” 

“I don’t understand, Gigi. How am I seeing you?” You sat down on a stool by the kitchen island, trying to wrap your head around everything. 

“Because you are here to choose, Y/N. You need to choose what you want.” She patted your cheek gently. “But you already knew that, sweetie.” 

“This doesn’t make any sense. Aren’t you supposed to make me want to stay?” 

“Now why would I do that? You have a home waiting for you out there.” She busied herself with getting the food from the oven, placing them on the counter to cool. “I’m here to see you and only you, not lead you to a place you don’t want to be. You don’t wanna be here, Little Bear. You have your whole life ahead of you.” 

“Are mom and dad-” 

“They will be here a little later.” She hummed, sliding a ramekin over to you with a fork. “They are the ones you need to fight against.” 

Eyeing her signature dish, you deflated, letting tears rim your eyes. “I miss you, Gigi. Nothing has been the same without you.” 

Lifting your head, you watched her come to your side and pull you into a hug, kissing your cheeks. “I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this to happen, but it’s too soon. You don’t deserve to be here.” 

She sat down beside you and for a while, you rambled on about your life, what happened and how things have turned out. You told her all about your idiot plan of breaking into a warehouse but how it led you to an amazing (fucked up) group of people that you love. She gave you a high five when you told her you didn’t have one but two significant others and laughed when you told her how you ended up with each of them. 

Gigi ended up leading you into the living room and sat you down on the couch, kissing your forehead. She took a seat beside you and booped your nose, smiling all the while grabbing the remote. Furrowing your brow, you went to voice why she was going to turn on the TV, but a harsh gust of air whirlwinded you into a movie theater, the big screen staring back at you.

“I remember when you first joined me in the kitchen to help me cook. You were about four and a half and you cried your eyes out until I got that step stool for you to stand on.” 

The screen came to life with your standing beside her, kneading dough for biscuits that she was making for a small family gathering. You were all giggly and smiling, flour covering your shirt and cheeks. Gigi stood beside you, hands on her hips and she shook her head. She said something about you needing a thorough bath later and you squealed with joy. She got you a circular cookie cutter, helping you cut and shape each ball and placing them on a baking sheet. 

“And I’m so glad that your love for cooking never stopped as you got older.” 

The scene faded to you standing in SVT’s kitchen, laughing at the absolute mess Vernon made of a container of ricotta cheese. 

He, wanting to help and learn something to cook, asked if he could be your pseudo sous chef to make the multiple pans of lasagna. You gave him the first easy task of mixing the ricotta in a bowl with parmesan and mozzarella cheese to make a perfect blended layer in your dinner. Vernon went to dump the tubs of ricotta into the bowl but the container slipped from his hand and splattered all over the floor. 

He looked like a deer in headlights, mouth agape and he stared down at the mess he caused. You were going to pee yourself from how hard you were laughing. 

Seungkwan had rushed in from down the hall as you screamed, gasping for air. He too stared at the mess, disbelief written all over his face, before helping you clean everything up. He grumbled that the cheese got everywhere, but laughed when Vernon continued to apologize. 

“And I’m glad you’ve found other people that you care about and love.” 

Your second to last 99 line meet up at your apartment flashed on the screen. Games, movies, and a lot of drinking. You laughed and enjoyed the night despite the downfall that was happening around you. They cheered you up and made you feel safe at that moment. 

“Those SVT boys are waiting for you. You’ve found yourself a nice family, Little Bear. Though, you’ve seemed to have gotten into some trouble recently.”

You peered over to her and sighed, sinking into your seat. “I know. They are good people and they make me happy…Me getting hurt…I don’t blame them for that.”

She reached over and placed her hand on yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “And you shouldn’t but will you be able to handle the reality of waking up?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Sweetie, you know what I mean.” Gigi looked you in the eyes before glancing to your joined hands and that skin crawling uncomfortability creeped up once more. 

You flinched your hand back, leaning away from her. 

Another gust of wind whipped you back into your living room. Looking around, your grandmother was standing at the front window, peeking past the curtains then rushed to you, grabbing your shoulders. 

“You need to wake up, Y/N. Don’t let them tell you otherwise, do you understand me?” She was a little frantic, giving you a shake so she knew you were paying attention. “I love you, Little Bear. It was so good to see you after so long-” 

“Y/N, we’re home!” The crystal clear ring of your mother’s voice was heart stopping. 

Right before you, your grandmother was gone. You looked around but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Stepping into the living room, your mother smiled brightly, placing her worn but well loved purse down on the coffee table. She took your hands and pulled you to your feet, taking you in from head to toe. She cupped your cheeks and swiped the stray tear that you didn’t know fell away. You heard the door open again and your father came into view, dressed in his police uniform. 

“It’s good to see you back home, Y/N.” Your mother said, stroking your cheek with her thumb. “I missed you, Sweet Pea.” 

“Look at you,” The joy and astonishment in your father’s tone had you holding your breath. “My little girl is all grown up. I never thought I’d see the day.” 

“Come, we need to eat dinner, we need to talk! There is so much we need to catch up on. You have to tell us how life has been. I bet everything has been great-” Your mother pulled at your hand, and her words had you tugging out of her grip. 

“Great? Are you kidding?” Frowning, you stared at both of them. “For so long, nothing was remotely okay. You both died and no one in the family wanted me!”

“But- But look at you now!” She waved you off, motioning you over. “Aside from the little mishap here, you are doing great! But…we miss you, Sweet Pea. You should stay. Stay right where you belong with us.” 

Your father stepped close, placing an opened hand on your upper arm. “You shouldn’t leave us, Y/N. We could all be a family again, just like you’ve wanted.” He tried to gently push you into the kitchen but you resisted, moving into the middle of the living room. 

“No, we can’t do that more. I…I don’t want that anymore.” You shook your head, trying to collect your thoughts. “Both of you chose addiction over your own child! You are dead and I’m laying in some clinic bed wanting to go back to the people I call my family now!” 

“But they aren’t your family, Y/N. They aren’t blood. Look what they let happen to you!” Your mother rushed towards you, turning you around to come face to face with a long mirror. 

Your shirt was gone but your chest was covered, able to see every cut, bruise, scabbing skin, and the branding staring back. Your heart beat oddly, like it skipped a beat, and the heaviness settled in your chest that was felt in your throat. Shaking off the fluttering feeling in your chest, you turned back to them and the pure white void surrounded you, both of your parents dressed in white while you were in black.

“Baby, just come with us. You won’t have to be in pain when you wake up. You can be with your grandma too!” Your mother begged, hugging your father’s arm. “Forever, Y/N. You could be with us forever. You don’t have to hurt anymore.” 

“I-” Frantically, you looked around, anxious in the bright space, needing a way to escape. “I want to go home – going with you, that isn’t home anymore. That stopped being home the day you left me.” 

Taking a step back, you felt that same flutter in your chest, gasping for air to ease it. 

“They want me,” You forced out a breath, tears in the corner of your eyes. “SVT wants me, ATZ wants me, DC wants me, so many people want me to wake up. They’ve wiped my tears, they’ve brought me genuine happiness, and they’ve never judged me for being myself. They’ve made me remember what familial love is with you gone and I’m not going to break their hearts like you broke mine.” 

“We never meant to hurt you, Y/N.” Your father held your wife, looking remorseful. 

“But you did and somewhere along the way I forgave you, and I need to get back to them. I need to wake up, mom, dad…” Approaching your parents, you pulled them into your arms and hugged them tightly. “I love you both for bringing me into this world, but I love them more for saving me from myself.” 

“You…You have grown up into an amazing woman, Sweet Pea.” Your mother and father kissed your cheeks, tears running down their faces. “I couldn’t be more proud of you.” 

“I don’t wanna see you go.” Your father wiping his head, sighing. “But…your grandmother is right…you aren’t meant to be here. Be happy with them…” 

“I will, and I am.” Parting them from, you turned around, facing the familiar black door, watching it open and beckoning you inside. 

“Go one, I think they are waiting for you.”

Looking over your shoulder, you gave them a sad smile. “I love both of you…and I’m sorry…” 

You gave them a wave, whispering a goodbye as you stepped through the door, letting the darkness consume you.

…fuck up- I don’t want us to get caught. Yunho sighed, I snuck you in to be nice but if Seonghwa sees or hears us, I’m screwed. 

Then be quiet, idiot. Mingi snickered. 

You felt more…lucid, or what you thought was lucid. 

Well, you didn’t have to bring us in here. Wooyoung teased and the sound of a slap followed. Ow, hey! 

None of you left him or Yeosang alone to get us in here. Gahyeon sounded close, sighing and someone, probably her, fixed your blanket. 

Ah…99 line were all there, not just ATZ. 

She’s been out for five days. There was worry and exhaustion in Chan’s voice when he spoke up opposite of Gahyeon. None of the guys and I have had a moment of good rest in days. 

You’ve been out…for five days? How is that possible? It couldn’t have been that long?

She just needs time, Chan. Gahyeon spoke again. We don’t know what demons she is fighting in there.  

While you were still semiconscious, you weren’t floating or falling in the void. Any attempt to look around was only met with darkness, you couldn’t see yourself. There was a chill on your skin, a twinge of pain in each hair from what you guessed was IVs. Pain subtly radiated through your limbs, the brand on your chest itched excruciatingly, but your arms were heavy, probably from no proper movement in days. Your mouth was horribly dry and your throat hurt when you breathed in through your nose. 

Things were starting to come back to you, the reality of the whole situation, not something conjured up by your head. 

You were waking up – or, you were getting there. 

“She looks so peaceful despite everything.” Yeonjun hummed to your right. “I hope the time she has spent resting will be good once she wakes up.” 

“Mingyu and Jongho found the recipe in her kitchen and keeps trying to recreate it from what he remembers from Christmas. He has had so many of us trying it.” Chan huffed, “Nothing has been close to her though. She…made it so perfect.” 

“What are you all doing here?” Jongho’s voice had the rest going quiet. “You are lucky Seonghwa is asleep right now. He texted me earlier to check on her since you two were supposed to be resting too.” 

You assumed he meant Yunho and Yeosang. 

“Did you expect anything else?” Mingi asked. 

“No, but there are a lot of you here. What if she wakes up and you all crowd her?” 

Changbin chuckled. “Then we back up.” 

“Shut up, loser.” Wooyoung scoffed. 

You took a deep breath in, swallowing dryly. 

“Guys-” Gaheyon slapped someone a few times to get their attention. 

When your eyes first opened, you grimaced at the bright light, struggling to adjust. The white ceiling stood out to you before multiple heads popped into your blurred vision. Both of your hands were grabbed and too many people were rapid fire talking at once. Someone was crying, you couldn’t tell who, they crowded closer, and you were getting overwhelmed.

You flinched away from them, inwardly with nowhere to go, and your breathing started to quicken. They were too close, not enough space to breathe. The heart monitor started to beep loudly, feeling the organ beat violently in your chest, and the sound was the tipping point to send you into a panic attack. They started to back off, giving your space, and your hands were released. There was an angry shout before Seonghwa came into your line of sight. In your panic, you didn’t realize you had ripped the IVs from your hands and you were bleeding. 

You tried to voice that you couldn’t breath, gasping for air as your hands moved frantically to convey your distress. He – thankfully – picked up on your message and grabbed an oxygen mask and blasted the air as he helped it over your head and onto your face. You weakly pushed yourself up and Yeosang hurried to raise the back of the bed for you. 

“All of you out!” Seonghwa ordered with a boom to his voice, standing before the group of your friends, all in different states of confusion and concern. “Now.” 

“Guys…come on.” Yunho’s head hung but 99 line left with tears and whispers of apologies in their wake. 

Once the door was shut firmly behind them, Seonghwa turned back towards you, eyes riddled with worry. Your breathing started to even out but your hands shook vigorously at your panic, trying to clasp them together to the best of your abilities. 

“Mouse…” Seonghwa slowly strided closer, sitting on a chair beside your bed. 

Unintentionally you flinched away from him and hugged yourself, protecting yourself weakly. He cringed at the reaction, eyes scanning over you while giving a moment of brevity before diving into what needed to be done. Squeezing your eyes shut, you breathed in through your nose and out your mouth. 

“I won’t touch you unless I really need to.” Seonghwa spoke softly, reassuring your worries. “But you will need to at least talk to me. I promise you I will not say anything to anyone if you don’t want me to, but if you plan to harm yourself in any way, I will break that promise.” 

“Can I have some water?” Your throat was screaming, hoarse and sore from how dry and unused it was. “Please.”

He was quick to get you a cup of water and straw, placing it on the small table beside your cot so there would be no touch shared. You downed it in one go, gasping at the sweet relief that flooded your throat. He took his seat once more after getting another cup just in case, sighing through his nose.

“I’ve been giving you some painkillers and antibiotics. You are probably hungry so I can get you whatever you’d like – anything you’d like. I think it’s well deserved. 

“Have I really been out for five days?” 

Seonghwa gave a small nod. “You were taken on the thirtieth. We searched all day and night. And we didn’t find you until January first. Today is the sixth and it’s-” He glanced down at his watch. “Four in the morning, Jesus Christ.” 

You glanced around the room, taking in the different cots, the multitude of locked medical cabinets, and a shiver shot down your spine. Your skin crawled, out of place and uncomfortable; it was too white, clear, pure , and it reminded you too much of your void you escaped. 

“You don’t have to give me any details, however I’ve been running around trying to figure out what has made your heartbeat a little weird when we got you here.” 

Sucking in a deep breath, you turned your attention back to him. “They…They injected a higher dose of epinephrine than what's in an epipen. I-” Dropping your gaze, you tried wrapping your head around everything. “I heard you question or whatever that my heart stopped. I remember my heart was beating really fast, like it was in my throat and ready to jump out, then it slowed down quickly and I passed out or maybe-” 

Seonghwa stopped you, holding his hand out so as to not push you further. “It’s okay. It just means I’ll want to monitor your heart a little while longer. Would it be okay to ask about the burns on your sides?” 

“Wet sponges and either a generator or something, some things are still fuzzy and my head hurts.” Your lie was weak, you simply didn’t want to relieve all of the pain right now, there was already a pit in your stomach as heavy as a boulder. 

“Yeosang, Jihoon, and I bandaged and cleaned you up the best we could. I asked Sona and a few women she trusted to do anything else since I didn’t know how comfortable you were… We could only do so much about the…branding. Once it heals, we can look into plastic surgery for you-” 

“When can I go home?” 

“Home-?” He stuttered, collecting his thoughts and nodded, this soft, caring side of him show. “If you let me examine you one more time and promise to rest, I don’t see why you couldn’t go home later today. I’ll get a portable heart monitor you could wear on your chest that is all for you as well. I need to order it though.”

Only nodding to him, Seonghwa stood and you flinched once more. “Do you just want to get this done before people show up and I’m already awake?” 

Wordlessly, you nodded for the second time and he quickly shut the privacy curtain just in case. Seonghwa took his time mainly for your sake. He touched you as little as possible and apologized each time you flinched, but overall asked you to move your limbs to show him what he needed. He did get bandages for your hands that you placed on independently. He explained the signs of a concussion; heightened agitation, lack of focus, weird eating patterns, and asked to let him know if your headache persisted longer than a few days. When you needed to stand, your knees buckled and you fell to the floor, yelping in pain. 

It took all your willpower to let him help you up. If he noticed how you tensed up despite him gripping your clothes more than you, he said nothing. He gave you plenty of space after, giving you breathing room before you attempted to stand again, holding into the bed. Seonghwa explained it was mostly from being bedridden for days and to not beat yourself up about it. 

When he was somewhat satisfied with your mobility, he further went on about wanting to change the bandage on your chest, but offered to take you to the bathroom with the mirror and walk you through the process on your own. As per…third degree burn treatment, he had been changing the sterile bandages and placing an antibiotic cream on it to not risk any infection so close to your heart. It would, sadly, take a month or two to fully heal, but he was sure it would heal without an issue as long as you cared for it. You took his offer to learn how to change the dressings for at home care, but you wanted to see how it looked… 

Seonghwa hesitated for a moment, the discomfort evident on his face, but he agreed, knowing you’d have to see it sooner or later either way. He guided you into the bathroom after gathering what was needed and stood silently in the corner of the bathroom, staring at you concerned as you unbuttoned your shirt enough to remove the bandage. 

It looked…gross to put it lightly. The skin was swollen and irritated, dry as hell around the edges of it. The brand spot itself was white with spots of brown and red, blistering too, seeing the lower layer of your skin, which looked slimy and had bile burning the back of your already sore throat. You were lucky the shirt they changed you into was button up style and you could cover a majority of it while resting here. 

As promised, Seonghwa guided you through the proper dressing procedure and cleaning, saying he’d send enough supplies for a little while home with you. He pointed to himself a lot which you watched in the mirror to guide you, answering any questions you had. 

You could already hear commotion outside as you placed the last piece of medical tape to secure the bandage. Hesitantly despite the curiosity, you rolled up the sleeves and stared at the healing handprint bruises on your forearms and upper arms.

Staring at yourself for a moment, you cowered at the memories that raced through your mind. Every moment felt fresh, you would probably feel scared and uncomfortable for a long while. Hell, you were kinda scared to shower giving the drawing you experienced. Your body ached and all your nerves were alight with anxiety. 

“Do you want me to ask them to leave?” He asked, placing the garbage in the trash. “Or-” 

“I-” You fully buttoned your shirt, sighing at your bruised face and split lip. “I want to see if I can handle it with them…” 

“Are you sure?” Glancing at him in the mirror, Seonghwa looks nervous for you. He didn’t look a smidge confident. 

“I don’t have much of a choice, Seonghwa.” Sighing again, you made sure your sleeves were fully rolled down and checked yourself one last time in the mirror.

You looked tired, one could say ragged. Someone had braided your hair so it didn’t get knotted and tangled, probably Sona. Your skin was begging for a proper shower and you wanted your coziest sweater to sleep in. Everything was going to be weak as you healed, you just hoped that you’d be able to have some normal feelings soon. 

“Let’s do this.” You whispered to yourself and moved to the door. 

You could feel Seonghwa’s looming presence behind you, that prickling anxiety giving your goosebumps. With one final breath in, you pushed the door open, tensing at the hoard of eyes full of worry and tiredness staring at you. 

Chan tried to call out to stop them, but Jeonghan, Joshua, and Seokmin rushed forward and you recoiled away from them. They were talking quickly, loud , and at least one of them was crying. They were touching your hands, arms, and someone was holding your face gently. Someone else was telling them to stop, but they argued, not that you could hear the exchange with the blood rushing past your ears. You were breathing hard again, heart beating out of your chest, trying to push them away and struggling as the rush of the members of Monsta X holding you down flooded back. You didn’t know if you were verbalizing things, your panic attack scrambling your thoughts, but your body felt like it was on fire. Your lungs burned, your skin growing flush, and you were starting to sweat.

Every fiber in your body screamed that it was in danger – you were in danger. 

Someone yelled – wait – you think you yelled, screamed . 

“Back up!” Seonghwa yelled like earlier, grabbing you and pushing you back into the bathroom. 

Your back pressed into the freezing cold tiles and you slid down to the floor. There was shouting and the door slammed with a harsh thunk, the sounds outside muffled. 

Hugging your knees, you tried to stop yourself from shaking, rocking yourself back and forth comfortingly, sucking in short breaths to regulate. The pins and needles feeling was slowly building in your hands and feet, you were lightheaded and so glad for the cool temperature in the bathroom. 

You didn’t know how long it was until the bathroom door opened next. It was much quieter, but Jongho and Sona stared down at your broken form when you looked up. You tried to look past their legs, able to see many other sets of feet in the distance still. 

“It’s okay.” You’ve never heard Sona speak so softly before. She squatted down, keeping her distance. “You can come out.” 

“Everything hurts.” You sounded congested, complaining tiredly, and she scoffed while Jongho gave a sad smile. 

“Well yeah, that’s what happens when you pull out your IVs and don’t have any pain meds and have two panic attacks. Duh.” 

Jongho looked over his shoulder and huffed, whispering his words. “Seonghwa is giving them an earful.” 

“They deserve it for being fucking stupid.” Sona rolled her eyes, clearly unhappy after learning what happened. 

Slowly you peeled yourself off the floor, huffing out in exertion. Your sides hurt, your chest itched, and you think you were hungrier under all the heightened emotions. Sona placed herself between you and the rest with Jongho trailing behind, walking out to the open medical room. 

“That was the most reckless thing you could have done, do you know that?” Seonghwa’s tone and the tearful expressions most wore was enough to know the scolding and scare they got. 

“I want to go home.” You cut Seonghwa off before he could continue and there was a mix of reactions staring back. “I want to go home now.”

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[halfbloodprill]

i LOVE your luke stuff! could you do a mean!luke x reader smut where reader is his second in command on the princess andromeda? she’s his most loyal supporter and follows him around like a lost puppy

authors note- hii! i’m super duper glad u like my stuff 🤭 and ofc! i love this request sm. i hope u enjoy <3 requests r still open ;) keep sending :)

smut under cut !!!

imagine reader who just trails after luke every where he goes. she’s there to witness all of his moods. there to witness when he grins and has a glint in his eyes from triumph. there to witness his sneer when things don’t go according to plan and there to witness his fiery anger. she saw this at its peak after percy and his two friends escaped princess andromeda in the som.

luke let out a loud scream in frustration after the realization of percy’s escape.

“god fucking damn it,” he says heatedly as he storms off from the hull of the ship to the bridge.

you trail after him in his wake.

“luke, are you okay?” you ask sweetly. you’re nervous for his answer.

he turns quickly at you after your question and answers. “Obviously fucking not. Kronos needs Percy and that fucking fleece.” He scans your face as you stare at him blankly, unable to conjure up an appropriate response to validate his frustrations and disappointment.

“ ‘m sorry luke. How can I help you?” you ask sweetly as your look up at him with your doe eyes.

“I know a few ways, princess,” luke answers with a smirk. He roughly grabs your wrists and pulls you to his quarters.

And here you end up with luke fucking into you hard and fast. Your back is arched at an impossible angle. You’re whining and drooling into the sheets. your mind is numb from the sheer force and pace he has set for you. You look over your shoulder to see luke with his shirt between his teeth, abs glistening with sweat and you feel him practically stirring your insides.

“mmm. luuuke. feels so good- you’re so deep” you croon

“Yeah that feels good,slut?” he says as he releases his shirt from his mouth’s grip. “your pussy is so right you know that? you were made to be my little cock sleeve. your only job, baby girl. just to be used by me yeah?”

you nod dumbly at his words. you really were made for him. he fit you so perfectly in your snug and warm cunt.

“oh shit your cunt is so good. you’re gonna take everything i give you right? like a good little girl?” luke groans out and your pussy clenches down on him at his words.

“nghh yes. wanna be your good girl. gonna take it. i can take it, sir” you moan back at him. Luke moans at the name you call him.

“so fucking obedient.” he reached down and runs your clit at an impossible pace, hoping to push you over that edge and pull an orgasm from you.

“come on, slut. come for me. be a good girl and cum.” and at his words you feel yourself lost to your own climax. you’re whining and moaning, body shaking from the sheer pleasure you feel.

“oh shit. that’s a good girl. you’re so good. feels so fucki- fucking tight.” You feel empty suddenly as he pulls out and pulls your waist and flips you onto your back.

you close your eyes and hum at the calming of your climax.

“you didn’t think we were done, did you? that’s the first one you little slut. you wanted to help me right? you’re gonna help me now, bitch.”

he roughly pushes back in your sopping, puffy hole in one go and you whine at the sudden intrusion. “lu-luke. pleasee- too much. i’m so sensitive,” you claim as your eyes fill with your tears. your hands go up to cover your face from the overstimulation.

“too fucking bad. lay here at take all of it,” he says as he pulls almost all the way out and roughly thrusts back in you.

“oh shittt you’re still tight as fuck. thought it would be looser since i just fucked you. your hole is just too small and tight for me. yeah? that’s okay baby girl. i’ll just get you niceee and loose.” luke continues his pace.

you uncover your face and reach for his face, hinting at your desire for a kiss.

“please luke. wanna kiss you. please, sir. i’m yours,” you say quietly.

“aww my little baby. so needy for me. do you deserve it?” luke taunts you.

“yes! yesss just wanna make you cum, sir! i’ll do anything plea-please kiss me.” you whine for his affection.

he finally obeys and you indulge in a sloppy kiss. luke pulls away as he groans, close to the edge of his climax. “fuckk your cunt is too tight. i’m gonna cum. you’re gonna take my cum yeah, my little cum dump?”

you nod dumbly at his words and babble praise.

“yes yes yes!” you chant. “wanna make you feel good. take anything you give me.” at those words, luke empties himself in you. you whimper at the warmth you feel in yourself from him. your eyes fall shut and you feel a sharp sting from lukes palm.

“don’t fall asleep slut. i’ll let you have a break, we aren’t done yet. gonna paint your face in my cum next.”

[daisyvisions]

Not Part Of The Mission - (k.yh)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI), spy!au, colleagues to lovers (they bicker, but they’re not enemies), mentions of violence (i.e. fighting and killing, guns and knives mentioned) heavy kissing, slight dry humping, slight spit kink, fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex (be safe irl! this is just a fic), creampie, pet name (sweetheart)

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. Word count: 2.6K

‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. A/N: My delayed birthday entry for our resident bread boy. His current long hair reminded me again of his maverick era and I just had to write about it. Wishing nothing but the best for his bday month and their comeback!

"Who are we looking for exactly?" you impatiently ask, your hands perched on your hips.

"Well, according to the file, his name is Ji Changmin. But that's not who we're looking for right now," he replies, his eye glued to the telescope.

"Then who the hell are we looking for?"

"Can you relax? Our job is to stake out. I thought Sangyeon made that clear?"

"Yeah, but to stake out for FIVE hours?" you exclaim. Younghoon pulls away from the telescope and lets out a big sigh.

"Unless you have any other better ideas, I suggest you shut that mouth of yours, sweetheart." He looks up at you.

"Ew, I told you to stop calling me that." You wince at the nickname.

"Why? Is it doing anything for you?" His smug smile makes you want to punch him in the gut.

"In your dreams," you scoff. "Taking fifteen. Going to get some fresh air for a bit."

"Don't walk too far, alright? We were told to stay put until we get orders." Younghoon warns.

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill."

"I swear to god if anything happens to you--"

"I'll be fine, okay? Can you not watch me like a hawk for once?" Your eyebrows knit together.

"Well, sweetheart, it's not my fault you nearly got yourself screwed over the last mission. I was put on specific orders to make sure you don't go rogue again like last time."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" You stomp your foot on the ground.

Younghoon barks out a laugh. "You're so cute when you get mad. Has anyone ever told you that?"

"How did I end up getting stuck with you for this mission?" you hiss.

"Because you love me, that's why." He grins back.

You scowl at him before turning around to walk out.

"Fifteen minutes, okay? If you don't come back, I'm going out to look for you." Younghoon shouts, but you flip him off in response and head out of the room.

To be honest, you're not really sure where you're heading. You just want to get out of that room for a moment before you start to lose your mind. This wasn't the kind of action you signed up for when you joined the special ops. You wanted to be out there in the field, actually putting into practice all the hours you spent training.

Since that last mission, it's as if everyone on the team is constantly watching over you like a child. It's not your fault you deviated from the plan. Sure, things became a little messy, but if it wasn't for you, you wouldn't have gotten the viable information you needed to close down the case. You shake off your thoughts and just mindlessly walk around instead.

As you walk around the abandoned building, hand gripping the gun in your pocket, you see an open window ahead of you. The view of the sun setting in front of you is incredibly breathtaking. You decide to lean your arms on the ledge and look out for a moment and just get lost in its beautiful orange hues.

You can't remember the last time you saw a sunset as beautiful as this.You're put out of your trance as you hear footsteps behind you. You huff in annoyance and turn around.

"Younghoon... It hasn't even been fifteen minutes. Can you just give me a fucki--" You let out a loud gasp. Strong hands are gripping your wrists. It's not Younghoon, but a henchman you've seen earlier on in the mission.

You try to fight him off, but he's stronger than any of the other enemies you've ever encountered. His weight causes you to lose balance and fall to the ground. As he tries to pin you down even further, you pull out the gun from your pocket but it ends up getting swatted out of your grip.

As you try to struggle to get out of his grasp, the henchman pulls out a knife from his pocket, attempting to push it against your neck. You use all your might to push back but feel your strength quickly decreasing. You close your eyes and slowly accept your fate.

Suddenly, the weight of the henchman on top of you disappears and you hear him scream in pain. You open your eyes to see his arm stabbed by his own knife. And in a flash, you see Younghoon gripping his collar and punching him like there's no tomorrow before finally shooting him down.

Your heart pumps so fast against your chest from everything happening so quickly. Faster than anything that has ever happened to you during missions.

"Shit--" Younghoon huffs out, briefly shaking his hand from the numbing feeling of his knuckles before combing his hair back with his fingers. He immediately walks towards you, lowering himself down to hold your body upright and swinging your arm around his shoulder for support. He quickly walks you both back to the stakeout room.

As soon as he closes and locks the door, he turns around and steps forward closer to you with worry in his eyes.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?" He checks your arms, face, any sign of injury.

"N-no. I'm fine." You quietly answer, avoiding his eyes.

"Fuck-- If I had been there too late, I might've lost you." He cups your face between his hands, looking into your eyes, still breathing heavily from what happened earlier. You try your best at this moment not to blush, especially with his face being this close to yours.

His hands lower to your waist, still holding you tight to make sure you're alright.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asks again. You slowly nod in response, as your mind is distracted from the way his hands feel on your body. Your heart's still pumping fast but now for a different reason.

Your heart aches the moment he pulls away and lets go of your waist, wanting to feel his warmth again seeping through your clothes. You impulsively reach out to grab his collar, making him turn around.

"Wha--" Younghoon doesn't even have the time to react properly as soon as you pull him close and press your lips against his. You quickly pull back, both your eyes widening at what just happened.

"Oh my god." You panic.

"I'm sorry. I just-- I don't know why I just did that-- oh my god, I'm so stupid, I'm so sor--"

"Shut up--" Younghoon grabs your waist to pull you close, quickly leaning forward to kiss you again. You deepen the kiss further as you feel your arms around his neck, making him groan in the process.

You both move your lips in sync with one another as you run your fingers through his hair and his arms start slowly embracing you. He pulls away from your lips quickly to catch his breath before diving back in to snake his tongue inside your mouth.

You let out a desperate whine feeling the wet muscle intertwining with yours, encouraging Younghoon to keep on going. He quickly walks you back till your ass hits the ledge of the desk, deepening his kiss even further as you slightly lean backwards.

His hands suddenly grip your hips and lift you up to make you sit. You both hastily swat anything that was previously on the table before he lays you down on the surface. Your legs immediately wrapping around his torso like a magnet, pulling his body closer to yours. Both of you feeling the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

His kisses start traveling to the side of your jaw, making their way down to the side of your neck. His teeth lightly graze your sensitive skin before lightly nipping and sucking, the sensation making you whimper from its pleasurable pain. He licks and kisses the sensitive part to soothe the sting for a moment before going back to kissing you on the lips once again.

Damn, he's a really good kisser, you think to yourself. His lips molding into yours so perfectly, its pillow-like texture making you take his lower lip between your teeth and nipping them. Younghoon lets out a very deep moan, the vibrations coursing throughout your body.

He presses his body onto yours even more, feeling his hard length pressing against your aching core. His hips start to roll as your legs try to pull him closer, making you both moan into each other's mouths from the delicious friction happening down below.

Desperate for each other, you reach to unbutton your pants and lift your hips slightly so he could pull them out and toss them somewhere on the side. Younghoon then pushes you onto your back and grabs both your wrists with one hand to pin them down above your head. His other hand lightly squeezes and cups your jaw between his fingers.

"Open." he commands. "What?" you look at him with half-lidded eyes.

Without hesitation, he immediately squeezes your cheeks to open your mouth and lets his spit drop inside, making you gasp from the unexpected move. He lets go of your jaw and pushes his two fingers inside your mouth. You involuntarily suck on them before he pulls them out and shoves them beneath your underwear to rub your sensitive bud in circles.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Didn't even need my spit, huh?" he growls.

"Younghoon-- need you." You whine as your clit throbs from how fast he's rubbing you, his fingers teasingly prodding your entrance in-between.

"Where do you need me, sweetheart?"

"I-inside, pleaseee" you beg.

"Yeah? Shit, I'll give it to you soooo good." he pulls his hand away from your core, making you whine at the sudden loss of contact. He pulls your body upright, signaling you to get off the desk. The moment you stand up he spins you around and bends you over. He pushes his hips against your ass for a moment, making you feel his erection before quickly unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down to his knees.

His cock slaps against his abdomen, prominent veins protruding and his pink mushroom tip oozing precum. He tugs his member at the base, fisting it up and down for a moment before hooking a finger to your underwear and pulling it to the side.

He drags the tip of his cock between your folds, lubricating himself even further with your arousal before sticking the head inside your entrance and slowly pushing himself all the way inside. The stretch immediately has your head going numb.

Younghoon waits for a moment to feel you adjust to his size before slowly dragging out his length and pushing it all back inside. He does this until he gradually increases the pace, gripping your hips tight and pounding into you as you feel his balls slap your core rhythmically and the desk creaking under you.

Wanton moans spill out of your mouth, trying to hold onto anything you can find as Younghoon fucks you rough from behind. You start to feel the tip of his cock nudge that gummy spot inside you, making your eyes roll far back.

"Oh god! Right there!" you scream.

"So fucking tight, practically milking me dry holy shit." He increases the pace even further, pulling your hips backward with every thrust.

Just as you feel yourself slowly ascend, you both hear the buzz of your walkie-talkie that's still on the desk.

"Hello?"

"Fuck." Your eyes grow wide. The buzzing sound repeats again.

"Helloooooo?" The person on the other line calls out.

"Answer it." Younghoon grunts under his breath.

"What?" You look back at him with panic. Instead of repeating himself, he grabs the back of your hair and pulls it hard, making you moan.

"Do it." He whispers in your ear before letting go of your hair.

You reach for the walkie-talkie and try to compose yourself before pressing the button to answer.

"Y-yeah?" you croak.

"Any status report?" You hear Chanhee's voice over the line.

"No. N-no detected movement." You bite on your fist, restraining yourself from moaning as Younghoon's cock deliciously drags in and out of your cunt. His tip continuously nudging at that gummy spot.

"Shitttt." Younghoon groans from behind.

"Was that Younghoon?" Chanhee asks.

"Y-yeah, just s-stretching his legs that's all." You lie.

"Are you okay? You sound like you're crying."

"I'm fine, I'm fine, just choked on my water." You lie again. Well... sort of as you do start to feel small tear drops forming at the corners of your eyes.

"Oookkaaayyy. Well, don't forget we need to reconvene at 8 PM." Chanhee replies.

"Uh-huh." You respond, words slowly becoming incoherent as you feel your high approaching. As soon as you drop the line, Younghoon increases his pace again, and your moans start to get louder and louder.

"Shit shit shit I'm cumming!" you exclaim, a flash of white appears before your eyes as soon as you say that. You moan constantly from how hard your orgasm hit you just then. Younghoon's high follows right after, feeling your walls tighten so hard around his cock he grunts against your ear so loud. His hot white fluid exploding inside of you as his member continues to twitch uncontrollably inside.

You both try to catch your breath, chests heaving from the intensity of your orgasms. As soon as you both come down from your highs, the reality of what just happened hits both of you like a truck. You turn around to look at him, looking at each other with the widest eyes while he's still plugged into you.

"What the fuck was that?!" You both shout at the same time.

Later on in the night, as the team gathers to meet up, you and Younghoon intentionally ignore each other's gaze. Not uttering any word to one another right after he pulled out and just minding your own business, pretending nothing even happened at all. Both of you are stunned and embarrassed at what happened earlier in the stakeout room.

Chanhee notices the odd behavior between the two of you, “Are you sure you two are okay? You both look like shit. Did something happen in-”

“NO!” You and Younghoon shout at him. Everyone else including Chanhee look at both of you in confusion.

“I mean- No. Nothing major happened. Not at all. Right?” You side glance at Younghoon.

“Yeah, yeah nothing. It’s all good.” Younghoon fake coughs, trying his best not to look embarrassed remembering your moment together.

“Anyway!” Hyunjae interrupts. “Let’s get some shut eye. Same time tomorrow, same roles alright? Let’s move out.” Everyone disperses as soon as possible.

As you grab you bag and some of the equipment and head towards the van, you feel Younghoon’s figure walking beside you. He leans a little lower to get close to your ear as you walk, making sure that the next thing he’s about to say could only be heard between the two of you,

“At least now we have something to do to pass the time tomorrow huh, sweetheart?” you quickly turn your head towards him and he playfully grins at you. You swat your free hand against his chest and he barks out a laugh.

“I told you to stop calling me that!”

“But you love it anyway.”

[ghoul-foolery]

Dirty Windows | 27

Hancock x Nora - A Fallout 4 Soulmate AU

//

Fic Summary:

Hancock never thought he would find his soulmate. Once a common occurrence, soulmates turned into a bit of a rarity after the bombs dropped. It was to be expected when there was an influx of people getting shot in the face on a daily basis. So when Hancock discovered that he had a soulmate he was ecstatic; all of the people in the Commonwealth, and he was one of the lucky few.

Too bad his soulmate didn't want anything to do with him.

//

[ 1 ] <- [ 22 ] [ 23 ] [ 24 ] [ 25 ] [ 26 ] - [ 28 ]

//

TW: Violence, drug use, mentions of rape, and trafficking. While there isn't heavy details, the situation is rather grim.

//

All of the spare time leading up to the meeting was spent searching the surrounding buildings neighboring Bunker Hill. If it had a good vantage point overlooking the front gate, it was meticulously combed through for any signs of recent activity. He looked for things like spent shells, or snuffed cigarettes, anything that could indicate a watcher or perhaps a partner waiting in the wings. He found nothing, but that didn’t stop him from revisiting the derelict buildings a second time just before midnight. After all of the time put into this little project it would be a damn shame if he ended up getting sniped in Bunker Hill. That wasn’t to say he wouldn’t get sniped a little later in the evening but it was a small comfort knowing it wouldn’t happen right away.

Once the buildings were combed through, Hancock picked one that overlooked the meeting point and waited until Gerard showed up. Even in the dark, with some barely-there moonlight’s help, he was easy to spot. He had a lumbering sort of gait that meshed too easily with his messy appearance. Hancock recalled the way Gerard’s bleary glare turned into total clarity during their earlier meeting. The fucky walk was probably for show.

When Hancock finally left his vantage point and joined Gerard at the front gate, his meaty arms crossed over his too big chest and he growled, “The note said midnight.”

Hancock blinked owlishly, and hoped Gerard could see well enough as he pulled back the drooping sleeve of his shirt up along his forearm. Mottled skin, shrink-wrapped around muscle and bone. He tapped his index finger against his bare wrist.

“Sorry brother. This ol’ thing has never worked right.”

Had to make sure you didn’t bring friends, you gross fuck, he wanted to say but didn’t. Didn’t realize you trafficker types were so fucking punctual, my bad.

Plus, it was maybe 12:05. Come on. 

There was a low huff of annoyance at his antics. Then Gerard rumbled, “You bring caps? It’s gonna be a thousand up front.”

“Steep fuckin’ door fee.”

Hancock unshouldered one of the straps of his pack, then swung it around to the front. Reaching in, he withdrew the required caps. This was business. The right type of person could be a hot commodity. If their entrance fee was so steep they obviously had a very specific clientele. That, or this was the special ghoul fee. Once the caps were accepted, Gerard shouldered past him and started walking. Hancock followed at a respectable pace, and watched ol’ Gerry like a hawk. Every move that brick shithouse of a man made, Hancock followed and analyzed. The man packed a couple of weapons on his person, a pistol at his hip, a rifle resting in a holster on his back. Then there were his fists. Hancock had his sawed-off shotgun strapped to his hip, and his knife which was hidden inside the baggy denim of his jeans. It was strapped to the inside of his thigh and was only accessible if he reached down through the cut open material of his pocket. Or he could shove his hand down his pants, depending on the situation. If he was fast enough, it would do in a pinch. Regardless, he doubled-down on the idea of taking Gerard out at a distance if he could. 

Gerard weaved a deliberately confusing path through what was once downtown Boston, doubling back after turning down one block, and then making a return trip a few streets later. Hancock followed the guy through the dark in uneventful silence for nearly an hour before they reached their destination. It was some big ol’ concrete warehouse that had strong enough bones to withstand bombs, and time. It looked abandoned. The place wasn’t crawling with guards, no one was camped out on the roof, or guarding the loading dock that took up the broadside of the building. There wasn’t a single indication that someone had taken up doing business inside. They drifted through old vehicles and debris in the parking lot, circling around to the side of the building where there was a single doorway. Gerry went in, and Hancock followed.

Once the door was shut, cold light flickered on above them. The bulbs were ancient. Old enough to be humming with sound the moment that they turned on. The lighting was just bright enough to show off the structure of the room — a narrow hallway that stretched maybe 20 feet, lined with old lockers, and metal shelving — but dim enough to be mostly useless. 

Without so much as a word, Gerard suddenly lurched towards him, yanking Hancock’s shotgun from its holster. Even with his fucked up olfactory, standing in such close proximity in an enclosed space, Hancock could smell the man. It was a sour mix of booze, bile, urine. Hancock bit his tongue to keep himself from making a comment. And when his gun was tossed to the floor, just before he was pushed forward down the hall, he refrained from throwing his fist into Gerard’s face.

Bringing a gun into a trafficking den had been mostly wishful thinking on his part, and while he still had the knife the loss of the gun set him a little further on edge. The knife was accessible, but not easily, and while he was confident in his abilities the knife would take more effort, more precision, more closeness. Hancock made his way down the hall, regardless. He’d faced less favorable odds. Unless there was a swarm of armed guards on the other side of the door, the mission was still a go. As he was ushered down the hall, he tried to exude as much calm and collected vibes as possible. There was no reason for him to fret about the gun, he wasn’t going to cause any trouble, there was no need for it. There was no need to worry, and so he wasn’t. He was calm. He was relaxed. He was here to buy premium product and he would do his damn best to act like it.

When they got to the opposing door at the end of the hall, Gerry slammed a meaty fist into the old metal. It echoed cavernously, filling the hall and eliciting a series of curses from the other side. Then there was the sound of clanking, metal on metal. Gerry huffed an impatient breath. Hancock shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It felt like actual minutes before the door swung open, and the stench wafting off of Gerry only seemed to get worse the longer he was forced to bask in it. Like he could taste it. The relief Hancock felt when the door opened was short lived, however. A bit of air circulation sent the stink away, but then he got to see inside their base of operations and he felt a little sick for another reason. After a quick pat down he was ushered forward. The door was shut behind him. 

The room was big, and well lit. Off to the immediate left there was a couch, a coffee table littered with chems and booze. That was fine. That was home, basically. But then, in the middle of the room, there were a series of metal, barred cages. They were small, short. Not tall enough to stand upright in, and narrow enough that the poor soul within could barely stretch out. And each cage was separate from the other. No way to seek comfort from a neighbor in the cage next door, but 360 access to whoever came in to leer. There were seven in total, and two of them were empty. Beyond the cages there was a metal-framed twin bed tucked into the far corner. There was a naked woman on the bed, hands cuffed to the frame, ankles tied with rope and secured to prevent any kicking. There was a shining scrap of duct tape over her mouth. 

Hancock’s gut flipped. The room smelled like sex, and blood, and alcohol and chems. There was a part of him that wished he never knew that this hell hole existed. He wished he’d never had the misfortune of learning Cecil’s name. There was bliss in ignorance, freedom in being fucking oblivious. Unfortunately for the assholes running this particular shit show, Hancock was neither of those things. Not anymore. He was going to make this right. As right as he could, anyway.

“You got caps?” The guy who answered the door asked. 

There was a tinge of animosity in his tone, some kind of sneering contempt that managed to pull Hancock’s attention from the ‘merchandise’. Where he would have assumed that the tone was because he was a ghoul, actually looking at the guy painted a picture. The guy’s eyes were a little glossy, the pupils a little too big. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and his pants were undone. Stains blotted the material around his crotch and thighs, and Hancock didn’t need to stare to know what kind of stains they were. Then there was the half-chub he was sporting. Hancock’s eyes drifted to the woman on the bed. The fucker was cock-blocked by Hancock’s arrival.

“Yeah, a few,” Hancock said casually. The people in the cages were mostly limp, unmoving save for breathing. 

“There is a fee for looking and a fee for touching.”

Hancock paid both. Some of the caps he provided were pre-bagged, shit he used with the kind salesman MacCready ended up sniping. Once the fees were paid, Hancock made his approach, veering towards a cage that was closest to the door he’d come through. The woman was petite, skinny to the point of being malnourished. A curtain of tangled black hair covered her face, and Hancock reached in to move it aside. She was pretty, with sharp features, full lips and long lashes — but there were bruises. A lot of them. They blotted the skin around her eye, her mouth, her neck and arms. When Hancock reached in, her whole body contracted into a tiny ball with a wavering moan. 

Slowly, he lingered to the next cage, inspecting the next victim. The cage housed a man, bound, gagged, and looking lucid enough to glare at him murderously. With the salesmen at his back, Hancock winked at the man before his gaze shifted to the woman on the bed. She was trembling, eyes wild as she tugged and squirmed at her binds.

“That’s a new one,” Door guy said, “Hasn’t been properly broken in yet. Still got a bit of a fight in her, if you’re into that sorta thing.”

Hancock rasped, “Is that what you were doin’ when we showed up? Breakin’ her in?”

There was a low chuckle in response.

Black eyes swept over the cages again. Fuck this fucking place. Fuck these fucking people thinking they had the right to sell anyone. He had to take care to keep himself calm, to keep his breath even. It was hard not to think that the second empty cage had been meant for Nora. His soulmate could have ended up here so easily…

“So, I heard this little outfit would go hunting for something specific,” he drawled, glancing over at the two men loitering behind him. “I was told to talk to Cecil?”

“Specific - like what?”

There was already a sickening sort of anger churning in his guts. Digging for more information was only going to make it worse, but he had to ask — even if it was just for the sake of knowing if there was anyone else he needed to add to his shit list. With his back to Gerard and gross guy, Hancock made a show of shoving his hand into his pants to make a few adjustments. He reached for the hilt of his Bowie knife, and pulled it from the sheath. When the handle was tucked up along the waist of his pants he turned his back to the cage hoping his clothes were baggy enough that it would go unnoticed.

Gerard was a few feet away, his body stiff with tension as he shadowed Hancock. Gross guy had veered over to the couch and had taken a seat. He’d lit up a cigarette, and was shaking a canister of jet near his ear.

“Heard there was a vaultie running around somewhere up North. Fresh to the Commonwealth.”

“Yeah, we’ve heard. Boss isn’t here to work pricing, but it could get pretty steep depending on how you want her handled during delivery.”

Talking about delivering people like he was delivering produce. And Cecil wasn’t home. All of the waiting, all of this goddamn waiting for fucking nothing. 

Hancock was unable to keep the anger from growling out low in his throat as he rasped, “The fuck you mean he ain’t here?”

“If you wanna schedule a meeting with him, we can do that. If you ain’t interested in what we have to offer you can leave until he gets back,” Gerard replied, allowing his hand to drop to his pistol.

The asshole on the couch went still, eyes catching his partner’s movement before he went to watch Hancock who started forward. The pace was slow, casual. Just enough to hopefully be non threatening. Taking Gerard out from afar was preferable, but he was down to just the knife. Closer, he needed to be just a little closer.

“And how long will that take? By the sound of it, some asshole has been sellin’ my vaultie’s information all over the fucking place, and I’m calling dibs.” 

“He should be here sometime this afternoon or tomorrow.”

Good enough.

There was time to take care of these fuckers and clear out the folks in the cages. There was time to get these poor people someplace safe before Cecil returned. He could be lying in wait when Cecil returned.

Without breaking stride, Hancock threw his knife. The movement was fluid, a byproduct of consistent training, and muscle memory. One second the blade was tucked into the waistband of his pants and the next it was twisting in his hand, the back of the blade fitting right along his index finger — and then it was sinking into Gerry’s throat with a juicy, bloody, squelch. 

The man’s eyes bulged, and a burst of blood came from his mouth as he coughed and sputtered. It felt good shutting him up. Even in the heat of the moment, as Hancock surged towards Gerard’s crumpling body to rearm himself, it felt like victory. It felt like hanging Vic from the balcony of the State House. It felt like— a goddamn fucking baseball bat plowing into his arm as he reached for his throat-stuck knife.

Hancock recoiled, lurching back and away from Gerard’s corpse just to catch the bat in the chest. The force of the blow banished the air from his lungs, and it was Hancock’s turn to topple to the floor. His head kissed the concrete, and the bat swung again. Hancock rolled, narrowly avoiding another swing of the bat — it cracked against the ground as he surged towards Gerard’s body. Gasping for air, vision splotchy, Hancock ripped the pistol from the holster at Gerard’s waist. The bat found his ribs.

“You thought you could come in here and—“ Door guy’s voice was drowned out by gunfire. The shooting started as soon as the gun was pointed in his general direction. The first bullet sank into his shin. The second went into the meat of his upper thigh, then his gut, his chest — and the rest of the magazine missed as his baseball bat wielding assailant also fell to the ground. 

Hancock flopped to his back, stretching out beside dead Gerard, and a growing pool of blood. He could feel the sticky liquid sinking into the shoulder of his shirt, all warm and thick. He took a deep breath, and when it hitched in pain, he figured that he maybe broke a rib. With his arm curled over his aching chest, he prodded at his rib cage and instantly regretted it.

“Y-yeah, that feels broken,” he told the room, his voice weak and airy. “G-gimme a minute, kids. I’ll…” A shallow gasp, and he closed his eyes. “Just… one second…”

From all the time in the world to no time at all.

There was a feminine groan, but it didn’t belong to anyone in the room. That was his Nora, and she sounded hurt. With his eyes closed, his brows furrowed in confusion before he realized he was reaching for her, searching for some kind of comfort.

”J-John?"

"Hey, honey," he managed.. "Just... wanted t'see if you were a...wake..." Breathing was hard. Keeping his eyes open was harder.

"What happened?"

He didn’t remember answering, and he certainly didn’t remember drifting off. But he woke to the sound of something rattling, loud and urgent. His body jolted, and he groaned, tugging his bum arm against his chest. The woman on the bed was rattling her handcuffs. He wondered how long he had been out… he’d been hoping to wait for Cecil. So he could greet the fucker when he arrived. The new plan was getting everyone out of this hell hole and to Goodneighbor safely, and if he could barely fucking breathe…  

He reached through the bond again, “Nora?”

“God, John, are you okay? What happened?”

“I don’t mean to worry you…” his words were broken by strained gasps of air as he slowly pushed himself to his feet. Gerard’s puddle of blood had cooled beneath him. “But… Imma’fraid imma need some help. Sooner the better, if y’can.”

“Of course,” came the immediate response. Hancock heard Nora whispering MacCready’s name, and then the kid’s drowsy grumbling. “Tell me where you are. We’re leaving – RJ, come on. John needs help – we’re leaving right now.”

Dark eyes peered at the woman on the bed, at the man in the cage who was staring at him, they were still the only lucid people there – he couldn’t have been out for too long. Even if he had made it out of the mess without getting injured there was no way he would have been able to corral everyone through the fens by himself, not in the state they were in. He suddenly wished he would have brought Fahrenheit along. Maybe a small army. “Help‘s comin’, kids.”

In the meantime, he would start by looking for keys to the cages – his ribs screamed as he huffed a breath – and maybe a couple of stimpacks.

//

Tag/s: @takottai / @a-little-pebbl  / @yamatra / @bubblegum-bee-otch

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Forty - Still Here

“Why should I trust anything you say?” I asked. “Because I’m the only one willing to be honest with you.”

10.7k words | 40 min/1 hour read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, canon typical bad trip, death mention, unreality, hallucinations, fucky wucky stuff.

⚠ AUTHOR'S NOTE: A year. This person has been so patient that they have been waiting a year for this, while everything around me sorta fell apart. And I hope I did his character justice, because @neverdewitt created such an amazing, intriguing character that I couldn't resist fitting them into my fic the moment I knew about them. Originally, Garrett was the only OC that was going to be in Erosion, long before anyone else was due to join—because of course I needed a cryptic little shit stirrer, and who better than from one of the most creative writers I know? Doot, thank you for letting me steal your baby and for waiting for so long for this moment, I don't know where I'd be without your aid throughout the last year on the bits of fic I could do. Your patience is admirable, your creativity is absolutely transcendent beyond anything I could ever hope to make, and I'm glad I finally made something I feel can actually stand in the shadow of your character and not flinch in shame.

Also, thanks @conduiitz for the picture! I gave her a 500 word sneak peak and she made this pic in like, 47 mins lol. Maybe...you should keep your eyes out too...

The world swam. Sound dilated and then became this obnoxious ringing, my vision sorta blurred until it was nothing but blue-white hot, and for three seconds I felt like I was going to explode.

My stomach lurched, and I felt like I was falling in the same way I would when I was on the verge of sleep. That weird, heart stuttering sensation of being fully on the ground and yet feeling like it would open up from under me. I stumbled with it, falling backwards, trying to catch myself and instead feeling like my hands were weighed down with lead.

My head snapped back and hit hard flooring, sending stars into my vision that I struggled to blink away. “What the hell,” I groaned, flinching; the bright, fluorescent lights overhead did nothing for the concussion I’m sure was settling into my mind, making my vision pulse. I moved to block my face and instead nearly hit myself with that leaded feeling that hadn’t faded away—and felt way too real in my hands to just be residual of...whatever happened to me. I blinked the blurriness out of my eyes to see what the hell was caught on my hands, blood running cold when I saw what it was.

Cuffs. Big, gaudy yellow cuffs, nearly the size of my head and six times as heavy. They encased my entire hand and went well past my wrists, leaving me to struggle to pull them away without being able to bend them as I stared at my hands.

My first question, of course, was why my cast was gone—and why did my arm not hurt in its absence? But that curiosity left the moment I realized I knew the symbol on the cuffs as my vision cleared: Department of Unified Protection.

“What?” I breathed. I ignored the hammering in my head to get to my knees, blinking hard to force my eyes to focus past the pulsing in my vision’s edges. For a second, all I could see was steel, and I had that fleeting hope that there was just some weird shit going on and Brent was right there—but as my vision became clearer, I could see the cracks and pores in the wall. That wasn’t metal. That was rock.

That was concrete.

I tried turning into humidity. Tried rushing away on a pulse of water and maybe, hopefully, the cuffs would fall off—but no; they stayed on tight, and I stayed normal. I couldn’t use my powers at all. No, no—this couldn’t be right! The DUP fell years ago, what the hell was I doing in a cell?

I looked around, beginning to hyperventilate. Okay, okay. This had to be something else, right? I just needed to get it together. I tried steadying my breathing as I took in my surroundings fully; four walls, all glass, tinted to the point where I saw my reflection looking around wildly instead of anything beyond them. A platform bed and a shitty sheet, a singular pillow. There was a desk, a couple papers on them with scribbles of owls and doves and…and the Archangel symbol?

I stepped closer to the desk, tentatively, like I was scared the drawing made with a golf pencil was going to jump out of the paper and choke me to death. It was different compared to the one on Augustine’s little tracker; this one was lined and curved like the Vitruvian Man, but it was, without a doubt, the Archangel symbol. Still holding that same dodecahedron, the shine in its center now reminding me far too much of the Ray Sphere.

How…how was this here? How was I here? I felt like some animal in a cage at a zoo, left out to be ogled at from the other side of a glass I couldn’t see through. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. This couldn’t be the tar again, right? Was I having another weird hallucination? Wolfe’s notes said something about the Vermaak going insane. God, that was it, wasn’t it? I was going insane—

“Augustine escaped?”

I froze, all panic leaving with the cold rush, head on a swivel as I looked around. I was…I was the only one in the cell, so where the hell was that voice coming from? “Hello?” I tried to ask, the sound coming out like a mouse squeak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Who’s there?”

“Augustine.” The voice said, more serious this time. It floated, had this sorta airiness to it that would have calmed me in literally any other situation—but here, it was just freaking me out more. “You said she injured you. Did she escape?”

I caught a flash of something I shouldn’t have—pink. There, in the reflection of the tinted glass, was a long streak of pink…something.

Oh god. Not again. “Mom?”

I stepped closer to the glass, the image—what should have been my reflection—doing so in turn. Only it wasn’t my reflection. That wasn’t me at all. It was too tall, too fair and skinny to be me. There was no orange jumpsuit, but a cream knit cardigan over a plain green silky shirt, bright and plush long pink hair pulled up into a ponytail. I squinted, trying to make out features, and it wasn’t till I stepped closer that their face came into full view.

The pink hair was different, but that face, the sharp features and those eyes, were the same. “Y-you’re—” How was this possible? It was them. Younger, actually cognitive, but them. “You’re t-that person in the bed, back in the hospital room. Garrett.”

They didn’t respond, their eyes instead looking around the cell. “Sorry for the mess,” they said. “I don’t have much….control over any of this anymore. Not since my condition has gotten worse.”

They acted like this was a living room with old pizza boxes stacked to the roof, not…this. Whatever this was. But one thing was for sure; they were doing this. “How are you doing th—”

“You never answered my question.”

I blinked. “I—she did. Or, well, someone broke her out but we’re…we don’t know who.”

A thousand emotions crossed their face; regret, fear, some sort of dejection. “What happened to her?”

I hesitated; what do you say to someone who spent who knows how long trapped by Augustine? “She’s gone.” I decided to say, reassuring them. “My d—, Delsin Rowe and Eugene Sims dealt with her, after she—.”

“Attacked Salmon Bay again.” Their eyes fell, head slightly nodding as they swallowed whatever distaste that statement left in their mouth. They…I thought letting them know she was gone would comfort them—so why did they look so sad?

“You…” I drew off, concerned. “You heard?”

“I saw it.”

I thought they meant television. Logically, how would someone see Augustine’s assault in Washington from the other side of the country? But there was a familiar sound behind me, that grand roar of rushing water, and I turned in time to see the glass of the opposite wall shift.

The reflected imagery moved, the dark tint of the glass bubbling up until it looked like an angry sea, something far beyond the glass churning. It took me far too long to realize that I was looking at the whirlpool, my whirlpool, that I made to fight Augustine from the marina in Seattle. God, was it really that big?

“She’s going to come out,” Garrett’s voice rang. I looked back to glance at them, only to see them staring at the ground, mouth shut. The room echoed with their pained gasps of a past statement. “Augustine, she’s…I saw her free. Out in the world, a whirlpool behind her.”

“When?” Another voice, lower and more scratchy, asked.

“I don’t know,”

“I knew it would happen one day. I just…I never would have thought it would be you, Regina.”

The hairs on my neck stood up on end, and I slowly turned to look at Garrett. “How do you know my name?” I didn’t use my full name when I introduced myself to them. I never do.

Garrett inhaled deeply before looking up, blinking back tears and deciding now was the perfect time to ignore my question. “She called me Dream Eater, when she placed me here,” they said, looking through the reflection and around the cell I was in with a disgusted look on their face. “This…terrarium of a cell. One always names their favorite pets, and I wasn’t exempt from that rule.”

My brow furrowed. “This was…your cell?” I asked, looking around the bleak room. A bed, a desk, and tinted glass you could barely see through. This was it?

I knew Curdun was a prison, but jeez.

"In the end." Garrett confirmed. "She couldn't bear looking at me for what she'd done, but couldn't cut me loose. We were stuck with each other with no way out."

“Do…you mean the implant?” I asked cautiously, looking back at Garrett. I hated how much that haunted stare seemed to follow anyone I met, echoes of trauma that hovered on the crows feet of their eyes.

“In part,” Garrett confirmed. “Though there’s more, much more, to the story than what you know.”

Well, good, because I didn’t know a thing. 

But they mentioned it—the implant. Dr. Hutch was able to confirm that was the cause of all these issues. “Whatever she did to you, she did to me,” I said, taking a step closer to the glass. Garrett’s form didn’t get closer in time with my steps; did it mean they were here, with me? Or was all of this an illusion? “I—I can’t heal anymore. The tar—”

“Tar?” Garrett questioned, brow furrowing.

“She was using concrete and tar,” I continued. The words meant something to them, I had to keep pushing. “We don’t know where she got the power from, she…she was working with this new group, Archangel.” I moved over to the desk, using the heavy cuffs to stab at the chest of their symbol. “These guys. The tar made me sick, and the doctor confirmed it made you sick too. There has to be something you know about them, right?”

Garrett’s eyes met mine, the lingering wet in them making their blue glisten until it reminded me of the sea. They held my gaze for a long time, seeming to weigh my begging against some sort of hesitance in their mind as they thought deeply. “You said she was collaborating with someone?”

“They’re called Archangel.” I informed them. “We know…well, nothing about them. Nothing beyond the fact that they want D—, Delsin Rowe. What’s wrong with me? It was meant for him. Augustine was sent to find him.” Garrett’s eyes fell and they sighed deeply, and I begged once more. “You’ve gotta know something. Anything.” I pleaded.

“I don’t—”

“Please.”

Garrett closed their eyes, forcing a deep breath. Something in their resolve seemed to break, and when their head raised, they seemed weighed down by everything, like their secrets were physically pulling their shoulders till they slouched. “There’s too much you don’t know,” They repeated, stressed the fact as something in them came to a resolve. “And we don’t have very long before I lose control again. You’d make a better witness than a listener.”

A better witness? What did that mean?

I didn’t get to ask them. The fluorescent lights above flickered, and in the millisecond of dark that washed over us Garrett vanished, leaving me to stare at my wide-eyed expression.

“Wh—” my heart dropped as I sputtered, looking around. Trying to catch a glimpse of them in the reflections. “Hello?”

They were nowhere.

And I was still somehow in a Curdun Cay cell.

“No,” I choked out, stepping close enough to the glass that my breath fogged it. “No, come on! You can’t just leave me here!”

Well, it seemed they could—and did,­ as they didn’t reappear despite my begging. I waited, called out their name a few times, pleaded to be released from whatever hell this was before tears bubbled up with the frustration in my chest and I raised my cuffs to bang against the glass. “Don’t leave me here!” I screeched, hitting it again. And again. And again.

With the third hit came a subtle, sharp crunch, a crack appearing where the cuffs landed. I stared at the little chip in the tint; it…it couldn’t be that easy, right? This was a cell, one that held back a lot more powerful Conduits than me.

But it was a better alternative to staying here and crying.

“Okay,” I muttered to myself, nodding slowly. I flexed my arms—I wasn’t Brent, but maybe I didn’t need super strength. Just good aim and a decent hit. Let’s hope those 12 years of gymnastics actually paid off.

I brought my cuffed hands around like an axe to a tree, hitting the crack and cringing as the glass and metal on my hands collided, screaming their protests at the impact. But that wasn’t important. What did matter was the crack deepened, chipped away glass falling to my feet as fissures spread like spider webs.

I brought my arms back and swung again, less hesitation in the hit as I watched the cracks spread further. It was working! I kept hitting the wall with resolve, putting all my strength into every swing. The fissures grew, becoming clefts, cracks, then gaps as I slammed my hands against the glass with everything I had, the wall becoming a reflective mosaic.

I put everything, everything, into my last swing and the glass exploded, giving away into a brilliant crystalline rain. My cuffs kept their momentum and I flew forward with them, losing my balance and tumbling.

There was this weird…pull in the back of my head, like those strains I’d get during migraines when I moved wrong, and suddenly my hands were flying forward to catch me—uncuffed—landing in the shattered glass of the cell wall. I winced as it dug into my palms—my exposed palms, the right still missing its cast—before remembering I should be on high alert. I just broke out of a Curdun Cay cell. I knew nothing about the DUP save for the fact that I wasn’t really interested in confronting them. So I ignored the pain, rushing to stand and faltering once I looked around.

This…this wasn’t Curdun. It definitely tried to look like it, with concrete crawling up the walls like vines and a long DUP banner over a widely spread security system made of what had to be 18 different monitors. I would have been inclined to call it Curdun if the colorful tile I was standing on wasn’t laid in a way to say Sea 6 News, the familiar banner of the news site a large testament to the area.

How did I get here?

“I think, in her own, convoluted way,” Garrett’s voice rang out, “Augustine was truly convinced everything she did was for the greater good.” The center console of the multi-television security set-up flickered, going from DUP orange to static before Garrett formed in the pixelation, looking at me from across the room. “Despite everything, she wanted safety for Conduits. To save them from being pinned as the monsters the world claimed they were.”

I had to resist rolling my eyes. Augustine? Being benevolent? “She…she tortured Eugene Sims. She tried to wipe out the Akomish, twice. She broke your power. I don’t think that’s saving anyone,” I eventually said.

“No, it isn’t.” Garrett agreed. “But that didn’t make her conviction any less sure.”

It came in like a haze, the dim light above bending and refracting on the tile. The pulsing rose, the air shifting like it would with Dr. Sims’ video powers only somehow more…ethereal. Pristine. Like magic only a god could perform. The shimmering took shape, settling into wrinkled clothing and pained expressions until they were mere feet away from me, laying on the ground and gasping like they both just had the wind knocked out of them. “Seven years, I’ve kept them safe. Me!” Augustine gasped, “I won’t let anyone undo that. Not the government—” she winced, “Not the Army. Not you.”

This was the woman I was familiar with from the history books and old articles; a long overcoat with that emblem pasted on her arm, leathery boots to match. There were a few hairs knocked loose from her immaculate bun, but not a frayed white one was in sight. She was orderly, commanding—none of what I met in Salmon Bay.

They both fought to move from their place, him being the first to rise to an elbow. Dad. Delsin Rowe. It was him in his youth, his prime, his legacy, the white hoodie stained at the cuffs with blood that definitely wasn’t his, beanie askew. His expression…god, I haven’t seen fury like that from him before. Deep bags under his eyes, face barely flinching despite the obvious pain he was in as he tried to shift. “Seven years, all you’ve done is keep them locked up.” He growled with bared teeth like a wolf, breathing hard. “You just took away their freedom.”

Augustine managed to prop herself up and began pushing back towards a slab of concrete on the ground, leaning against it. “So tell me,” she hummed, “What would you do? Just throw open the gates at Curdun Cay station? Set them all free?”

“Is this…” I drew off, voice barely above a whisper. There was no way. “Is this what happened?” This had to be an illusion. It couldn’t be anything else. “How are you doing this?”

“You bet your ass I would,” Dad hissed, moving to his knees and trying to stand, immediately losing his balance.

“Consciousness.” Garrett responded to me, like that answered my question. But then they caught my confused glance, and elaborated. “Thought, dream, memory—that’s my power. Anything that falls between the folds of your mind is mine to play with, and I’ve kept every memory I’ve gained from those who used my power. That’s what you’re seeing here.”

A memory.

“The world hasn’t changed in the past seven years,” Augustine retorted, using the concrete to pull herself up. “Inside, the Conduits are safe. They’re alive.” She gasped out in pain, rising to her feet and staggering back a step before forcing herself to stand tall. “You turn them out, they’d all be dead inside a week.”

Dad fell again, face screwed up in pain and fury as he grit his teeth so hard it looked like they’d shatter under the bite force. That pain looked real, so intense that it somehow made me flinch, the twinge crawling around my jaw and to the back of my head, forcing me to screw my eyes shut. My head throbbed with each beat of my heart and I raised my hands to press against my temples in an effort to ward off the pain—but when I moved my hand, it was laden down with…well, something. There was a small jingle that sang in my ear and I forced my eyes open, blinking in shock when I saw…a chain?

I was suddenly there, lying on the ground just a mere yard in front of Augustine, in the place Dad was years ago as Augustine glared down at him. “So tell me,” she demanded, authority leaking back into her voice. “Who’s the savior, and who’s the monster?”

She backed away slowly as I tried to stand, feeling every ounce of whatever was trying to drag Dad down originally. Was I in his body? Or simply standing where he did?

I felt like shit. My head was throbbing, my stomach threatened to flip on itself. Bile crept up my esophagus and burned the back of my throat. What was worse was the muscle weakness—every joint in my body screamed as I tried to pull myself up. Last time I felt this ill…Dad had taken my power.

Garrett’s voice rang out again, face slowly coming into view the further away Augustine moved. “At every turn, Augustine was handed impossible choices and was expected to make the most diplomatic decision as if she wasn’t toeing the line between satan and savior.”

My knees nearly gave out under me and I forced them to straighten, breathing hard like I had jogged the stairwell all the way here instead of magically appearing on the top floor of a tower that had been torn down years ago. Garrett’s television stayed strong, the only one that illuminated the back of Augustine until she disappeared into the shadows, arms wide in challenge.

“She—” I cut off, stumbling forward slightly when my ankle refused to cooperate. I fixed myself, straightening and meeting Garrett's nonplussed gaze once more. “She wanted to keep the Conduits locked up. She was mad at D-Delsin for wanting to release them all from prison.” I looked at them vehemently. “To release you from prison. I don't see how keeping everyone locked up was an impossible decision.”

Garrett kept their mild, annoyingly all-knowing gaze on me. “It was diplomacy,” Garrett said. “The only way to make sure every Conduit in the country wouldn't be hunted for sport was to hide them away. Out of sight, out of mind—and out of reach. Somewhere the world could forget about them, and she could protect them from their wrath.”

I wasn’t sure if it was the stomach flips, the fact that I was somehow standing in as Dad, or that I was plain exhausted with life up to that point—but I refused to accept that.

“She staged everything to keep Conduits under her control.” I said, shaking my head. “The breakout on Akomish land? Using my mom’s trauma to use her for her narrative and scare the country into thinking they needed her? She scared the world into thinking Conduits were monsters and she was the only one that could save them.”

“She tried her best, with what tools were provided to her,” Garrett stressed, a bit of tension in their voice. Augustine’s silhouette disappeared into the shadows, leaving a clear line of vision between Garrett and I. “After the Beast, the only tools at her disposal to protect both sides was to play into the fear of one.”

“And jail the other?” I demanded. Sorry, I know that they were trying to give me answers—but this wasn’t the sort of answer I was looking for. I wasn’t interested in hearing about how Augustine cared about others oh so much, not when my family was full of scars from her doing. I wasn’t convinced. “Torture them? Experiment on them?”

“Don’t speak on things you don’t understand—“

“Implant stuff in them to stop their powers?” I continued, stressing the point as I looked directly at Garrett. “She cared about no one! Not the public, not the Conduits—I don’t understand why you’d think she’d feel any differently o-or defend her. She didn’t care about the Conduits. Not Fetch Walker, not Delsin Rowe. Not you, or any of the others—“

“Enough.”

My words seemed to strike a nerve with Garrett as they barked out. The demand was simple, but their voice reverberated through the room loudly, a commanding tone that made me press my hands to my ears at their decibel. Ahead, on the television screen, Garrett inhaled deeply, before saying, “Augustine was always a complicated woman, and there were many times throughout my life I never understood why she did what she did. But she wasn’t a monster.”

I slowly lowered my hands, looking up at the screen as Garrett’s eyes closed and they tried to repress the pain of their thoughts. Throughout my life. “You…” I drew off, trying to do the math; if they were in their late thirties or forties now, and knew Dad, there was a chance they spent 7 years in Curdun. 7 unknown years, where I already knew could’ve been spent either experimenting on them...or training them. “You worked for her, didn’t you? That’s why you act like you know her so well.”

Garrett hesitated, eyes opening—and even then, their eyes didn’t meet mine. “I did more than work for her,” they said.

I opened my mouth to ask what they meant when the screen holding their face glitched out, the corrupted pixelation growing to the corners of the center monitor and spreading beyond, shifting the screen of each surrounding monitor until they all warped like there were magnets pressed against their screens. The corruption reached to the end of the edges of the monitor setup, the clouded colors not fully reaching the plastic of the monitors themselves and instead looking like a portal to another dimension as the hues within its window began to warp.

Outlines. Distorted sounds that slowly lost its electronic fry as the picture deepened. The crisp laughter of children, the harsh ring of carnival music. The woosh of the pendulum ride they passed as their features focused, features illuminated by the lights of the rides around them.

There was a man turned away from the screen, the ends of his slightly grayed hair scuffing against the collar of his jean jacket, and I nearly called out to him, expecting Dad. Wanting it to be Dad. But it wasn’t, not my Dad at least; the man turned, moving to grab the hand of someone else and pull them forward, a child that barely reached his chest’s height. Their auburn-brown hair bounced as the duo rushed towards a funhouse, their little legs easily keeping up with the slight catch in the man’s gait as the camera moved forward with them, watching the duo escape into the mirror maze of the funhouse before following.

The camera turned the corner to see the young child and their father playing in front of those warped mirrors that made them wrinkle in on themselves, both laughing. “How do we go back to that, Garrett?” a voice, a very familiar voice that was uncomfortably soft, asked over the low hum of the carnival and the laughter. The kid looked over at the camera and held out a hand, beckoning them closer, mirth lighting up their silvery blue eyes as a larger, older hand came to grasp theirs and allowed themselves to be pulled forward in front of the mirror. “We were closer then than we are now.”

The mother, Augustine, laughed as she looked at her distorted form before taking the child close into a hug, looking down at them. “There is no going back,” Garrett’s voice said, melancholic and yet tense. The father joined the trio, raising a handheld camera to take a picture. “That died with Dad.”

The camera flashed, light overtaking the glimpse at the memory until the white imprinted on every terminal and made them all flash before they turned dark, plunging the room into darkness save for what bleed in through the broken skylight. Realization overtook me, and I suddenly felt really unsafe.

“The world isn’t black and white. It’s a technicolor of hypocrisy, and I think you’d find our stories to be more similar than they are different.” Their voice rang from the shadows. “I am not innocent.” The televisions suddenly sputtered on, all of them, the sudden brightness from their feed blinding me. I blinked a few times, raising my hand and trying to look past the brightness to their screens, heart stopping when I did; everything, every screen, was about the flood in Seattle. The deaths, the loss, the bodies and fear. Kids being pulled out of water, thousands stranded on the open air top floor of a parking garage, floating corpses. Below the screens Augustine stood, back so illuminated I couldn’t see her front as she approached, just the outlined silhouette. “You will not be,” Garrett continued, the voice sounding…closer?

I lowered my hand, moving to a defensive stance as Augustine closed the gap; I wasn’t gonna be caught off guard. Not here, not now. But as she got closer, I realized that something was…off. She was definitely shorter than I remembered, and her gait was less ‘commandeering’ than before. Each step brought her closer to the light the hole in the skylight cast on us and once she crossed it, I saw why it didn’t seem like her. It wasn’t her.

Garrett stood across from me, Augustine’s uniform perfectly tailored to fit them, pink hair up in a tight bun. “A life is made of wrongs we inherit.”

I stood where Dad had years ago, across from the heir to the wrongs Augustine wrought. “You’re her child,” I breathed, sure they could hear my voice despite how low it was. “Augustine. You’re her kid.”

Here I was, caught in some insane memory-mind palace with the child of the woman who my father had just finished dealing with for the second time. Completely at their mercy. But they had also been at Augustine’s mercy, and she left them with scars that left them crippled back outside of their mind and within it.

“By blood.” Garrett confirmed, moving around me like they were sizing me up, now that we were meeting in person—or whatever this version of in person was. “Though not by much else. The daughter she never got, the son she never wanted. The child she didn’t need.”

They stopped somewhere behind me, and I resisted the urge to spin on my heel and keep them in my vision. Here I was at the mercy of Augustine’s hidden child, standing in the same place where my father took down their mother—and they very well could settle some scores if they wanted.

But this also didn’t feel like that. It felt less like a cat cornering a mouse and more like a bird leading another to shelter under a palm leaf during a storm. My eyes fell as I processed that, blinking hard when I noticed I was not only standing in Dad’s place, but an exact mirror of him; that jean vest, the hoodie. The blood on my hands. My fist tensed around the end of the chain it held, the press of its cool metal prompting me to ask, “Why should I trust anything you say?” I asked.

“Because I’m the only one willing to be honest with you.” Garrett stressed behind me, their voice seeming to carry off the cool rush of the A/C vents. “Unabashedly. No more half-truths. No more having to wonder what’s been kept from you.” Their steps echoed, and I turned my head to look at them the moment they appeared in my peripheral as they rounded, only pausing when they were directly ahead. Garrett’s head tilted ever so slightly, and they asked, “Aren’t you tired of being lied to?”

God, I was. I absolutely was; with everything that’s happened in the last month, I felt like I was drowning. Everything was either some new revelation that made me feel stupid for the fact that I hadn’t realized it before, or was something that was the fallout of a fact that happened years ago that I didn’t have all the facts to.

But I didn’t say anything; I kept my eyes on Garrett’s, refusing to back down. A part of me, the logical part, told me this was all some sort of trap that’d earn me more ice picks in my back, if not worse.

But then again, I was already trapped in some manipulated echo of a memory, so logic wasn’t the strongest suitor in the room, right now.

I looked at Garrett—at their uniform. The same DUP emblem on the cuffs I had on just moments ago sat proudly on their shoulder instead of shackling them like they had at some point. And yet after everything, they insisted Augustine—their mother—was trying her best to save Conduits. “Why do you vouch for her?” I finally asked. “After everything she did to Conduits, to you, why…”

Garrett shrugged simply, eyebrow cocking a bit. “I figured you’d understand, considering who you inherited your sins from. Tell me—is Delsin still running away from the truth?”

I immediately bristled. How could they even pretend that my dad and Augustine were the same? He ran away to protect Brent and I. “That’s different,” I insisted, voice cold.

“Is it?”

My mouth opened, but I struggled to find a good retort. There were definitely a lot of people that thought Dad was some sort of demon for doing what he did, releasing the Conduits. And Mom...well, her body count was higher than mine.

Garrett’s face stayed stoic, and in the stare, I saw Augustine in the contours of their shape, echoes of their mother in their features; but beyond it, I saw melancholy. Grief. They seemed to struggle to find what to say for a moment before closing their eyes, inhaling deeply. “You want to know why I thought Augustine cared about Conduits?” They finally asked, opening their eyes and meeting mine, stare unblinking. I snapped my mouth shut and nodded silently. Better not to piss off someone who could hold the secret to your rare cancer in their memory bank. “I watched her make sure the mistakes that nearly killed us all would never end up in the hands of someone who could repeat the process. She loved order, and the world the RFI left behind was lawless.”

My brow furrowed. “So you know about the RFI?” I thought Dad and Zeke said the RFI was something kept quiet so no one would try to make another Conduit Delete button.

“She destroyed anything about it after the RFI was analyzed by the DUP’s science division.” Garrett responded with assurance, “She vowed our extinction wouldn’t happen twice.”

What? Augustine…deleted info about a weapon that strong? “You say that like you’re sure,” I drew off.

Garrett’s chin came up a bit. “I am. I was there.”

The security monitors behind Garrett suddenly booted up, stark white and emitting a horrible mic callback sound that made my hands shoot to my ears to block out the terrible grating noise, unable to keep it from vibrating my skull. I cringed with the noise, eyelids pink as they screwed shut to protect me from the sudden onslaught of light and I tried to push against the way it all made my head pound. I felt like a migraine was coming on.

But then it all stopped. That screech faltered, the pink left my vision for a more muted white, and my head found relief as I tentatively opened my eyes.

There were still security screens in front of me, but that was about as far as the similarities lied; there were less of them, the feed no longer showing off corners of Seattle’s downtown but dark crevices of what almost looked like a cave, if there weren’t vents and weird heaters and more concrete. The wall they were pinned to was this sleek darkened stone, wires running from the monitors down to their supply feeds below in zipping, jagged lines that reminded me way too much of how some cheesy Hollywood villain would decorate their lair.

Unfortunately, though, I wasn’t too far off.

I backed up, trying to put every screen in my vision to puzzle piece whatever concrete maze was in front of me when my knees hit the edge of something, and I nearly fell backwards. I turned, my hands shooting out in front of me and looking for purchase to balance—

And instead I pushed myself backwards as I saw who was standing in front of me.

She looked even younger than before, uniform gone and instead replaced with army fatigues with a leaf at her shoulders, a rank higher than anything I knew from the military segment of my APUSH class. Didn’t the DUP start as an army thing before becoming its own branch? This must have been Augustine when she was Lieutenant Colonel, not Director. Augustine’s eyes fell and my blood ran cold as I thought she zeroed in on me and was going to make it my problem—but she instead reached forward, hands coming around something and bringing it up to eye level.

It was broken, the top panel of the device blown clean off and revealing the veins of wires underneath its metal welding. The center of it was glass but unclean, grime and dirt and what looked like blood dried on it and taking away its transparency. There was this branching darkness on the metal, burns singed into it like veins, the edges of every panel rusted over and smelling like the blood of the deaths it caused.

“Is that it?” Someone else in the room asked. I pushed myself up from my place on the ground, shifting to my knees and peeking over the edge of the table like some strange sort of meerkat trying not to get caught by the adder outside of its hole in an effort to see who was talking to Augustine.

They were young—looked younger than me, which was saying a lot—their hair shaggy and close cropped, a brighter auburn than it was in the hospital room back in reality. Their eyes were dim against the bright yellow shirt I’d yet to see on any Curdun prisoner before—the same uniform I realized I was wearing to match.

Garrett. Child Garrett. Were they really in Curdun before they were even an adult?

“The Ray Field Inhibitor,” Augustine confirmed, turning with the device in hand. She held it less like the nuke it was and more like a scythe. “Every life lost…every city decimated…and their best solution was to wipe us off of the face of the earth.”

She looked down at the RFI as if it were vermin, disgust and anger and hatred in her face as she stared at its broken metal top. Augustine turned, showing it to Garrett. I came around the table on my hands and knees, peeking around the leg of the desk—I wasn’t sure yet if Augustine could see me, if this was a memory, or what. And quite honestly, I was very interested in not being in the crosshairs of her vision regardless of what sort of reality I was existing in. Augustine held the device close to Garrett, allowing them to reach out and take it in their own hands.

The moment it passed to Garrett’s hands, some slinking and terrible feeling crawled its way up my spine on a thousand stabbing legs, taking hold of my throat and squeezing like it was trying to choke life out of me. That soreness that seemed to make itself at home in between my shoulder blades burned, a pain that immediately made me flinch as if I could get away from it.

Garrett and I both choked out a gasp at the same time, and they dropped the RFI on the ground like it had stung them, the device clattering to the ground and losing another small metal panel in its fall. The moment it left their hand, all that pain stopped, seeped away like muck down the drain. The RFI rolled away from Garrett and towards me, stopped only in place by a jagged spike of concrete that pierced its shell, making me jump back, falling from my knees to my ass.

“Careful!” Augustine demanded, and for a moment, I got to see the mother within her. She immediately stepped forward and let her hands cup Garrett’s cheeks, examining their face as if the RFI had slashed claws over it and she needed to assess the wounds. “What happened?”

Garrett stared down at the RFI, trying to catch their breath. “I felt it,” they eventually stammered out. “That pain.” Their vision came to rest on me, making my pant die off as I stopped trying to catch whatever breath the RFI’s hold took from me. “The same pain I felt when it tried to kill me,” they said.

When it tried to kill me.

I wasn’t sure of Garrett’s true age, but I didn’t need to be—they were alive for the Blast. The RFI’s detonation. They were one of the millions that should have died that day, and one of the thousands that somehow didn’t. I hadn’t stopped to consider that any Conduit born before 2011 felt that same searing pain—and was probably left with a thousand questions…and no answers.

But it seemed not everyone was as ignorant. 

Augustine’s eyes left Garrett’s face to look down at the RFI now, hands falling from their face as she stepped forward, waving away the concrete spear that stopped it. The slab slunk back into the floor, RFI teetering just slightly at its release before it was scooped up by Augustine.

She turned it in her hands. Inspected the mess of wires on one end and the now-gaping hole in the other. The center that seemed to catch blue in the light—at least, the parts of it that weren’t covered in muck.

“It was a miracle we were given a second chance,” Augustine said, voice low and carrying pain, more than I ever knew she was capable of having. There was something in her stare that looked far past the device in her hands as she considered it, trapped in the echoes of something in the past. That pain compounded in her eyes into indignation, anger, and then a steely resolve as she shook her head, tone asserting as she vowed, “And I am not going to let something like that ever happen again.”

It was interesting watching her use concrete; while Dad’s always hovered and swirled, hers simply appeared exactly where she wanted it to be, no directing needed. Concrete wrapped around the RFI like a bandage, encasing the item fully in Augustine’s hands before it began to hug closer and closer to the metal.

Every lurch forward came with a crunching sound as the concrete crushed the RFI, compacting it into a ball of nothingness that she threw against the wall beside me with rage, the sphere shattering into a million pieces. I flinched, covering my face as the shards of concrete flew everywhere, stabbing at my forearms and hitting my drawn-up knees until everything stilled.

When I pulled my arms away from my eyes, Garrett and Augustine were no longer in front of me; they had somehow moved across the room without making a sound, standing in front of the monitors. Augustine clicked the keyboard on the long table in front of the feed with the finality of a typed phrase I somehow missed, and every screen began to blip out, their feed of the concrete caves being replaced with a scroll of photo scanned documents. The first documents that appeared had the Armed Forces stamp in the top right, the star surrounded by a laurel; a breakdown of the RFI, an autopsy report of Cole MacGrath with the outlined body marked and lit up like a Christmas tree. Radiation readings with notes about how there was a lack of any, mission objectives coupled with inventory catalogs of what all was taken from the First Sons’ New Marais base.

But the star shifted, losing its laurel and gaining weirder symbology; an hourglass and a half-filled circle, the Roman numeral I. An eyeball blinked into the center of the star and stared forward, stare so strong it drew me from my spot on the floor and pulled me forward, close enough that I could see how Augustine glared back at it.

I’d seen that logo before, a mile under New Marais.

The First Sons.

The files that started appearing were decorated in blueprints and formulas, schematics for the first of the Ray sphere and those pods the Vermaak were held in. Augustine looked at it all in disgust, shaking her head as Garrett watched from the sidelines. “Decades of effort went into creating a world the First Sons couldn’t handle.” She growled low, voice still managing to project around the room, like the concrete was grabbing it and passing her words along. “All of this—and for what? They failed to even confront the Beast in the end, the one thing they were preparing against. The only way MacGrath was able to stop its destruction was to sacrifice us all.”

“Was it the only way to stop the Beast?” Garrett asked, eyes still glued to the monitors as they watched the schematics for the Ray Sphere’s cradle scroll past. They missed how she glanced at them with anger in her eyes, indignant at the question.

But her voice betrayed none of that emotion as she said, “It was the only solution anyone bothered looking for,” before looking back at the screens ahead. “A trade of a thousand lives to absolve a thousand sins.”

She stared at the screens for a few moments before her jaw set and she slowly shook her head. “Never again,” she decided with a voice more firm than the concrete she’d laid down in her office sometime before. There was a fire in her eyes, an indignation kindled by the pain of whatever hurt her in the past. “We won’t be punished for what we are ever again.”

She leaned forward, hunched over as her fingers flew over the keyboard with the efficiency of someone who’d become very familiar with the keys from thousands of reports as she pulled up a command prompt and began inputting commands that were well beyond the one semester of foundations of computer science class I took and nearly failed. I looked around, trying to understand what she was doing and failing until Garrett asked, “You’re deleting these things from the database?”

“This is classified information few know,” Augustine said, turning to Garrett. “And even fewer need access to. Could you imagine what could happen if the wrong person knew exactly how to get rid of us? If they had a device that was even a fraction as powerful as the Beast?” Her head only shook once, and she returned to the computer. “No. I’ll make sure those that do know about these things will know exactly what will happen to them if they were to spread rumors.” She paused her typing, looking down thoughtfully at her hands as the word echoed back to the large windows. “Rumors. That’s what we will call it. And with the Department of Unified Protection soon becoming its own branch, there will be no one else to answer to but me.”

She straightened, the resolve in her eyes as she glared at the screens strong enough to burn a hole through them. “And I will not leave room for debate.”

She moved whatever the sphere that acted as a tract pad was around, and all the files were highlighted and fiddled with for a moment before a prompt came up and she confirmed it, the command center promptly informing her of it starting a complete wipe of those files from the database.

But, considering it was Augustine, it should've been obvious that she wasn't doing this out of the good of her heart.

A new window opened, and every file she had highlighted was now also being transferred somewhere else—a USB flash drive that Augustine pulled out of the back of a monitor and held up like a prized kill for Garrett to see. “Fate will be left in our hands. This...power, this ability to wipe us off the Earth will not be given to a government that wishes to rid themselves of their latest problem. This will not happen twice.”

Velcro ripped and Augustine tucked the memory stick in her breast pocket, keeping her cards close to her chest—literally. Files of the bomb that created Conduits, and the explosion that nearly made them extinct, all on a small device only in her hands.

She wielded the power, now.

Garrett watched the flash drive disappear before turning their attention back to the terminal, watching the bar on the D E L E T I N G F I L E S popup steadily grow. “How did we do it?” They asked, looking up at their mother as she stepped closer. “How did...how did we survive when so many others died?”

Augustine's eyes traveled from Garrett's face, to the ground, to somewhere far away before she turned back to the monitors and dismissed the deletion popup in favor of a new tab, typing away and opening up a video. “When the RFI was detonated, Homeland Security's radionuclide detectors went haywire. They read the sudden depletion of multiple forms of radiation that they now attribute to RFE. But—” she played the video, where a heat map of the United States grew a vivid red-hot just above New Marais, then began to seep to cool blue as the radiation disappeared, the hue spreading from the south upwards. It climbed up the Mississippi River, around the Rockies and up the burning vein of radiation the Beast laid in its wake, towards New England and the sound Empire City once rested in.

But as it traveled west, something happened.

Purples and reds burst from the Northwest, an explosion that mixed magenta in places as it pushed against the blue trying to overtake it. The two battled for space on the rest of the world map, flicks of bright red lashing out like lashes from a whip onto the blue as that cold blue stretched into the magenta like Lichtenberg figures, veins of death against whatever was trying to fight against it.

“Something countered the strength of the RFI,” Augustine said, watching the show of auroras and lightning strikes on the monitor before it all stilled, the calm map not at all reflecting the chaos that the Ray Field Inhibitor left in its wake. “Not enough to prevent it, but just enough to allow some of us to live.”

“A Ray Sphere?” Garrett asked curiously. I had to agree with them; it seemed the most possible answer, right? Maybe the First Sons had one ready to detonate in an event like this so that Conduits would never truly die.

But Augustine shook her head. “I was shown the readings of the Ray Sphere before being deployed to Empire City,” She told Garrett. “This was different. More resilient. Where the RFI would have easily consumed any power from a Ray Sphere, this was able to survive against the leech of RFE. It was able to reach out, prevent a full genocide of our people.“

Augustine pressed a button and the video rewound, the strikes of red reaching across the states, the Pacific, lashing out from the Northwest in pulses. “Every outreach was a life saved,” Augustine said, watching more bolts of power release across the map.

I watched the red snake out, reaching Russia and somewhere in South America in turn. So those random strikes of energy on the board were Conduits saved from the RFI? Augustine seemed so sure it wasn't the First Sons that caused this.

So if it wasn't...who did?

Garrett seemed to come to the same conclusion I did, asking Augustine, ”What was it, then, if not a Ray Sphere?“

Augustine's head finally turned to regard Garrett fully. “I'm not sure,” she admitted. She glanced back at the screen, hazel eyes coming to focus so hard on those flashes of red I could see the shade reflected in her iris. ”But I intend to find out. Why those that survived did, how they did. What saved us. And until then...“

She drew off, turning around to look towards the opposite wall; where the one behind her was stone, this one was pure glass, the panes so thick I could see their layers as I approached it in pace with Augustine.

It was as if the scene outside of Augustine's office knew she was approaching and wished to look down at her masterpiece; offensively bright florescent lights flashed on overhead in sectors, revealing spires of concrete shaped into levels and pillars.

The Arena.

I heard about it the first time articles were published to COLE, interviews from Curdun Cay survivors. Large arenas were littered all throughout Curdun, where Conduits would be pit against each other gladiator style while Augustine watched from above.

This was that above.

I could see power sources littered about, small enough for a Conduit to drain but not large enough for them to gain considerable power. Smoke billowed from false chimneys, light sources lined the lips of concrete. There were small bits of steel rebar poking out in some places, and I could even see puddles just under sprinklers installed on the undersides of concrete cliffs.

This was how she trained them. Weeded out Conduits one by one until she decided the victors that would take on the Pacific Northwest in search of answers. Dr. Sims. Daughtery.

Mom.

I hadn't realized everything around me disappeared until Garrett's reflection—the older Garrett—stood beside mine, looking down at the arena with their hands resting on an ornate Cedar cane I hadn't seen before. “She was a victim in her own right,” they said. “We all were, those of us that survived.”

Garrett's reflection met my eyes. “Do you believe me now, when I say she wanted to make sure we survived?”

I wanted to say I did. Hell, a part of me could even rationalize it, if I sat on the idea long enough; separating yourself from those that wanted to kill you by any means necessary was one of the few ways you could be sure you'd live.

But I didn't see benevolence in what Augustine did, then or now. “Everything she did…” I drew off, trying to find the words. “It just made things worse.”

Garrett sighed, seemingly very tired of trying to get me to see things their way. “She did what she thought would protect us—”

“No,” I cut off the reflection, refusing to accept this stupid idea. Augustine did nothing for Conduits, nothing I could spare my empathy on. “All I saw her do was delete evidence of everything that happened so she was the only one that knew the truth, and spin it all so she’d stay in charge. The only reason Conduits are even out of Curdun is because she couldn’t let that power go—”

“Would you rather the world know of the RFI?” Garrett challenged. “She was doing what she thought was best. Even if misguided.”

“By making Conduits the enemy?” I asked, motioning off to a poster on the wall to the right of me. It was a mockup to what I knew would eventually become a reporting poster, juvenile in its display: 'See Something, Say Something - Protect the Country from BIO-TERRORISM'. “Who coined that word?” I demanded of Garrett, who tore their eyes from mine to stare at the ground, taking a deep breath as if they were trying to calm themselves. “She created a problem and made herself the answer.”

Garrett grit their teeth. “She was trying to ensure—”

“Nothing else happened?” I finished their sentence for them. “How did any of her lies help?”

“Because sometimes, lies are necessary,” Garrett bit back in retort, eyes rising and their stare becoming a glare when I scoffed. I highly doubted everything that happened was because it was necessary. “Did your father not think the same, keeping the truth from you?”

I could feel my nostrils flare in anger. “That’s not the same.” I growled. Dad was nothing like Augustine; even in his lies, he did everything to try to help Conduits, in spite of it all. “My dad never meant to hurt anyone.”

Garrett’s eyebrow arched up further still as something rumbled around me; the concrete on the wall began to crawl forward, past the window’s trim and around the terminals behind me, closing in. The glass shattered, combust in a shower that sent me sprawling back as the ground on the other side of the bare window raised. I hit concrete, air sprawling from my lungs as the earthquake shuddered around me. The concrete ground against itself, a loud and painful reverberation that made me cover my ears, trying to stop the ear-splitting onslaught.

In one of the glass pieces on the ground, I caught a glimpse of Garrett’s ice blue eye still staring at me, unconvinced. “Your father hasn’t been transparent with you since the beginning,” Garrett’s voice echoed in my head in spite of it all. The fluorescent lights above cut out as they too were swallowed by the rock.

“How can you be so sure he’s a good man?”

Everything around me stilled and I forced myself to my elbows, looking around; gone was the neat observation room, the desks and monitors that allowed Augustine to peer into the maze below that made up the arena. Instead, as emergency lights flickered on, lining the rock where wall met floor, I realized I was in it.  

And something that cracked in the shadows behind me suggested I wasn’t alone.

I whipped around, trying to peer past the bad lighting to see who was there. “Garrett?” I called out tentatively. Something crunched, shifted the glass that blew back when the windows burst under the pressure of the concrete, the scrapes echoing down the corridor I stood in.

And from deep within the shadows, two glowing yellow eyes met mine, followed by the sound of something rushing towards me.

I stumbled back before turning and running for my goddamn life, heart hammering in my chest. This is what I get for talking shit about Augustine, isn’t it? I told Garrett their mother was shit, and now I’m stuck in Augustine’s Fun House with whatever the hell that was behind me as punishment.

My feet pound against the ground, veering off left the moment I found an opening to. I could still hear it behind me, hunting me, and put more into my steps, trying to outrun the predator. I skidded into my next turn and hit the wall, the impact of sharp rock on my arm feeling very real. If that felt real, would any other pain? Would I be safe from death here, or were we working on an A Nightmare On Elm Street ideology where anything that happened in this illusion happened outside of it?

I wasn’t sure, but it definitely encouraged me to continue running from my pursuer just in case it was someone—or something—that could rip me apart.

The concrete ground under my feet, pebbles of it left behind from its shifting formations that dug into the plain white and laceless tennis shoes and nearly sent me sprawling more than once as they caught in the grooves of the soles. There was a puddle of water just ahead and my calls to drain it were useless; the only time the water moved was when I ran through it, water soaking the ends of my DUP-issued pants. I was only a good three yards away from it by the time the puddle splashed again—whatever was chasing me was close.

But up ahead, there was a reprieve; a light in the dark alcove, warm amber and natural and inviting where the maze opened up. There had to be some way out of here, and even if not, the light would make it easier to see what the hell was behind me—so I ran. I put as much power into my feet as I could and ignored the burn of my lungs as I ran.

The unstable lights lining the floor flickered once, twice, three times the closer I got to the opening, my eyes struggling to adjust to see and plunging me in total darkness just before I breached the opening, forcing me to accept its burn into my retinas and the pain behind my eyes it gave me.

But when the scenery around solidified, I realized everything changed again, skidding to a stop and falling to my ass when gravel caught under my shoes as I looked around the rooftop I materialized on.

The Space Needle was dark—no colored lights strobing. No lights at all, which wasn’t normal. In fact, the entire city seemed muted like it was trying to curl in on itself. Shops I knew were usually open 24 hours were closed, neon signs were off. The city didn’t seem dead—it looked like it was hiding.

It was so quiet that I could have heard the lullaby of the Sound’s ebbs if it wasn’t for the sudden barrage of gunfire from somewhere ahead.

They were short bursts and followed by something…familiar? I’ve heard that whooshing sound before. Where have I heard it before? I shifted to my knees and got to a crouch, staying low as possible as I moved back to the ledge and peeked over it.

There, standing on the embankment that separated them from the dark waters, a fully armored DUP soldier and a Conduit detainee were exchanging fire. Figuratively and literally. The DUP soldier let off bursts that lit up the end of his rifle, the Conduit returning in kind with the same sort of flash, a pooling brightness swirling around his hand before he shot bullets of ember and smoke. The marina was littered in smoldering piles of ash, and it wasn’t until I saw the remains of a helmet in one that I realized it wasn’t the wood of the embankment that was lit on fire, but the opposition that once stood there.

Something shifted in the air around me and my hair raised with the static, a shimmer of pixelated blue wings passing directly over me before following the arch of its climb and stopping at its peak. The blue and white pixels snapped together and Dad formed from the cloud, pulling every pixel back towards his body as he dropped from the sky, fist held ready.

He became a meteor of ice blue, ripples of tech waves trailing behind him as he aimed his fist for the DUP soldier and took him out in a pulse of a bright summoning circle. The soldier dropped like a ragdoll, still and silent and dead, while the detainee stumbled back in shock before moving to run away.

Dad drew up his hand and shot without hesitation, the pixelated sword landing right in between the detainee’s shoulder blades and sending him sprawling to the ground, dazed and winded. Dad stalked towards him like a predator on prey as the detainee fought through his pain to scoot back, yanking him up from his place and pressing him against the guard rail of the marina.

The wind and the roar of the multiple APCs stole their words away, but there was no mistaking the rage leaking from Dad; despite not using powers, the video never left him, rippling against the bends of his joints like it was itching to be used again. Dad held the man by the collar of his uniform, fists to his throat—but was too busy hissing at the man to feel the hand on his stomach until he was blasted back in a cloud of smoke, slamming to the ground.

Smoke. We were in Seattle. Was that the guy Dad got smoke powers from?

The man stumbled forward, the only thing keeping him upright Dad, apparently, collapsing onto the wood of the marina. And then…both men turned out towards the water. I followed their eyes to a small, barely-anything boat bobbing in the water, slowly floating away into the Sound.

The detainee began crawling on his hands and knees towards the guard rail, Dad scrambling to his feet and letting the chain fall from his wrists, unspooling just enough to wrap the metal links around the man’s throat. I felt something swell up in my own as I watched Delsin, my father, begin to choke out this man.

But then…he hesitated. I could see it in his shoulders, the way his elbows slacked just a bit as he looked back out to the water and the boat. He was moving with the detainee’s struggles too much. And I found myself whispering, “Let him go,” again and again.

Dad leaned down, whispering something in the man’s ear.

And my blood ran cold when he stood back up and planted a foot on the man’s lower back, pushing him into the chain and choking the life out of him.

Want more from Doot? Go read more about how he tortures Garrett in All's Well That Ends:

Follow the tumultuous life of Garrett Jorrer, a Curdun Cay enforcer, experiment victim...and child of Brooke Augustine.

Told through memories of what was and wishes of what could have been, read through the out-of-order retelling of Garrett's experiences and how life led to this moment...and how it ends. All in amazing prose that utilizes 2nd person in a brilliant and artistic way! I fucking love second person, and Doot is the person for that POV if you're looking for writing that not only will blow you away, but show you how it's properly done.

[riderofblackdragons]

Promises (Still Mean Something To Me)

Day 29: Fatigue | labyrinth | burnout | "who said you could rest?"

Alright, so I have decided that since I'm still pretty far behind, I'm just going to post these when I write them, lol. I mean, not day 31 yet, because it's not the 31st, but every other day I haven't gotten to yet? Fair game imo!

This is star wars, it's also an alternate universe where the Jedi won, but uhhhh... I did not go much further into that. Just know that that's why they're partying lol. It was originally going to be a Crosshair fic but Fox calls to my inner insecurities and angst so much more!

My mutual made a post that mentioned how second POV is the most initmate, and it inspired me to write one. Hence, we get this! I love writing second POV, I should do it move often tbh.

I did reach pretty far into my own insecurities and shit for this, so it's never getting reread by me ever again bc holy hells i feel exhausted after writing it.

Still, hope you enjoy!

You don't know why you're here. All these loud noises, echoing around the room - you can't remember how you got here, either. You're not bothered, and it feels wrong, but you don't know why. Something bright enters your vision and you flinch back - oh. It wasn't even that close.

There are others here, all sharing the same face. Your face. You don't know if you can claim it anymore, not with everything that's happened to it. You barely recognise yourself, these days. You think they called to you, to join them, but you can't hear anything through the faint ringing in your ears. There is noise, but it won't register, and all you want to do now is run.

But you promised you'd stay. At least for an hour. Who did you promise it to? Thoughts of white and red and gold enter your mind, but they won't focus enough to tell you. Your mind won't complete a thought, but you don't worry about it.

Someone pushes past you from behind. You stagger forward, just a little, barely noticing the momentum. They move further through the crowd, but you stay where you are, pinning your gaze onto their back. You watch the crowd swallow them up, but don't bother to try too hard to follow them.

Your prescence wouldn't be welcome anyways, you know. You've known this for so long. No one really wants to be around you, not anymore. Maybe it was different, once, but it had been so long since then. The memories had faded, and been replaced in your mind by the grimaces and scowls and yells and insults that are all you know now.

You miss the happier times, but you do not remember them. The others around you tell stories, and you listen, but you do not remember them in the way they do. It is only through their stories that you know of them at all, and you feature so infrequently in the stories that it is possible they never happened for you.

There are so few people that will talk to you, now.

On your wrist, you have a chrono. You check the time, and see that barely a quarter hour has passed. If not for your word, the only scraps of honour you have left, and the promise you made (to who did you make it to?), you would have left already.

(Does a promise truly bind, if you cannot remember to whom you gave it? You cannot recall when you made it, perhaps the other is dead now. Will it still count then? Does your word still bind you, if you are the only one left?

There is no red here, other than on you. Are you the only one left, of you and yours?)

You have never really liked parties. You stay anyways.

Tag List: @captain-effy @what-the-fuckis-happening @robininthelabyrinth

[tauforged]

I understand health can be personal, so feel free to disregard this ask if you'd rather not talk about it publicly. But asking as one person with bad knees to another, and as one person working in an aquarium/zoo to another: do your knees often give you trouble in your line of work? Do you do anything special to take care of them and the rest of your body between shifts? I do a few different things at our facility but working with the aquarists is always what ends up having the most potential to hurt my knees/other joints. (I have RA, for context)

it can depend, honestly. the things that give me the most trouble are going up and down stairs (my department has its office and lab on the fourth floor, and we collect samples from the basement pump room daily, so days where the elevator is out of operation or too busy can be real tough) and kneeling down. usually i don’t have to kneel down for more than a minute or two while filling sample bottles or adding buffer to a system, but the feed yesterday was an exception as i was entirely at the whims of the turtle and she was taking her sweet time eating, so i was out there for a good half hour or so. the best i could do was stop every now and then to adjust how i was sitting, but if i get the opportunity to help with a feed again i’ll probably elect to feed from a different position on the dive platform and sit on one of the steps so my legs don’t cramp up as bad.

im lucky in that i usually do lab work, so i spend a lot of time standing/walking which is a lot easier on my joints than sitting or kneeling, and when i do sit at my desk i’ve got plenty of opportunity to get up and stretch whenever i can feel anything starting to lock up on me. i also sometimes bypass the employee stairwell and go up to the office via the main exhibit area, which is almost entirely gradual sloping ramps as opposed to the steep and tight spiral staircase — it’s less efficient, and can be a pain if we’re busy, especially since the fourth floor itself is inaccessible via ramp (our floorplan is a little fucky wucky) so im hitting the stairs either way, but one flight is much more manageable than five LMAO

thankfully for me, the position i work isn’t as labor intensive as stuff i’ve done previously (im never touching retail again as long as i live — stocking heavy ass bags of dog food and aquarium gravel used to knock me OUT) and what little heavy lifting / climbing around that i am doing is few and far between — but i’d imagine that’s different depending on what you do. someone who spends a lot of time physically in the exhibits and climbing up and down off the rocks in the penguin area to scrub it down will probably be faring a lot worse than a lab tech. honestly what’s been getting me the most lately has been my hands 😖 i love data entry and playing with spreadsheets but my wrists and fingers do NOT

[bilightningwhumper]

Mangst 2024- Day 9

<<Previous . Masterlist . Next>>

Forever Prey (Red Riding Hood) Masterlist

“I kept imagining you’d come back, but you never did.”

Summary:

Sienna's ex-girlfriend from high school finds her unexpectedly at her father's bakery cafe. Potential spoiler excerpt from "Forever Prey"

Notes:

Not really any warnings for this one. Angst to hurt/comfort fluff. Characters: Rae- Huntsman Sienna- Red Riding Hood Director Wolf (mentioned)- Big Bad Wolf

Rae’s POV

“Sienna? Sienna Wood?”

Rae looked up to see a young woman around their age at the counter. Sienna seemed uneasy, but had her customer service smile intact.

“Hi, Jenny, it’s nice to see you again.”

Even from her table by the window Rae could hear the slight tremble in her partner’s voice.

“ ‘It’s nice to see you again?’ Really? You up and leave, no goodbye, nothing. Ghost me for the last ten years, break my heart in the process, and all you have to say is ‘nice to see you again’?”

This woman really had some nerve. They were in a cafe, for god’s sake. Sienna couldn’t leave the counter and just had to take this? Rae started to get up from her seat, fully ready to intervene. But she saw Sienna subtly raise her hand in her direction.

‘I can handle this.’

Reluctantly, she sat back down, keeping an eye on the two. She wasn’t the only one either. Rae spotted Sarah and Ron glancing at the two as Jenny ranted.

“Jenny, I know you’re upset. But can we talk about this later?”

“What, so you can just blow me off again?”

“No, because I’m at work and this is a conversation best left for more privacy than the counter of my father’s bakery.” Sienna looked at her watch. “I’m going to be on break in an hour if you have time to hang around. Or we can exchange numbers to talk when I’m off the clock.”

Jenny huffed, but thankfully stalked off to one of the free tables near Rae’s.

Sienna gave Rae a small smile before turning back to the next customer.

It was really nice to watch as Sienna continued about her day after that. Even with that woman staring daggers over her phone across the cafe. Rae made a mental note to plan something special for dinner. They wouldn’t be having their planned lunch date because of this. Plus, she was just really proud of Sienna for handling this so well. And it wasn’t going to be an easy conversation for her to have either.

And as expected, as soon as Sarah tagged Sienna off the register, Jenny got up, too.

Rae tilted her head at Sienna, but she just got a soft smile in return. She watched as Sienna motioned for Jenny to sit back down.

“This should be fine enough for privacy, if that’s aright with you.” she said, sitting in the opposite chair.

Jenny sat down again, crossing her arms and leaning back, still glaring. “So what excuse do you have for not even having the guts to dump me before disappearing?”

Sighing, Sienna fiddled with the sleeves of her sweater. “Are you familiar with the New Eden Institution?”

“What, the big facility that got shut down last year?” Jenny rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously trying to say that that’s where you’ve been all this time? You’re going to come up with some better bullshit excuse than that. The news said it was young adults, eighteen and older. We were fifteen, dumb-ass.”

Rae could tell Sienna was getting uncomfortable. She was biting her thumb, wincing at Jenny’s harsh language. But she wasn’t indicating she needed help, not yet.

Folding her hands and leaning forward, she spoke, “I was there.” Sienna’s voice was quiet, but clear. “After my nana died, my mother sent me to Hallow High. After I didn’t graduate there, they sent me to the Institution next.”

Jenny actually paused then. She seemed to consider Sienna’s words, a crack in the anger. “Wait… you’re serious?”

Slowly, Sienna rolled up her sleeve, showing her wrist to Jenny. Even from this short distance, the sight of her damaged soul-mark still pierced Rae’s heart like a knife.

It shocked Jenny too. Her face went pale, eyes darting from Sienna’s wrist to her face. “Fucking hell…” she whispered, barely audible. “Sienna, I… I’m sorry. After all these years… And I just… God.” She put her head in her hands, elbows leaning on the table.

Sienna laughed slightly, sadness in her eyes. “I don’t blame you for getting mad. Shoe on the other foot, I’d probably have been pissed too. If it was up to me, I would have said goodbye, if not in person, then at least over the phone. But my mother and stepdad didn’t even give me a chance before just shipping me away.”

The other woman didn’t say anything, didn’t move her hands from her face for a while.

Rae caught Sienna’s eyes, tilting her head again. She got a shrug in return this time, smile somewhat wobbly.

Then Jenny spoke again. “And you didn’t reach out afterword because I’d been so long?” she asked, moving her hands down to cross her arms on the table, still leaned forward instead of back.

Sienna nodded. “That and I had a lot of medical issues. The director, Adam Wolf, he’d, uh, he’d taken… special interest in me. He wasn’t a kind man, to say the least.”

“Ah,” It was understandable, seeing Jenny struggle with words. Anyone getting this information all at once would have a lot to take in. “But, you’re okay now?”

“I’m getting there. Knowing Director Wolf is behind bars with no chance of release helps. And having friends and my dad taking care of me since does too.”

Jenny nodded, rubbing her arm, running her hand through her hair. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself, the anger gone. “ Your mark… You can’t find your soulmate anymore? I know even when we were together, that’s still something you wanted.”

Sienna let out a real laugh then, smiling brighter . “Yeah, turns out even with a broken bond, they couldn’t stop soulmates from finding each other. Mine was part of the investigation and the sister of one of my best friends I’d made at the Institution. Of course once we’d figured out about her personal connection to everything , they had to dismiss her from the case, but she stuck around to help in other ways. Volunteer work instead. Which is how we found each other. We together officially a couple months ago. ”

“Good.” Jenny relaxed, smiling softly. “I’m glad. Maybe we can, uh, get together sometime? Have a double date? I met someone in college and I think you’d get along. And I’d love to meet whoever makes you smile like that.”

Snorting, Sienna giggled, nodding her head towards Rae. “Well, she’s right over there if you want to meet her now.”

Rae couldn’t hold back a bemused smile as Jenny turned away, her face first pale then turning red as Rae gave her a small wave.

“Ah, uh,” She rubbed the back of her neck, wincing. “I take it you’ve been here this whole time?”

“Mhm.” Rae stood, walking over to stand beside Sienna, taking her hand. “This one didn’t want me interfering, and I trust her when she says she can handle herself.”

Jenny looked between them, eyebrows furrowed. “But you never said a word. If you’ve been here the whole time, how did you know?”

“Body language, subtle indicators. We figured out how to communicate without speaking a long time ago.” Rae said, rubbing Sienna’s back softly.

Sienna rested her head against Rae’s side, looking up at her while kissing her other hand.

Rae flushed slightly, feeling warm around her ears. Clearing her throat, she said, “Anyway, I’m alright with a double date, as long as everyone else is too. I’d love to hear any embarrassing stories you’d have to tell.”

Laughing as Sienna elbowed Rae, Jenny said, “ Yeah, I think I have a few.” She stood, holding out her hand to Rae. “It was nice to meet you, even briefly. I should probably go. My partner, Chloe, she, uh,” She coughed, turning red again. “I told her I was here and what I was doing. My phone is probably still getting her texts scolding me.”

“Good to know someone’s there to keep you in line.” Sienna teased as Rae shook Jenny’s hand.

“Ha ha,” Jenny said, then rubbed at her neck again. “It was good to see you again. Even if it was a rocky reunion on my part.”

Sienna got up, pulling Jenny into a hug, much to the other two’s surprise.

Hesitantly, after getting Rae’s small nod of approval, Jenny returned the hug.

“Leave your number with Rae. I’ll text you after work.” Sienna said, pulling away. “I promise you not to ghost you again.” Then she walked off back to the counter.

Watching her go, Jenny said, “Be honest,” She looked at Rae. “How bad was it? I saw other scars…”

Rae didn’t really know how to answer that. She’d left it to Sienna to talk about it in her own time. If she was honest, she knew she’d still only scratched the surface of what happened to Sienna, her brother, and everyone else. She ended up settling on, “It wasn’t good. Sienna doesn’t like to talk about it. Neither does my brother. And I don’t blame them.”

Jenny nodded. “I’m glad you found each other.” she said softly. “Even before all that, before Sienna disappeared… I’ve never seen her so happy.”

At a loss for a response again, Rae stayed silent as Jenny left the cafe. Seeing Sienna laugh at something Ron said, she knew even with everything, knowing this whole thing probably triggered some memories Sienna would struggle with later, she knew they’d be okay.

[op-sys-chaos]

Hi. Mind if I ask for some advice?

If you do mind you can ignore this :) I promise I won’t be upset.

Other people are welcome to weigh in too!

I current use a cane. TL;DR, sometimes one leg hurts, sometimes both legs hurt, sometimes no legs hurt. I also have POTS so using it to help support myself as I stand up slowly is useful. I also have some weird fucky balance thing that randomly pops up ever once in a while that the cane is also useful for bc when it happens I can do everything except stand still, and trying to stand still makes me fall over, so the cane helps with that.

I’ve considered getting a wheelchair. Sometimes, the cane is not enough and I’m still in agony. When both legs hurt I have to pick which to support so that it hurts less, it sucks. I also have longstanding wrist issues so a cane isn’t a perfect solution for me. Plus, with a wheelchair I’d have to stand up a lot less often, which might help with the POTS.

However, I like that the cane is compact and very very portable. It’s no trouble to grab the cane on the way out of the house and just hook it on my belt if I don’t need it (I have a little hook thing for it). The world is also just not built for wheelchairs, and a cane is easier to use on a day to day basis when it comes to accessibility.

Would you recommend I stick with just my cane or look into getting a wheelchair? If I do get a wheelchair I’ll probably still use the cane pretty often, like on days where only one leg hurts or just to bring with me on days where neither hurts when I leave the house to have with me in case pain begins. The wheelchair would just be for the bad days, and maybe for around the house use to minimize getting up and down as much.

What do you think? Is a wheelchair worth the effort and investment?

Edit: part of the reason I’m on the fence is the vague ableism of the people I live with, they keep masking their ableism in seemingly valid concerns which makes it hard to point out without knowing a lot of in depth shit that I struggle to put into words. I’m getting better at talking to them about it but in the meantime I think their ableism is holding me back a bit and making me internalize some unhealthy shit

if youre considering using a mobility aid, youre probably thinking about getting a cane. even if it seems like youre issues arent bad enough, you should probably still consider other mobility aids. please look into the pros and cons of several different mobility aids, especially in conjunction with your specific disability/diagnosis/needs.

i got a cane at first because i thought my issues were "mild" and therefore i needed a "mild" mobility aid. but canes are moreso for stability than support. i damaged my wrist and worsened my scoliosis by deciding to use a cane without an educated opinion.

i now use forearm crutches primarily, a rollator for longer outings, and a wheelchair for worse days and longer events. dont make the same mistake as 16-year-old me. dont choose your mobility aid based on palatability, consider your needs and address your internalized ableism if need be.

[shocktreatment]

PROS AND CONS OF BOTH

WINSLOW

<- the winslow kinnie

itll be fun to make the mask myself

itll be so exciting if people recognize me and i get to talk to people about potp

cape

i can just use my regular hair poking out of the back

BUT

mask being papier mache means its not very sturdy

(unless i make it out of foam and some sort of outer coating, which would be harder and would take more trial and error but be more sturdy)

mask would get my forehead sweaty and could trap heat on my head, making me overheat (which i do easily)

id have to keep checking my lipstick isnt smudged

ORIN AND TWOEY

already have a homemade twoey puppet from when i was seymour in highschool

also already have a passable orin costume from when i was him in a shadowcast in college

more recognizable

twoey is really fun to interact with people with

i have a wig that could work for orin and looks good on me

BUT

the twoey puppet's mechanics ended up a bit fucky so its difficult to open their mouth

when i was seymour in highschool the twoey puppet was so heavy on my wrist it made my arm numb and i couldnt move it for minutes after taking the puppet off

wigs are itchy, sweaty, and uncomfortable

id only have one usable arm while with twoey

if twoey fell and got dirty that would suuuckk

in the end im probably gonna be working on halloween and be in my costume for my acting job anyway so it doesnt matter too much

[honeybear-yammy]

hey love could you possibly do a rafe x reader but shes a pogue at a part but rafe has had his eye on her and hes super horny so he pulls her aside and whispers sweet nothings into hear "you deserve s much than that pogue" "you make me so hard pretty girl."

Better Than A Pogue

Warnings: cursing, smut, partying, mentions of alcohol, slight daddy kink, unprotected sex.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Female Pogue Reader

Summary: In which Rafe can't keep his eyes off Y/N when they are both at a party which leads to Rafe trying to make Y/N his.

Author's Note: y'all I'm so sorry that I haven't been writing recently. I have just been having a hard time writing and getting ideas and inspo and all that.

© Honeybear-Yammy 2023, please do not steal, translate, copy, or transfer my work.

You were at a party up on Figure Eight that your friends Kiara and Sarah invited you to. You were always someone who was down for parties and loved them but, from the second you got there you felt like someone had their eyes on you. You could feel someone watching you as you, Kiara, and Sarah were dancing and drinking. You went with the other girls to get a refill when Kie gently nudged your arm.

"What?" You asked as you looked over to Kiara. "Do you see that?" Kie asked. "See what?" You asked as you corked your brow. "Rafe.. he won't stop staring at you." Kiara mumbled as she looked over at him before looking away back down at her red solo cup. "I- why the fuck is my brother being so creepy towards you?" Sarah asked. "I mean.. he's just looking over here. He may not even be looking at me." You said. "Trust me, his eyes are 100% on you, Y/N." Sarah said.

"Why would Rafe Cameron be staring at me anyways? I'm a fucking Pogue. He hates my kind." You said. "I know.." Kiara said. "It makes no sense, I know but, he is clearly looking at you." Kie said. "Whatever." You said with a huff before a smile appeared on your face. "I mean we came here to have fun so, why aren't we doing that now?" You said with a chuckle. The three of you got drinks and decided to go back out on the dance floor and dance together, putting Rafe into the back of your mind for now.

You never expected the night to turn out like this. The night began with you going to a Kook party with your best friends Kiara and Sarah to you being in bed with the one Kook you hated the most, Rafe Cameron. You gasped and moaned out as he thrusted into you. He was fucking you at a rough and fast pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist and put your hands in his hair but, Rafe was quick to pin your wrists down on the bed.

You whimpered a little as he did so but, your whimper was cut off by a loud moan when he hit your g-spot. Once he hit it, he didn't stop hitting your sweet spot over and over again. The feeling of it was euphoric. Your eyes rolled and your back arched off the bed as he fucked you roughly. You didn't want this moment to end. You had never been fucked this good before. You felt that familiar knot building up in the bottom of your stomach and you knew that you were going to cum any second now.

"I- fuck!" You moaned out. "Fuck- Rafe I'm gonna cum!" You moaned out as you clenched around his hardened cock. He moaned out when you clenched around him, the feeling sending him closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck, come on princess, cum for daddy." Rafe said with a devilish smirk before groaning out. With that your eyes rolled back and your whole body trembled as you squirted all over his cock and on the bed. Rafe thrusted into you a few more times before cumming himself, shooting his load deep inside of you.

You began to catch your breathe as he slowly pulled his cock out of your now soaked pussy before laying down beside you breathlessly. You managed to roll onto your side to face him and he looked over at you. He was all sweaty and his face was reddened. "God Rafe I had you but, I gotta admit you're so fucking good in bed." You said with a smirk. He smirked as well. "God Y/N I hate you too but, I fucking love your pussy." He smirked more. Rafe looked away for a moment before looking back at you with a mischievous grin. "How about we go for round two?" He asked. "Fuck yes." You said with a giggle before pulling him over and kissing him roughly.

Author's Note: tysm for reading! I'm working on my new taglist!

[star1117-archives]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕 - 𝐒.𝐌𝐆

➵ Pairing : Mingi x Gn!reader

➵ Genre : Smut + Fluff

➵ W.C : 952

➵ Warnings : Size kink, Breeding kink, Unprotected sex, Cockwarming, Morning sex.

➵ A/N : Under 16’s DNI.

➵ Network : @cacaokpop-fics

© 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝟏𝟏𝟏𝟕-𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost or use my work in any way, shape or form.

Mingi pressed a small kiss to your temple, his thrusts slow but deep as he groaned in your ear. You closed your eyes and let yourself fully relax in his embrace, hands wrapped securely around his neck. His hips faltered when you pressed a kiss to his sweet spot, a slightly higher-pitched moan escaping him. You chuckled and tried to hug his tall frame, pulling him that inch closer. Leaning into his ear you nibbled it, moaning lewdly into it when he grazed that spot he knew drove you crazy.

“Fuck, I love you.”

Mingi chuckled and pressed a kiss to your neck too, proceeding to trail his lips up to your jawline before landing a soft kiss on your lips.

“I love you too, little one.”

A burning feeling tore through your body and you opened your eyes with a smile, kissing his cheek as he smiled widely back at you. Your hands left his neck and moved to his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles underneath his skin ripple and move with each stroke. A soft pant fell from your lips when Mingi slowly brought your leg up, caressing your thigh when you wrapped it around his waist. A small chuckle left his lips when you threw your head back, the new angle sending you to cloud nine.

“You’re so cute little one, how dare you be so perfect.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your nose as he said this, and you giggled, your chest grazing the chain he was wearing, moaning when the cool metal of its charm grazed your burning skin. It was half of a star, with “1117” inscribed on it. A bracelet on your wrist was the home of the other half, “star” written on that part. It was your favourite song, and you could still remember the first time you heard it. Sitting on your shared sofa, Mingi holding you tight as you shared his earphones, listening to the demo Hongjoong had sent him. It was beautiful, and it reminded you of him.

You let out a whimper when Mingi thrusted particularly hard, your body crumbling under his soft touches and sweet kisses. A tear fell from your eye and he shushed you, wiping it away and kissing your cheek. His head dipped into the curve of your neck and you felt the vibrations of his moans on your skin. It was so nice, so different to be with Mingi like this. Just the two of you, with no interruptions from the outside world. Taking your time to reach your highs, making love.

“Fuck, I’m.. close. So close..”

You snaked a hand into Mingi’s hair as he said this, lightly pulling on it as you whined. Shit he looked so good right now, body glistening with sweat in the few rays of sunshine spilling through the window. You don’t think he’s ever looked this.. ethereal.

“Speed up, please baby. I-I’m- shit- I’m close too.”

A grunt sounded from Mingi in response, his hips now starting to snap into yours at a faster pace, little whimpers and moans now flowing from you, pupils dilated as your eyes rolled in their sockets. Mingi cursed under his breath when he saw this, his movements now more erratic as you felt him pulse inside you. You knew it wouldn’t take much to knock him over the edge, so you gripped his shoulders with a cry when he groaned out in ecstasy.

“Please baby! Fill me up! I need it! Min-!“

Before you could finish Mingi’s lips connected with yours, his tongue snaking into your open mouth as his lips moved against yours. You took his groans happily, moving your head in time. He gripped your hand, holding it like you were delicate china, easily broken and fragile. It was then his hips stilled in you, an elongated moan leaving him as he filled you up. You came soon after, and Mingi’s hips slowly started moving in you again, helping you both ride out your highs. You could feel the way he was fucking his cum deeper into you, and when you felt lightheaded you broke the kiss, breathing heavy as Mingi whispered huskily to you.

“Fuck little one, I’m gonna breed this tiny hole of yours, make sure my cum stays stuffed inside you.”

You chuckled and kissed Mingi’s forehead when he fell to your side, turning you at the same time so he could still stay inside you. He wiped a stray, sweaty hair from your face with a dopey smile, completely smitten with you. Your eyes had the same look however, love burning in them as you leaned into his warm chest.

“Well good morning to you too, handsome.”

Mingi hugged you close, head resting on yours as he let out a sigh.

“Can’t every day be Sunday? I wanna stay here with you forever.”

You cupped his cheek, watching closely as he leaned into it subconsciously. He really was just your puppy at heart.

“Well I wouldn’t mind this every morning, not gonna lie to you.”

You both chuckled and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, sighing happily.

“Did I tell you I love you yet?”

You hit his chest, no malice behind the strike as you snuggled closer into him, breathing in his soft scent with a smile.

“Like five times this morning.”

Mingi grabbed your chin and tipped your head up, pressing yet another kiss to your lips. Boy was he clingy today.

“Well I’ll fuckin’ tell you again. I love you, Song Y/N.”

You giggled and stroked his fringe out of his eyes, wedding band glistening in the sunlight.

“I love you too baby, so fucking much.”

·˚ ◌༘₊· ͟͞꒰➳ NSFW Taglist !! ˊˎ-

@agustd-essert @hyuckilstan @a-soft-hornytiny @nyghtwolff-1117 @artemis-in-your-area @violetwinters @katelynnsqueendom @galaxybambam @yunhobabygurl @itbecina @anpanseok @yunhosprettyhand @mingitheii @vilavixg @the-answer-is-love-yrself @youre-a-wallflower-charlie @taehyunscaramelfrappe @imwhoever @mrcarrots @ateezbabysitters @whatudowhennooneseesyou @owjohny @meowmeowminnie @fantasy2wonderland @empiirxn @xuxibelle @dazzlingligth @greenymar @simeonswhore @xye-weirdo @jwnghyuns @yunhopowerpuffgirl @purplechannie @solihwng @eternalhongshine @m4rsluv @anowamij @burntliquorlungs

Apply for the taglists here -> ꕥ༉‧₊˚.

[likorys-shimenawa]

It's also perfectly fine to 'let disability stop you' from some things but not the others.

Example: I got fucky joints, as in they fuck me over as they please because I breathe wrong. It means if I write too long on my laptop, I gotta pop my wrists like a glow-stick (the mouse-hand literally had a deeper-than-normal ident where bone just Grew Different cause I'm chronically online).

I still write fanfic even if it makes my writsts hurt or when they're actively hurting and in compressing gloves or even a brace (don't write in a brace, it is NOT worth pain in completely new places).

Would not writing make them not hurt at all? Yes.

Would not writing make me miserable? Also yes.

I would never agree to a job where I mainly write because of this disability EVEN if I manage it as a hobby.

I also have a fucky spine, which means a disc would really like to pop out and Be Special, but we're keeping it in place with excersize and no lifting.

It means I can't stand/walk for too long or lift heavy things (let the orthopedist who cheerfully said 'if you snap you're not getting up' while I was diagnosed never understand 50 stages of panic he send me into in 1 minute).

I still go on probably-too-long shopping trips and carry occasional heavy bag. This means my excersize is mostly swimming and I do my remote job literally from my bed.

Could I hold an office job? Yes.

Would I need to take shit-ton more painkiller then? Also yes.

Disability means you cannot live 'normally', period. Learning to live with disability means learning what is worth dealing with some painfull side-effects and what is not.

"But why do you let your disability stop you?" Because that's.... what disabilities... do. That's... literally the basic definition... of being disabled... A disability impairs your ability to function. That's what the term means. That's the main thing