#which is still better than yesterday where it was from head to foot!

[tj-crochets]

No crafting updates today, but I did bake a spiced pumpkin cake! And I made salted caramel sauce this weekend, so tomorrow I'll make the salted caramel frosting. My hip's doing better than it was yesterday, but now the muscles around my knee on that same side are rebelling, so still no iron or rotary cutter for me

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[smutoperator]

Her Sister's Boyfriend

Jang Wonyoung x Male Reader (special participation: Jang Daah)

Kinkvember Chapter 5

Main kinks: cheating, foot fetish, handcuffing, worshipping

Word count: 4473.

After a long time being very busy, Wonyoung finally would be able to spend a weekend with her sister, which she missed so much. Although she and Daah would occasionally find each other at Starship's halls, they would go on for many days without being able to see each other.

"Sister, I came a little earlier than expected. I tried to text you a few times, but I guess you're still busy at work. Either way, I'll be at your guesthouse soon, bye." Wonyoung texted as she arived at Daah's guesthouse but couldn't find her. That was until she was surprised by a shocking scene going on.

"Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhhh," Daah's moans echoed through the house as her boyfriend pinned her against the glass while having sex with her. Wonyoung was definitely surprised; that was the way she found out her sister had gotten a boyfriend. But instead she just gave you a wink and walked unnoticed past Daah, who was with her eyes closed and enjoying a mind-blowing orgasm from you.

But on the next day, as Daah went to shop for some groceries, Wonyoung made her move. She went to the kitchen with her body naked from the waist down, her long legs completely exposed, as you heard some noises at the kitchen and decided to check things out.

"Honey, are you already ba... what the fuck?" You were shocked when you saw Wonyoung's lower body fully exposed. Wonyoung giggled. "Why do all you guys panick in front of a bare pussy?" she asked. "I'm pretty sure you were inside my sister's own pussy when I arrived here yesterday," she said.

"I'm sorry, it's a little different when it's not my girlfriend," you say to Wonyoung. "Different?" she asks. "Why exactly? Pussies are very similar. They are wet and warm; they squirt and get stretched out by some cock that wants to cum insde them; isn't that how it works?" she says. "Although, to be honest, my pussy is a little different; my partners have said I have Korea's diamond pussy," Wonyoung brags about it.

"Diamond pussy, what do you mean?" you ask her. "Well, they say my pussy is so tempting it's much better than the others. They say it's worth more than a diamond. Why don't you have a taste and check it by yourself?" Wonyoung asks as she shoves your face against her pussy. You try to resist out of loyalty to your girlfriend, but her words were true. As soon as the amazing scent of Wonyoung's pussy invades your nostrils, any thoughts you had about Daah go out of the window.

You quickly start licking Wonyoung's folds, unable to resist the temptations of her diamond pussy. She's very vocal, telling where you need to attack, and by the wetness you can feel inside it, she's not faking it. "Yes, lick it like that, ohhhh fuck," she moans, pushing your head further against it. You lick it like crazy, amazed at how good her pussy smells.

"Oh, your tongue feels so good in my pussy," Wonyoung says. She moves her body left and right, meaning you get to enjoy every inch of her vagina. "Ahhh, ahhhh, yes," she moans. When she pushes her pussy a bit apart, reacting to the stimulation, you quickly go back and lick it. Soon, you replace your tongue with your fingers, making Wonyoung cream herself over the kitchen's floor. "I guess my sister will have to do some cleaning when she returns," she says.

"OH MY GOD, YESSSS," Wonyoung gleefully screams as she grinds her pussy in your face. Right now, it's no longer you that has control; it's her, as she just uses your face as a pleasure playground for her vagina until she gets what she craves for: her orgasm.

"Ahhh, that felt so good," Wonyoung says as her juices cover your face. "I think you deserve a gift for making me cum," she says, taking your shirt off. "Wow, you're so strong; no wonder my sister was so in love with you yesterday," she continues, paying close attention to your muscular frame.

Wonyoung reaches under your pants and confirms what she already knew: a muscular guy like you had a massive cock that was already throbbing for her. "My sister is shorter than me; I bet that big cock was hitting her cervix all the time," Wonyoung says as she reminds herself of yesterday's sex moment between you and Daah. She kisses you and touches your balls. "Hope you saved some cum for me and didn't drain it all yesterday," she says.

"That's so big and hard, oh my god, so fucking huge," Wonyoung says as she gets impressed by your cock. If there is something Wonyoung has seen countless times, it's big cocks. But it's more than just size; it's shape—the huge throbbing tip popping out of your foreskin, the erection pointing to the sky, the big balls. She caresses it and keeps praising your cock, even lying about never seeing a cock that big before to pretend she's more innocent than she is.

Wonyoung spits on your cock and jerks it off before getting on her knees to suck it. You just groan as her dick-sucking lips tightenly envelope your dick, with her moaning hard as she gets very sloppy, saliva coming out of her chin. "Fuck my face; I want to feel every inch of it in my throat," Wonyoung says, and you do it just as she asks. Well, except it's Wonyoung's face fucking your cock, because she pushes it hard against your shaft every single time.

"Shit, shit, stop; you're going to fast; I'm gonna," you say. "Cum?" Wonyoung says. "That's exactly what I want," Wonyoung says, kissing your tip and then licking your shaft from top to bottom before landing on your balls as she keeps jerking it off. "God, it feels so good, shittt,' you say as she savors your cock like an ice cream and licks your tip before shoving it in her face. She then jerks your foreskin off with your tip in her mouth. "Ohhhh shit, yeah," is all you can say.

But they say there are actions to speak louder than words, and you ejaculating all over Wonyoung's throat after her blowjob session certainly qualifies. She tastes it and swallows it all. "So salty," she says. "Good boy, I want you to fuck me now; let's go to bed," she continues.

Wonyoung carries you to the same bed you and Daah had sex. She gets herself dressed in enticing waist-high stockings, wearing all black lingerie alongside red high heels; her appearance with this outfit gets you hard shortly after, which she notices. "Good to see this cock going up all for me," she says. She cuffs your hands to the bed and sits on top of your already naked body, shoving her feet in your face for you to sniff and lick. "Doesn't it smell good, baby?" she asks. "Yes," you answer without hesitation, being true to yourself as her feet seem to have on you the same effect her pussycat did. Your imagination runs wild as you try to lick her feet, but she pulls out at the last second. "Patience, baby," she says.

Wonyoung keeps running her feet over your face, teasing you endlessly. She then crosses her legs, giving you a quick opening of her pussy before shutting it down. "How much do you want to fuck it, enough to give your girlfriend up for me?" she asks. "Yes," you answer, completely hypinotized by this goddess. You always felt Daah had been a great girlfriend, but her younger sister just seems to be on another level. A one in a thousand years level, to be more precise.

"You did great work when you were in that kitchen," Wonyoung says. "And behavior like this deserves to be rewarded, don't you think?" She continues, walking around the bed before she pushes her feet against your torse and prepares herself for her next move.

Wonyoung rips off her recently bought stockings right at her bottom area. No big deal; she has lots of money to buy plenty of them. She quickly sits on your face. It's incredible that she doesn't have the biggest ass, but she knows exactly where to sit to suffocate you to the fullest. "That's right, just like that," she says as you grab her waist and quickly eat her pussy while she grinds on your face. 

"That's your reward for doing such a good job," Wonyoung says as she moans hard. You try to touch every inch of her body. "You know how special you are? Eating that diamond pussy the whole country craves for," she continues, showing her through-the-roof self-confidence.

Your face turns into Wonyoung's personal playground. You don't know how that's even possible, but her pussy rides your face as if it were actually riding your cock. "That's right, show me how excited you are for your special treat," Wonyoung says as she keeps shoving her folds in your face. She then turns around and takes her attention to your cock. As she starts jerking it off, you get an amazing view of her cute ass twerking on your face. "Ahhhh, that's so good," Wonyoung says as your tongue keeps licking her pussy.

"Good boy deserves some special treat," Wonyoung says, deepthroating your cock as if your big shaft were nothing. She takes it all the way in from the get go, drooling all over it like the needy slut she is. She rubs her hand all over it and gets quite sloppy, engulfing it like those sword eaters from a circus. You spank her ass trying to cope with the heat, making her moan as you do so. "Such a good boy, such a good boy," she keeps repeating as her cunt suffocates you to the maximum.

You move into Wonyoung's feet, tasting it and licking her toes. "Love the way you appreciate my tasy feet, especially my perfect toes," she says, keeping the work on your cock. "Oh fuck," you say. "Come on, baby, don't cum again," she orders as you kiss her feet like a gentleman while she sucks your cock like a slut.

Your mouth is now full of Wonyoung's fingers, while your fingers are all over her pussy. "You know how much I love that?" she asks, giving your cock some crazy deepthroat to show her appreciation. "Tell me how much you want me to sit on this big cock?" Wonyoung asks as she wraps your face between her feet and her ass, moaning when you tongue her pussy. You answer positively, but she can't hear it; your words are getting lost inside her cunt like everything that gets inside it; hopefully soon your cock.

"I know you're eager to get inside my diamond pussy, but first I want to tease you a little more," Wonyoung says as she runs her soles over your shaft. "Seem like you loved my toes a lot, so I think you'll love them wrapped around that big cock too," Wonyoung says as she triple teams your cock: her feet and hand jerking it off, her mouth licking your tip. "That's really good, isn't it? Aren't you very spoliled?" Wounyoung asks as her feet now massage your shaft all by themselves.

"You want it to slide in my pussy don't you? Tell me how much you want it; I want you to beg for it," Wonyoung says as she keeps jerking your shaft off with her feet. "Yes," you say, pushing your face closer to hers despite being cuffed. "Well, here's your little treat for being so patient," Wonyoung replies.

Wonyoung rubs your cock against her entrance and then squats on it. "Just feeling that tight grip of that big cock in my pussy," she says. "Ahhh, yeah, nice and slow, spread it open for me," she begs as she starts bouncing on your dick, her ride being very straightforward and powerful.

"That's right, it feels good, doesn't it?" Wonyoung asks you as she pushes your cock deeper in her pussy and increases the pace. But it's the moment where she rubs her toes on your balls that drives you crazy. "That's right, give it to me; show me that good boy is putting in some extra work, yeah, yeah," she says as you push your cock upwards to pound her diamond pussy despite your limited mobility cuffed to the bed, as your willingness to fuck Wonyoung tops everything.

But Wonyoung quickly regains control and just moves on with her insane ride, going fast and deep almost as if bouncing on your big cock was like a regular job to her. She grinds her pussy on your cock and laughs like a maniac, then presses her hands on your chest and pushes hard. You try to counter. "Give it to me nice and fucking deep, oh fuck, yes, harder, harder, ahhhh," she moans when you finally grab her waist and give her the pounding that she needs so much.

"Oh, fuck," you say as your fast pace almost makes you cum. Wonyoung kisses you and enjoys the pounding you give her. "Keep taking it deep," she demands. But it's her who takes matters into her hands, spreading her legs and just demolishing your cock with fast and loud bounces.

"Shit," you groan as Wonyoung starts doing what she's known the best for—her signature spinning ride where she hits your cock from all sides while rotating on it. "Show me what a good fucking boy you are," she demands. "AHHHHHH," you scream as the walls of her tight cunt smash your cock into pieces, squeezing it as hard as they can.

"Oh yeah, that's right; keep stretching it. Shape my walls with your cock," Wonyoung demands as she continues to bounce on it like a maniac. She puts her feet in your mouth and teases you, then switches to a sideways ride while fingering her pussy and then starts spinning again. You grab her waist, trying to control her, but she clearly shows who is in command. Well, that is until Wonyoung makes the next move.

Wonyoung takes your handcuffs off, and you immediately grab her, carry fucking her all over the bedroom. "I want you to show me what you can do; unleash the beast inside you," she demands as you give her ass a couple taps. You get on top of her and start worshipping her body with plenty of kisses in all her parts: her pussy, her boobs, her belly, her mouth—nothing escapes from you.

"Good boy, that's right, I want you to worship every inch of my body," Wonyoung demands as you keep kissing her all the way to her feet, to which you pay special attention, putting her fingers up your mouth and kissing her soles. "Show me what you want; show me what you've been begging for," she continues. You lick her pussy next as Wonyoung puts herself in a fetal position to watch you worship her diamond hole. "Doesn't I have the best pussy in the whole world?" she asks. "Yes," you promptly answer with your mouth still full of her folds.

"Get deeper in that pussy," Wonyoung demands as she pushes your face in its direction. "That's so fucking good," she moans as you keep working your mouth in it, sending her to the heavens. But what she wants the most is your cock, as you put Wonyoung in a mating press position and fuck her while massaging her toes behind her head, making her moan really loud.

"YOU'RE SO FUCKING DEEP IN ME, YESSS," Wonyoung screams as your hard thrusts make her body get pushed back and forth. "That cock is so wide, it stretches out my tiny little pussy so good," Wonyoung moans. "Harder, harder, fucking use it," she keeps begging as you groan with her pussy squeezing your shaft further. Your thrusts get more and more aggressive; her moans get louder and louder. "YES, YES, YES, YES, AH, AH, AH, AH," Wonyoung moans as she kisses you.

"AHHHHHH," it's your turn to scream as you pound her really hard. It's really difficult for you to hold still and not pump her pussy full of your seeds, but you stay put in spite of the extreme pressure Wonyoung's tight cunt exerts on your big cock. "Oh yeah, keep going, just like that, FUCK, YOU HIT ME SO DEEP, AHHHH," Wonyoung demands and then screams.

"Show me you're a good boy; keep holding that cum until I tell you to," Wonyoung says. "You're putting in a lot of hard work; you truly deserve the honor to cum inside the best pussy in the world," she says. You give her ass some little taps, and she giggles as you hit her deep. "That cock is doing such a good job," she says.

You take a break just to follow her instructions and avoid cumming earlier. But Wonyoung isn't a girl of taking breaks, kneeling to suck your cock as soon as you pull out of her. "Oh fuck, your mouth is so perfect, yes," you groan as Wonyoung pushes you to the edge, sucking your cock very sloppily and jerking it off with her big hands. "Oh shit," you say as she deepthroats your massive length with ease once again and increases the pace, sucking it hard until you have to give her butt a little tapping to not cum.

"Hmm, you want to see that ass bouncing while I ride your cock?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, there it is," she says, mounting on top of it in reverse cowgirl. "Oh fuck, ahhhh yeah, right there," Wonyoung moans as she is as happy as ever. "Slow down," you try to tell her. "No baby, I'm not slowing down; you're gonna take me at my best, that's right, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHHH, AHHH," Wonyoung says as her cute butt keeps hitting your crotch. You decide not to slow down and push upwards. 

"Oh yeah, fuck, that's right, that's right, put in some fucking work," Wonyoung says as you hit her hard and deep before you tap her ass once again to survive to fight another round. "You deserve a reward, baby," she says, pulling out and sucking your cock a little more while you eat her pussy for a sexy 69.

"You're gonna follow my orders, right?" Wonyoung says. "Get up here and fuck me from behind next," she orders. You start massage her pussy in preparation as she puts her face down and ass up, moaning as you keep worshipping her fuckhole. "You're doing so well," she praises you.

"Come here, you say as you grab her waist and insert your cock in her pussy from behind. "Oh fuck, that's right, nice and deep," Wonyoung moans. "Wow, you're so tight, oh shit" you say as you grab her waist. Wonyoung counters and bounces on your cock even on all fours. "YEAH, YEAH," she repeats as she keeps moaning. "OHHHH, OHHHH, OHHH," you groan, trying not to cum and playing with her toes to distract yourself.

"Keep that ass up," you tell Wonyoung as her feet jerk your cock off while you thrust inside her pussy, which starts queefing as she manages to squeeze your shaft both from the inside and outside. You have to stop, punishing her for being so naughty as you masturbate her pussy, but she stays focused and reaches with her long hands to keep stroking your shaft.

"AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Wonyoung moans hard as you make her cum, but not without a price, as her jerking off makes you cover the bedsheets with your semen as well. "You're not gonna make me cum unpunished; where is my good boy? You're behaving very badly now," Wonyoung says. "Now get this cock hard again and please give it back to me," she continues.

You do just as she demands, getting hard as soon as the walls of her pussy tighten around your cock once again. "Perfect, just like that, fuck, yes, yes, yes," Wonyoung moans as you pound her from behind, tying her arms behind her back. "Spread it open, fucking spread that pussy open," she demands as she moves back into shaking her hips and moves them up and down your big cock. You answer by grabbing her shoulders and then spreading her mouth. "That's right, take it, take it," she says, never stopping to bounce as both her cheeks and your crotch clash and make loud noises clapping against each other.

"That's it, such a good boy," Wonyoung says as you pound her hard and fast. You try to match her horniness, but she's just on another level, wearing you out after a couple minutes to save yourself from an orgasm while her sweaty body keeps moving up and down your shaft regardless. "Show me you're not done, that's right," she keeps commanding as soon as you regain strength to fuck her hard again. But Wonyoung is just a different demon and keeps moving her hips in a way that the walls of her pussy now hit your cock sideways. "OHHHHH," you groan hard, gettung caught by surprise.

Even on all fours, it's Wonyoung who controls the pace, with you avoiding yet another close call by tapping her ass and giving yourself a break, begging for a blowjob. "Come suck it, oh fuck," you say to her as Wonyoung grabs your shaft and takes it in her throat like a demon. You shove your monster cock all the way in her, going balls deep and spanking her ass yet she barely moves, coating it full of her saliva and performing the loudest blowjob ever as you grab her hair and fuck her face.

You use the lubrication from her saliva to fuck Wonyoung in a spooning position and get a great look at her pretty and horny face. "That's right, that's right," she says. You kiss Wonyoung and finger her pussy as you fuck it, lifting one of her legs and attacking her cunt hard. "Fuck me until you cum, ahhhh, yeah, yeah," Wonyoung says as you seem keen on not stopping. You choke her in between kisses and then spread her legs. "So good, so good," she says as she moves to kiss you and watch your cock bulge under her. "AHHHHH, THAT'S SO DEEP," she screams as she looks at you with naugthy eyes, giggling as you push hard against her pussy and she fingers it.

"I'm gonna cum for you if you cum inside me," Wonyoung says as you get more animalesque, groaning hard at each thrust. "You're hitting me so deep; time to finish deep inside my pussy," Wonyoung begs. You kiss her feet and worship it as your love for her only increases, even forgetting about your girlfriend. "Please, give me your cum," she begs as you two share kisses, and she's now in a featal position, her long legs over her head.

You feed Wonyoung your cock as she licks her chops afterwards, using her saliva for another session of deep pounding as you two have some very passionate sex. "You know how deep that is? Your cock is so big, I feel so jealous of my sister for finding you; I need to share you with her or make you mine altogether, fuckkkk," Wonyoung says.

"Let it out, let it out; your reward for being such a good boy will be breeding the best pussy in the world. Have you ever cum inside my sister?" Wonyoung asks. "Well, yesterday it was the first time," you answer. "After how many encounters?" Wonyoung asks again. "Fifteen," you answer. "Yet here you are, ready to cum inside me after just meeting me 30 minutes ago, bad boy," Wonyoung says. "Well, I can't blame you; my pussy is just that good," she continues.

"Fuck that feels so good," you say to Wonyoung. "I know," she says. "Now fuck me hard, because that's what I want; show me how much you love this perfect pussy; get ready to give me the best fucking load you can. Put that cum deep inside my pussy," she continues.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eleven shots. You finally unload your cum gun inside Wonyoung's pussy. Her walls squeeze you so hard your cock pops out of it as your white sperm runs down into the bedheets. You even manage to leave a couple drops on her beautiful right foot as your cocks come out and the remaining cum lands perfectly in there for her to put it in her mouth and lick it. You groan like crazy as you're completely drained. 

"Let me milk every last drop," Wonyoung says, massaging her feet on it and letting a few sparkles of semen come out and fall on her belly. "Greay work, you're such a good boy," Wonyoung says as she praises you, who can't even think straight after she showed how much of a ball drainer she was.

And just like that, Daah opens the door.

"What the fuck is that?" Wonyoung's older sister asks. "Daah, I can explain," you say, using the default statement. "Not sure you can explain fucking my sister for 30 minutes; I saw everything," Daah replies.

"You were there the whole time?" you say, confused. "Yes, behind the door, you're so stupid, but I get it; she's young and hot," Daah says.

"Sister I think I can compensate for being a cheating slut," Wonyoung says. "Not sure how," Daah replies. 

"Well, your boyfriend said yesterday was the first time she came in your pussy," Wonyoung says. "That's right," Daah said. "Well, has he ever fucked you in the ass?" Wonyoung asks.

"No, I'm scared of even trying," Daah says. "Well, I can teach you, sister, let's go to the shower," Wonyoung says.

Wonyoung and Daah line up their tall, naked bodies for another round of sex. You put your cock in your girlfriend's ass for the first time. And she struggles.

"AHHHHHHH," Daah screams, not ready for your massive cock in her ass.

"Well, sister, it looks like you'll have to follow my lead," Wonyoung says.

"You're such a naughty girl, Wonyoung," Daah says, handing your cock to her younger sister for a 2nd round.

"Watch me, learn from the best; look how easy it is." Wonyoung brags as your full length goes in her ass without even a peep.

"How does she even do that? I guess she's indeed a one in a thousand years girl," Daah thinks to herself. And she's right.

"Come taste it," Wonyoung tells her sister, as you quickly bust inside her asshole.

"Wow, that's delicious," Daah says, tasting your cum.

"I think you're finally ready; I can go now."

[lo1k-diamonds]

Be as it must 💜 Part 1

“They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

PAIRING: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega(f)reader

SUMMARY: It’s hard being an omega in a world where they've all but disappeared, but you're safe as long as you stay under the radar. You might be risking it a little bit by working for the Jeon Family, an alpha ruling family, but they have no idea about you. What happens when you're found and taken to your boss, CEO Jeon Jungkook?

WORD COUNT: 3.7 k

GENRE: ABO, strangers to lovers, fated lovers, smut

RATING: R (explicit)

WARNINGS: anxiety, kidnapping, tension, mentions of abuse

A.N. Alright, let's get this party on the road 💜 There are so many Easter eggs and details in this part to kickoff things with the right foot 👀 A huge thank you to @moonleeai for helping me with every little detail, which I appreciate so much!! 🥰

Masterlist | Masterpost | AO3 | Wattpad | Next Chapter >

“Good morning. I'd like ube bubble tea, please.”

“Name?”

You smiled, giving the barista your nickname instead before paying and moving away to wait. 

It was not yet past 9 AM, but you couldn’t help grabbing your work phone and activating the mobile data. Even though you'd be in the office in ten minutes, it couldn't hurt to already have an idea of what awaited you.

There was no surprise with the amount of notifications popping up; so many so fast, the expensive device froze for a second. You smirked as you reviewed the messages sent through the office’s private chats, then scrunched up your nose at a few more serious emails. But as you dismissed one notification after the other, taking mental notes of what you should do first, one message made you topple all over yourself when you thumbed it away.

What was that?

CEO Jeon Jungkook is expecting you for a one-on-one call at 9:30 AM.

Your eyes widened impossibly, your perfectly manicured nails carding through your long hair for a moment. What did you just read?!

You opened a private chat with your team director, and your mentor, Yoon Minsik, and sent him a screenshot of the text message.

You scoffed in disbelief; you couldn’t believe this was on the table again. Still, what was baffling was that the CEO himself wanted to talk to you about it. It was so ludicrous; it was nonsensical.

You started typing furiously to tell your mentor that he should have handled your rejections to move away with more grace when someone called your nickname for what sounded like the hundredth time.

You turned around on your high heels, your perfectly styled hair falling in long dark waves behind your shoulder over a white silk blazer. The barista staggered, looking at you above her eyeglasses with parted lips, before she blinked and hurried to bow and extend your ube bubble tea.

You were about to smile and thank her for her service when she tripped and lounged forward, scaring you into instinctively grabbing her forearm to keep her steady. Fortunately, she was smaller than you, and since the drink was closed, your white suit was purple-stain free.

Still, the barista fell apart in apologies and bows that left you baffled.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. No harm done, see?” You wished the people around you would stop staring and making her feel bad; it made the air too pungent for your sensitive nose. She reminded you of a younger you, going through part-time jobs to push you through law school. “Thank you for your kindness.”

You made sure to bow and smile at her properly to put her at ease before heading to your office with a rushed pace. You couldn’t risk being late, even if you already knew your answer to the CEO’s proposal.

The expansion of the Jeon conglomerate into Seoul was but a small reflection of the success the company was finding overseas. It made it impossible not to expand to the capital and, naturally, most of the executive and legal teams followed.

Only you had said no at the time, and again just yesterday, when your mentor brought it up again. He should have known better than to go directly to the CEO about something like this. You had no special rapport with the CEO; you were just part of the team that handled multiple international agreements, and you represented the company whenever necessary. You had been told the CEO resented not having his top legal representative more “at hand”, but you doubted he was even aware of your existence. Your work gave prestige to the Busan branch, and you were proud of it. You had even suggested training someone to take functions similar to yours in Seoul. That was still your answer — you’d help out in any way, but there was nothing that could convince you to go to Seoul.

You admitted you never thought you’d sway on that decision, not in a million years. But you had also never imagined someone like CEO Jeon Jungkook, and just looking at him, you thought you could be convinced. When you entered the video call with him, you were expecting a short five-minute call in which anything could happen, from a dismissive “I thought I’d give it a shot”, to “You either do it or you’re fired.” You were ready for both, as adamant as you were about your position. Yet, neither happened.

He entered the call despite clearly needing time to finish a conversation with someone in the room, so you observed him while they talked on mute. His shoulders were wide, framed by a dark blazer that made him look the size of the world. His eyes were dark, introducing a harshness with his eyebrows as he debated something he clearly disagreed on with his interlocutor. His dark hair reached his eyes, falling on what you realized were soft features. CEO Jeon Jungkook was incredibly good-looking, making the blood rush to your cheeks in an instant. 

You swallowed and tried looking away, grabbing a notebook and a pen just in case you needed to take notes. Unfortunately, it didn’t give you much reprieve; your eyes found their way to his neck, thick with a prominent Adam’s apple. As he craned his head to look at something behind the camera, your eyes trailed happily down his throat to his collar bone, where a couple of open buttons revealed perfectly bronzed skin—

You cleared your voice and started scribbling the date on the notebook; anything to keep you from staring. It didn’t last long; a deep voice invaded your ears through your AirPods, “I apologize for the delay. Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”

Your mind blanked as you stared at the screen with currents of warm, ticklish electricity running down your spine. 

That was his voice. You could barely pay attention to what he was saying, which was so exceptional, it was unthinkable. His looks weren’t the issue; your whole body was trying to pinpoint something, and not necessarily his figure. It was as though you were a radio, turning the knob to fine-tune the right frequency. One you knew was yours to attune to, you just needed a bit more—

“So I wanted your opinion on the matter quickly before we meet in twenty minutes.”

You straightened your shoulders, and nodded, shaking those thoughts away. Your boss had a work-related request, and you obliged immediately.

While you resumed the current status of the agreement with an American company looking to use Jeon facilities to carry out research and development of a few products the Jeon conglomerate wanted priority access to, CEO Jeon Jungkook listened intently. You were used to talking and being met with skepticism or even indifference, especially by older stakeholders, who didn’t always respect a young woman in such a pivotal role in your department. Yet, the CEO was listening to you with utmost seriousness, as if every word out of your mouth was worth his time and attention.

Because it was; he hadn't achieved his current level of success at such a young age without being highly skilled and intelligent, just like you. You gave him the run-down of the situation and brainstormed with him possibilities that could be included in the agreement with ease. It was frankly refreshing; not too often, you had to waste time reminding board members of concrete information, boundaries, and laws that they should be aware of. Jeon Jungkook wasn’t there to waste your time or to scoff at your input; he was there to obtain advice on the best course of action, and it tranquilized you.

It impressed you, also. For someone only two years younger than you, he was phenomenal. Though, you didn’t forget what he was. You wondered if the reason why you couldn’t take your eyes off him and nearly stopped breathing to hear him attentively was because he was an alpha. You could only guess; to your knowledge, no one at the company knew of him or the Jeon family, and you had no way of knowing if you should feel any type of way about him.

According to your mother, you should. When you first started working for the Jeon conglomerate, she had almost lost her mind, wailing about the sacrifices your ancestors made to keep your family safe, only for you to work right under one of the Families. At the time, you knew better than to scoff at her; after all, you had already presented. It was a hard period for you, having grown up with stories the world told you were make-belief, only to turn eighteen and suddenly feel unexplainable things. The worst was that your sense of smell had evolved, picking up on the faintest scent. If humans could make the air change so quickly based on their emotions, you could only imagine how an alpha could influence a whole room, especially for you.

In the end, your mother had to admit that the Jeon family was too prestigious and far away to ever come into contact with you. That meant that Jeon Jungkook had never met you until now, despite your extensive work at his company. You were the middle person, the worker behind the scenes, writing the proposals, discussing, and bringing things to life. Yoon Minsik or other Seoul-based lawyers would be the ones to appear at formal events when things were done, which you didn’t mind as long as you stayed in Busan. Safe.

So Jeon Jungkook had no idea about you.

Still, he sighed when you finished talking and leaned on his right side as he seemed to debate something with himself. “I must confess Yoon Minsik didn’t do you justice.”

“I’m sorry?”

You blinked, caught off guard. He had a meeting in five minutes; you were expecting him to say his farewells.

“I knew the Busan team was holding someone exceptional, but Yoon Minsik should have warned me sooner. No one in this office can synthesize, analyze, and keep a high level of scrutiny like you just did on such short notice and in so little time. Not with me, at least.”

You didn’t answer, opting for a silent moment to process what he just said. It was surely praise, but you were not about to belittle your Seoul colleagues by agreeing. You also didn’t want to sell yourself; you were happy where you were. Finally, you had to stop your chest from swelling with pride. CEO Jeon Jungkook was telling you in so many words that you matched him skillswise, which was incredibly validating. He was also incredible, if you could say so yourself.

He glanced at the edge of the screen, then leaned forward, “Your talents are wasted in the Busan office. Come work with me in Seoul.”

Your cheeks blushed furiously as your body overreacted to his request. Fortunately, your makeup was perfect that morning, and so you could trust he had no clue how much he affected you.

“I’m undoubtedly flattered by your incredible remarks and for such an amazing opportunity, but I must politely decline.”

Your answer was automatic, even though your eyes watered, and your voice didn’t hide a tinge of emotion. You were touched by the proposition, by the whole ordeal, really. But nothing could change your mind.

He pursed his lips, “Is there something about this office you dislike? Something you’d like to request? I’m listening.”

Your heart raced in your chest and you swallowed. Your mind whipped out an impossible thought while you glanced at the clock — 9:58 AM. When you looked back at him, you were almost shocked; he was at ease, just looking at you. As though he didn’t have another meeting in two minutes. As though you weren’t a replaceable piece in the system. As though he actually was willing to stay there with you and negotiate the conditions that would change your mind and bring you to his side.

You swallowed dryly again, “The office is great; like I said, it’s an amazing opportunity. I just don’t wish to be uprooted.”

A few seconds ticked by in silence while you waited for those soft features to twist into petulance or anger at the rejection.

But then his lips pulled in a crooked smile, and you just knew he was amused, maybe even impressed by your resilience. 

“It’s a shame, and an incredible loss for this office. But I don’t plan on doing without you from here on out. Thank you for your time, talk soon.”

He bowed, and you hurried to do the same through your bewilderment, and in seconds the call was cut. You were left breathless and a little stupefied by CEO Jeon Jungkook.

You weren’t sure how to feel about today.

As you shut the front door of your apartment with your heart in your throat and disheveled hair from running, you leaned your back on it as if your weight could stop whoever was chasing you from breaking it down.

Your first instinct was to push the camera button to see outside your apartment and of your apartment building, but it was all normal and quiet. Slowly, your heart calmed as you stared endlessly into such a peaceful and unmoving image, you wondered if it had been hacked to play on a loop.

But then you scoffed and reasoned with yourself; that’s just an exaggeration. This whole thing was. This whole day was. 

First, the CEO of your conglomerate all but interviewed you and tried to negotiate you changing offices to Seoul. Just that implausibility could have made that day already sound bonkers.

But then, because you had taken the metro that day, you had to walk a bit home, and you were almost snatched.

You swallowed, getting your heels off. That was exactly what it was — a car had stopped next to you on the street and two men had tried to grab you and push you inside. They must have been coordinated, because the men were following behind you, and the car knew exactly when and where to stop. Still, the nearing car alerted you, so as soon as you felt someone behind you, you were ready to fight. You struggled and managed to slip through their fingers, instantly running to a very busy street nearby. You knew no one would help you even if they saw it, but you were hoping it would deter them at least.

You ran straight home; you hoped they didn’t follow you.

You went all the way to your fridge, grabbed a soju bottle in your shaky hands, then turned on the TV to create background noise. You were nervous, trembling, and you needed normalcy to calm down. The familiar sound of a journalist reporting the news allowed you to down half a bottle in a go before heaving a long sigh straight from your soul. 

Abductions weren’t common, but men or cults were known for unorthodox methods like those. You tried to shrug it off as being in the wrong place at the wrong time, but it wasn’t enough. The news wasn’t enough, either. So you grabbed your phone and called your mother.

“Hi, my butterfly. How’s my precious daughter?”

She instantly started going on about what she was doing and her day, and you finally closed your eyes with a sense of normalcy. You managed to switch clothes while she talked, then went over the small and less impactful moments of your day for obvious reasons — the Jeon alpha and the almost abduction situations would just worry her terribly.

But then the TV reporter started speaking on a piece about a series of attacks targeting women in Busan, and you reached for the remote to increase the volume. Your mother kept talking, none the wiser, while you listened to the piece and noticed the similarities to what happened to you: men followed them on the street, shoved them into a car, asked a bunch of questions, touched them inappropriately, and then let them go.

Your mind was going over the motive of such a weird event when your breath caught. On the screen, the interview of one of the victims shocked you — it was the barista from this morning, eyeglasses and all.

Your alarms went off. “Mom…” you interrupted. “I need to tell you something.”

You started by commenting on what the reporter was saying, talking about the events happening locally, and your mother scoffed bitterly, “I told you not to move to the city.”

“It’s just Busan,” you argued, tired of that same old discussion.

“Even Busan is too big! Big cities are hunting grounds for—”

“Do you think that’s what this is?” You asked more sternly, wanting her opinion without freaking her out.

“Yes,” she sighed, knowing her daughter was dismissive of the subject. “It sounds like they’re scenting people.”

“What?”

“Hunting for omegas.”

You bit your lip for a second, still hesitating, “And why do you think that is, all of a sudden?”

She hummed, “They think omegas are extinct, but that doesn’t stop them from looking.”

You sighed with exasperation; this was serious, “You think they’re hunting ghosts and risking lawsuits?”

“These Families don’t need to worry about petty things like lawsuits! You should know that!”

You groaned, rubbing your face. You had misstepped and given her even more reasons to be agitated, and she didn’t know the half of it yet.

“An omega is a powerful tool to exert control. Remember the legends? Seven great Families once controlled the nation—”

“Yeah, yeah, omegas disappeared and now there are only four families,” you wrapped up dismissively. You didn’t care about snobs or hierarchies, not even in what concerned your disconcerting CEO. You cared where that left you.

“Whether you want to bury your head in the sand or not, it’s still very much true. The four Families have four unmated alphas, it’s a wonder they didn’t start searching sooner.”

“You think this is them?” you probed, biting down your nail.

“Or someone who knows how valuable such a person can be.”

You scoffed, “How would they even know who is an omega?”

“Some are trained to pick up the rarest of scents. Don’t forget how invaluable—”

“Right, right,” you dismissed, hiding your eyes from the TV and the world. You could still see the barista giving her testimony to the journalist; there was no dismissing it anymore. Your mother was making too much sense, paranoia be damned.

“Whatever Family gets their hands on one will get the upper hand.”

“This is fucking ridiculous,” you burst in a low hiss, angry at the world. You were not a tool or bargaining chip.

“You say that because you don’t know. You don’t know what it’s like to be in a room full of alphas, the power that—”

“Nor do I want to,” you grumbled. “Do I have a reason to worry?”

Your mother’s tone was surprisingly calm, “No, I don’t think so. Our family is not in the registry, they have no way of tracking you down. Why?”

You went over the episode briefly so as not to shock her too much, though to no avail. “Mom…” you tried, but she didn’t stop her litany of I told you so. “There’s something else.”

You had to tell her about the barista because to you, that was the nail in the coffin. You were pragmatic and knew the law; regardless of the Families’ standing, you didn’t believe they were above it. Maybe they did hunt for omegas in order to gain advantage over each other, you couldn’t be certain. Realistically, alleging such things would get you nowhere, and you were living under the radar, staying away from the capital where most betas and alphas migrated decades ago. But the barista changed everything. Because you went to that café almost every day and this time, you had touched her. You could have left your scent behind.

It was just too much of a coincidence that the two things happened the same day.

“You need to leave.”

Your mom’s tone dropped, hinting at an incontestable seriousness. You still tried, “You said I’m not in the registry.”

“Yes, but we can’t risk it!”

You groaned, “What the hell will they do? Kidnap me?”

“Yes!” You pursed your lips this time. “You’ll be seen as a tool! And we don’t have the means to protect you!”

You rubbed your eyes but agreed, “I… I think I can go to Seoul for a while. For work. I know,” you continued, with a hint of frustration. “It’s the worst place to go, but I have my life, my work. I can't just disappear. Maybe if I leave for a week or so, it will be enough to throw them off.”

Your mother wasn’t convinced, but she was reasonable — you could leave tomorrow and ask for vacation as soon as possible to maybe travel and lay low for a while.

It was nerve-wracking, but you were willing to do anything to stay safe and hidden. To stay autonomous and live freely, to not be used as leverage in power games that deemed you a worthless pawn. You just wanted to live your life, regardless of your blood or status.

You had a plan, so after booking a flight and a hotel room, and messaging your mentor about the sudden change of plans, you were able to sleep a few hours. Because you wanted to work the next day, you had an early flight that allowed you to arrive and get ready before starting within normal working hours.

That was how you left, waiting for a taxi in front of your building when the sun wasn't even up. And that was how you were shoved inside a car when you were distracted, and finally taken.

[ambitiousmars]

.☘︎ ݁˖ GENTLE precision

.☘︎ ݁˖ summary: viktor works in his own way. on the floor, in the dark, sometimes even in his sleep. but no matter the circumstances you'd hate for him to miss his morning coffee.

.☘︎ ݁˖ pairing: viktor x gn!reader

.☘︎ ݁˖ genre: fluff

.☘︎ ݁˖ warnings: no use of y/n, pure fluff, not proof read, based on season 1

I'll gently graze you, so you'll remember my touch. I'll softly speak to you, so you'll remember my voice while it's coaxing you rather than haunting you. And I'll remember you, so when you remember me, we'll remember us.

"Morning, Viktor." You greeted yourself as the door of the darkened lab clicked behind you, hand grazing against the wall to find the light switch.

"Keep them off," Viktor would urge, "Please." He'd mumble politely as a blue light sparked from the floor beside his chair.

"What are you working on?" You'd ask, making coordinated steps with coffee in each hand towards the sparking light.

You didn't know it could be so dark in a light room. The window looked as if it was the dead off night, and you clearly wouldn't know any better if he told you it was, in fact. Even if you were outside ten minutes prior.

One step: lies a cord notorious for being tripped on.

Picking your foot to place three more steps.

Where a table clock laid, broken glass facing down that no one bothered to pick up.

Picking up your foot, you took a few more steps before standing beside the busy man.

"I hope that's coffee I smell." Viktor whispered, not because he didn't want you to hear but because of how gentle he took your care. Whispering was a sign of vulnerability, not even he noticed about himself.

"Well, you always did get what you hoped for." You responded in the same tone, a smile evident in your voice as you lowered yourself to sit beside him.

He pulled away from whatever he was working on and removed the goggles he placed on his eyes to the floor beside him.

He reached a hand out to you, noticing you couldn't see him in the dark and you weren't even looking at him. He located your wrist to grasp lightly and slide the coffee from your hand before letting go.

"What are you working on?" You asked, moving your eyes back to him. As your eyes found his, you noticed the glisten in his eyes that still glowed through darkness, something you'd hate to miss.

He hummed through his sip off the hot beverage, letting you know he acknowledged your curiosity.

"Same thing I was working on yesterday,  and the day before..." He spoke, although not great with humor, you could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke. As if he wanted you to laugh at the thing he found frustrating,  maybe to make it less frustrating for him.

"And why are we on the floor?"

'we.'

A simple word, a simple pronoun aimed at the two, now sat on the floor together.

"You can sit on a chair if you'd like." Viktor suggested.

'we.'

No one told you to sit on the floor.

"Then you'd be the only one sitting," You shook your head even when you knew he couldn't see it.

"And you'd be the only one standing." He whispered, more to himself than anything.

"Presicely."

Being alone was what he wanted, but being with you is what he craved. He didn't mind being accompanied on the floor by someone who doesn't mind accompanying him.

But it was far more than his presence, you'd hate to remember him by the man who was all alone unless you asked. You shouldn't have to ask, and he shouldn't have to answer.

Your hand found the air, with what you could see you brought it towards where you thought the shoulder of the man was. You were a bit far off until it landed on the fabric of his vest.

He didn't say anything, although he was curious he knew once you'd find what you were looking for, he'd know. Like now, when your hand glided across his chest to his right shoulder--letting your face follow where your hand went, you rested your cheek on his empty shoulder.

Which he allowed, as he sipped his coffee and thought about the question told once today.

"And why are you on the floor?"

[nanaminokanojo]

THAWING ICE QUEEN (bonus chapter #2)

–one night of fooling around with the annoying campus king gojo satoru (he thinks so), turns into...well, something else more long term

CHARACTERS: gojo satoru x you | geto suguru | jjk characters

GENRE: college au | smut | smau | smau + prose | everything in between | ons | fubus to lovers | aged-up characters | idk where this is going

⚠️ TW/CW: strong/mature language | 🔞 | mentions of alcohol, smoking, etc. | this has narrations | god-awful pet names | will add more if something arises

A/N: This is 4k+ words of pure filth, I'll have you know. 😂 Anyway, enjoy the bonus chapter. Didn't wanna leave you guys with nothing.

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER INDEX

<<back to part 66 bonus chapter part 67>>

"Enjoying yourself without me?"

You chuckled at the sound of Satoru's voice coming from across you . He sure took his time coming into the spring to finally join you after taking your photo. You opened your eyes, and once you did, you were met by the sight of his tall figure coming down the steps of the spring. He smirked, keeping his eyes on you as he unwrapped and tossed the small towel which did a poor job at covering anything of his.

All the while, you watched the magnificent being that he is through half lidded eyes, noticing how his smooth skin flushed slightly as he waded towards you. The steam from the water didn't help in your already clouded vision and thoughts, eyes trailing from his face, down to his wide chest and sculpted abdomen. You observed him without reservations, your gaze piercing as you explored lower between his legs, beaming cockily when his length seemed to twitch at your unabashed attention.

Your tongue darted between your lips as you drank the entirety of his features, deciding that you liked him the most at his vulnerable moments – when he's under the mercy of your touch, bare for you to see every line and curve of what makes up the perfection that was Gojo Satoru. Although he always tried to conceal it with misplaced cockiness, you knew the truth in his reactions, coming to life under your fingertips, blue irises turning into mere rings that enclosed infinite universes when he's on the cusp of reaching his high all because of you.

Satoru sunk into the water not a foot away from you, an effort to conceal the blush that had suffused his cheeks before he was even knee-deep in the hot spring water. You looked away, deciding to give him reprieve but not before throwing a playful smirk his way. He sank even lower until all that was above water was to the point under his eyes, his hair falling over them as the steam made it damper.

"You'll get a nosebleed if you do that," you told him as you leaned your head back onto the artificially arranged rocks behind you, setting the cocktail you've made for yourself earlier on the side of the spring.

He straightened up and pouted at you. "I'll get a nosebleed if you don't stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" you asked, feigning innocence as you closed your eyes again. While you didn't have problems showing him just how physically attractive he is, it didn't hurt to tease him from time to time. Satoru is hot. Even the blind would know that.

The water calmed you down earlier, but having him close to you now, knowing he was watching you, seemed to have made the temperature rise. You sat still, letting your muscles relax although the anticipation was bubbling up in your chest. When was the last time you two were intimate? Why were you counting?

"Feeling better?" he spoke, his voice breaking through the sounds of nature that surrounded you.

"Better?" you repeated. "I don't think I was in any condition less than the current one I'm in to warrant that question, Satoru."

"You totally weren't okay yesterday." You could hear the pout in his tone, prompting you to open your eyes. "I just felt drained from the hike," you lied. He didn't have to know the details about your current issues with your dad, and you opted to change the topic, your disposition not swayed by his seemingly nervous small talk. "I am, however, in a good mood."

His lips stretched into a smile as he glanced at you, cheeks tickled pink. He could tell you it was because of the heat of the spring, and maybe you would indulge him and agree with it, but you knew otherwise, deciding to push him even further.

"In a giving mood, in fact."

Your words were like a bomb blast in the relative quiet of your surroundings, its effects and connotation lingering in the air, smoldering into a sizzle, shrapnels driving into his consciousness to drive your innuendo deeper in. This time, when he returned your gaze, he didn't look away, evidently torn between just acting on it and making sure you meant what he thought you did.

And then he broke into a lazy smile, concealing the sudden assault of lust that had made his clear blue eyes hazy. Well, barely. The honest thing between his muscled thighs didn't seem to agree. "Sweet cheeks, stop messing around."

You wanted to make him squirm, be the one to snap even if you're the one who was initiating the act. Gojo Satoru was one confident man, but you know what becomes of him when he lets go of his pride in exchange for unbridled pleasure. That's exactly what you wanted to see – him turning into a hot mess because of you. And you knew just how to do that.

To make your point clear, you took his hand from under the water, slowly lifting it up towards your left cheek. He instinctively cupper your face but you turned your face towards his palm, planting butterfly kisses all the way up to the tip of his index finger. You relished in the way he gazed at you, seemingly bewitched, a smile etching across your lips when his eyes rounded at the sensation of your tongue darting out to lick at the side of his finger.

And then you slipped his finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. Your eyes remained fixated on his every reaction, his breath hitching when you lightly bit the tip.

You had a whole new look in your eyes as they took on a dark, seductive mood. You guided his hand over your body, going lower as you rose up from the water, droplets of steamy water sliding down your naked form. You let his hand go, standing before him and letting him touch you the rest of the way down. You tilted his chin up so he was looking at you. He looked so hot with his hair pushed back, flushed cheeks and slightly parted lips as he felt his way over the curve of your hips.

"Does it look like I'm messing around, Satoru?"

He needed no further goading, taking the initiative by standing up to his full height. Both his hands took their places to cup your head, keeping you still as he dived in, seeking your lips and hungrily coveting them in a seering kiss that set the rest of your body on fire. With one hand, he grabbed onto your waist, squeezing as he dragged you closer to him, and in response, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing closer until your breasts were flush against his taut chest.

Satoru bent down as his hands traveled down your ass, squeezing the bare flesh and grinding the apex of your thighs against his sinewy thighs. He wanted control, but you weren't about to give it to him. He was about to lift you up by the thighs when you bit down on his lower lip, causing him to groan but pause at the same time, eyes wide in surprise.

A giggle bubbled from yout throat as you pushed him against the edge of the spring. "You weren't listening. I said I was in a giving mood." As if to emphasize your point, you shoved him further back until he was forced to hold onto the wooden platform behind him, the water just reaching halfway up his thighs.

"Didn't know you were hungry – Oh shit!" He intended that comment to be smug, but his breath hitched at his last words when you grabbed his balls in your hand just tight enough to warrant his reaction. That ought to show him who's in charge this time, and he didn't seem opposed to it, shutting up and even holding his breath as you slid your hand underneath his shaft. He was heavy on your palm, a tad bit warmer and flushed from having been submerged in the hot water of the spring. And then you wrapped your fingers around him and started pumping.

Satoru let out a shaky breath as you pressed closer, his eyes intent on yours as he broke into a grin. You pulled him towards you just close enough so you could feel his gasped breaths in sync with your hand. "Think you can keep your hands still for me?"

"Mhmm," he agreed a little to eagerly, his nose flaring at the prospect of what was to come.

"You promise?" you asked, your hand stopping its movements when he didn't answer quick enough.

"I promise, sweet cheeks."

"Good." You slowly got down on your knees, just the perfect height to be eye-level with his cock and for the water to reach above your chest. "You touch me, we stop, yes?"

Satoru just nodded not taking his eyes off of you. He watched you, the anticipation radiating from every inch of his skin as he waited for you to make yout next move.

"Your word, baby," you prompted him to which he responded with a quick, "Yes. Just...please –"

You chuckled, stroking him again. "Someone's eager. You're lucky you're pretty." But you gave in to his wishes, moving closer towards him, your tongue pushing between your lips to run the tip of his cock over it, repeating the action of stimulating that specific area before finally wrapping your lips around the swollen head. With a final whirl of your tongue against his slit, you pushed forward, taking him into your mouth. With every push and pull, you took as much of his length a little more at a time, reveling in the sweet noises he was making above you.

"Fuck, baby, you look so pretty with my dick in your mouth," he said between every hitched breath.

You continued to work him up until you felt him touching the back of your mouth, almost nudging at your throat. He flinched slightly when you took him that far again, and the next time you pulled back, you did so to the tip before hollowing your cheeks and giving him a particularly hard suck.

"Nngghh, Y/N – baby, that feels s-so...ah, fuck!"

You hummed, drool dripping to your chun as you continued with your ministrations, taking him deeper while making up for the rest of his length with your hand that simultaneously moved with your mouth with heightening intensity at every turn.

This was what you wanted, see him unraveling, his legs spasming as he tried to keep himself up, knuckles turning bone white as he kept his hands on the platform, trying so hard not to just grab your hair and fuck your mouth the way he wants. He's so pretty like that – fucked out, sweat dripping from his temples from his resolve to keep his end of the deal, flushed across the cheeks and jaw slack from your attention as you deliberately fondled his balls. There was certain satisfaction in bringing a man like him – confident and used to getting his way – down to his knees; a certain degree of pride knowing you were the one who was pushing him to edge. All while you are the one on your knees, literally, and holding the reins with absolute control. The thought of it was enough to make your pussy clench around nothing, heat pooling in depths of your loins. Who would have thought giving Gojo Satoru what he wanted could be such a turn-on to you?

And just when he thought he's in heaven, you take him higher by taking him deeper into your throat, his cockhead pushing down deeper, the momentary loss of air in your lungs an exhilarating sensation as you brought him closer and closer to the edge. All you could hear were broken fragments of your name, his repeated praises and declarations of how good it felt and how close he was.

"S-sweet cheeks...I-I'm s-so close...ha..." Unable to help it, his right hand shot out, and you let him, your teary eyes focusing on him as he took a fistful of your hair and snapped his hips, moving on his own none-too-gently. "You look so pretty for me...so good to me..." Expletives spilled out of his mouth while you choked on him. "I'm c-cum –"

He didn't get to say the rest of his words but had the mind to pull out just in time for the rest of his cum to erupt on your lips and chin, dripping down on your neck, thick and warm. He braced himself on your shoulders as he sank into the water with you, catching his breath as he chuckled.

"Goddamn, that mouth of yours," he rasped, pulling you onto his lap when he saw you darting your tongue out of your mouth to taste him. Satoru licked your neck clean, his mouth seeking yours in a sloppy kiss that was mostly his tongue playing with yours until neither of you can tell whose taste it was either of you were chasing after.

"That good?" you asked him cockily while he kissed down the column of your throat.

He hummed against your skin. "Best fucking head I got. Ever."

You laughed. "Silly."

He gripped your hips, causing you to yelp as he adjusted your position on his lap so that his dick, which was growing hard again, perfectly slotted between your thighs. "Not kidding, baby. I told you. We're just perfect –" He teasingly slid his length between your pussy lips as he pressed you onto him, his grip on your waist tight. "– for each other."

"So you keep telling me."

He smirked at you. "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't believe it."

You lifted your hands up to his cheeks, pinching them. "You're so cheesy about it, too."

"You don't like it?" he asked and you could've sworn you saw hurt cross his face. It was fleeting, but you knew you weren't imagining it, especially when he made an effort to distract himself from looking at you, scooping water in his hand and letting the water drip over your shoulder.

You shook your head. "I didn't say that."

At that, his ocean eyes finally met yours, a small smile tugging at the corners of his sensuous lips. "I'll take what I can get. For now..."

"Fo now what – What –!" You let out a surprised shriek when Satoru suddenly stood up, lifting you up by your thighs and taking you with him out of the spring and deeper into the house. Water dripped on the floor from your naked forms, leaving a wet trail in your wake.

"I want you to sit on my face, sweetheart."

And he made you do just that, lying flat on the bed while you kneeled astride his head, hands braced on the headboard while you watched him underneath you. Uncertainty swam in your eyes as you felt his hands grip your hips to keep you suspended enough above his mouth, his piercing gaze trained to your quivering cunt. Satoru always did that, you noticed, and he always did so with such an expression that spoke volumes of his hunger.

Regardless if you were ready for what he has in store for you, he pulled you down closer to give your folds a long lick. The first contact was so electrifying that you found yourself arching your back, a dragged out moan leaving your lips as he tongued at your clit, swirling the tip around it several times before flicking on it in a quick, steady rhythm that had you rising on your legs.

His name spilled from your lips between high-pitched keens and broken pleas. Whether you wanted him to keep going or to stop, you didn't know. But he stole your breath with every shift between his tongue and lips, sucking on your clit and folds like he was tasting water for the first time.

"Oh god," you breathed out hoarsely when he started burrowing his tongue into you, his head moving side to side with the action as he fucked you with his mouth, fast and unrelenting that you felt yourself unraveling before you were even aware of it. Still, he didn't stop, even moaning against you as if to encourage you.

"T-too much...it's too much, 'Toru," you whined, your legs shaking when you felt another wave of orgasm, causing you to squirm away from his touch, bur he wasn't going to let that happen. At some point, he made the decision for you, holding you still and not allowing you to move. His strong arms kept you pinned to the spot just like how he wanted it. Meanwhile, he continued to make out with your nether lips, the noises he was making along with the loud squelching of his lips and tongue so lewd in your ears that in no time, he had you gushing all over him, your slick juices covering the lower half of his face.

"Fuck – ah!" Your hand faltered on the headboard as he licked you clean. "Good girl," he whispered sweetly between kitten licks all over your oversensitive pussy. You were just about ready to topple over on the bed with your legs having turned to jelly under your weight, but he caught you just in time to pull you over himself, sliding you over his abs.

"Goddamn, that mouth if yours," you repeated his words to you earlier, breathless as you spoke.

Satoru had this self-satisfied look about his cum-laden face as he let out a quiet laugh at the mess he made of you. "That good, sweet cheeks? We've just begun though."

You limply fell forward on him, not wanting to put further strain on your thighs. "Shut up," you told him, voice muffled on the crook of his neck which soon turned to whines as he reach down your ass, squeezing before his fingers made their way between your legs, smearing your cum all over your pussy lips.

"You like that?" he cooed in your ear, teasing your fluttering hole and dipping two fingers in just partially when he felt your body twitch. "You've got to answer me, Y/N." But all he heard from you were pleasured sounds, the short, gasps of air eventually becoming quick successions of moans as he worked his fingers into you like well-oiled pistons, lubricated by your juices.

But before you could fall off the edge again, he maneuvered you over to his side so he could lay beside you, reaching an arm over to your front, his fingers gliding over your belly and back into your wetness.

"A-ah! Satoru...fuck..." you squealed when he shoved his fingers back into your throbbing cunt, going deep in search for your sensitive spot as if he hadn't been doing much of that already. You grabbed his hand, trying to stop him, but he tilted your head towards him, distracting you by claiming your lips with his, sloppily kissing you and hungrily swallowing your pathetic mewls.

"You started this, baby. Didn't you say you were in a giving mood?" he taunted you. "Well, I'm in a taking mood, and I want you." His fingers moved faster within you. "I want everything you can give me. You can do it. You've been so good so far."

You let out a soft mewl at his praises, snuggling closer to him to have something to hang on to, feeling as if gravity was failing as he brought you to yet another high, the knot forming in your loins tensing until there was no other way but to let go. The constant way in which he touched you caused your whole body to spasm until you were reduced to nothing but liquid pleasure and on his fingers alone.

"Mmhhh..." You panted onto his chest as his movements slowed down. Satoru took his fingers out, gently caressing your folds in languid strokes as your nerves calmed down a tad.

You were still shaking even as he kissed you tenderly, barely able to respond but letting him in when you felt his tongue probing into your mouth, teasing yours into reciprocation. As he did, he grabbed one of the pillows above your head, pulling away just quick enough to lift your hips a little to slip it under you. It was obvious what he was going to do after, and as if on instinct, you closed your legs together

He kissed you on the cheek, progressing lower and leaving a trail of fire as he moved to your jaw line, under you ear to the side of your neck, your skin flushing on the spots he paid most attention to. Satoru moved to hover above you, caging you into place as he littered your chest with blooming, red roses. His mouth latched onto one of your breasts, taking in as much as he could before sucking on your nipple hard.

Still too overwhelmed that his slightest touches was sending you on overdrive, you arched your back as he played with your succulent tits, shifting his attention from one to the other. "I can't get enough of these babies," he told you in a salacious tone, tongue hanging out as he flicked a sensitive bud. "I love putting them in my mouth," he said absently, covering one with his hand before giving it a rough squeeze. "I love everything about you."

The thudding of your heart grew heavier, and you knew it wasn't because of the physical exertion alone. His words were worming their way into your head, making your whole body go warm and for your chest to feel tighter as butterflies struggled to get out of you.

He resumed devouring your left breast while his hands roamed lower, spreading your legs apart with ease, keeping them open by wedging himself between them. With his hand between your bodies, he stroked his cock and started sliding the underside against your slick-laden slit, slowly humping you. At times, the head of his cock snags against your clit and he would repeat the same movements just to pull little squeaks out of your throat.

"You like that?"

"More...ah, 'Toru...ah...hnngggh..." You started bucking your hips up in time with his rhythm, unable to help it, the friction becoming so good that you thought you were going to combust.

You could feel yourself turning lucid, your brain turning to an incoherent mush with every stimulating stroke of his flesh against yours. But just as you thought it was too much, Satoru drew back, and just as you were reaching your high, he plunged deep into you, the action accompanied by a symphony of your cries of delectation and a guttural groan that spilled past his lips when he was met with little resistance upon his entrance and the subsequent clenching of your walls around him, spasming as if a welcoming hug filled with longing.

Liquid heat surrounded him as he slowly pulled out, torn between just staying inside you and fulfilling his desires which were quickly catching onto him. The latter prevailed as he thrust harder, gradually building up his rhythm. His thoughts were filled with nothing but the fact that what the two of you had transcended just sexual compatibility, sealing the thought in his head that you were made for each other, uniquely so like puzzle pieces coming together.

It wasn't just sex anymore, not to him. The way you fit in his arms, the way your hands felt just right with each other, the way it was so easy to put affection in every single one of his acts towards you. All of those went just beyond physical.

He just knows he had never and will never have anybody as good as you and how you make him feel.

And you were just the same, babbling nonsense as your mind swirled with nothing but Gojo Satoru, not sure if you wanted more, your mind telling you what you wanted but never translating to anything he could comprehend.

"Tell me what you want, sweet cheeks. Come – ah – come on, baby. I know you can do it."

Broken syllables of his name fell past your lips.

"Yes, baby. I'm here." His voice was accompanied by the sound of your hips coming together as he fucked you senseless. He took your limp arms, making you hold onto him as he patiently hung onto what you will say.

"Y-you...I want..." And then your eyes opened, shining with tears as something profound invaded every crevice of your being, radiating from your chest to the lines of your being. "I want you, Satoru," you finally managed to say in one go, and when you did, as if you were released from invisible bonds, you let go fully, heart and soul.

With a few more thrusts, you came around him and more, squirting with the force of a train wreck hitting you both as he continued to drive his cock into your leaking cunt, going against the pressure of your orgasm.

"Holy shit, baby! You're so hot – fuck!"

He followed shortly after you did, spurts of his release coating your walls, his cock swelling with the pride that he made you feel that good. With the strength left in him as his hips involuntarily moved through the pleasure, he rolled you both over so you were on top of him, his body shaking underneath your equally unstable form.

The bed was a mess, you both were a mess, but neither of you moved. He just cradled you on his chest, listening to the sound of your breathing as you came down from whatever cloud he sent you to.

You felt trapped in your mind as you lay still, hearing each one of his heartbeats, feeling when he moved slightly to pull out of you, your mixed essences dripping out of you and onto the space between you. His breaths evened out as yours did, soon replaced by light snored and mumbling.

And then he said your name followed by two words which, albeit mumbled, were very clear to you.

"Love...you."

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© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI’S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20240205]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART/ANY MEDIA CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[luxcuriousao3]

Dove: A Zombie Ghost Story (Chapter Five)

Summary: He couldn’t stop thinking about eating her, of tasting her sweet, soft flesh and hot blood. He wanted to devour her, but not in the way he usually did his meals. He would consume her slowly, sniff and lick every inch of her skin before gently biting down. He’d start with her wrists, feel her pulse point flutter under his tongue before severing the artery so it sprayed her honeyed blood into his mouth. He’d keep her alive for as long as possible, not wanting to be parted from her. Perhaps he wouldn’t even have to kill her. Maybe he could satisfy himself with just a piece of her, just his pound of flesh… Word Count: 2792 Warnings: still no smut Notes: triple asterisk (***) denotes a POV change as usual, dash asterisk dash (-*-) is a time skip but not a POV change AO3, Masterlist

Ghost and his dove left the cabin the next day, early in the morning. It took some convincing on his part, in the form of pointed groans and growls, to get Lelia to step foot outside. But they were too close to the base she came from, and the cabin had no food left. They had to keep moving, to find somewhere better.

Ghost led her to the stream he’d bathed in yesterday, and they followed it several miles south. Lelia became jumpy the second they left, but when they got to the stream, she paled dramatically and wouldn’t get within three metres of it. He found it odd, but it's not like he could have asked even if he wanted to. She didn’t complain, but he could tell how much she wanted to turn around and go back to the cabin, where there was a relatively warm bed waiting for her. He couldn’t blame her—even with the blanket wrapped around her shoulders and her ballet flats swapped out for a proper pair of boots they’d found in the closet, she was still shivering from the chilly autumn wind. Winter was just around the corner, and its threatening presence loomed overhead like a knife, in the cloudiness of the skies and the way her breath misted in front of her face with every puff of air.

Eventually, the stream came to an end, and Ghost collected some water in the bucket before they continued. The trees were beginning to thin out, and he hoped that meant they were nearing some sort of town. Anywhere that he could find a little more food for his dove.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. The day ended before the woods did, and they were forced to stop when Lelia nearly collapsed from exhaustion. He felt guilty when he noticed just how ragged she looked—all she’d had to eat in the last few days was a can of beans, and she’d been walking nonstop since dawn. It was difficult for him to remember just how fragile humans were, especially when he’d never been a particularly delicate man himself, even when he was alive. But his dove wasn’t a trained, battle hardened operative—she was just a normal young girl, and he needed to treat her as such.

He groaned a quiet apology as he helped her set up a fire, once again handing her the matchbook to light it. She only broke one this time, which was quite the improvement. He added it to the flames as extra tinder.

“Do you sleep?” She asked him as the water boiled. He jerked his head to the left, then the right. “That must be nice. I wish I didn’t have to. Sleeping is more terrifying than being awake, most of the time.”

He’d heard her tossing and turning last night, had smelt her salty tears as she’d whimpered and begged someone named Andrew for mercy. Mercy it had sounded like she’d never gotten. He had wanted to comfort her, but he’d been certain his presence would have just made things worse. So he’d stayed outside her door and done the only thing he could to help her. Stood guard and kept her safe.

He did the same tonight. When the exhaustion finally got the better of her, despite the valiant fight she put up, he watched over her. But this time, when the nightmares came for her, there was no door separating them and hiding the terrified expression on her tear-stained face. So he moved closer, reaching out and clumsily twirling a lock of her hair around his stiff, cold fingers. He couldn’t feel the softness, but he could imagine it. Smooth like silk. Rare and desirable and beautiful, just like her. But with a hidden strength, too.

Soon enough, his dove settled down. He’d have liked to say he had something to do with it, but he knew that was just wishful thinking. Nonetheless, it took him quite a long while to finally let go of her loose, auburn curls and get back to his feet, returning to his self appointed role of her undead protector.

-*-

It took two more days to find a town.

Lelia could barely hold herself upright by the time they did, and Ghost would have offered to carry her—except that his instincts to feed were going haywire, having been denied too long, and every waft of her unique perfume made his mouth water. He’d given up on trying to wipe away his drool. It was no use. He couldn’t stop thinking about eating her, of tasting her sweet, soft flesh and hot blood. He wanted to devour her, but not in the way he usually did his meals. He would consume her slowly, sniff and lick every inch of her skin before gently biting down. He’d start with her wrists, feel her pulse point flutter under his tongue before severing the artery so it sprayed her honeyed blood in his mouth. He’d keep her alive for as long as possible, not wanting to be parted from her. Perhaps he wouldn’t even have to kill her. Maybe he could satisfy himself with just a piece of her, just his pound of flesh…

With a ferocious growl, Ghost suppressed the rising urge once again. He hurried Lelia into the first house they saw after clearing it, then put her in a room with a lock. He mimed the locking motion, then held out his hand, telling her to stay put. He pointed to himself, and then pointed back towards the front door, and prayed she would understand.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, sounding like she was on the edge of panic, even as she laid down on the bed, unable to stand any longer. “Where are you going? Are you— are you coming back?”

Ghost groaned pitifully, banging on the door. His dove jumped, and he nodded at her questions, but then pointed at the lock again, gesturing her over. Wide-eyed, she dragged herself out of bed, and he took several steps back as she approached. She looked at him in confusion, but he just grabbed the door and slammed it closed between them. He rattled the knob until she got the hint and locked it. This time, the groan he let out was one of approval and relief.

He fled the house and Lelia’s intoxicating scent quickly after that, retreating back into the woods to hunt. He was so hungry, so overwhelmed by the virus’s instincts, that he didn’t think he could stop himself from eating a human if he came across them. He hoped desperately that he didn’t, even though they tasted far better than the animals he usually fed on.

He was drooling at the thought, again. Fresh human… not just the scraps left by other zombies, like Lelia would have been had he not intervened. He imagined finding her torn apart, soft hair matted with blood, big brown eyes full of terror, frail limbs ripped off, empty stomach clawed open. It was horrid. It was what he would do to her if he went this long without feeding again.

He vowed then and there to never, ever let that happen.

***

Lelia startled at the knock on the door, slowly standing up from where she sat on the edge of the bed and crossing over to it.

“Simon?” She asked anxiously. “Is that you?”

A familiar sounding groan answered her, and she almost threw the door open in relief before she thought better of it. What if it was another zombie? She’d be dead, and Simon would come back to find her bloody, lifeless corpse. Possibly walking around. No, better safe than sorry.

“Knock three times, pause, and then knock twice more if it’s you,” she said. A few seconds passed, and then three slow knocks—bangs, really, Simon seemed to have trouble with his fine motor skills and so knocking was beyond him—a pause, and then two more bangs. Lelia waited a few more seconds to make sure nothing else was coming, and then she opened the door, letting out a sigh of relief as Simon’s milky eyes met hers—only to recoil in horror when she saw the fresh, red blood on his gear and around his mouth. There were bits of something Lelia was scared to know the name of stuck in his teeth, and instinctively, she took a step back. Simon did as well, giving her space and ducking his head. He almost looked… hurt? Or maybe ashamed… it was difficult to tell. She wasn't even really sure what the extent of his emotions were—did he feel the same way he could when he was alive? Or was it dulled? He was clearly capable of some feelings, otherwise there would be no reason for him to follow her around, protecting her. She still didn't understand why he did. Her best guess was pity, or maybe loneliness. Whatever it was, it kept her alive, and she was grateful.

“Did you… did you kill something?” She asked after a moment, swallowing nervously. Simon didn’t move or make a sound for a long moment, before he jerked his head up and down in a nod. His broken, bloody jaw quivered, teeth clacking against one another. Drool leaked out of his mouth, and Lelia had to fight the urge to wipe it away. It always seemed to bother Simon when he drooled, and once again, she wondered at his capacity to feel things like embarrassment or self-disgust. But she pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on the question she desperately didn't want to ask but knew she had to. “Was it— human?”

Simon quickly shook his head, so quick the string of bloody drool flew off his face and landed on her jacket. Simon froze, and any doubt she had that he felt things as deeply as a human did disappeared at the utterly mortified sound he let out. It was between a groan and a gurgle, and he automatically reached for her as if to wipe it off, before realizing his gloves were covered in blood, too. His hands hovered over her chest as she blinked at the new stain on her shirt, too shocked to say anything. Just as she came to her senses and was about to assure Simon that it was alright—it was gross, yes, but so was her period, and that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle—he turned around with surprising agility for someone whose muscles were in a permanent state of rigor mortis, and fled down the stairs.

***

He’d spit on her.

He’d showed up at her door looking like a murder scene, and then he’d spit on her like the snarling, rabid animal that he was.

He had never been so horrified in his undead life. He couldn't remember if that was the case for his actual life, but he’d bet on it if Johnny were here.

“Was pretty funny, mate, ye got tae admit.”

Ghost growled at the very Scottish sounding voice in his head. Whoever this Johnny was, he was a right arse.

He went straight into the downstairs toilet, turning on the tap. No water came out, as expected. He'd still had to try.

He turned to the towels instead. They were dusty and motheaten, but that didn't bother him. He wiped his face off as best he could, and then his gear and his gloves, pulling them off and stuffing them into one of his many pockets. The end result was… not great. The blood of the deer he'd killed and eaten had already started to dry, adding another stain to his gear and leaving a rusty brown hue to his colorless skin. He tried to pick tufts of flesh and fur from in between his teeth with his blunt, blackened nails, but he somehow only made things look worse. 

“Simon?”

The sound of his dove’s soft, concerned voice floated down the hallway, and Ghost panicked, slamming the door of the toilet shut so hard it rattled on its hinges. He heard Lelia’s heartbeat jump and her footsteps pause, before starting again in his direction.

“Simon?” She repeated, knocking softly on the door. He turned away from his ghastly reflection in the dirty mirror, paralyzed. He was acting ridiculous. He was a big, strong, undead soldier. He shouldn’t be terrified of a little dove like her. And yet he was. He was so bloody afraid that she’d tell him to leave, that she couldn't stand to be near him anymore. That he’d have to go back to protecting her from the shadows, an unwanted stray dog just following her around, desperate for any scrap of affection she would show him, but denied at every turn. It sounded miserable. It was miserable, but he would do it, to keep her safe. “Simon, will you come out, please?”

Unable to deny her, Ghost slowly opened the door. She stood on the other side with a worried expression, but all he could see was the drying string of crimson saliva on her smart pink jacket. He looked away, feeling ill.

“Are you alright?”

The soft, gentle question was entirely unexpected, but it shouldn't have been. Of course his dove would worry about the rabid, blood-covered zombie that just spit on her. She was an angel. It was why he had to keep her safe, keep her alive. The world needed people like her, now more than ever.

Ghost jerked his head up and down in a nod after a moment of hesitation, and then patted his chest, right over the spot where he’d spit on hers. He let out a quiet groan of apology, unable to meet her pretty brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lelia said, giving him a small smile. “This outfit was ruined far before that… besides, it’s not very practical for the apocalypse. My hus— I wanted to keep myself pretty. Clinging to a bit of the old world, I suppose. But I’m not on the base anymore. And trekking through the woods for days on end in a skirt is not easy.”

Ghost noticed the slip. It had sounded like she’d been about to say husband before she’d cut herself off. His eyes flickered to her left hand, but no ring sat upon her finger. Had he misheard? And why did the idea of her being married bother him so much?

You know why.

He ignored the thought, focusing back on her words. He grunted in agreement, and made a mental note to look for some clothes that would fit her—ones that would help keep her warm in the coming months. She was far too thin—she would need multiple layers if he was going to keep her from dying of exposure in the dead of winter.

An awkward silence fell between them, and Ghost could tell his dove wanted to ask him a question. He waited her out, and just as he knew she would, she broke first.

“So you—you went out to eat?” She asked, then winced. “I mean— earlier, when you were— were acting all… frustrated. You were… hungry?”

Ghost swallowed reflexively, tasting deer meat in the back of his throat. Slowly, he nodded, trying subtly to hold his jaw in place. Lelia looked nervous again, but also determined.

“How hungry?”

Ghost looked away, ashamed. He didn’t want to think about the overwhelming desire he’d had to sink his teeth into her supple flesh, or the vivid, blood-soaked images his virus-laden mind had conjured of him doing so.

Lelia sucked in a small, sharp breath, and her voice shook slightly when she spoke again—but there was bravery in it, too. A certainty. Like she’d made up her mind and couldn’t be swayed.

“We’ll just have to make sure you stay well fed, then,” she stated simply. “Then you won’t be tempted to snack on me… right?”

Ghost didn’t know how to explain that he was always tempted to snack on her, that her scent was the most delicious thing he’d ever smelled, that he wanted to see if her blood would warm him from the inside like a good whiskey. He didn’t know how to say that despite that, he would never harm a hair on her head, not for as long as he lived. Unlived. Bloody semantics.

So instead, he just grunted in agreement. He would always be tempted, but so long as he remained satiated, he would be able to keep his instincts in check. That was what she really wanted to know.

“Good,” she replied, sounding relieved. She offered him another smile, smaller than he would’ve liked but still just as sweet. “But you’re not the only one that’s hungry. Do you think there’s any food hidden in the cabinets?”

[onyxopossum]

LA Buggy the Clown x Sick!Reader (One Shot/ Fluff)

Reader is gender neutral/ use of "you" and Y/N

Description: You are sick, and Buggy takes care of you.

-

You ended up catching something awful; the Flu? Seasick? Scurvy–you hoped not. Whatever it was left you feverish, weak, and stuck to your hammock for the foreseeable future. Your eyes were puffy, nose running, throat scratchy, and your head was pounding something fierce. You blew your nose for the umpteenth time that morning before sniffling and throwing the soggy rag you had been using to the floor. The stormy sea did not make your situation any easier as the rocking of the boat made your stomach churn. You groaned and cocooned yourself in your blanket, leaving only your face visible. 

You closed your eyes and, of course, there were heavy feet coming down the stairs to the crew's quarters where you currently felt like you were dying. Your captain Buggy stood in the entranceway, glancing around until he saw you still bundled up. His footsteps approached, and you swear you could hear him grumbling to himself in annoyance.

"(Y/N), whatcha doing." It was more of a statement than a question. "I needed you on deck like yesterday!" Buggy tapped his foot with his arms crossed.

You coughed and rolled over, still wrapped in your makeshift blanket roll.

"Sorry, Captain… I need another minute."

Buggy's irritation seemed to have vanished in that moment before he covered his mouth and nose with his coat sleeve. 

"Woah, geeze (Y/N) you look like shit." Buggy was definitely blunt.

You simply groaned and faced away from Buggy. You could tell Buggy was still there as his feet shifted in place.

Buggy cleared his throat, "All right, so, stay here. I don't need you passing out on deck or falling overboard."

You heard him leave, his footsteps more quiet than before. You sighed and closed your eyes again. You were drifting in and out of sleep until you eventually heard footsteps approach again. You did not turn around yet, but you were waking up as you heard the footsteps stop, and then a chair was dragged on the floor. 

You slowly rolled over, and there was Buggy holding a bowl of something. Buggy's usual large smile was missing. Instead, he looked serious - concerned even.

"Captain? What are you doing here? I'll end up getting you sick, too." You croaked pathetically.

Buggy tsk'ed and scooted the chair closer to your hammock, "I'll be fine. Besides, you haven't eaten, have you? I'm just helping you get better faster so you can get back to your post." 

Buggy cursed under his breath before setting the bowl down on the chair, and you watched him leave without saying anything. You could vaguely hear some glass tinking, wooden boards creaking, and Buggy cursing until he returned with a tied-up rag. He walked back over to you and awkwardly put the rag on your forehead. It was cold but felt amazing on your burning skin.

Buggy picked up the bowl again and sat down. He scooped up a spoonful of the mystery soup and held it up toward you to take a bite. 

Buggy looked surprisingly serious and focused, which shocked you. You wiggled out of your cocoon and held the cold rag on your head as you accepted the mystery soup; it was warm, thick enough to be filling, but not too overpowering to upset your stomach anymore than it already was.

Buggy did not say anything; it seemed he was too focused on making sure not to spill the soup, but you could not help but start to feel better at how careful Buggy was being. Once the soup was finished, Buggy stood up and put the chair back in its place. He shifted the bowl in his hands as if unsure what to say or do.

"I'll have Cabaji check on you later," Buggy looked at you and patted your shoulder gently, "you'll be okay (Y/N)."

Buggy's signature smile returned as he left you to rest and get better. You sighed and fell asleep with a smile on your face.

-

BONUS:

Buggy was wrapped up in blankets shaking from chills as his nose ran. He held his head up with his detached floating hand.

"(Y/N), I'm sick! This is all your fault!" Buggy whined loudly before sneezing into his blanket. 

You, who was feeling much better, sighed but chuckled to yourself at his whining. 

"I'm coming! Hold your body pieces together."

You walked over to him with a bowl of mystery soup and a clean rag for him to wipe his nose.

[storytowrite]

Love untold (OT8 X F! Reader)

Chapter 24

Paring: Minho x Y/N, Han x Y/N

Genre: 18+, smut

Warnings: 18+, smut, minsung moment, threesome perhaps, fingering, blowjob, handjob, BL, violence

Word count: 4904

Masterlist

Due to the work of your parents, you are forcet to constantly move. However, this time moving houses let to interesting and unusual events. You met 8 handsome boys at school and somehow you managed to move in with them. How will your fate go?

……………………………..

You opened your eyes, feeling a nagging headache. The sun shone brightly through the curtains, blown by a pleasant cool breeze. You sat up lumberingly on the bed and hugged yourself tightly. You drank way too much, but you needed it and you don't regret it at all.

Suddenly, images from last night flooded your head. You remembered what happened between you and Chan and you blushed, bit your lip and smiled slightly. Your whole body was filled with warmth again, which pleasantly warmed you and gave you relief.

Still squinting, you looked at your phone. It was afternoon, you couldn't remember if you had ever slept that long. The only positive thing was that you actually felt rested and it would be perfect if it weren't for this terrible headache.

Massaging your throbbing temples, you rolled out of bed and headed into the living room. The apartment looked like a battlefield after yesterday's party. There were empty bottles, cans and plates with leftover snacks lying around.

Due to your squinted eyes, you couldn't see your surroundings clearly and you tripped over Felix lying on the ground. The boy just muttered something under his breath and turned over. You noticed that Felix wasn't the only one who didn't make it to his room. Seungmin was sprawled on the couch, half covered with a blanket. He was missing one sock and in his hand he was holding Changbin's foot, which was half lying on the couch and half on the ground. It looked ridiculous and you couldn't help but laugh softly.

You quietly went to the kitchen to drink some water to soothe the dryness in your throat. While the others were sleeping so sweetly, you decided to cook hangover soup so that the boys would have something to eat when they woke up. You tied Changbin's pink apron around your waist and got to work.

You were slicing, chopping and peeling everything as fast as you could to get everything done. Slowly, beautiful scents filled the entire room. As you were throwing the vegetables into the pot, you felt warm arms wrapping around your waist. You turned your head to the side to see who it was and felt a sweet kiss on your lips. Before you knew it, someone's fingers gently grabbed your chin and turned your head to the other side, and once again you felt a sweet kiss on your lips.

You turned completely towards the pair and it turned out to be Minho and Han, who seemed extremely rested. You smiled shyly at them and went back to what you were doing. Of course, Minho helped you finish the delicious soup, and Han called the rest.

Everyone, as barely conscious as you, sat down at the table and started eating the soup that seemed to taste a million times better than anything you had ever eaten. The warm liquid warmed you from the inside, soothing all your aches and pains. Looking at the others' faces, you knew it would be a rather lazy day spent on the couch.

After a small meal, you all settled down on the couch, Chan cleared the table and joined you with all sorts of board games in his hands, which were piled up covering his face. You laughed lightly when you saw the boy and decided to help him a little, after all, it could end in a disaster and you didn't feel like picking up all the items from the floor.

When everyone sat down, arguments immediately started over which game you would choose to play. Of course, Changbin, Seungmin, and Hyunjin were the loudest in every argument. So you've been chosen to decide what to play first. You didn't feel like doing anything where you had to think a lot, so you chose Uno. And that definitely wasn't a good idea.

Shouting, cheating, arguing are just some of the things that happened during each game. The one who got hit the most was Felix, who tried to make IN draw cards, but somehow it always ended up with Felix drawing 20 cards that barely fit in his hand.

After another such game, the boy said he wouldn't play with you again because you were cheating and he sat down sulking on the couch. Chan came to his aid and hugged him and soothed his emotions. To avoid making anyone else sad, you decided to watch a movie.

So everyone sprawled out on the sofa and soft armchairs. You leaned against Seungmin and placed your legs on IN's lap. Because you were lying slightly sideways, you had a perfect view of the rest of the members. It didn't bother you that you had to turn your head to look at the TV. Seungmin had his arm around you and his hand rested on your waist, while IN was starving your legs with his finger. You felt safe, you felt like you were in a real home.

While watching, you couldn't focus on the movie because the lights of the cars were reflecting in the windows all the time. Every time you looked out the window and saw the same silver car. It seemed strange to say the least, but you didn't want to bother with it.

However, when the same car drove past your house again within a few minutes, you couldn't help but bring up the topic.

“Binnie, see that car? He drove past our house once again. “ You whispered into the ear of the boy who was sitting in front of you, leaning on the couch.

“Calm down, y/n, it's probably a neighbor who can't find a place to park. You have nothing to be afraid of. " He replied without taking his eyes off the screen.

Still a little anxious, you returned to your seat and cuddled up to Seungmin. As you adjusted your position, your eyes focused on the movement you saw out of the corner of your eye. Minho was sitting in the men's spread and Han was sitting between his legs, leaning against the elder. One of Minho's hands was under Han's shirt and judging by the movement of the fabric, it was caressing his torso. Han's eyes were looking at the TV screen, but his lips were slightly bitten.

You were surprised but didn't say anything and went back to watching the movie. Of course, you chose one of the longer films and by the time you finished it, it was already evening. You were hungry so you suggested ordering some food. Each of the guys supported your decision and after a while you chose your food and all you had to do was wait.

After a few minutes that seemed to last forever, you heard the doorbell. You went to pick up the food yourself, as the rest were busy playing uno again. You opened the door and saw a well-built, tall man holding several bags full of food.

You don't know why, but you didn't have a good feeling about him. He didn't look like a typical delivery guy. You took the nets from one hand and were about to grab the nets he was holding in the other hand when you saw the same silver car that had driven past your house many times and looked fearfully at the man's face.

His mouth was twisted into an awkward grimace. The guy dropped the nets and grabbed your wrist, immediately trying to drag you out of the house. You immediately started screaming for help. You resisted as much as you could, but the delivery guy was twice your size and easily dragged you out of the door.

Your eyes filled with tears and your throat burned with an excruciating cry of helplessness. You were already halfway to the car when Minho and Changbin approached the man. Their blows were so hard that the man let go of you. You immediately ran to Felix, who was standing in the doorway. The boy immediately hugged you tightly and took you inside.

You turned towards the manor and the last thing you saw before the door closed was Chan joining Minho and Changbin in fighting the man. Felix sat you down on the couch and immediately checked your entire body for any wounds. Han sat on your other side and rubbed your back with concern.

“Calm down, Y/n. You are no longer in danger. “ Hyunjin, who was right behind you, tried to calm you down.

You had five boys with you who tried to do everything they could to make sure you weren't afraid anymore. With each of their warm words of encouragement, with each stroke, with each second, fewer and fewer tears rolled down your cheeks. You were grateful for that, but your head was racing with a billion thoughts at once.

You knew it wasn't a coincidence. You knew it was your parents... They found you... Deep down you were terrified, fear eating you from the inside. After a while, you heard tires screeching and the door to the house opened. You stood up from the couch at the speed of light, almost hitting Seungmin who was crouched at your lap.

You ran up to the three boys and immediately noticed red marks on their bodies. Changbin had a bloody lip, Chan had a grazed cheek, and Minho had cuts on his knuckles. You could see that they were pissed off, but they tried to control their emotions around you.

“God, are you okay? “ Your voice was trembling with fear, but all you saw on the boys' faces were smiles.

“Calm down y/n, we're fine. We should rather ask if nothing happened to you?” Changbin tried his best to control his emotions, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth.

“I'm okay, but you're injured. Let me label this. “ You insisted, your heart racing like it was trying to jump out of your chest.

“Y/n seriously, we're fine. Don't worry... Do you know who it was? “ Minho asked, hiding his hands behind himself.

“My parents…found me. “ You lowered your head in sadness because you knew you would have to say goodbye to the boys.

“Calm down Y/n, we won't let you get hurt. I promise no one will take you away from us.” Chan lifted your chin slightly so that you were looking straight into his eyes.

You saw a beautiful sparkle in his eyes that you had seen for the first time in your life. There was something mysterious yet wonderful about it. There was a hidden promise in him that he would keep at all costs. Thanks to this, you felt a slight relief and peace began to fill you from the inside.

When the atmosphere relaxed a bit, you decided to cook dinner yourself. You quickly got ready and after a while you could enjoy the wonderful, aromatic taste. After dinner, you quickly cleaned up and everyone went to their room.

You were sitting alone, looking through your phone without much concentration. Your thoughts kept wandering to a situation that had happened recently. Every time you remembered this man's face, your breath took away and your chest tightened. But then you repeated to yourself the promise Chan had made to you, and even the slightest bit of stress disappeared from you.

Unable to stay alone in the room any longer, you decided to go to the boys to thank them. You went to Chan's room, knocked quietly, and when you heard permission, you entered.

The boy was sitting at his desk and mixing something on the computer. However, when he saw you, he stopped doing everything and called you to him with a gesture of his hand.

“Because of all the emotions, I didn't have a chance to thank you. “ You started walking up to him.

Chan just smiled, grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him so that you were now on his lap. His hands were around your waist, holding you so you wouldn't run away.

“You can say thank you in another way. “ He smirked, moving his hands down to your buttocks and gently squeezing them.

You smiled back and placed a luscious kiss on his lips. You loved Chan's French kisses. His plump lips, his tongue dominating yours, everything was wonderful. Your breaths mixed in a sensual dance, warming your hearts.

However, your sweet moment was interrupted by a loud grunt. You broke apart and looked towards the sound. Changbin stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe.

“Next time you want to do this, lock the door. " He said sarcastically, walking up to you.

Chan just rolled his eyes and your cheeks flushed. You got up from your boyfriend and felt how wet you were. Such a short moment, such a seemingly trivial close-up, and it turned you on so much. Your face turned tomato red and you looked down, staring at his feet.

“Calm down Y/n, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I was just joking. “ Changbin said, standing right in front of you.

He grabbed your hand and rubbed small circles in it until you looked at him. There was already a purple bruise at the corner of the boy's mouth. You were about to say something, but you saw the boy's eyes reassuring you that everything was fine.

“Thank you guys. You really don't know what I would do without you. I am grateful to you for everything you have done for me. Not just today, but all the time since I met you. “ You couldn't express in words how happy you were to have them with you.

Changbin cupped your face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes and let yourself be immersed in this wonderful moment, feeling safe, feeling loved.

“And besides, you know perfectly well how to say thank you. “ Changbin laughed.

You tapped him on the shoulder and he pretended it hurt. The three of you started laughing at this. After a while, you placed short kisses on both of their lips and left the room. All you were left with was Minho, who was hiding in his room.

You stood in front of the door to his room and were about to knock, but you thought that maybe he was sleeping and you didn't want to wake him up. So you slowly and quietly opened the door and stood frozen.

Han lay with his T-shirt behind his head, leaving his torso exposed, his back arching. His eyes were closed and his lips were bitten. Minho towered over him, also shirtless, placing kisses all over his torso. His knee was between Han's legs, pressing against the visible bulge in the younger's pants. When Minho pressed lightly on Han's crotch, a soft purr escaped Jisung's lips.

You guessed that the two of them had a special relationship, but you didn't expect it. You wanted to leave the room and give them some personal space, but you hit the door as you stepped back. You hissed in pain, and the boys immediately stopped what they were doing and looked at you.

“Y/n?” Jisung wondered, floating on his forearms.

“Uh… I… I didn't see anything. I just came to thank you for your help. You continue, I'm leaving now. “You were confused, your tongue was getting tangled.

“Y/n…Wait. I know how you can repay me. Of course, you don't have to agree if you don't want to." Minho's voice was calm, seductive and mysterious. “How about a threesome, with me and Han? “ His words hit you like a gong.

You didn't know what to say at all, you froze in place. Your mouth was slightly open and your eyes wandered around the room. You started stuttering, trying to somehow answer.

“I…Uh…I…I.” The words weren't coming out of your mouth, you were confused.

Minho, seeing you in such a state, got up from the bed and started walking towards you. Your eyes turned to him. Every muscle on his stomach moved with his movements, and beads of sweat trickled down his beautifully sculpted chest. You swallowed hard as you felt the heat around your nether regions again.

Your wandering eyes are fixed on Minho's beautiful body. You scanned every millimeter, not wanting to miss anything. Finally, the boy was close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from him. You looked up at his face, but before you could look him in the eyes, he connected your lips.

His hand went to the back of your neck and he pulled you even closer to him. His tongue quickly dominated yours. Your saliva mixed together, forming thin strands as you pulled away for air.

His kisses made you completely forget about your stress, and now the feeling that dominated your body was excitement. You felt yourself getting wet again, your heart was racing and your breathing was uneven.

Finally, Minho pulled away from you slightly to look at you. You looked at each other in complete silence, enjoying each other's presence. The boy grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest. You could feel his heartbeat beneath your fingers. It was beating hard and fast.

“That's what you do to me, Y/n. Every time I see you, I feel like I'm about to go crazy.” Minho's voice resonated in your head.

“ I don't want to interrupt this wonderful moment, but I'm here too. “ Han interjected, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You both looked at Han and laughed.

“So what Y/n? The decision is yours. Are you willing? “ Minho asked, waiting for your answer.

You nodded, which pleased both of them. Minho locked the door this time and led you to the bed. You sat on the edge of the bed and Han knelt behind you. You felt his presence behind you. His arms wrapped around you from behind, roaming all over your torso.

His movements were precise and gentle, almost imperceptible through the fabric of your sweater. Han slid the fabric off your arm, exposing your bare skin. His lips were immediately on your shoulder. The kisses were slow, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

You felt so good that you almost forgot what you were doing. However, Minho didn't let you forget about it. He placed your hand on his stomach and let you take the initiative. Your hand wandered all over his torso, occasionally catching the waistband of his underwear.

Han caressed your neck with his mouth and his hands went just below your breasts, grabbing them from underneath. Your fingers dug into Minho's skin every time Han squeezed your breasts. You were aroused, and so was Minho, whose cock was starting to form a bulge.

You smirked and pulled down his pants, leaving him in just his underwear. At the same time, Han got rid of your sweater, leaving you in just your bra. As quickly as your sweater disappeared, so did your bra, which Han undid with two fingers. Your breasts popped out of your bra and your nipples stood painfully, demanding attention.

Your hand moved to Minho's still cloth-covered penis. At first, you timidly massaged it until it became taut, and then, more boldly, you grabbed it and stroked it through the fabric of your panties. Minho kept looking at you like you were the greatest treasure in the world, and at the same time like forbidden fruit.

Finally, Han got off the bed and took off his pants, leaving him in his underwear as well. He placed your free hand on his very engorged crotch. You started doing to him what you were doing to Minho and now you were stroking both of them.

Minho aggressively pulled Han towards him and connected their lips. You watched them kiss, their tongues intertwining. How their bodies work together. You didn't expect the sight to excite you so much.

You leaned towards them to take Minho's cock in your mouth, still continuing to pleasure them. Minho, surprised by your initiative, looked at you with a smirk, winked at you and, looking at you, went back to kissing Han. You were starting to feel a knot forming in your lower abdomen, ready to burst at any moment.

The boys had a lot of fun together, but they didn't forget about you. They looked deep into your eyes every now and then, their hands roaming over each other's bodies. Finally, when Minho broke away from Han, who was demanding a lot of attention, he walked over to you and pushed you onto the bed, then took off your pants along with your panties, which landed against the wall.

You slid deeper on the bed and waited for Minho to top you. You bit your lip once again as you looked at his body. Minho placed a kiss on your lips, but the desire for his lips was great and just one small kiss wasn't enough for you. You grabbed his neck and pulled him towards you, connecting your lips again in a long-awaited kiss.

As you kissed Minho, you felt Han start to run his hands over the inside of your mouth, getting closer to your pussy with each movement. Pleasant shivers coursed through your body and you gasped, trying to gasp for some air.

Finally, Minho broke away from you and his lips began to trail down your neck, moving towards your breasts. The contact of his lips against your sensitive skin made your back arch and his fingers dig into the sheets just above your head.

Your nipples were teased with both your lips and fingers at the same time. The boy used his tongue as best he could, giving you enormous amounts of pleasure. His fingers swirled and lightly pinched the other of your nipples. Every move he made made your juices start to flow out of you.

Han took advantage of this and slowly inserted two fingers into your hole. The slip made him go really deep, hitting the sweet spot. The first moan escaped your lips, which seemed to please the pair.

Meanwhile, both of them also got rid of their panties, revealing their erect penises. The first drops of pre-ejaculate began to flow from Han's penis. You couldn't stand the amount of pleasure they were giving you any longer. Han's fingers moved at a steady pace, and Minho's mouth continued to caress your breasts.

Feeling like you were about to come, you put your legs together, trying to stop Han. However, the boy spread your legs with his other hand and sped up his movements. After a while, your entire body was overcome by an intense orgasm. You were shaking all over but neither of them stopped giving you pleasure.

Finally, when you got your body under control a bit, they both knelt on either side of you. You took their penises in your hands and started giving them a handjob. You used the pre-ejaculate that flowed from their tip as a lubricant for better lubrication, and if that wasn't enough, you grabbed one of their members in your mouth and moisturized it with your saliva. Your tongue ran along his length, feeling the swollen veins beneath him.

Your hands moving rhythmically and your lips closing on their penises were driving them crazy, they needed more. They both began to stimulate your nipples while connecting their lips again in sensual kisses. Their hands kneaded your breasts, caressed your nipples, and as soon as they had a moment to catch their breath, they moved their hands down to your clit.

It was very sensitive, so every press, every run over it, every action gave you a lot of pleasure, and every lack of attention caused a silent growl of dissatisfaction.

Finally, Minho broke away from Han and in one rather aggressive move, he turned you onto your stomach and lifted your hips up. You felt a burning pain on your buttock after the boy's strong slap.

“Fuck her Han. “ He said firmly, gesturing with his hand for the younger man to come to him.

The boys switched places and now Han was kneeling behind you and Minho was kneeling in front of you. You raised yourself on your hands so you could grab Minho's cock in your hand and, feeling Han circle around your hole, you took Minho's cock into your mouth and started giving him a blowjob.

Han finally pushed himself against you and slid his entire length into you without much trouble. His cock stretched you, causing a muffled moan to escape your lips, which Minho took advantage of by pushing his cock even deeper into your mouth.

You didn't expect that penetration from both sides would be so pleasant. Han deliberately adjusted his pace to yours so as not to hurt you. You felt like Han's cock was still growing inside you, but you didn't mind.

The sounds of skin slapping together and you choking filled the room. Minho threaded his fingers into your hair and Jisung gripped your hips tighter and sped up his movements. You felt that the boy was coming to the end, just like you. You had the impression that this orgasm would be stronger than the previous one.

“Cum on her buttocks. “ Minho ordered, glaring at Han who was biting his lip.

Han took a few more strong sniffs, bringing you to orgasm, then he pulled out of you and you felt his warm cum shooting onto your buttocks.

You hadn't even had time to recover from your orgasm before Minho switched places with Han again and rolled you onto your back, not caring about the mess he left.

“Good girl, you deserve a reward. “ His voice was raspy and very attractive.

He lifted your legs and placed them on his shoulders, then entered you, hitting your sweet spot perfectly. You thought your eyes would roll into the back of your head, you couldn't think clearly anymore. Minho's movements were fast, strong and confident, and he never slowed down the great pace he had set from the beginning.

Meanwhile, Han played with your nipples. It was becoming more and more difficult for you to control your voice, the excess pleasure began to take over your body. You arched and squirmed under Minho, unable to control yourself. It felt so good that you didn't want any of it to end.

Minho knew exactly what he had to do to satisfy you, and after a while you climaxed again. Your walls squeezed against his cock, stimulating him further.

“You're so perfect. I could fuck you all day long and never get tired of it. “ His words were spinning in your head and you had to admit that you could have said the same.

A few strokes later you felt Minho shoot inside you, so much cum pouring out of you. Han kissed you through Minho's orgasm.

“You are so wonderful. “ Minho's voice changed, now it was calm, melodious and tender.

You smiled at the pair and your attention was caught by Han, who obviously wanted to say something. There was a mysterious smile on his face.

“Ready for round two?” He asked, placing your hand on his once again erect penis.

You smiled back, raised yourself on your forearms and started kissing the boy sensually. Neither of you knew how long you had actually been fucking, and you had lost track of how many times you came. You were blissful and neither of you even had plans to stop.

In the morning, you woke up cuddled in Minho's chest, and Han was sleeping soundly on the other side of the boy. Minho held you both after confessing that you were the most important people in the world to him.

You looked at both of them, how sweetly they were sleeping and you wanted to get up and take a bath so as not to wake them up. However, your actions were in vain, as soon as you got up from the bed, the two of you woke up.

“Good morning, honey. “ Han began, rubbing his eyes because he was tired.

"Good morning. “You kissed both of them hello.

"How did you like it? “ Minho's voice was a little sleepy.

"Very. We can do it again soon. “ You smiled and placed your head on his shoulder again.

You lay in bed for a while longer, enjoying each other's presence. Only after a while did you see the condition you left the room in, but that's no surprise, after all, yesterday's fun was great.

You decided that you needed to tidy up your room, so you started cleaning it. You took off the dirty sheets and left the room to put them in the laundry. You found Seungmin in the hall, smiling stupidly at you.

“You went crazy last night.” He accosted you.

You pretended you had no idea what was going on, scratching your head awkwardly.

“Don't pretend it didn't happen. We could hear you all night.” He teased you, widening his smile.

“What do you envy?” Minho emerged from behind you, grabbing you by the waist and placing a small kiss on your cheek.

Seungmin just rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen. Minho smiled at you and took the dirty sheets from you. So you could go back to Minho's room and help Han clean up.

<- Part 23 | Part 25 ->

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Total $hit$how: I'm Going In

in which Joy goes on a life-changing field trip

cw: referenced violence, death mentions, implied lab whump, adult language

previous // masterlist // next

×~×~×

Tomorrow came too fast.

In preparation for the mission, Joy’s body refused to sleep, waking her up at least once an hour to remind her that hooray, you have an important task in the morning! Better be ready, wouldn’t sleep be great?

She rolled out of bed at the first chirp of the alarm clock, groggy and more than a little pissed at her own brain. Vic hadn't specified a required uniform, so she changed back into the clothes she’d arrived in; breathable hiking pants, a black tank top, and a pair of combat boots. The shit they'd been provided for training was nice and all, but if she was about to embark on an expedition she wanted to remember exactly where her pockets were.

No one had seen Sahota since yesterday’s challenge, but Vic said he'd meet her by the compound’s exit. She waited there, slouched against the wall, tapping her foot in an uneven rhythm. 

Fuck. The moment of truth was at hand. She knew she could technically hold up her end of the deal now, shoot an ‘oh damn, are you okay?’ Sahota's way and immediately get shot down with a gruff ‘fine. Don't ask me again.’

But that probably wasn't what Jericho had in mind. Joy couldn't be direct about it. Last time she'd tried, it had only pissed Sahota off, and that wasn't the effect she was going for. She'd have to be subtle, dance around the subject as best she could. Too bad she had two left feet.

If she hadn’t been cued in already, the first sign that something was wrong came when Sahota actually made noise on his approach. His footsteps were heavier than they usually were, his breathing more ragged. It took effort to suppress a wince when she caught sight of him. He'd looked bad before, but now she was surprised he was still standing, much less about to head off on a mission. His left eye was swollen shut, and cuts and bruises littered his face. 

How many times had Harbor hit him?

Her anger at the other man doubled in size, but she managed to choke it back, keep it out of her expression.

“Hey,” she said. “Time to go?”

Sahota gave a silent nod, moving to the door and typing in a sequence on the keypad beside it. Joy thought to try and catch a glimpse of the code two seconds too late, and all she could do was mildly regret it as the door slid open.

It struck her as a little weird that it locked from both sides, but that was probably for cases like theirs: schmucks off the street, employed by vague threats and promises and kept on a tighter leash by Vic’s control issues. 

She followed Sahota up a set of concrete stairs and into the daylight. The morning air was almost chilly enough to make her wish she'd brought a jacket, the overcast sky promising rain. Gazing up at the clouds, she realized this was her first time setting foot outside since her arrival. Thank fuck she’d been distractred enough that the thought was only occuring to her now, otherwise she would’ve been going stir-crazy in there.

Getting to the compound had been a bit of a blur—some generic car with tinted windows and a silent driver dropping her into Vic's loving arms—so she wasn't too surprised that its exterior wasn't familiar. Brutalist concrete building that wouldn't look out of place in a sci-fi movie. Bigger than it looked from the outside, but she knew now that most of the structure was underground.

Sahota moved away from the entrance, to an overhang at the side of the building. Joy didn't know why she was surprised to see a car parked under it. It made sense that they had a way to come and go, but their vehicle of choice caught her off guard. It was just a beat-up truck, not the sleek spy car she might've dreamt up. It was probably better for blending in, but she still found herself a little disappointed. All the fancy tech Vic had at his disposal for training, and he'd settled on a ford for his getaway vehicle.

Sahota moved to the driver's side, and she noticed for the first time he was limping. Just a little, barely enough to tell, but once she caught on, it was clear he was favoring his left leg. 

Joy couldn't stop herself. “Did Harbor do that too?” she blurted out, gesturing down. He stared at her blankly for a second, then gave a small shake of his head. 

“Old injury. Acts up in bad weather.”

“What's it from?”

He unlocked the car, sliding into the driver's seat. “Training.”

Bit ironic that a lasting injury came from training and not the job itself, but life was a bitch like that sometimes. She'd broken her wrist in a middle school softball game once. Not diving for home plate, or even staggering back to catch a ball. She'd just… tripped and landed wrong. It still got stiff on some winter mornings, much to her irritation.

Joy climbed into the passenger seat. “Is it gonna bother you on the mission?” It was a blanket question. Should you even be out here? Go to bed, is what she wanted to say, but she imagined Sahota would take offense to that.

“This isn't a mission,” he replied, starting the truck and tactfully avoiding her question. Fair enough.

“How far is it to the lab?” she asked.

“Hour. Maybe more if we catch traffic.”

Well, on the plus side that gave her plenty of time to slowly close in on the topic of Sahota’s okay-ness. On the negative, if she somehow pushed the wrong buttons, she’d be stuck with a silent and grumpy Sahota for the rest of the drive. And the mission. And the drive back. Joy swallowed, winding her fingers together and pointing herself towards the window. Tactful. Be tactful.

“Uh.” She cleared her throat. “Kinda lame that Vic shot down your idea.”

“Hm?”

“The challenge? I thought it was…” Fun? Hell no. It had been just as awkward as this. “...Interesting,” she finished. Sahota said nothing, his eyes—eye. Should he even be driving?—locked on the road.

“Also,” Joy continued when he said nothing, “it's kinda bullshit that Vic changed the plan after we won.”

At that, Sahota let out a sigh. “I shouldn't have let you try in the first place. That's on me.”

“Is it?” She turned in her seat, facing him. “Sounds like it's on Vic. Aren't you guys partners?”

His expression didn't change, but his hands seemed to tighten around the steering wheel. “Yes.”

“Then why is he the one calling all the shots? You should get a say.”

“It's complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

“It's…” his mouth tightened. “Vic’s had a lot more time on the job. He knows better than I do. If he overrules me, it's for a reason.”

It could be true, partially true, but Vic seemed to think he had more power than just that. Her mind went to the video. Vic’s total disregard for his so-called partner.

“Maybe he knows better, but that doesn't mean he can treat you like shit.” She might've been overstepping, and maybe the incident really was just so routine that neither of them cared about it, but the slight shift in Sahota's face, the way his arms tensed, had her thinking she was right.

“Why do you work with him?” Joy asked. “You're really fucking skilled. Why not get a job with someone who appreciates that?”

“What about you?” Sahota replied without missing a beat. “You're smart. You build and fix things like it's second nature. Why'd you go for the criminal side when you could be something better?”

Joy scoffed. “It's not that easy.” She'd watched her oldest sister struggle with student loans, and high school had already been hard enough to stay focused through. She'd been scared of college, to tell the truth, and joining the army fresh after graduation just seemed like the smart path. No financial burden for her parents, no help from anyone else.

“Exactly,” Sahota said. “It's not that easy.”

She couldn't think of a retort on the spot, and instead turned her gaze back to the window, watching the clouds gradually darken. The city skyline was growing in the distance, but they didn't seem to be headed in that direction. She figured she could ask about that, fill the silence, but she knew it wasn’t the question she was supposed to be chasing.

Are you okay? It was on her tongue, refusing to be spoken. Whatever he answered, she knew it would be a lie, and voicing it seemed pointless when she knew he wasn’t.

Eventually, they turned down what her mother would've called a road less traveled; a ribbon cut through the trees that was more pothole than asphalt.

“Rotorworx has a lab back here?” Joy said, trying to peer through the dense foliage. 

“Used to. Closed down after an incident.”

“What kind of incident?”

“You’ve probably heard of it. Happened during the experiment Harbor was part of.”

Wait wait wait, this was that lab? Joy wracked her brain, trying to recall everything she'd read about the experiment. The published studies were vague at best. Something something innovative, life-changing technology. A sixth sense in development, a peek into another word. For a few months, it had been advertised on the daily; little teasing articles that told you nothing.

And then all of a sudden, news of the experiments stopped completely. Rumors circulating a few online forums suggested the project ended in a disaster, but she'd never found an official source; nothing to indicate exactly what went down. For all she knew, the research team had just been forced to scrap everything after losing funding. 

But something had to have gone right, right? Harbor had come out with… with… well, the promised sixth sense. Why hadn’t that ever been publicized?

“What do you know about the incident?” she asked Sahota.

“There's not much intel available,” he replied. “Something went wrong. Several researchers were killed, and the lab was closed by the government.” He pulled the truck into a patch of weeds that lined the road.

Killed? It had gone that wrong?

“We’ll need to walk from here,” Sahota said. “The area will be fenced off.” He hopped out of the truck, stumbling a little on the dismount. Joy couldn't tell if it was from his knee, or some new, Harbor-caused injury. She jumped out after him.

“You okay?” she said.

“Fine.”

Exactly how she’d thought it would play out. Ah well, it was a decent warmup. Sahota started into the treeline, his boots crunching against fallen leaves, and Joy followed him.

“You said people died.”

“They did.”

“How?”

“Cause of death was never made public.”

Joy raised an eyebrow. “None of this was ever made public. It just… I don't know, went away.” She probably shouldn’t be too shocked. Big companies loved their good publicity.

The promised fence made its appearance before too long. It was simple chain-link; no barbed wire, no cameras that Joy could pick out. Instead, spaced out along every ten meters or so, there was a plastic sign:

DANGER. CONTAMINATED AREA.

“Contaminated,” she read aloud. “Fun. Should we be worried?”

“Probably not.” 

Sahota scaled the fence with ease, and Joy followed. The area inside was less overgrown than the surrounding woods. Weeds came up past her ankles, but all things considered, that was pretty well-kept. Directly ahead, nestled between a few trees, a white concrete building stuck up out of the earth like a broken molar.

For a moment, she forgot she wasn't alone, taking off towards the lab without another word to Sahota. It wasn't very big. Was most of it underground? Had this been built solely for the sixth sense project, or had they conducted other research here?

“Cavan.”

Joy stopped short at Sahota's voice, casting a sheepish glance over her shoulder. “Sorry.” She waited for him to catch up, then held back a bit, deciding it was probably smarter to follow his lead. She knew her way around a shady area, but he seemed far more versed in subtlety than she was.

Sure enough, he honed in on what she assumed was a maintenance door, and knelt in front of it to get at the lock. In the six steps it took for Joy to reach him, she heard a click, and then he was easing it open, squinting into the darkness with his one good eye.

“No lights, no sounds. Safe to assume they cut all power once shit hit the fan.”

She peered over his shoulder. The maintenance room looked untouched, if a little dirty, and at one end, a flight of concrete stairs descended into darkness. Inviting, in a survival horror kind of way.

Sahota produced a flashlight, turned it on with a twist, and led the way down the stairs. The door at the bottom was also locked, but he made quick work of it.

That was a good sign, right? If there was anything inside worth seeing, it had to have been sorta protected by these security measures. The second door opened into a silent hallway. A thin layer of grime covered once-white tile, and she could see a few darkened doorways further in.

“If the main target's Elysium, this must be Asphodel,” she said, wrinkling her nose as the smell of mildew wafted out to greet it.

Sahota cast a glance over his shoulder as he stepped into the hall. “Didn't pin you for someone who knows Greek mythology.”

It sounded like something she should take offense to, but Joy just shrugged. “I'm allowed to have more than one hobby.” It wasn't like she made a habit of studying mythology, but the Percy Jackson books were some of the few she'd been able to sit through as a kid. Not only that, she'd actually enjoyed reading them.

“You like reading?” Joy asked as they pushed further inside, past a few empty rooms that looked like they'd once been offices. The corridor seemed to end at a set of double doors, deep in the dark.

“When I have time,” Sahota replied.

“Funny, I didn't pin you for a nerd,” Joy said. It was too dark to see his face, but she was willing to bet he wasn't smiling. “Are the books in the library yours?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“All of them?” Her mind went to the copy of 1984, all the tally marks. At first she'd assumed they'd been made by some previous owner, but maybe it had been Sahota all along. What would he be counting? Missions? Kills? Why put it there, of all places?

“Some are Vic's,” he answered.

She couldn't imagine what Vic would be counting either, unless it was all the parades he’d rained on. “Got a favorite book?”

He was silent for a moment, the only sound the faint fall of their shoes on the grungy tile. “The Hobbit,” he said at last.

“You are a nerd.”

“Maybe.”

She couldn't see shit past the flashlight’s beam, but this time she swore she heard the touch of a smile in his voice. 

Before she could ask if he had a favorite character, they'd arrived at the double doors. They looked sturdy—or rather, they looked like they used to be sturdy. The layers of wood and metal had warped somehow, buckled outwards. Like it had been rammed with a truck from the other side, or sustained some kind of intense pressure.

Sahota tested the door on the left, and it gave, just a little. He hit it with a more focused shove, and it gave a little more.

“Help me get this open.”

Joy stepped forward, bracing her palms against the door and leaning forward with all her weight. The door swung open with an awful scraping sound and a terrible smell to match, all stale smoke and the sour odor of rusted metal. She took a step back, letting Sahota and his flashlight get in there first.

The walls were charred, likely by scientific failures. The floor was also charred, with a few random squares lightened by what she could only assume was the removal of equipment. It looked emptied out, but not completely. A few metal cabinets were jammed together against one wall, a few more toppled like dominoes near the center. 

If Joy didn't know any better, she'd say there’d been some kind of explosion in here. And really, she didn't know better.

“Site of the incident?” she said.

“Looks like it,” Sahota agreed. “Check the cabinets. We're looking for notes, blueprints, any surviving papers.”

Joy nodded, even though he couldn't see it, and moved to the first cabinet. Sahota set the flashlight in the middle of the room, creating a dim, but usable, glow. 

Cabinet number one wasn't in great shape. It seemed buckled in on itself, much like the doors, and getting the top drawer open took a lot of effort on Joy's part. With the scant lighting, she couldn't see what it held, and was resigned to feeling around inside. Nothing.

“How long have you been working with Vic, anyway?” she called over her shoulder as she moved to the second drawer.

“Almost twelve years now.”

Damn. “You guys must be close.” Vic was an asshole, there was no doubt about that, but had she been overthinking his and Sahota’s interactions? If they'd been together that long, they had to have some kind of weird coping mechanisms for when the other was hurt.

“Mm.”

A week ago, she would've asked exactly how close he and Vic were. She was still pretty sure they were romantically involved on some level, but their weird power dynamic made her… uncomfortable. But maybe it was just some kind of kink that had leaked out of their bedroom? If that was the case, it really wasn’t her business to be calling Vic a piece of shit to his partner’s face.

Joy wriggled open the next drawer. “Sorry about what I said before,” she said, feeling around the inside of the space. “About Vic treating you bad. I shouldn’t have made that assumption.” To her surprise, her fingers brushed paper. A few sheets by the feel of it. 

Behind her, Sahota let out a quiet sigh. “It’s fine. Vic’s… he’s hard to get used to.”

That was an understatement. She’d liked Vic in the beginning, but it hadn’t taken long to see the ruthless apathy hiding behind his friendly mask. Maybe under that there was yet another layer, a sweet side that only Sahota got to glimpse. For his sake, she sure fucking hoped so.

Aside from a lonely sheet of paper in a bottom drawer, the remaining cabinets held a grand total of nothing. Joy shuffled her findings into the crook of her arm.

“Can we move this back to the hall?” she asked once she’d given the drawers a final once-over. “The smell is gonna give me a headache.”

Sahota didn't say anything, but when he knelt to pick up the flashlight, she took it as a yes. Joy left the room in a hurry, taking a deep breath as soon as she'd gotten a good few meters away from the door. Sahota handed her the flashlight, a folded piece of paper clutched in his other hand.

“Check what we have. See if it's necessary to explore further.”

Joy nodded, scanning page one. It took a few attempts of reading the first line before the words actually stuck; her mind was still bouncing between all the other topics of the day. The mystery of the lab, the mystery of Vic and Sahota, the fact that she still hadn’t finished her quest for Jericho… Fuck.

She forced her eyes into focus.

Your X4900 printer’s settings can be accessed by toggling the home menu.

Joy sighed. “This one's no good.” 

“And the next?”

She shuffled the page to the back. “This one… looks like a list of names?”

“Names?” He leaned over her shoulder. It looked like some kind of spreadsheet; names and dates and a shitload of scientific jargon.

Marian Sullivan. 08-12-097. 09-29-133. 10-16-133. Failed acclimation, occular failure, released.

Ahmed Faisal. 11-02-102. 03-10-134. 04-22-134. Failed acclimation, observed deterioration. Released.

It was a list of… what, test subjects? For the sixth sense, or something else? Joy scanned the names, doing a double take when she reached the bottom.

Hunter Harbor. 04-11-113. 02-28-136.

The next two spaces were blank, as if still waiting to be filled in. Joy glanced at the doorway they’d left, the burnt-out, destroyed room. It looked like Harbor was the project’s only success by a hundred miles. And somehow, that hadn't been a great thing. 

She swapped pages. The next seemed to be another piece of some manual, but after that… a collection of notes.

Construction largely consists of a bio-friendly silicon isotope; flexible and non-degrading. Interior electronics package is shown to be well-shielded against external factors. Centermost hollow houses Isotope G—

Joy paused, glancing back at Sahota. “Isotope G. You know what that is?”

“No.”

Definitely seemed like something worth finding out.

—designed to power implant, provided activation can be achieved. Extent of properties unknown, has been shown to emit a unique energy signature.

Joy sighed, shuffling the page to the back. “So Rotorworx is sticking shit in people's heads without fully understanding it. Is that a common thing with them?”

“Rotorworx has a history of not thinking things through. They prefer to look at results over consequences.”

Joy looked down at the next sheet. “Oh, here's more on the G stuff.” It was another set of handwritten notes, neatly penned onto a torn piece of notebook paper. This time, she read aloud.

“Properties largely unexplored, further research to be conducted ASAP. Full energization has been achieved on a microscopic level through ionizing Na-22 sample in proximity. Energization resulted in temporary visual phenomena that witnesses described as ‘otherworldly’. Energization of larger sample to be enacted ASAP.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You don't think… maybe they used this shit for the Reality Cage too?”

“We shouldn't assume,” Sahota said, taking the page from her and squinting at it.

“They said it was otherworldly,” she argued. “Even if it doesn't open portals or whatever, is that gonna stop Rotorworx from trying to use it that way?”

The corners of his mouth tightened. “Probably not.”

Joy glanced at the papers in her hands, once again face to face with the printer manual. “What was the one you grabbed? Have you looked at it yet?”

“Not yet.” He passed it to her, and she hit it with the beam of the flashlight. More handwritten notes, which so far, had been the jackpot.

1237 - Rate raised to .070 mSv/H, no change.

1300 - Rate raised to .071 mSv/H, no change.

1320 - Session terminated. Results inconclusive. Subject stable.

She re-read it aloud for Sahota’s benefit. “Milli-Sieverts,” she finished with disbelief. “They were straight-up zapping the test subjects with radiation.”

It seemed like the researchers were trying to energize the ‘larger sample’ while it was inside someone's head. Even though she knew this project had been shut down, Joy still cringed at the thought. She didn't have every piece of the puzzle, but the bits they'd found didn't paint a pretty picture. How had this been allowed? Why hadn't anyone stopped it before everything blew up in their faces? Literally?

She handed the page back to Sahota. “Think we have all we need?” she asked.

“Isotope G is a good starting point,” he replied, tucking the paper away. “It's more intel than we came in with.”

“Thank fuck for that,” Joy replied, rolling her shoulders back in a stretch. She'd really prefer not to spend any more time in this pit. She passed Sahota the flashlight and got to her feet, following the beam back the way they'd come. Once they reached the top of the stairs, she threw open the maintenance door with a dramatic shove. Ah, sunlight.

She held the door steady for Sahota. “You know what? That was fun,” she said. 

He raised an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Really. Not every day you get to break into an abandoned lab and find weird shit. Fun.”

He let out a noise that might've been a laugh. Maybe. “Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

Joy grinned at him, leaning back against the white cinderblock and casting one final glance at the papers she'd found, now slightly crumpled from their place in her fist. She could probably trash them as soon as they made it past the fence. Sahota had the important shit, and she doubted she'd ever own an X4900 printer.

But in the daylight, something caught her eye.

Joy frowned, smoothing out the stack before grabbing the first manual page. Turning it over, seeing nothing but manufactured words. Nothing new, what had she just..? Ah. The second page, something had been scrawled with a soft pencil in the margins on the back, hardly noticeable.

“Hey,” she said. “I think there's more here.”

These notes were hastily written, like whoever'd made them was smack dab in the middle of something and just needed to get it down. It took her a second to make out the words.

0918 - Rate raised to 10 mSv/H. Material appears to react. A spike of energy equivalent to 11 Joules is read on the monitor.

0923 - Rate raised to 25 mSv/H. Material shows a spike of activity, equivalent to 78 Joules. Increasing.

“Sahota..?” Increasing. They'd managed to energize the G shit then, at least a little. This… this must've been Harbor's test. She continued reading, this time out loud.

“0929 - Source energy appears to malfunction. Readings asymmetrical. Geiger tube alarm threshold reached. Advise shut down and reschedule test. 

0932 - Rate raised to 100 mSv/H. Material energization increases exponentially, reading 939 Joules.”

Sahota frowned. “And then?”

“That's all,” she said, feeling her eyebrows knit tighter together. “It just ends.”

A hundred milli-sieverts. She'd never gotten too deep into nuclear physics, but that was a lot, right? At the very least it wasn't a healthy amount of radiation for a human to be exposed to. And she knew Joules. Harbor'd basically had a microwave going off in his head. Joy clenched her jaw. Even if she was still pissed at the guy, she couldn’t imagine how that would’ve felt.

“This is what caused the incident, isn't it? They tried to activate the… whatever Isotope G is, and it backfired.”

Sahota had taken the paper from her and was staring it down. “We can't know for sure, but…”

“But you'd agree it's pretty likely?”

He nodded, a grim set to his mouth.

“Fuck,” she whispered. It didn't surprise her that everything had gone so wrong. Popping energetic material into the human brain—even in the name of research—was a disaster waiting to happen. But if things had gone so wrong with something small enough to be implanted in someone's head, what could happen with larger quantities?

“Fuck,” she said again, louder, shaking her head when Sahota looked her way.

“We need to get to the Reality Cage as soon as we can,” she said.

“That is the mission,” Sahota replied.

“No, it's…” Joy shook her head again. “I think it's worse than we thought. I think…” She clenched her fists, tapping her knuckles against her thighs. “If Rotorworx is using Isotope G, if they're trying to fuck with it the same way they did here…” She looked him in the eye, setting her jaw.

“It's gonna be like setting off an atom bomb in the middle of the city.”

×~×~×

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden ,

@snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes ,

@clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

[auspicioustidings]

Hohoho open to tea shop au ideas i see

What abt my favorite trope that I forgot to ask abt before….

Carried over someone’s shoulder with their hand on ur thigh or ass, and then going abt their day in front of others w u just there

😏

Brat

Words: 800

You knew you were probably playing with fire here, but it wasn't like your ankle was that bad. Just a little sprain was all, you could still do your job just fine! And you wanted to, you couldn't stand the thought of closing up shop for the day on a Sunday.

You loved Sundays more than anything. It had been half a year since you had opened and Sundays had become such a wonderfully busy yet cosy day for you. The old book club was always in gossiping away at their table. They had actually brought their own tea set and it now lived on the shelf only to be used when they were in. It's neighbour was the Japanese teaset that the D&D group that came in on Sundays used (they eagerly explained at length how it fit with their setting and how your tea blends and mochi just really fit the vibes). The father and daughter who always came in just after lunch didn't have a tea set but you had overheard that he liked pink and she liked orange so you always used the little kitschy peachy and orange fruit patterned tea set for them.

And it's not like any of your more protective customers had been there yesterday when you twisted your ankle. None of them had been in today either (you sometimes went weeks without seeing any of them which was to be expected) so you were probably safe from getting a right talking to about being on your feet. Not that the book club hadn't fussed about it, they very much had, but you were pretty good at hiding how painful it was so they didn't push.

If only John Price wasn't the most observant man on the planet when it came to you. Him and his boys had just gotten off of a mission and of course after cleaning up and debriefing they wanted to come visit their girl. You hadn't noticed them come in, too busy chatting away and pouring more tea for the group who seemed like they were scolding a set of dice.

The first hint something was off was Herzogin. She was always rubbing right up against him, Simon and Gaz while being a mean little thing to Soap. But this time she didn't so much rub against his legs as dart nervously over and paw at him.

The second larger hint was his arch nemesis, that awful cow Agnes who just wouldn't die even though she had to be about 102, looking at him with her beady little eyes and then gesturing with her head over to you. She was telling him he needed to pay attention to you, telling him something was up.

It took him all of 3 seconds to see how you favoured your right foot. All of 5 to conclude that you absolutely should not be putting weight on your left ankle at all. 10 to get to your side. Simon was right there with him, understanding the mission without words as always as he took the teapot right out of you hands so Price could heft you over his shoulder, chest to his back and legs dangling over his torso as he secured you with a strong grip to your thigh.

Your smile had barely had time to reach full wattage at seeing them before you were in the air with a little screech.

“J-John! Put me down!”

“I’ll get you another pot, any more snacks?”

“Oh actually could I get one of the strawberry mochi please? Hm? Right yeah make it 3 then.”

“‘Course.”

“Simon!” you yelled, in disbelief that he was just doing your job and your customers were straight up letting him.

Price jostled you on his shoulder to heft you to a better position for him and then walked over with you to the table where Soap and Gaz were now sat.

“What’re we thinking then lads?”

“Ye have any of that smoky tea in hen?”

“Lapsang souchong and yes, I have it in” you answered on instinct, hands pushing against Price's back so you could raise your torso and twist to look at Soap and Gaz who were very much not acting like this was strange at all.

“Aye, we’ll take that.”

Price turned with you then to make his way to the kitchen and you started to kick your legs to be put down. The smack to your ass was both mortifying and maybe a little bit exciting.

“Behave yourself luv or I'll need to tame the brat right out of you.”

Well, at least you could just bury your head in his back to try and maintain some level of dignity at how you had reacted to that.

[literary-motif]

II. The Dead Travel Fast

In which you take a trip and admire architecture. ~5,200 words

Overview // I. The Symposium

The curtains in your brother's room were tightly drawn. He was still buried deep in the pillows when you opened the door to check on him. The rays of sunlight sneaking past the fabric illuminated his sleeping figure softly, and you smiled as you approached him to thread your fingers through his golden curls. 

"Theodore?" you prompted quietly, waiting for any sign of movement.

You had told him of your meeting with Lord Claiborne yesterday in the carriage ride home, but you had a faint notion that he had not fully grasped the meaning of your words in his drunk state. 

“Theo, come on,” you said, shaking him a little.

He rolled over, groaning in displeasure and muttering something incomprehensible. You brushed some strands of hair out of his face, and he blinked his eyes open slowly, closing them with a wince at the dim brightness of the room. 

“I am leaving. A gentleman asked me to do his portrait yesterday. Expect me to be back in a few days, four at most. Alright?” 

There was no reply. 

You sighed, feeling a smidge of guilt for waking him in the first place. After the headache he had had and the sherry he drank yesterday, Theodore was sure to need rest and plenty of sleep to recover. 

Picking up a loose paper from his dresser, you scrawled down the message with the pencil you always carried around for sketches and left it on the nightstand. Muttering a final goodbye, you closed the door to his room softly before descending the stairs.

There was a faint nagging in the back of your head that leaving your siblings alone again to go off into the country only a day after your return might not have been the best idea, but it was too late to go back on your word to Lord Claiborne now. Your excitement had gotten the better of you last night, and now you had to live with the consequences.

Elisabeth was looming in the doorway of the library, watching you silently. “Leaving already?” she asked, making you halt and look up. She raised an eyebrow but did not otherwise betray her thoughts. “Good thing you did not bother unpacking. Send me a croissant when you’re back in your République.”

“I will be back in a few days,” you said, showing her the blank canvas under your arm. “I was commissioned to paint a portrait.” You reached the foot of the stairs, looking around the entrance hall and finding your bag exactly where you had left it the day prior.

The room was no longer shrouded in shadows as you had opened all the shutters, allowing the morning light to flood the house and reclaim some of its previous vivacity. You had left the wilted flowers in their vase — a much too poetic still life given the circumstances. 

You looked up towards your sister, who was now leaning over the banister. “Did your delivery arrive yesterday?” you asked, trying to make conversation.

“Yes,” she said, not elaborating further. 

You were about to comment on her newfound darker interest but thought better of it. Your relationship felt strained already, and you did not want to add to it by judging her for something you did not understand.

She disappeared from your view an instant later. “Goodbye,” she said flatly, letting the door to the library fall shut behind her.

You clenched your jaw in displeasure, making your way to the front door. As you opened it, you found a man leaning against a shiny black carriage.

He flicked his cigarette to the ground when he saw you, straightening and brushing some ash from his dark brown coat. His graying hair was partly concealed by the hat he wore, and the deep lines on his face made him look more severe than the kind glint in his eyes warranted.

“Good morning,” he said huskily, opening the door to the carriage for you.

It was an older model of a closed carriage, with side windows and glass in the doors. The black was decorated in parts with gold, the colors harmonizing well with the red cushions on the interior.

The driver offered a hand to take your luggage. “Lord Claiborne sent me to collect you. I’m Mr. Fint, at your service.”

You took his hand to shake instead. He stuttered, looking at you baffled. 

“Good morning,” you greeted, “I am the artist hired to do his portrait. It is a pleasure.” Letting go of his hand, you heaved your bag onto the cushions yourself. You placed the canvas against the opposite door carefully before climbing. 

As the carriage set into motion a moment later, you tried to get comfortable while picking up the novel you had begun the day prior. Edmond Dantès had just started talking with Abbé Faria.

You looked forward to reading more of Dumas’excellent penmanship. The effortlessness with which his sentences stretched across the pages enticed you, making the novel one of your favorites thus far despite having read less than half of the lengthy tale. 

It was a thrill to read it in the original French. Not that you mistrusted the translators, but there was always a part of the text and the sentiment with which it had been written that got lost in translation. 

You were delighted to be able to read the language, remembering Theodore’s complaints not too long ago about the available translation of Tolstoy’s War and Peace. 

The French version, which you had read in Paris close upon your arrival there, had been the basis of the English translation by Clara Bell, sparking his disappointment at having the Russian text twice translated and thereby further away from the words and tone Tolstoy had originally intended. 

Raising your head to gaze out of the window, you noted distantly that you had already left the city. With the rolling fields and the fresh green of the country outside, you remembered how much you had missed the peaceful quiet of nature. 

The grass seemed to stretch into the horizon. The Ash and Oak trees flanked the road, their leaves rustling in the wind and reminding you of the splashing of a stream.

There was a time when you would chase your brother around the fields, making sure your little sister did not stain her light blue dress irrevocably as she stumbled over roots or threw herself on the ground just to be pouty.

The memory made you smile, a pang of melancholy hitting you as you looked at the sea of green. So much had changed since then. Thesesimpler, calmer times seemed a lifetime away.

Your parents had gone, disappearing without a trace as they thrust Theodore into the deep end, selfishly leaving him to pick up the pieces of their recklessness without a care. You were worried he would cave under the pressure.

He was determined and the most reliable person you knew because of his sense of responsibility. You knew he would rather die than fall short in his duties, but it was that which worried you so. He was fragile, pushing himself beyond his limits to meet the expectations your parents' constant badgering had made him believe he needed to achieve to prove his worth.

Elisabeth had turned nearly unrecognizable in the five years you had been gone. When you left, she had pleaded for you to stay, unwilling to see her family broken up and fighting for everything to remain the same. She had wanted you to stay close, begging you to take the London art school instead. 

In the end, she made you promise to write her at least one letter each month. You remained true to your word, even when she stopped replying in the second year. Her cold greeting replayed in your mind, making you wonder if she had bothered to read them at all.

Closing Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, you raised your fist to knock twice on the roof. There was no point in trying to focuson the book in your lap when your thoughts were consumed by worries and uncertainties. 

The carriage slowed, allowing you to open the door and call out. “Would you mind if I joined you in the front, Mr. Fint?”

He muttered his consent, and you were sitting on the perch a moment later, closing your eyes and imagining that the gentle rocking of the carriage were the waves of the ocean crashing against the hull of a boat. You missed traveling. There was something particularly inspiring about the ocean. 

Every time you heard the waves rolling against the shore, feeling the gentle breeze from far across the ocean ruffling your hair, your chest filled with a deeply seated longing for infinity. It was the wish for that moment to encompass all of time itself, for the sun already low on the horizon to stay in limbo forever and never to die.

Birds chirped, tearing you out of your reverie. You opened your eyes again, blinking in the bright sunlight. The countryside might not be the coast you were dreaming of, but you felt reborn nonetheless, with the fresh air caressing your cheeks and the amazing world of nature all around. 

Sighing in contentment, you relaxed into the hard seat. “I have missed this,” you said, looking to the side of the road to admire the stretch of little white flowers growing there. “Look, Mr. Fint, wood anemones. I haven’t seen them in years.”

He hummed in response, keeping a tight hold on the reins.

“They were the first flowers I painted,” you continued, gazing at the delicate white petals. “They are — I suppose they were, I am not quite sure anymore — my sister’s favorites. She would get terribly sad when we left the country. Elisabeth loved the ‘white stars,’ as she called them. When I gifted her a painting of them, she was overjoyed.” 

You recalled the large smile on her face when you had given her the canvas. She had beamed, her eyes shining in awe and gratitude as you had immortalized the flower bud she loved to look at. It had taken you days to get it right, and Theodore had to distract her for hours not to spoil the surprise. 

“I wonder if she still has it,” you muttered. “I fear we have not been on the best terms lately.”

Mr. Fint did not reply, and you cleared your throat awkwardly. 

The silence between you stretched on, but just as you had resigned yourself to a quiet ride, he raised his hand, pointing to the right.

“Snowdrops,” he said sadly, hesitating before continuing. “I saw ‘em in Crimea.” His gaze flickered to you before returning to the delicate flower. 

With a solemn expression, he shook his head as if to shake memories he would much rather forget. He bit his tongue, searching for words before opening his mouth, only to close it a moment later. 

You waited patiently. 

“I joined the army in November of the last year,” he said bitterly. “Kars, if you remember” — he looked at you closely —“well, I suppose it was before your time. We lost Kars in one of the last big battles of the Crimean War. It was my first. I got there in time to—” he paused, tearing his eyes away from the flower to stare straight ahead. 

You saw him swallow thickly, and his hand shot up to wipe at his eyes.

“I had a friend. A good friend,” he said, “He had joined at the beginning of the bloody thing. I had traveled there to watch him die.”

You were taken aback by the heaviness of his story. It was unusual for someone to confide such a private tragedy to a stranger, but you supposed you had set the mood of the conversation by talking about your sister.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you said, snowdrops more tragic in your eyes now. 

“It’s been years,” Mr. Fint said, waving a hand as if to dissipate the ghosts of the past he had summoned, “but they always remind me of him. It was not fair what happened, but war never is. I returned home to the country cheering for our victory, and all I could think about was the loss I suffered.” 

He took out a battered pocket watch, presenting it to you. It was a beautiful silver piece that had seen better days. It had dents, and the engraving on its side was worn down, making it unrecognizable.

It would have been a miracle if it still managed to show the time, but Mr. Fint opened it, and sure enough, the hands of time were still ticking. 

“The only thing I have of him now,” he said, checking the time and storing it securely in his left breast pocket with a pat on his chest. “You must excuse me. My honesty is like a curse. Once I start talking, I cannot stop until I reveal the depths of my soul.”

“Not to worry,” you said with a smile, scrambling for threads of conversation to reassure him and fight the oppressive silence you felt was settling back between you. “Lord Claiborne’s estate must be beautiful,” you said, hoping he was passionate enough about architecture to allow you to change the subject.

“It is,” he said. “I have been working for Lord Claiborne since taking my father’s post. It took me years to understand the enormous grounds.”

“You have known him all your life, then?” 

Mr. Fint nodded. “My father served his father, and I served him after he inherited the estate from Lord Lawrance Claiborne. A very long line of nobility, all with ruby eyes and nearly white hair,” he said the last part almost dreamily.

“How interesting,” you said, curious to learn more about your host. “What was the older Lord Claiborne like?”

The driver frowned. “He was much like the current,” he said, falling silent again. 

You glanced at him, contemplating whether you should try to rekindle the conversation. You had the feeling that you better not pry. Your eyes remained on the road, and you took a deep breath to shake the uneasiness suddenly coming over you. 

The forest grew thicker, the branches of the trees looming over the road threateningly. They all looked rotten and dead, twisted at odd angles like snakes slithering across the sky. You did not recall ever taking this road. Then again, a lot had changed since you had been here last.

Lady Alderton’s warning, although you had tried to disregard it as either a stupid superstition or an unrecognized bias on her part, returned to your mind. Still, it would have been foolish to cancel the agreement and risk attracting gossip. Things had to run smoothly for a while until you could break the tragedy of your parent’s supposed deaths, and you could move on with your life.

Lord Claiborne seemed polite, if reserved. He was interesting, the air of mystery around him intriguing you immensely, and perhaps it was because of Lady Alderton’s warning that you were now all the more curious to catch a glimpse behind that cloak of secrecy.

The forest thinned, and you saw the setting sun through the trees. The red light was painting the scenery in a mesmerizing glow. You could not tear your eyes away from it. As the woodline ceased, you saw a sea of green fields tainted faintly orange in the light. You had an unobstructed view of the sunset, the red deeper than you had ever seen. It felt threatening, like an omen of disaster.

You shuddered as you could not shake the feeling that the glowing orb looked very much like an eye, silently watching.

You turned away from it, looking to the other side to behold the majestic Claiborne estate. Your eyes widened in amazement. Mr. Fint glanced at you but did not comment.

The building was massive, filling out the open space of the field splendidly. It looked like a cathedral from the 13th century, kept in excellent condition. If you had wondered if Lord Houghton had grossly overstated your hosts’ wealth, those doubts evaporated as your eyes roamed the faintly red stones, almost blood red in the setting sun.

The facade facing west was decorated with columns and pillars placed alongside it in even intervals, giving it structure. A large rose window was directly over the entrance, similar to the one you had seen in Notre-Dame de Paris. The stained glass reflected the sunlight, making it seem like a burning eye, looking back at the sun as if returning its glare in a staringcontest that had been going on for centuries. You were transfixed by the tracery dividing the windows on each side of the large entrance into smaller, elaborate sections.

Lord Claiborne’s mansion looked like something crafted with delicate care and a keen eye for detail. It spoke of utmost patience, the serenity evoked by its long-standing and excellent fit into its surroundings tinged with a darkness that youcould not place. The work for it to be completed must have taken decades. 

Mr. Fint guided the carriage along the twisting road. You caught a glimpse of the southern front, which was just as detailed and meticulously constructed. The flying buttresses you saw gave the structure an added grandeur and elegance that kept your gaze prisoner.

You looked up in awe at the tall steeple, rising from the rest of the structure like a thorn in the sky. It towered over the land but did not seem out of place in the complex arrangement of architectural detail. The pointed arches of the lantern were the same in the smaller windows on the first floor. 

As the carriage drew nearer, you could observe the piers more closely. A central column was at their sides, surrounded by multiple slender colonettes, creating a cluster column typical of High Gothic architecture. You longed to admire the rest of the castle, enticed by the beauty of the building.

The carriage stopped in front of the black double door, its arch pointed like all you had seen. As your feet touched the ground, standing before the gigantic structure, all your excitement vanished as an oppressing feeling came over you.

Only a single line of light was visible from where you had previously seen the shining rose window, reminding you of the enormity of the structure. Your own smallness was shown to you, and you realized that you were about to enter something much bigger than yourself.

It was intimidating to be reminded of your mortality while gazing at the stones that had been here for six centuries and would outlive you for six more. You shook the feeling, retrieving your luggage. For a moment, your gaze lingered on the beauty of the scenery to the west, the fields stretching seemingly into infinity with lines of trees adorning them to their sides. 

You stood with your belongings, only managing to avert your gaze from the scenery with difficulty. Mr. Fint had remained quiet throughout your marvels, looking up at the facade with a sour gaze. He was waiting.

“Completed,” you said, catching his attention to give him a polite smile. “Completed is our ride.” 

A dark glint appeared in his eyes, and you wondered if he had understood the reference and did not like its implications. Before you could thank him, he inclined his head, driving off and leaving you alone in front of the monstrosity. 

Being previously too taken with the architecture, you had not noticed how deserted the place looked. The front was empty, not a soul in sight nor any indication of someone having been here in ages.

It was beautiful, yet bleakly so. Death seemed to cling to the walls.

You felt uneasiness creeping up on you again. Something was not quite right here, but you could not say distinctly what.

The door opened to reveal Lord Claiborne before you could think about it for too long. You recognized him immediately by his blond hair and ruby eyes that seemed to shine like the rose window in the fading sunlight. 

“Welcome,” he greeted warmly, holding the door open wide and inviting you into his home. “Enter, please, and allow me.” He did not wait for a reply as he took your bag, leaving only the light canvas for you to carry. 

You tried to protest, but the thought of doing so vanished as you beheld the interior. The heavy door fell shut behind you.

Your eyes were fixed on the rib vaults. The shapes they created on the high ceiling reminded you that architecture was its own form of art, overlooked much too often. Turning, you saw the interior gallery — the triforium — from which one could overlook the entrance hall. It merged with the clerestory, its high windows making the interior as bright as possible in typical High Gothic fashion.

“Your room is on the first floor,” Lord Claiborne said, waiting for you at the bottom of the stone stairs. They were black, much like the rest of the stone used to coat the walls inside.

“Apologies,” you said, silently cursing your fascination and hoping you had not been too rude, “you have a beautiful home.” 

He nodded in thanks, leading you up a flight of stairs and down a corridor drenched in the red sunlight. “It used to be a cathedral, I believe,” he said, pushing open one of the first doors to his right and holding it open for you to step inside. “I have never bothered inquiring further as it was repurposed a century or so ago. It does not interest me much. I only know that now it is mine.”

You placed the canvas against the free wall near the door, taking a long look around the room as he set down your bag at the foot of the bed. 

There were two large windows with tracery, allowing ample light to stream into the room. A small desk was under one of them, with two sets of candles on it. The light of the second window streamed onto the soft double bed, its pillows puffed and calling to your exhausted mind to lay down and rest as if on a cloud.

There was a wardrobe on the other end of the room with a dresser next to it, although you doubted that you would be using either. The ceiling was a minuscule version of the one you had seen in the entrance hall, and you traced your hand over the pointed arch of the window, looking up toward it. 

He glanced at you in amusement as you were taken again with the columns and vault. “Dinner will be ready in a little while,” he said, "I will fetch you." Closing the door behind him, Lord Claiborne left you to settle in and marvel at the architecture.

The first thing you unpacked was your sketchbook. Sitting down on the cold stone with your back resting against the foot of the bed, you looked up to sketch the beautiful pattern of the arches onto the page.

Gothic architecture struck a particular artistic cord with you. Simply its atmosphere inspired you to create art — perhaps through the evident edginess of the vaguely threatening air it had, or perhaps because it was so thought out and beautifully composed. 

You closed your sketchbook only when you were satisfied with the near-perfect replica of the pattern you had imprinted on the page. Setting it aside with your pencil, you looked at the inviting bed. The trip had exhausted you, and there was a familiar soreness in your neck and upper back that you feared would turn painful come morning.

The cushions of carriages were not the most comfortable, and your body would be paying the price for your extended travels in the last few days. You contemplated lying down but decided to spare yourself the embarrassment of missing dinner when you inevitably fell asleep.

Instead, you strolled down the hallway, walking along the red carpet covering the black stone floor and gazing out of the large windows towards the fields outside. From the vantage point, you could better see the sea of flowers and plants surrounding the estate.

You smiled faintly, wondering how much effort it took the gardener to hold the grounds in this excellent condition. It appeared to be a superhuman task.

To your surprise, the walls were nearly empty. Only occasionally were there old gas lamps that stemmed from the beginning of the century, judging by their design. Lord Claiborne, true to his word, must not have been concerned with the new trend of electricity.

You descended the stairs, halting briefly to marvel again at the interior gallery and the stained glass window, which you could now say was a mixture of purple and blue. 

A few artworks were lining the walls of the entrance hall. To your dismay, you recognized none. 

They all depicted landscapes, peaceful and idyllic. Your eyes searched for a portrait in vain, finding no human shape even in the landscapes. There were no photographs on the walls either. Not a single person was depicted, which was odd for an estate and a noble family line such as his. 

The emptiness of the place struck you again, and you wondered if he lived alone. It was peculiar that you had not caught a glimpse of a servant in the house. Halting again at the foot of the stairs, you tried to listen for any sound of people — chatter, laughs, whispers — but there was nothing. The castle was quiet, deadly so. 

Even with the beauty of the architecture, the mansion could not chase away its haunting coldness. The most magnificent facade could not disguise the tomb for what it was.

Frowning and silently unnerved by your thoughts, you made your way quickly towards what you supposed to be the dining room by its warm candlelight streaming into the hallway, mindful not to disturb the silence of the dead.

You saw Lord Claiborne as he set down a plateful of food. He looked up, inviting you in with a grand gesture and motioning towards the seat opposite him. “Perfectly on time. Sit, please,” he said, hiding his smile as your eyes widened at the meal. 

It was pot-au-feu, a French dish of the haute cuisine. You smiled in appreciation at the thoughtfulness, sitting down and eating some of the boiled potatoes on your plate as Lord Claiborne picked up his fork. 

The spook you had given yourself felt foolish in the warm glow of the candlelight, and you wanted to laugh at yourself for being so unnerved. It must have been the eerie atmosphere of the Gothic architecture that had put you on edge. Perhaps you had gotten lost in its grandeur for too long.

“You have already found the dining room,” Lord Claiborne said. “The east wing is the one I frequent most, with the drawing room down the hall to the right and the study opposite this one with my chambers beside it.” 

He watched you keenly, seemingly preferring it to eating a meal himself. You had seen him raise the fork to his lips only once to nibble on a piece of carrot halfheartedly. 

“The library takes up most of the ground floor of the north wing. You may move around freely and use the rooms at your discretion.”

Nodding, you resolved to look around the library on your way back to your room. It had to be right beneath it, although you were perplexed as you had not seen a door to the right upon entering.

“It is a refreshing combination,” you praised, motioning to your half-eaten meal. “Compliments to your cook, truly. What a pleasure to be greeted with a French dish back at home.” 

Lord Claiborne smiled, foregoing an answer. “Pardon the lack of garlic bread. I have read that it has become rather popular, but I despise the smell.”

“Not to worry,” you replied, not daring to correct him that garlic bread was not commonly served with this.

You finished your plate in comfortable silence while his remained nearly untouched. 

“I have everything to start painting straight away if you would like. Perhaps tomorrow morning would be a good time to start, Lord Claiborne, if that aligns with your schedule.”

“Xanthus,” he said, rising from his seat to put the plates aside. He poured you a cup of tea. “You are my portraitist and my guest. Please, call me Xanthus.” He pushed the porcelain towards you. “I’m all yours for the rest of the week.”

“Very well, Xanthus,” you said, taking a sip of the tea and gazing at him over the rim of the porcelain. His words intrigued you, making you bold. “And I am all yours.” 

He smiled sharply, flashing his white teeth at you before hiding his smile behind his cup. “I am delighted to hear that,” he said, taping the plate of pastries between you. 

You nearly choked when you saw the Parisian macarons. 

“Not the easiest to come across, I have been told,” he said, popping one into his mouth with a pleased hum, “but I have grown fond of them.”

You picked one up carefully, perplexed how on earth he got his hands on them in England. “Did you travel?” you asked, taking a bite and closing your eyes in bliss. The taste was divine. You took another. “To Paris, I mean.”

“I did not,” Xanthus said, twirling his tea and looking at it in thought.

It was a new blend imported from India he had been forced to try after the Chinese teas he had enjoyed for years started steadily disappearing from shelves, a sign of changing times. He had yet to grow used to the change in taste. 

“I prefer to stay in England. The world is all the same, and I have seen it all. There is nothing of interest for me out there.”

You nodded slowly, furring your brows. If he stayed in England, how come you had never seen him before? 

The Alderton’s circle of friends and acquaintances had remained nearly the same, so why had you never met him? You were sure someone with features as distinct as his — nearly white hair and ruby eyes — would not have slipped your mind, but you had never set eyes on him nor his father. It was unlikely for you never to have met, considering your parents' good standing and the noble line of his heritage. 

What reason would he have for lying to you?

Perhaps it was part of the secret making him so dangerous to Lady Alderton’s eyes. Maybe she knew something you did not. The melancholy darkness clinging to him like a cloak enticed you, making you want to lift his secret even more.

Annotations // III. Mais, Vrai, J'ai Trop Pleuré

[woodlaflababab]

Zutaraang ficlet, featuring Zuko and Katara coming home after a fight and Aang patching them up.

-<>-

Aang's head popped up as the sound of the front door opening reached him. A familiar bloom of soft happiness went through his chest as he stood up to look at the door and the two people returning home.

That happiness lasted about two seconds before it was replaced by the gut dropping feeling that came with seeing his loved ones hurt.

“What happened?” He exclaimed, already rushing over to the two of them.

Katara, who seemed to be in slightly better shape but still sporting the start of a wicked bruise on her cheek and being very slow and easy in her movements with one arm, at least had the good manners to look somewhat sheepish. “We got into a fight.”

Zuko, with a bit of blood smeared near his mouth from a busted lip and a burgeoning black eye, just nodded from next to her, one of his hands, scraped up and bloody, being cradled by the other.

Aang groaned and immediately started shooing his loved ones into the kitchen where he could patch them up. He pulled chairs for the both of them over to the sink next to each other and made a sharp 'sit down’ gesture, to which they thankfully complied.

“Okay so,” Aang started as he retrieved the first aid supplies, “seriously, what happened?”

He heard Katara huff from behind him. “You know Hahn?”

Honestly, that alone told Aang plenty but he nodded and gestured for her to continue as he started setting the supplies down on the counter next to them.

“Well me and Zuko offered to talk to him on Yue's behalf after yesterday. We didn't expect him to be that difficult, but he refused to listen to anything we said.” 

She looked over to Zuko who nodded in affirmation. 

“He was showing off this macho attitude for his friends,” she continued, “but when it became obvious he wasn't going to get what he wanted, he just started throwing insults around, mostly sexists, mostly about Yue. He was asking for it.”

Aang gave her an exasperated look and ran a soft rag under some warm water to start cleaning up Zuko's face and hand.

Katara held her hands up. “In my defense, I didn't throw the first punch.” 

Aang nodded, at least happy to hear they didn't start the- 

“Zuko did.”

Aang cast his look over to Zuko who simply glared back. For a guy currently getting his hand patched up like a kid who fell from his bike, he was incredibly unrepentant.

“If Katara can stand not to punch a guy for being sexist, can't you?” Aang joked, no real heat behind the words.

“I didn't punch him because he was sexist.” Zuko grumbled. When Aang just raised an eyebrow at him, Zuko continued almost petulantly. “He stepped too close to Katara.”

Aang rolled his eyes with a small grin while Katara started cackling beside Zuko. “Really, Zuko,” Aang started, “you have to work on this possessive stuff.”

“Hey.” Zuko protested. “Even if I hadn't punched him first, Katara would have.”

Katara shrugged. “He's right. Hahn was saying some really nasty stuff about Yue.”

Aang just shook his head, too fond of them to be anything other than exasperated. Rather than respond, he just handed Zuko a cold pack for his eye and moved over to Katara.

He gently took her arm in his hands, noticing with a little distress the way she still winced. “What happened here?” 

“One of the guys, I don't even remember which, just yanked on my arm in a bad direction. It's nothing serious, just sore.” She assured him but he still pouted at her.

Aang handed her an ice pack as well and wandered off to get some pain killers and her favorite sweet tea. When he got back and handed them over, Zuko nudged Aang with a foot. 

“You know we would go to war for you, right?”

Aang grinned. “Going to war for someone is easy.” As he turned his back to grab different supplies, he tossed a look over his shoulder. “Would you make friends with your enemies for me?”

Zuko pulled a sour face but Katara straightened up. “I basically did. I was nice to Zuko, wasn't I?”

Zuko scoffed. “Nice? Katara you weren't 'nice’ to me until we almost murdered a guy together.”

“Okay,” Katara ceded, “I was tolerating. It counts.”

“Barely. You threatened to kill me. Quite brutally.”

Katara didn't look sorry in the slightest. “I just wanted to make sure you knew where you stood.”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Please, you were just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Katara scoffed in offense but her grin gave her away. “What, of you?”

“Yeah. Of me.” Zuko seethed back. 

Aang, having watched the two of them grow progressively closer as they bickered, his eyes going back and forth like a ping pong ball, stuck his hand in the two inches still remaining between their faces. “No making out while I'm patching you up.”

Both leaned back away from each other, Katara laughing and Zuko looking somehow both chastised and offended.

Aang dropped down to one knee in front of Katara to address the bloody scrape on her knee, wiping it clean but determining it not bad enough to need anything more. Still, wanting to make her feel better, he leaned forward to place a soft reverent kiss above the wound, lingering there as he made eye contact with her. Blue stared back at him and he gloried a little at the flicker of want he saw there.

Then Zuko made a vaguely displeased sound and Aang pulled his lips away, pressing his forehead to her knee instead to hide his amused grin at Zuko's ridiculousness.

“Oh now who's jealous.” He heard Katara taunt as he stood up.

Before Zuko could respond, Aang slid a hand behind Zuko's head, fingers sinking into his hair, so he could pull Zuko forward enough to place a small kiss on his forehead. “Don't be jealous, Zuko.”

“I'm not-,” Zuko said the words on a low grumble but didn't bother finishing the protest.

Aang took a step back to look over the two of them, making sure he wasn't missing anything, and he got caught up in just staring at them, a little lost in how in-love he was with the two trigger-happy idiots. 

“You're at least a little proud of us, right?” Katara asked, her tone joking but Aang could see the small current of worry in her.

“Of course. I'm always proud of you two. I'm sure Yue will love the story when she hears it.”

Both of them beamed up at him, pleased with the praise. 

“But please, for the sake of my sanity, don't do it again.” He added on and enjoyed the laughter it drew from his two favorite people.

[ruruumin]

Hi, kiri! First time interacting with you here ajshjaks. Anyway— if your request still open, I want to request kazuha taking care of reader that has cold!

I got cold yesterday, my nose was stuffed and it was runny. As someone who rarely got sick it was uncomfortable. But I got better today so don't worry! ^^

Oh, I also ate ice cream yesterday, so I want to see kazuha finding out reader eats ice cream while having a cold lol.

₊˚ ᗢ kazuha x sick!reader, modern au.

⤷ him taking care of you when you're sick.

When you’re sick, the first thing he declares is that he’ll stay by your side. He will do everything he can to make sure you’re back to health. And such comments make you feel as if he’s a little too enthusiastic about the task. However, it makes you feel better knowing that you won’t be alone in your room, coughing up a storm and falling deeper than you already have.

He would come back from class, finish his work at your desk and then spend the rest of his time checking your temperature. He would shake his head whenever you try to move from your bed, his hands would reach out to push you down gently by your shoulders. How could you get sick like this? He asks, sighing under his breath. You would cough into your elbow, trying to roll your eyes which he dismissed. He doesn’t want you to get up, even if it's for water. He can do it for you.

He reads a book or writes poetry while resting his head at the foot of the bed. He is careful enough not to get too close to you, especially when you cough or sneeze, but he is quick to fetch you a tissue or two. He’s a diligent man, Beidou once told you, and right now, you understand where she was coming from. He leaves a small bowl of water beside your bed and a towel that he rinses every once in a while. He also places a few tablets on the table and gives you water. 

He even goes as far as completing your notes for you. You protest at this but he only waves you off with his hand. What kind of person would he be if he let you complete your studies like this? You want to argue with him. Though, it was quickly shut down. So you admit defeat to the man, sighing as you flop down on the bed. 

With that level of dedication, he hopes that when you feel better, you might press a kiss against his cheek as thanks. He could feel his ears grow slightly hot at the thought. At his flushed expression, you giggle and cough, still sick. 

He is a decent cook. Good enough to grill fish but not the best when it comes to meats. The first thing he would make for you is fish porridge. It’s warm and comforting, and it fills you up quickly. He learned it from Beidou when she had a hangover, and thought that it might work well even when you were sick. 

To his horror, when he comes back with a fresh bowl, he sees you snacking on a small pint of ice cream on your bed. His jaw nearly drops to the floor when you stare at him, your eyes widening in surprise. There is a moment of silence between the two of you before it was cut off with you continuing to eat. When did you get that? And how come he didn’t hear you in the kitchen? He is quick to take the container from your hands, replacing it with his food instead. 

“How could you be eating ice cream when you’re sick?” He asks, a deep frown forming on his face. You give him a small pout in response. “You have a cold, darling, you shouldn’t be eating this.

Please eat my food instead, you can have this once you’re no longer sick. Hey! Don’t look at me like that! I promise you can finish it when you’re not sick.” 

[applesontheground]

I honestly can’t remember if I’ve actually written out this ask before and either deleted it or sent it out into the universe, but can you write how the Sinclair brothers would react (or just bo😉) to seeing their clumsy s/o try to fix something on a rooftop and accidentally slipping off. Reader laughs it off or maybe they’re slightly hurt and the brothers are like 😑😠 they thought you were hurt! You could have been hurt! I just love that kind of drama lol

oh, i’m a clumsy critter through and through so i feel this one a little too personally. i’d love to indulge it with some sinclair love! ❤ (also, i used the initial prompt for bo’s drabble, but threw in some diff ideas for vin & les! they’re partially anecdotal because as i’ve said, i get myself in jackassery on a weekly basis lol!)

the sinclair brothers & clumsy S/O 🕯️  (gn reader)

SFW | Word Count: 1,495 | The Sinclair Brothers x GN Reader (separate drabbles at ~400-600 words)

It was one drip spattering against your head too many. The remnant of yesterday’s rainstorm making its way through the shingles of the roof where it felt as though it had just done it to irritate you was enough to make you proactive, dropping what you were doing and heading for the back of the house.

You waited until dusk crept its way under the skin of the town and wake its glimmering façade to step out onto the back porch of the Sinclair home with the ladder. Vincent had rummaged it out of the garage without so much else besides an unwaivered stare when you explained what you were planning on doing.

He helped get you going because you weren’t his worry per se. You were Bo’s, which was more insisted on by the latter than something Vincent really agreed to. It was almost scarier than the fact you were about to get up on the roof without running it by him first.

You had just gotten your bearings, clambering up the cold and dusty metal rungs and flattening out against the shingles on your stomach, when you heard the door swing open and the familiar voice start talking, not yet aware there was no one inside to listen to him. You pushed up to stand, the rough slats enough for your soles to find a grip. Still, as you stood upright, your entire frame couldn’t help but rock a little as you felt for your bearings.

Of course, that was what the man had made his way through the house just in time to see when he stepped outside, hearing the scrabbling above his head and half believing he was hearing things before realizing you were in fact up there.

“Hey! Nuh uh!” Bo stepped back, getting a better view at what you were doing. He snapped his fingers to make you look before pointing to the porch in a vicious movement, “Get the fuck down, [Y/N]! The hell’re you doin’?” You paused, finally fumbling back onto your knees and replied, “The roof’s leaking.” You tried to push up to stand again, but the unsure noise soon had the ladder shifting as Bo took matters into his own hands, one foot on the first rung in a matter of seconds.

“Bo, it’s okay-“ You began, but he interrupted in a voice that somehow got meaner as he repeated himself, “[Y/N], said get down, damn it!”

The tone was enough to make you slide towards the gutter, rolling your eyes at first and expecting to be grabbed by him like some sort of unruly pet rather than a [boyfriend/girlfriend/partner]. It was the lack of tugging – rather, the firm settling of his palm against your hip as you started to step down the ladder – that made your attitude fizzle.

“I’ve seen stupid, and I’ve seen clumsy,” Bo muttered, not looking you in the eye but still keeping a hand on your lower back, “But a combination of the two? Lookin’ for a broken leg.” You paused, staring at the side of his face until he finally stopped minding the way you were climbing to look you back in the eye. When one foot touched the porch, he snaked his arm around one of your hips, hoisting you away from the ladder and muttering, “Now don’t give me that, I’m not sayin’ I don’t trust you.”

You scoffed, “Oh, what? Gonna tell me you don’t trust the roof? The ladder?” He froze, and ended the conversation by spinning on his heels, taking your feet off the ground again and making you squeal in surprised laughter. “If anyone’s doin’ that kind of work, it’s me. Got that?”

When he set you on your feet your knees suddenly buckled. He watched in bemusement as you stumbled forward when he let go, and when you only had an embarrassed glance over your shoulder, he muttered, “Yeah. Yeah, that wouldn’t have ended well for anyone around here.” He laughed to himself with another shake of his head, turning away from you.

“Vincent, look at what I found at the flea market. Some-“ You turned away from where your eyes had caught onto the wall, stuck to some well-formed facial structure protruding in a lunge of wax, and were face to face with the back of an unfamiliar head.

“WHOOP-“ You let out an involuntary noise, your entire body flinching out of the way and in a twist of an ankle becoming parallel to the ground. You grasped the cassettes that you had brought to show Vincent for dear life as you went knee-first into the ground, making another silly noise as the air was knocked from you and the rest of your body hitting the floor in a solid thud.

The initial impact was still coursing through you, a prick of agony in your leg as you heard something drop against Vincent’s work desk. He put his hand on the desk, the visible eye straining at you. It maybe took a few good seconds before you noticed the slight wobbling of his sturdy frame, and the quiet snort that he quickly tried to muffle with an arm over his stone still mouth. Your jaw dropped in an exaggerated gesture, elbows pushing up to support you better as you jutted your neck at him and asked, “Are you laughing at me?”

He shook his head, turning away from you to get his bearings before doing anything else. You scoffed, slapping your hand against the floor in a one-armed shrug. “Hey, it was either that or I mess up your hard work.” You then gave a forlorn glance to the…person standing beside you.

He finally turned back around, sauntering over to hold his hand down. At a closer range, you could hear the quiet giggles from behind the mask. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh at your clown.” You muttered, and he finally paused to dust your shoulder off.

“…That it?” You asked, and even with the ingrained moment’s hesitation before doing it, he then pushed the delicate edge of his own mask up before giving you a peck on the cheek, a hand finally starting to move, you put on a great show here and again.

The second noise of exasperation just broke the giggles out a second time, its own encore as he wrapped his arms around you, finally noticing what you had dropped and nodding at them in a mute question.

“Oh, yeah!” You grinned, “Those!”

It wasn’t until you were well in the middle of the stream, water dappling your exposed ankles as it trickled past, that you wondered if there was a reason in particular Lester had sent you to cross the wash-out first today.

“Mind the water now, rose overnight. Makes the rocks slippery as shit.” He called, but just as you had registered what he had said you took another step on a promising rock, and your heel skidded out from under you. Lester gasped as you fell back first into the water, the world falling silent and murky as even your head was pulled under.

Just as soon as it happened, you were finding your bearings and immediately pushing back out over the surface, arms flailing as you regained balance. “I’m okay!” You hollered, turning to stand in the rushing water on your knees, uncaring to the way your entire outfit was now soaked and you had to be at an angle alongside the current. You heaved yourself up, and what seemed like an entire pitcher’s worth of water came up with you in the form of soaked clothes and hair as you beamed in a dopey manner to the man still on land, not sure whether to laugh or scold you.

“The hell you are. Didn’t ya hear me?” He finally decided on the latter, throwing his hands up at the display in front of him. You replied with an exasperated strain to your voice, “Sure, but you forget I’m not a good listener.” He neared the shore as you waded closer, helping pull the sopping mess back to his side of the wash-out.

“Well. Think it’s more of a luck thing than a stupid thing.” He began, but as you gave him a daring glance he corrected himself, “Not sayin’ anything, now let me help ya out.” He took both of your wrists as you broke from the current, stumbling onto the land and bracing his own forearms to steady yourself.

“First person that makes bein’ a dope look cute.” He commented as you stood a little straighter, but when you only gave him another astounded expression he muttered, “Gon’ be quiet for a little bit.”

You scoffed at that, careening into him and making him flinch from the cold water soaking into his shirt as you lassoed your arms around his torso. “Never want you to be quiet.” You murmured, giving him a kiss as he finally figured a little water wouldn’t kill him.

[oohnotvery]

Edges of the Night (Chapter 6)

Scully is staring out the window of their room wondering how on earth they’re going to get back on the road. Last night’s storm brought with it at least a foot of snow and the plows haven’t made their rounds through the town yet. She’s a California girl in many ways, so she’s not great at estimating snowfall, but she knows enough to guess that her little car will be no match for the white, powdery roads.

She rubs her tired eyes and wonders, for the tenth time, where Mulder went. He wasn’t in bed when she woke up, and when she managed to crawl out from under the warm covers and into the chill of the morning, she didn’t find him in the bathroom either. It was no surprise to find that he had snuck out before she had awoken, but it’s been thirty minutes and she’s seen hide nor hair of him. From this window, she doesn’t have a view of the parking lot so she can’t tell if the car is still there.

Did he decide to ditch her? Was her little diatribe yesterday enough to send him away? Exasperated and exhausted, she plops down into the rocking chair, turns on the T.V., and tries to drown out the worries piling up in her mind.

The bed-and-breakfast offers only a few channels and almost all of them are local news. She is listening to a weather report when the door to the room bangs open. She turns and sees Mulder balancing two cups of coffee and a paper bag. His pants are wet up to his calves, which makes her think he tromped through a decent amount of snow to get breakfast.

She quirks her head. “You went out? Doesn’t this place advertise itself as a bed and breakfast?”

“Thought we deserved better coffee than what they were serving downstairs,” he shrugs, and a relieved smile catches on his lips. By the way things went last night, he was probably expecting her to freeze him out this morning. She kind of wants to, but she also knows they need to get along if they’re going to make it safely to Montana.

“You paid cash?” she checks.

He approaches to hand her a coffee, his expression sheepish. “I took some money out of your wallet. I would’ve asked, but I didn’t want to wake you . . . .”

She colors slightly but nods. What’s mine is yours, baby, he might have said in an earlier lifetime. But not today.

“Thanks,” she says, taking the bag from him. Inside, she finds two muffins, a scone, and a banana, the latter of which must be Mulder’s acknowledgement that her road trip diet hasn’t been her preferred choice of fare. She nods approvingly and grabs the banana. He sinks onto the bed behind her and gestures towards the T.V., where a weatherman is bemoaning the awful road conditions.

“Well,” he says, flashing her a tight, hopeful smile, “I’ve got some good news. I met the owner’s husband this morning. I explained that we got sidetracked on our way home from a conference and that you’re desperate to get back to your rich husband and three beautiful-but-needy children.”

She flashes him a surprised look and sees a small, self-satisfied grin playing on his face. “The man was immediately invested in getting you back in the arms of your loving family, so he outfitted your car with snow tires.” She blinks. Trust Mulder to charm his way into receiving free tires from a stranger. “So,” he continues hesitantly, “we should be able to get back on the road soon.” He glances at the bedside clock, which reads eight a.m. “And we should get going sooner rather than later. I don’t want to linger.”

She takes a sip of her coffee and nods. “Okay,” she says around the lip of her cup. “This is good.”

Mulder reaches forward and takes the remote from her. “Mind if I . . .?”

“Go ahead.”

Scully eats and drinks while Mulder flips impatiently through the unimpressive channel listing. He’s about to give up on finding anything interesting when a national news story catches his attention. Scully follows his gaze towards the screen, then freezes.

A California doctor has gone missing in a presumed kidnapping scheme, the news anchor reports. An image of her own face flashes across the television. Scully blinks once, twice, three times. The picture onscreen is all-too-familiar—it’s the one from her hospital ID badge, the one where she’s wearing a low ponytail, dark blouse, and white coat.

Distantly, she hears Mulder calling her name but she can’t tear her eyes away. 

Dr. Dana Scully previously resided in the Washington, D.C. metro area, where she was a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Her former partner, Special Agent Fox Mulder, who flew from Washington, D.C. to San Diego three days ago, is the primary suspect at this time.

Mulder’s badge photo appears on the screen right next to hers. Behind her, there’s a soft thud and she whips around. Now it’s Mulder who sits frozen, his coffee cup exploded on the floor, its contents spilling out onto the plush blue rug.

Law enforcement has traced their last-known whereabouts to southern Utah. They are presumed to be headed to western Colorado in a silver Oldsmobile Intrigue . . . 

Scully wants to reach into the T.V. and shout that Mulder didn’t kidnap her, that Mulder is a safe person. A jerk, maybe, and an asshole, but the safest person she knows. Instinctually, she stands and takes a seat beside him, close enough that their thighs touch. Her movement seems to shake him from his stupor because he turns to face her.

“Jesus, did I kidnap you, Scully?” he asks, half-jokingly, half-disbelievingly.

She shakes her head. “Mulder, what’s going on –”

Before she can finish her thought, a familiar voice chirps from the television. Blood rushes from her head. Her palms bead with sweat. Her vision goes momentarily black. She grips the duvet tightly and swivels to watch Alan take the screen.

. . . we got engaged just last month. I never heard anything about the man she used to work with, Fox Mulder. I know she had a partner at the FBI but Dana was pretty tight-lipped about her job, always said it was highly classified. On screen, Alan furrows his brows. Now I’m wondering if she knew she was in danger.

The reporter lets Alan drone on for far too long and Scully watches the way his face shifts between fear and concern. Seeing the raw pain in her fiancé’s expression makes her anxious to call and reassure him. She wonders how closely law enforcement is monitoring him. Mulder called the Gunmen. Could she get away with just one phone call?

The news story ends and the anchors shift their focus to a protest in New York City. Beside her, Mulder clears his throat. She braces herself for an insensitive joke, maybe some ribbing about Alan. He’s blonder than I pictured, Scully, and a little on the short side. I always assumed you’d go for someone tall, dark, and handsome.

But, miracle of miracles, Mulder stays quiet. His silence is both a blessing and a curse, as it allows her thoughts to run haywire. Poor Alan, sitting alone in San Diego wondering if she’s been kidnapped, or worse.

And then a different, more horrifying, thought strikes her.

“Mom,” she whispers to herself, realization crashing down on her. Her mother doesn’t know she’s safe. Suddenly the need to speak to her overcomes her. “I need to call her. I need to talk to my mom.” Scully twists and grabs at Mulder’s shirt. He stares down at her hands in surprise. “I have to talk to her,” she begs.

He nods hesitantly but she can tell he isn’t on board.

“Mulder, please. She won’t—she’ll be confused. She won’t understand.” Will her mother believe the reports that Mulder kidnapped her? Or will she intuit that something far more nefarious has happened?

Tears gather on her lashes but Mulder’s expression remains tentative. Years ago, he might have wrapped an arm around her waist and cradled her head as tears tumbled out of her. But now, as she sits before him horrified at how drastically her life has changed, he offers no comfort. Releasing his shirt, she presses her palms into her eyes and stifles a scream.

“I’ll get you back, Scully,” he says quietly, his tone soothing, gentle, and promising. “I’ll get you back to your life, to the hospital, to . . . to your mom. I swear to you, I will make that happen.”

He sits patiently until her breathing begins to regulate, until her hands fall from her face.

She senses his uncertainty before he speaks again. “We can make that phone call happen if you absolutely need it, Scully,” he says carefully, “but we should consider the very real possibility that they’re already keeping tabs on your mother’s calls.”  

She swipes angrily at her cheeks. “Who’s behind this, Mulder?” she demands. “Why doesn’t the FBI have control of this narrative? Why are they pointing the finger at you? Skinner knows you didn’t kidnap me.” She bites her lip hard. “This is proof that something has happened to him. He wouldn’t ever allow a story like this to get out to the media.”

The column of Mulder’s throat moves up and down as he swallows. His eyes flicker nervously to hers.

“What?” she asks. “What aren’t you telling me?”

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze. His hands clench into fists. “I—a lot, Scully,” he sighs. “A whole fucking lot.”

She blanches, and for a moment, the world turns upside down. Renewed tears strike her cheeks. Her situation is already looking hopeless: her fiancé thinks she’s been kidnapped; her mother doesn’t know whether she’s safe; Mulder is the primary suspect; their one contact at the FBI has been compromised; and they’re being chased across the country by a relentless pursuer that seems to have law enforcement on its side. How could this actually get any worse?

She takes a few minutes to gather her resolve, forcing breath deep into her lungs. When she feels ready, she walks her hand across the bed to brush Mulder’s. She’s not sure what prompts her to reach for him. She’s not quite sure he deserves her touch. But whether she likes it or not, they’re in this together. Right now, Mulder is the only person in the world she has.   

His pinky finger grazes hers. “Honestly,” he says quietly, “I’m afraid you’ll hate me even more after I tell you everything I know.”

Their eyes meet and his are full of pain and guilt. She regards him for a long time, wondering if it would better if she just didn’t know the truth. Wondering if maybe, ignorance could serve her well.

Finally, she sighs. “I don’t hate you,” she admits softly, dropping his gaze. “But I’m terrified of what you’re about to say.”

She retracts her hand and curls her arms around herself protectively. Mulder flops onto his back, his hands meeting in the middle of his chest. Nervously, she wonders why he is unwilling to look at her for this part. Her gaze falls to her cuticles.

“It started nine months ago, a few weeks after you went into remission,” he begins.

“Nine months?” she interrupts, incredulous. “But you said Skinner received this tip just a few days ago—”

“That’s part of it,” he agrees uncomfortably. “But there’s . . . a lot more.” He pauses. “I haven’t been completely truthful with you.”

She sucks in her cheeks. “I’m starting to see that. Go on.”

He glances towards her. “I’m going to tell you the whole story, every part of it. When I first got into the car with you back in San Diego, I never planned to tell you any of it. I thought we’d make it to Colorado, hunker down for a few days, and come up for air once we got the all-clear from Skinner. You’d return to your life; I’d return to mine, and you wouldn’t have to know just how bad things have gotten.”

“Mulder—”

“But seeing that story on T.V., knowing Skinner is gone. The safe house is compromised.” He hesitates. “Things are falling apart. It’s getting worse. I think you need to know how deep this thing goes.”

She grits her teeth. “Go on.”

“Nine months ago, I received a threat via an anonymous letter slipped under my apartment door,” he continues. “The note demanded my cooperation. It was immediately clear that if I refused, there would be consequences. For you. ‘Great suffering,’ as they termed it.” His hands rise to draw air quotes. “They knew about your cancer, Scully, and your abduction. They knew everything about you. Things even I didn’t know.”

She wonders what that could mean. What doesn’t Mulder know about her? Over the course of many years, she’s revealed to him all but the very most intimate parts of herself. An image of her naked body crosses her mind. That may be the only thing Mulder hasn’t ever seen. Is that what the letter implied? Her head spins at the thought.  

He continues. “They threatened to take you to perform experiments, tests. They described the tests. It was . . . graphic.”

Although the thought sends shivers down her spine, she nods. She knew this part already. Why me? she wants to ask, but she doesn’t. She used to ask that question of herself when Melissa died, but it always led her to thoughts she would rather ignore. Thoughts about Mulder, about the X-Files, about whether her choices to pursue the FBI had led her down this dark path. 

“Okay,” she says calmly. “And what did they want your cooperation on?” She turns over her shoulder to look at him and sees him staring blankly at the ceiling fan.

“The X-Files.”

A beat. “As in shutting it down?” she intuits.

“Something like that.”

She nudges his foot with hers.

He sighs and time ticks by. She’s about to prompt him again when he finally speaks, his voice quietly defeated. “They wanted me to burn the files.”

Her eyes widen as she considers it: Mulder’s life work—their work—up in flames. It’s so ludicrous that she scoffs. “And did you?”

He closes his eyes but doesn’t answer.

“Mulder? Mulder, what did you do?” When he doesn’t respond, she leans across the bed and jerks on his hand. His eyes fly open. “Get up and talk to me,” she demands.

With hangdog eyes, he complies, rising to a seated position beside her again. She twists to face him fully, crossing her legs.

“What did you do?” she asks, her eyes cutting to his accusatorily.

His eyes pierce hers. “I forced you out. I thought you’d be safest if you were out of the division altogether.”

She nods. That part she knows all too well.

“And then I burned them.”

A breath rushes out of her. She feels her chest crumple, her head spin. She sags into him, placing a trembling hand against his thigh.

“Mulder,” she half-whispers, half-moans. “Mulder, how?”

He laughs humorlessly. “Gasoline and a lighter.”

She regards him irately. “You destroyed your life’s work? Our work? Why? Why, if you’d already sent me to safety—”

He rubs his hands vigorously across his face and she reaches forward and grabs his wrist. He yanks away from her. “It wasn’t enough that you weren’t on the X-Files anymore, Scully. That wouldn’t guarantee your safety. I didn’t have a choice—”

“Yes, you did!” she insists. “You could have—you could have told me this was happening. I could have helped. We could have made a plan—”

“No,” he shouts. “You couldn’t be involved. You couldn’t know the—the choice I was making.”

Their eyes meet. “I never would have let you do that,” she murmurs.

He nods like he already knows it. “You have to understand, Scully. Someone made it incredibly clear to me that you were in terrible danger. And whether or not you want to hear it, you are my Achilles heel. Whether or not that’s a secret to me or you, everyone else seems to know it already. Your life, your health—those were always going to be used against me.” His eyes crease plaintively. “They know how much I—what I—” He shakes his head, discarding the thought. “I knew if I told you about their request, you would insist on fighting. I knew you’d insist on staying. So I sent you away.”

She huffs indignantly. “Of course I would have stayed, Mulder. You don’t get to make decisions for me about my life, or about our work.”

He shrugs, and she sees in his eyes a cocktail of emotions: defeat, regret, guilt. Grief. An overwhelming, all-consuming grief.

“Who do you think was behind the letter?” she asks more softly, noting the pain in his look.

He shakes his head. “It was anonymous. Skinner and I ran it through forensics. The Gunmen did some digging but we hit dead ends everywhere we turned.”

“Did you even consider that it was just a scare tactic? What if there was no actual intent behind the letter?” she asks gently, trying not to internalize the fact that he destroyed the X-Files on nothing but an unsubstantiated threat, simply to save her life.

“Of course I did,” he snaps heatedly. “I thought about everything. I thought about it so much I nearly drove myself crazy. But it didn’t really matter, Scully.” His eyes sear hers. “Don’t you get it? The risk to you was too great not to treat it as a serious threat.”

She shakes her head.

“You—you didn’t see the letter,” he adds. “You didn’t see what they knew. What they threatened.”

“Then tell me,” she pleads. “Help me understand.”

He shakes his head defeatedly. “Not now. I—please, Scully, let that rest for now. Just trust me when I say it was a very credible threat.”

She studies his features and sees it now, all the things she’s been ignoring since they began this journey together: the repressed pain and despair; the all-consuming guilt and grief; the barely-concealed rage and indignation.

“You’ll tell me eventually?” she asks.

He nods. “I’ll tell you.” A pause before he continues. “So, I let you go and then I destroyed the files. They, uh, they demanded I do it publicly, so I made a big scene at work. Got Skinner in on the whole thing. I think everyone finally got the proof they needed that I’m due for the loony bin.”

She sees it in her mind’s eye—Mulder carting loads of boxes up from the basement, setting them ablaze in the middle of the hallway. Onlookers with their mouths hanging open. Fire alarms and sprinklers inoperative at Skinner’s hand. A bystander running for a fire extinguisher. Mulder’s shirt covered in flame retardant. Everything he’s ever cared about destroyed in minutes.

His voice interrupts her dark thoughts. “After I pulled that little stunt, I spent a few weeks at a hospital with the Bureau’s finest psychiatrists. Once I was finally cleared for duty, I got shuffled around to the bullpen doing a bunch of bullshit background investigations. Skinner’s trying to get me up to VCU, but it’ll be hard to convince anyone I’m up for the job now.” He sighs. “Anyways, you were gone and—and months went by. You stayed safe. I knew you were safe, actually. I made sure of it.” He refuses to meet her gaze.

The weight of his suffering unmoors her, untethers her. Her body floats in liminal space. Her mind can hardly catch up. And after all this time, thinking Mulder had simply forgotten about her, had pushed her away and left her alone . . .

She blinks and comes back to herself. “And then?”   

“And then my selfishness got in the way.” He says it plainly, as if it should be no surprise to either of them. As if he hasn’t already proven his selflessness.   

“What do you mean?” she asks, sensing he’s holding back. “Mulder, you destroyed everything to save me—”

“Not everything.”

A beat. “Oh?”

He digs his fingernails into his palms and she resists the urge to reach out and comfort him.

“Mulder?” she asks softly.

He still won’t look at her. “I guess destroying the files wasn’t enough. They wanted one more thing to ensure the work would always be remembered as the work of a raving lunatic.”

She swallows past the bile rising in her throat, past the thump-thump-thumping in her heart. When she speaks, her voice is raw, hoarse. Barely a whisper. “You. They wanted . . . .” She finds herself unable to voice it.  

He nods tightly. “They gave me clear instructions what to do, how to do it.” He pauses. “This was four days ago.”

“Skinner knew?”

“He knew,” Mulder confirms. “They threatened him with other things, in other ways. He got a note under his door too. Something to the effect of ‘he dies or she dies.’ Once again, it was . . . explicit.”

His eyes finally meet hers and she is struck by the self-hatred she sees. “But when I saw what they wanted from me—I—I just panicked. I went to San Diego and that’s when they found me.”

“If they wanted you dead, why didn’t they just kill you then?” she asks. “Why did they stick you in a car and try to run me off the road?”

He shakes his head. “I hadn’t cooperated with them. The night they picked me up at the airport, we headed to your apartment. They told me they were going to make me watch you suffer. They had things in mind for you, things I can’t . . .” He swallows. “And then they were going to send me back to D.C. Only after I did what they’d asked did they intend to return you safely to San Diego.” His fists clench. “And they didn’t just want me dead, Scully. They wanted me to die publicly. They wanted my finger on the trigger. They wanted it to be traceable to me and only me. My madness, my insanity. Spooky Mulder’s final freak show. Something obscene enough and bold enough that it would discredit the X-Files forever.”

The pain in his voice washes her away. She leans into him and presses her forehead to his shoulder, blinking back tears. He turns stiff and unresponsive beneath her, as if he doesn’t deserve her touch or understanding.

“That wasn’t selfish, Mulder,” she whispers into his shirt, her brow crinkling with anger. “Refusing to kill yourself—I would never—” She bites down hard on her lip.

He pushes at her gently, shaking his head. “Scully, your life would look so much different if you’d never met me. So much better. All I wanted was for you to be happy and safe out in California. And I was given one final chance to ensure that forever and I—I couldn’t do it.”

She moves to touch him but he holds her at arm’s length. “I stupidly thought I could protect you myself. I had a reason to believe you were safe because I was actively protecting you while you were out in San Diego. I thought—maybe I can have it both ways. I can keep the remains of my life, and I can have her.” He pauses. “I can keep her safe,” he corrects. “And then, instead, this happens . . . .”

Gently, she pushes his hands away and then before he can protest, she links her arms around his neck. It takes several long breaths before he finally loops his own arms around her waist and tugs her tightly into him. The angle is awkward and she scoots closer, pressing her entire body up against his own and burying her face in his neck. And just hours ago, the idea of being close to him again was unthinkable.

“Thank you for staying alive,” she whispers into his skin.   

He doesn’t reply, just simply holds her until she pulls away. An uncomfortable silence settles between them and she resists the urge to fidget with the ring on her finger. If she thinks too hard about what he almost sacrificed for her, she will crumble. Instead, she fixates on a thread in the duvet as she regains her composure.

“So,” she says after a time, gathering her thoughts, “we can assume Skinner’s compromised. We can also assume that this plan goes all the way to the top, to the highest levels of the FBI. If they’re pinning my disappearance on you, that makes it much harder for us to stay safe or ask for help or—or contact anyone.” Uncertainty creeps into her voice. “Mulder, we could be running for the rest of our lives. We could lose . . . everything.”

“Whoever is behind this has law enforcement in their pockets,” he says with certainty, deflecting.

Numbly, she nods.

He sighs, raking a hand through his hair. Briefly, she reminds herself to clean his wound before they leave.

“There’s one more thing you should know,” he says quietly.

She fidgets. “Okay.”

He suddenly looks very, very nervous. More nervous than he’s looked since they started talking. Her heart begins to beat so fast that she feels her head start to spin.

“It’s about Alan.”