#my mind decided to go into detail with... the medical details and now we are (once again) bordering on the too much category | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

appleblueberry-pie · 3 months

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yandere miles 42 when a guys asks you out to prom yk like where they make a whole scene a cardboard box cut into a square and it has will you go out to prom with me 😭😭 and says the most cheasy thing making you cringe and a large group of ppl are surrounding you two but we reject them and they get mad and you tell miles all abt it ^^ i love your posts btw🙏🏽

[Come back home to me.]

You knew something funny was gonna happen when people were smiling your way, giggling and whispering about you. And the further you trekked down the hallway, the more crowded it was. You tried to keep your eyes to yourself as you slithered through the crowd. Clutching your backpack straps harder. Phones were out and on you, you felt a little nervous. This day has been hard enough for you. Long, grueling hours in class, people chatting up a storm in your ears, a mind-blowing headache that you've had all damn day that you could only take medication for just 30 minutes ago. You were tired.

"Hey, Y/n!" You tense up before sighing, shoulders dropping. How much happier would you be if you just ignored the call of your name and dealt with the backlash tomorrow, instead? You recognized the voice, and knew that if you ignored him...you'd be dealing with the consequences forever. You decided to turn around.

There goes Travis. His dark brown complexion and well-maintained dreads make him stand out. They were pulled back into a low pony, probably because he knew these videos would be the talk of the school for a while. He always loved the spotlight. A junior, like you, giving you that smile that all of the girls bothered him to give to them. It's directed right at you while he holds a beautifully made sign. It's humongous. And pink. And purple. Colors that you don't remember telling him were your favorite. Your head begins to hurt again when you notice your name drawn in amazing detail and care, followed by something among the lines of "prom" and "love of my life."

Somehow in the time span that you scanned your eyes over the sign that determined your possibly inevitable doom, a perfect circle was formed by the students who stood and watched you two like hawks. The flash on phones made you calculate that these videos wouldn't leave the internet for at least a month. Great. A month of reminders. A month of prodding and picking at your sanity from a place you have to go to damn near every day for an education. And a month of replays of a rejection.

You're not telling him yes.

Travis's homeboys hoot and holler to encourage him. "Y/n..." He starts, taking a step closer to you. A fake smile wobbles onto your lips and you stare up at him. "......yes...?" Everyone suddenly goes silent as you two begin to converse.

The way he stares at you makes you feel like....what he's looking for in you isn't something you'd give up for any high school boy anytime. Because what he wants, you know it isn't genuine love. So it makes you nervous the way he seems to tower over you during his, so called, "profession of love".

"Your beauty and smarts is something I've always wanted in a girl." His voice is loud and clear. It echoes throughout the hallway, like he wants everyone to hear. You don't think the halls have ever been so quiet. "Everyday, I'd pass you in the hallways while you carry your textbooks and wonder what it'd be like talking to you every morning before class. What it would be like to love you the way you deserve to be loved." His vague explanation of his love towards you had you wondering if anyone else also realized how fake this whole thing was.

His dark brown eyes never leave your face and he's right in front of you now. "So, I made this sign...to show you how much I love you. And how much I want to be with you. So, if it isn't so much to ask," Travis slowly puts the sign aside and drops to one knee, taking one of your hands into his, holding it carefully. "would you please go to prom with me? And let me be your man?"

The longer he watched the live feed, the harder it was to not burn his work space to the ground. The longer he listened, the harder he tweaked his claw he was attempting to fix. He was trying. He was trying so hard to stay calm. Because it's not like you'd say yes. But at the same time, no matter how often he kills or beats niggas up, "They just keep fucking touching you, puto cabrón!" He swipes the table, his tools and broken claw flying to the ground. Miles takes deep breaths, holding his head in his hands.

He stands up, turning off his phone and begins pacing. He didn't wanna see the rest of that. Why does he have to keep doing this? Don't they understand your his? Just his??? Yes, you're the shining light that keeps Brooklyn alive, yes, yes, this isn't news. But he's always with you. So why do they keep bothering you?

It doesn't matter because he's gonna keep killing them until they get the message. The more roaches he brings into the light, the better. He suddenly rushes to his phone and quickly dials your number, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself.

Your phone silently vibrates in your back pocket and your heart drops. It had to be Miles. Because he wasn't at school today and this definitely wouldn't have happened if he was here. You're so fucked, you think to yourself as everyone cheers at Travis's speech. And it goes silent again as they wait for your answer.

Suddenly, Travis is so hard to look at. You didn't want to be stared at like that when he's gonna die in the next few hours. Miles was gonna get him and it'd be your fault. He always said it wasn't and would caress your face as reassurance, but there's no excuse when he only kills these guys at school because they talk to you. And not for any other reason. You always have to be where the line is drawn.

"No, I can't go to prom with you." You say, chest lifting of the thousand pound weight that held it down. Travis didn't even look sad, he still had that adoring look in his eyes. And you then knew that he was faking all of this. "Why not? Is it because of Miles?" He stands, still holding your hand and shakes his head. "If he's bothering you, I could....get rid of him if you want. Cause that nigga, he a fucking weirdo. And he clearly, like, has you hostage or something, cause he ain't nothing special. Any one of us is better than him." He scoffs at the mention of him and his friends laugh with him.

You shake your head and take your hand away. "No, sorry, Travis. I just....don't wanna go." He rolls his eyes and smiles at you, picking up his sign. "Whatever. That's aight." He tosses it in the nearest trash can. You wonder if he even made that himself with the way he tossed it with zero regards. He turns back to you one last time and nods. "I'll holler. Let me know when you get rid of yo little guard dog. He be stinking the halls anyway."

And everyone dispersed.

You let out the breath you didn't know you were holding. You think this city is going to be the death of you with how many times you've gotten unwanted attention based on your looks. You tense up once more when you remember that Miles was calling you. The sudden silence after multiple calls was never a good thing. You yanked your phone out of your pocket and saw the 20-something missed calls and whispered to yourself in fear.

Immediately, you began your journey to his place.

His room was dark and cold. Only the light from outside his window illuminated it. You softly dropped your backpack into the usual corner and backed up to sit on his bed, but your back softly collided with a warm wall that also wrapped it's arms around your torso. You flinched as Miles exhaled in your ear, his head resting on your shoulder. "Miles, what the hell...."

He squeezes you a little and backs you both up, until he brings you to sit on his lap on his bed. He shifts you, so that you're facing him, his hand caressing your face and rubbing your back. "Hermosa como siempre, mami. How was your day?"(Beautiful as always, mami.) He whispers it to you, to calm you down. You're visibly nervous at his actions, expecting him to explode any minute.

"Um...it was alright. I did my project in 3rd period and got a coffee drink with my lunch. And..... I got asked to prom." You stare down at him, watching him scan you up and down, and let him 'check' your pockets before resting his hands on your waist. "Yeah? Who asked?" He already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from you.

You severely struggled to tell him it was Travis. You were tired of him killing people. You were tired of the apologies from men who were beaten half to death because of you. You scrunched your eyebrows as your throat began to close.

"Hm?" He asked. You hated how calm he was about this. How he held you so dearly as you fidgeted with your uniform skirt. Tears built up in your eyes and you shook your head. Miles pulled you closer, immediately wiping your eyes. "No, no, por favor no llores, nena. No estés triste. I just want you to tell me who did it, that's all."(No, no, please don't cry, baby. Don't be sad.) You break into full out sobbing and wipe at your eyes.

"I don't- don't want to because you're gonna kill him!" You stutter and manage to spit out your words, voice wobbly. Miles shushes you and rocks you back and forth, resting your head on his chest. His voice rumbles in your ears when he speaks. "You don't have to worry about a thing when I'm here with you, N/n. All I want is for you to drop his name, and everything else doesn't matter."

He kisses your forehead sweetly, letting his lips linger for a few seconds. "Okay?" You nod and try to take deep breaths. You couldn't win against him. He probably already knew who proposed to you, and Travis's fate still wouldn't be unavoidable. "Travis." You felt immense guilt and despair the moment you dropped his name.

"Travis...." Miles repeats. Just putting his name in the air made him pissed all over again. He stays silent for a few seconds before tilting his head to the side. "I just realized why that name is so familiar," He starts. "That's that nigga who robbed and threatened you last year, ain't it?" Miles scoffs and turns to look at you. "Is that why you didn't leave when he brought up that sign? Cause of what he did to you?"

You scrunch your eyebrows at his words and sit up. "How do you know about that?" You didn't meet Miles until a month after you were robbed by Travis in your sophomore year. So, him knowing about that was weird, especially since you never brought it up to him before. Miles ignores your question and continues. "I should've known some shit was off." Miles places you on the bed and gets up, grabbing some clothes to change into.

You rush to stand in front of him to stop him. "Miles, wait! Please- please don't do this. He didn't even do anything to me. All he did is ask me out. I said no. What's wrong with that??"

"What's wrong with that is that nigga is gonna keep fucking getting at you until he can get into your pants, baby. I'm not stupid. These niggas know what they doin' riling you up and sending you back home to me crying and shit. Ain't you tired??" Miles begins to size you up, backing you towards his bedroom door, clothes clutched in his hand as he stares down at you.

"I am fucking tired. And I'm also tired of you ruining my life by making more rumors for niggas to spread about me. Nobody wants to be near me because of you, Miles!" You jab your finger into his chest and he grabs your hand. "You don't need nobody else." You hear his breathing speed up and realized you should've kept your mouth shut.

It's too damn silent for your liking. All you can hear is him and your heartbeat in your ears. "When the fuck have you ever needed anyone else besides me?.....I take care of you. I feed you, I do your fucking hair every morning, I walk you to and from school, I protect you. Es que no es suficiente?(Is that not enough?)" You don't respond and stare up into brown eyes that glare down at you. "How 'bout I show you how good you got it?" You try to pull your hand back, but his iron grip isn't letting up. "What.....? Miles, let me go."

"What's wrong, mi corazón? Don't wanna see?" Miles almost jokingly asks about your sudden concern. He steps into your space once more and firmly grabs your face. "Look at me when I tell you this,"

He shakes his head. "You don't know how to protect yourself. I'm the only one who knows how to keep you safe in these fucked up streets. When was the last time you felt protected before you met me? Huh? Cause I know you haven't. I'm meant to be here with you! I'm protecting you from the horrible fucking things that are happening out there that could've been happening to you, baby. You heard?"

You struggle to remove his hands from your face and he makes no move to stop the distress he's putting you in. "Okay, okay, Miles. Just...please stop."

Miles places a kiss onto your forehead before holding you in his arms. You sigh relief at the release of pressure and let him hold you. "Volveré pronto, okay? And then we can do whatever you want."(I'll be back soon) You allow yourself to relax and your eyes flutter shut. Sometimes you wonder how much it'll take for him to stop taking his obsession out on Brooklyn.

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jinxhallows · 7 months

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kinktober #oo8 | the doctor is in

KINKTOBER 2023 || jinxhallows the doctor is in (medical play) || chan x fem!reader summary: you and chan have been together for a while and decide to explore something more outside the box in regards to intimacy. he's always thought your former job as a nurse was fascinating, and the idea of a hot nurse was always a sexy concept to him; but now, its chan's turn to play doctor, and he’s done his research in full, and takes to his role a little too well… warnings: medical play, and all that entails, without revealing too much - including medical instruments, gynecological based scenes, description/plot heavy, I purposefully saved this for the 8th entry because it’s kinky on the border of off putting to some folx, I wanted you to be familiar with how far I push limits in my work by digesting the previous entries first, if you do not like it, skip it, established relationship, 'good girl' and 'good girl' adjacent pet names, non-idol AU

word count: 3.7k masterlist - click here

"Do you remember when we talked about trying out that doctor roleplay?" you inquire, gently setting the cardboard box on the table. The solid thud of its weight makes Chan wince. Leaning across the table, you give him a quick kiss.

As you pull back, Chan opens his eyes and asks, "Yeah? Why do you bring it up now? What's on your mind?"

"I've decided to bring some work home this time."

You begin unpacking the supplies, starting with a box of syringes with securely attached needles. Then, you reveal a pack of sterilized hemostats, along with packs of gauze, bandages, catheters (both IV and urinary), and various other medical instruments. While these items are familiar to you from your former career as a nurse, Chan has never encountered such materials outside of a doctor's office, and some of them are entirely new to him.

But Chan does remember the vivid conversation you had, especially after your last check-up when you excitedly shared your detailed ideas.

It was something he had never heard of at the time—medical play?

"So, basically like...playing doctor?" Chan leaned back in his chair, interlocking his fingers behind his head.

"Kind of. But this time, I want to make it more immersive, by actually using real supplies," you explain. Your eyes briefly drift to his veiny forearm and back to his eyes, but you're not subtle enough, and he catches your glance, lowering his arms.

"I remember now," he says, his face lighting up with a humorous recollection as he continues, "Back when you first started in the Emergency, you kept saying you wanted to draw my blood, claiming I'd be an easy poke."

You're about to offer a retort, but he stops you with a raised finger, a mischievous grin spreading across his lips as he starts laughing at the thought. After a moment, he takes a breath, turning somewhat serious.

"If we do this, I get to go first."

You're relieved at his enthusiasm. It's certainly an unusual request, but by now, Chan is well-acquainted with your eccentricities.

"What do you mean? As the patient or the doctor?"

"The Doctor, of course," Chan says, slowly turning in his chair. He forms an imaginary TV screen with his hands in front of his face. "Yeah, I can see it now." The chair completes its 360-degree turn, bringing him back to face you as he concludes,

"Dr. Bang will see you now."

As you meticulously unpack the box, your boyfriend's hand reaches over, picking up a container of 25g needles, and he studies it with intense curiosity. His leg bounces nervously beneath the table.

"On a scale of one to a serious medical emergency, how likely are we to kill each other tonight?" he quips, his eyes lifting from the box, a dubious brow raised in question.

"As long as we steer clear of sharps to start with, we’ll be alright."

“We’ll be alright,” Chan scoffs with a laugh. He cracks a grin as he opens the box between his hands and extracts one of the capped needles, spinning it between his fingers. With a swift, deft 'crack,' he twists it open and removes the cap, revealing the sharp, fine needle underneath. He gives it another once-over before turning his gaze back to you. He's pondering deeper now, his eyes tracing down to the sliver of skin peeking out from your silk robe, stopping at the upper thigh.

"I don't even wanna know how you got a'hold of all of this."

Chan caps the needle and carefully sets it back down on the table. He recognizes that admitting a desire like this was a vulnerable thing for you, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious himself ever since you first had mentioned it. One night, when you were out, he threw the term you taught him into a porn site—medical play—and watched, wide eyed and bricked up from all the scenes he began to discover.

You trust him, you've said, to handle your body with care. You couldn't imagine letting anyone other than Chan partake in this experiment, and once he gets past the initial discomfort of potentially messing up, you're certain he'll take excellent care of you.

Because that's just Chan's nature.

"Well then, shall we?" He rises from his seat, wrapping a reassuring arm around your waist beneath your robe, pulling your body close to his. Your naked skin brushes against the fabric of his clothes as he plants a gentle kiss on your lips. "I need to change first. Can you give me a few minutes?"

You respond with a light, airy snort. “You’re gonna change your clothes? You’re really dedicated, huh?”

"I mean, personally, I wouldn't want a doctor in boardies, a singlet, and thongs anywhere near me with a scalpel. Wouldn't be very professional now, would it?" Chan says as he heads towards the bottom of the stairs, kicking off his house shoes. The sound of his bare footsteps fades as he ascends the stairs, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You nibble on the inside of your lower lip, feeling a touch of nervousness. You expected more resistance from him, but not only is he going along with it, it seems like he's enjoying the idea.

You pack everything back into the box and hurry upstairs to the bedroom. You grab a folding table from storage and unfold it, providing a surface for the tools of the trade for tonight. One by one, you lay out the supplies. Both of you are uncertain about what this experience will be like, or if you'll even enjoy it, so you've gathered a variety of items. Feeling apprehensive about making incisions? Opt for a needle. If you're new to poking, avoid breaking the skin and use a blunt medical tool instead. If things get a little too intense, there are bandages, staplers, and skin glue to the rescue. There are so many options here; surely, there's something that Chan will feel comfortable using.

As you arrange the table neatly, you can't help but imagine the sensual sensation of each item against your skin. You set everything up for easy access, lost in your thoughts, when you suddenly hear the door creak open behind you.

You turn around to find your very own Christopher Bang standing there, fastening his watch. The sleeves of his white collared shirt are rolled up to his elbows, revealing firehose veins that run up his arms like the roots of a sturdy tree. It makes you wish you were the one in charge tonight.

The thought of drawing blood from him is undeniably enticing.

Chan, dressed impeccably in a white button-down tucked into dark pants, fits the part perfectly. The desire to clear the table and let him have his way with you right there and then crosses your mind.

"Fuck me," you mutter under your breath.

He chuckles. "Maybe later, but for now, have a seat for me?" He taps the edge of the bed and settles into the office chair that used to belong at his computer desk, now strategically positioned next to your makeshift doctor's examination bed. Chan busies himself with the satisfying snap of pulling on his gloves, casting his eyes over the array of instruments spread out on the table. He inspects each object before swiveling the chair to face you, a confident smile gracing his features. His gloved hands dangle between his legs, fingers intertwined.

"So, Y/N, I'm Dr. Bang, and I'm the doctor on call tonight.” He lifts his wrist to glance at his watch before his eyes meet yours again, “It's pretty late, though. Care to tell me what's going on?"

His act is so convincing that you blink twice, half-expecting him to break character at any moment, dissolve into laughter, and physically cringe. But Chan smoothly glides closer, planting both hands on your knees. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Hey, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to tonight, yeah? You still up for this?” He checks in with you, and his sincerity reassures you that he's the right person to explore this with.

“Of course, I just didn’t expect you to take it so seriously.”

“You trust me, and I take that very seriously.” He runs his hands up and down the silky expanse of your thighs, his smile revealing a tiny dimple. "Go ahead and lie back for me." He rises as you recline onto the bed, and he attentively adjusts your robe, ensuring your modesty. Chan gently tugs the fabric closed over your body, all the while looking down at you with genuine affection. "Not a fan of doctor's visits, are you? You seemed nervous earlier, but are you experiencing any discomfort right now?" He starts applying gentle pressure around the perimeter of your abdomen. His touch feels eerily authentic, causing you to briefly forget this is a role-play scenario.

"I am," you confess, observing him as he focuses on the area just below your navel. A sharp sensation shoots through you, making you gasp involuntarily, a sound that surprises both of you. Chan momentarily halts, clearly caught off guard, before reestablishing eye contact with you. "Did that hurt?" He presses again, and you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling your reaction.

"Hey," Chan tenderly grasps your wrist, guiding your hand away from your mouth, "I'm not a vet. I need my patients to use their words, so I can provide the best care."

"It's right below where you pressed, Doctor; it just...it's uncomfortable right now, like–an ache. It’s hard to explain.” you say, barely managing to articulate in a roleplay appropriate way that you're getting hornier by the second and can swear your pussy has its own heartbeat at this point.

"Below, like... here?" Chan's gloved right hand moves an inch lower, hovering right above your soft, puffy pubis. He's teasing, and his mischievous grin gives it away.

"Lower," you reply with a sultry undertone, encouraging his exploration.

Chan's fingers press against your warmth, causing your hips to rise against his touch. He immediately stops and wheels himself backward to a nearby table laden with an array of medical equipment. You lift your head, peering over your chest to see what he's up to. Sensing your curious eyes on him, he looks over at you, his hand resting on a packaged instrument that remains elusive from your vantage point on the bed.

A chuckle escapes his lips. This was what you wanted, wasn't it? Well, now he's getting into the role-play more than he expected. The clinical setting, the pristine, sterile instruments, and your presence in that beautiful black silk robe, waiting with bated breath and those wide, enchanting eyes – it all triggers a surge of power in Chan that he didn't anticipate. Not like this, at least.

"So, when did you first notice the pain?"

“When you came in the fucking room.”

Chan laughs softly. "You're not very good at this," he remarks, picking up a stethoscope and draping it around his neck. "Let's start with some basics since you're a bit anxious. I'll ease you into it."

His tone conveys an underlying promise, and you watch as he leans over your body, slipping his hand beneath the fabric of your robe, the cool stethoscope head making contact with your skin. As soon as you feel the gloved fingers on your body, you sense your nipples hardening against the silk fabric. Chan notices too as he listens, although he's uncertain what he's searching for, his brow furrowed as he shifts the stethoscope over slightly, catching the rapid increase in your heartbeat.

He likes being able to hear the effect he has on you.

Chan removes the stethoscope from his ears, placing it around his neck again. "You've got a strong ticker!" he remarks with a smile, closing your robe as professionally as a real doctor. "Now, open up for me,"

You blink at him, an immediate desire to spread your legs rising within you, but you obediently open your mouth instead as he places a thermometer underneath your tongue. You hold it firmly in place.

"Good girl. Keep this up, and I might reward you with a lollipop later." The thermometer beeps, and he removes it, sitting back down in his chair and rolling over to the table. "Ninety-nine point six, perfect. See? Nothing to be afraid of." He picks up a nearby pen and scribbles something down on a notepad, then proceeds to examine the various instruments, silently evaluating each one.

What was he going to do to you? Was he going to poke you with a needle? Give you an enema? You’d give anything to be inside of his brain right now and know what he’s plotting.

“Chris—“

"Ah, ah, ah," he tuts, raising a finger into the air, still deciding his next move.

You stop yourself, close your eyes, and take a deep breath.

"Dr. Bang," you say, emphasizing his title with respect.

"Hmm?" He responds, much more content with the formal address than his first name.

"What exactly... are you planning to do to me today?"

To your dismay, he spins around toward you, holding a chosen instrument—a metal speculum. Out of all things? Does he even know how to work it?

You swallow hard, the thought of him meddling with your insides making you squirm internally. But you play your part. You're in an examination.

“I'm here to make you feel better; it's my job. I'll need to take a good look inside to determine why you’re in so much discomfort.”

You watch and wait for him to ask you how to open the sterilized package. Instead, he deftly peels it open from the top and holds the speculum over a green surgical drape on a nearby metal tray with a muffled clang, tossing the packaging aside. He can sense your disbelief in your expression as he looks back up at you.

"How did you-"

"Yeah, so you know how people say your phones are always listening to you?" Chan slides his chair back until he's positioned right between your legs, and the sheer confidence in his movement reminds you of the residents you've assisted on numerous occasions. It's undeniably turning you on.

"Yeah?" you reply.

"Well, ever since we first discussed it, my algorithm's gone haywire," he says, shaking his head with a sigh, his elbow resting on his thigh. "It takes a truly special person to do this kind of work." He taps the edge of the bed as he speaks, and you shift up so your hips rest on the edge, your legs hanging off.

"That being said," Chan hooks his arms underneath your legs' crooks, lifting them up so your feet lie flat on the bed, spread open. Your robe is far from sufficient to keep you from being exposed. The swiftness of his motion sends a breeze across your most intimate area, letting you know just how aroused he's gotten you with minimal contact. You can hear the click of the lid on the lube as he coats his fingers.

“You'll feel my fingers first, and then a little cold and some pressure, alright?"

His voice is soothing, and you exhale, saying, "Alright," your hands folded on your stomach.

"Take a deep breath for me," You feel his fingers first, just as he promised. Two gloved digits slide inside you, and your gasp is nearly reflexive as you clench around them when he curls them upwards, caressing that special spot. "That's it, keep breathing, relax," he instructs.

As he guides you into a state of calm with his slow and soothing words, you notice the change in temperature and texture as the cool metal speculum slides gently into you, not all the way, slowly stretching against your pulsing walls. Here you are, in your own bedroom, with Chan talking you through it, his palm resting on your inner thigh. His eyes switch between your glistening core and your furrowed brows, and your slow panting. He’s waiting for you to fold, to tell him to stop, that this is too much. But you don’t.

Chan secures the device in place, creating an opening that's not too wide but still provides him with better access than he's ever had before. And you're willingly letting it happen.

He checks in on you, discreetly adjusting the front of his pants to make room for the tent he was pitching. "How are you feeling?"

"It feels different than it usually does," you remark, your tummy fluttering with a chuckle, dispelling any lingering tension.

"Yeah? Different in what way?" His hand vanishes between your thighs as he slides his fingers back inside you, and this time, he stands over you, studying your reactions while his other hand moves beneath your navel.

"I mean, usually I don't expect my doctor to—" You cut yourself off with a moan as he presses both inside you and firmly on top of you simultaneously.

At that moment, Chan decides that he absolutely loves this.

"What was that?" he asks, as if that moment hadn’t happened.

"I usually don't expect my doctors to... well, you know," you say.

God, you were such a freak.

Did he turn you on that much? That you’d let him do this to you? Does he have that much of a hold on you?

“This is where it hurts?”

“Y-Yeah.”

He really doesn’t need you to say it. He knows you want him to rail you, as if your expressons aren’t enough; he can feel your walls yearning to close around something, anything, so desperately.

The anticipation of what it would feel like to remove the speculum and have your tightness engulf him as it shrinks back sends a shiver down his spine.

He tugs at the crotch of his pants again.

"How about when I do this?" He starts a gentle but confident massage of your abdomen, and your hips slowly begin to rotate, pleading for more pressure. You can’t move much, the device forcing your movements to remain minute, lest it become uncomfortable.

"Feels–" you curl your fingers into the sheets, the pressure from the speculum inside you battling with your natural urge to clench around nothing, stealing your breath.

Chan captures your lips with his own. "Does that feel good?"

"Mhm," you nod, feeling his hand slipping between your legs again, accompanied by the sounds of his belt buckle being undone as he kisses you once more, both of you breathless. This must’ve been turning him on too, and now, you can hear it and feel it in the stiff, swollen head of his cock leaking against the warmth of your inner thigh as he disengages the metal spacer, it feels far warmer than it did going in, and you sigh as it leaves your body, but before you can register the emptiness left behind, Chan’s warm, girth replaces the foreign object, and you both groan in tandem with the feeling.

“Fuck, babe,” He breathes at the sensation. Your pussy is so hungry for him, the way you swallow him up is unholy. And as he pulls his hips back and snaps them into you again, he’s certain you’ve never been this wet before, ever.

“Oh god, finally,” Your eyes roll back into your head, knees pushed back, your robe now fully splayed open, with the most perfect visuals of your tits, Chan leans forward and you wrap your legs around his waist, “I think I figured out what’s wrong,” he whispers, the ends of his stethoscope dangling onto your bare skin, “Want me to make you feel better baby?” He begins thrusting into you, “Is that why it was hurting? Hm? Because you needed me to fill you up?”

“Yeah, yeah I did—needed you–so bad–doctor, god I–fuck Chan I–love you–I-”

You don’t even make any sense and you resort to a breathless laugh as your teeth chatter with a sharp inhale.

“Aw, my babygirl, you’re a mess. It’s worse than I thought.” Chan chuckles and has to pause to regain his composure. Pulling the stethoscope off, he tosses it aside and lifts the hem of his dress shirt, holding it between his teeth as he thrusts into you, now able to watch how you paint his cock with your juices every time he disappears inside of you. His lower abs flex and contract with each stroke, while muffled, elongated groans escape through clenched teeth. His palm presses down on that spot beneath your tummy again, and he feels your body clenching under his touch as he thrusts even deeper, he wants to feel himself inside of you, each movement of your hips daring him to split you in half entirely.

Your vision becomes hazy, and you struggle to concentrate beneath drooping eyelids, on the verge of being overwhelmed by sensations. You move your mouth, but words won't form, only heavy sighs and gasps provoked by his every move as if you were his puppet. If you could form coherent thoughts, you'd be thanking him for reminding your lungs to breathe, enabling you to catch your breath at all.

Now, you're climaxing, and it takes him by surprise. A choked, guttural groan escapes his throat as the wet end of his shirt falls from between his teeth, thin streams of drool trickling down his chin as he climaxes just moments after yours. The release leaves him feeling lightheaded, and he catches himself on his elbow, breathing heavily with his forehead pressed against yours. Your eyes are closed as you try to catch your own breath.

Chan's stamina surpasses yours, and his heavy breathing turns into soft laughter as he places his palm against your cheek. You laugh along with him; it's hard not to when Chan's laughing. It serves as a release that sends chills and butterflies through your stomach, having experienced something so exhilarating together.

Your fingers curl around his palm against your cheek as your eyes crinkle. "You've definitely done this before."

Chan sits next to you on the bed. “I haven’t, promise,” “Hm. You may have a future in theatre then.” “Think so? Maybe I can get famous and quit my shitty job.” He laughs leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. “Since you’re the one with the medical background, I wouldn’t be against you poking me next time.”

“Next time?”

“Oh yeah. You’ve got all those supplies. I’m just getting started.”

- fin

294 notes · View notes

fleur-bbyy · 1 year

Text

mornication /// katsuki bakugo

rating: 18+

wc: 3.5k

warnings: sex (minors DNI), pet names, unprotected sex w/ no mentions of birth control (please be smart), mentions of drunken sex (please be smart here too), phone call during sex, afab! reader (i try to not be descriptive about skin colors so all can read, but if I slip up please let me know so I can correct it), bakugo with an eyebrow piercing, hockey!au, college!au, quirkless!au, pre-established situationship, slight breeding kink, characters aged up to 21+.

just wanted to thank everyone who liked and reblogged my work in the past week! when I decided to finally post some of my writing here, i was a bit NERVY, but seeing how many people actually like and appreciate it has me giggling and kicking me feet. so thank you from the bottom of my lil heart :’)

“i cant believe we did this again.”

the room was spinning when you opened your eyes after hearing the low grumbling the male voice beside you. the rays of sunshine streaming through the blinds made it almost impossible for you to open your eyes all the way, leaving you to squint as your eyes wandered around the room. all you could pick up was that you were in some hotel before you registered your pounding head and groaned into the pillow, throwing your face down in it to try and block out the world from your eyes. some details of last night came back to you, just a few, though.

all you could remember was that katsuki and the guys won their hockey game against the school’s top rivals and that caused the after party at the club near the hotel you were staying at to be crazier than usual. you also remembered agreeing to share a hotel room with a certain sexy blonde to cut down the cost. you told yourself that you guys could keep it in your pants for one night of drinking.

clearly you were very wrong.

you were almost asleep again when the bed shifted, scaring you awake from any sleep you were about to get. you turned your head out of the pillow and looked up to see the back of the man you had shared yourself with last night.

the man you had shared yourself with for multiple nights.

he was still naked. colorful kt tape adorned his back, making little ‘v’ shapes in between his shoulder blades and lower back. after the rough game he played last night followed by an intense after party, you knew he had to be sore. you watching the way his powerhouse muscles rolled and rippled as he bent down to pull on his boxers and sweatpants over his taut ass.

your mind took over and you couldn’t resist reaching out smacking his butt while it was still naked. he jumped a bit, clearly not expecting the sudden contact. he smirked down at you as he looked over his shoulder.

“‘bout fuckin’ time you woke up.” he said as he continued dressing himself. sadly covering up his ass you were simply fascinated with and covering his upper half with a tight, wife-beater black tank.

“wish i wasn’t awake. my head is pounding.”

“mine was too. left pain meds and water on your nightstand for when you woke up.” you smiled at the thought of such a sweet gesture coming from a brash man like him. you flipped over again to face the side your nightstand was on, eyeing the horse-pill sized medication and now-melted ice water. you didn’t realize you were still naked until the blanket slid from your body as you sat up. nipples hardening as soon as they hit the cold air all hotels insist on keeping circulated throughout their rooms. you quickly took the gigantic pills and drank half of the water before flopping back onto the bed, boobs bouncing from the action. it didn’t go unnoticed by katsuki.

“nice tits.” he plainly stated, as if he were complimenting something mundane like a shirt or shoes and not a private area of your body.

“thanks, nice dick.” staring at the imprint his cock left in his sweats was like something out of a porno. even soft, the man still managed to look hung. you never thought the saying ‘third leg’ was a real thing until you met katsuki. he gave a light laugh at your reciprocated banter.

“care to tell me why you were up so early after a rough game, mister?”

“can’t let myself get behind, athlete’s gotta train, sweetheart.” your face and neck began to heat at the little pet name.

“maybe if you gave yourself a break, you wouldn’t have to doll yourself up in the pretty-colored tape.” he laughed at you again and sat down next to you, removing the part of the blanket that still covered your lower half and lightly stroking your bed head.

“then i wouldn’t have a good excuse to get you to touch me while you patch me up.” he still had that darkened look of lust in his ruby red eyes and you assumed he either didn’t have enough of you last night or you were both too intoxicated to remember. it’s not like you guys went out of your way to fuck when you were drunk, it just happened to play out that way. you couldn’t help that you both turned into to horny-fucking-bastards when you drank.

he removed one of his hands from your hair and trailed it down to one of your breasts. kneading the fat and pinching at your already hard nipple. you felt arousal start to build up in your core as you softly moaned under his touch.

“y’know,” you said in between whines, “we’ve never had sex sober.” you both gave it some thought as he continued to absent-mindedly play with your chest. you were right. every time the two of you ended up stumbling into bed together, you were always either both tipsy or completely sloshed, making it hard to remember fine details of the night’s event the morning after. all you know is that you were usually left with sore legs from whatever crazy positions your tainted heads came up with. bakugo furrowed his eyebrows as he thought about it too, the metal of his brow piercing reflecting the light. his face softened again as he looked you deep in the eyes.

“we’re sober now, aren’t we?” his pretty, infectious smile sending more jolts of pleasure down to your now-aching clit after so much teasing with you nipples. you gave him a devilish smirk as you grabbed the soft skin of his cheeks and pulled his lips down to meet yours. soon after, his tongue snakes out of his mouth and into yours. saliva mixing and rolling out of your mouth and onto your chin as the two of you shoved your faces together as close as they would go. you bit his lower lip and pulled it away from his mouth to get closer to yours, satisfied to hear that lovely groan come from his pretty lips.

you whined into his mouth when he moved his hand from your chest, your disappointment not lasting long as he moved his hand to where you really needed it. rubbing lazy little circles on your clit that lit your entire body alight. you were dripping so much that tiny droplets flew every time he completed a circle around. you were panting like a bitch in heat under his touch, already getting so desperate for release.

his pace quickened and he was able to slide a curious finger into you when he moved his body to lay atop yours. his thumb doing most of the work on your clit whilst his middle finger repeatedly hit your sensitive g-spot, making you see stars. no, the entire universe, because of his touch.

“you gonna cum f’me baby? i know you got it in ya. don’t worry about messin’ up the sheets, we’re leaving today anyways.” you felt yourself beginning to come undone from his magically skilled fingers and still-raspy morning voice. the tight, but sloppy circles on your clit sent a wave of pleasure straight to your hole every time he completed a rotation, causing your pussy to clench down onto his fast, skilled finger as that fire burning in your stomach only grew.

“kats… baby i can’t hold on for much longer.” you mewled at him, breathlessly. he kept up his pace. never moving slower or faster. determined to have you come undone at least once before he fucks you again.

“then cum f’me, sweet girl. I wanna feel you drip down my fuckin’ fingers.” his words set the fire in your stomach ablaze to unspeakable heights. you finally let go around his hand, your orgasm blinding and earth shattering. thighs shaking so violently that katsuki had to use his free hands to try and soothe them to a relaxing point.

“atta girl. you did so damn good baby.” he praised as he attempted to give you a moment to catch your breath.

“fuck me. wan’ you s’bad.” your words slurred together as you were trying to come down from the ecstasy his fingers just brought upon you. he laughed in your ear, lightly slapping your thigh as he lifted himself off from being over you and flipped you onto your stomach and into the jockey position. you felt him shuffling behind you as he pulled his cock out from the confines of his clothes and lined himself up with your inviting entrance.

“i’m gonna take care of you. don’t move a fuckin’ muscle.” and with that he pushed all the way into you, a shared moan leaving your lips and his. your eyes were heavy from your previous orgasm and from the fact you were already sleepy to begin with. the vicious pace katsuki had already set with his hips kept you from even thinking of falling back asleep. his pelvis became flush with your ass and his heavy balls kissed your abused clit with every thrust in. your warm walls sucked him in so good, as if you guys were two puzzle pieces that were always meant to be put together. your liquid arousal dripped out of you and onto him, making him loudly groan at the sight. your cute little moans made him want to bust in you already.

the pair of you were quickly pulled from your euphoric state when katsuki’s phone began buzzing so violently it almost vibrated itself off his nightstand. you both tried to ignore it, but the unrelenting buzz buzz buzz sound began to ruin your pleasant morning.

with an annoyed growl, bakugo reached over to grab his phone, his pace inside you never once faltering and he continued to pound into your sweet cunt like his life depended on it. he turned the screen to face him and saw that half the team had been blowing his phone and his personal group chat with his friends and you (you always kept them on dnd because they distracted you too easily) also ringing to life. he pulled the little half-slide trick to read the messages without them knowing he read them and found that they were looking for you both. some of them genuinely wondering if katsuki was dead because he was never sleeping in this late. he roughly slapped your juicy ass to elicit another sweet moan from you as he slid open the chat all the way.

hey man, everyone’s looking for you. wya?

yeah, we’re beginning to get worried, kacchan

and where’s sparks?

sparks. that silly little nickname given to you on your twenty-first birthday when you drunkenly tried to stick a fork in an outlet. “for science reasons” you said. nobody ever let you live it down and they still never let you around metal when you guys were drinking.

katsuki was once again pulled from his thoughts by his phone buzzing again, denki calling him now, and by the feeling of you pushing your hips back to meet his dominating thrusts. he reached down to wrap his hand around the front of your throat, “i said don’t. fucking. move.” the last three words punctuated by rougher thrusts into your sobbing, sopping wet little cunt. his ringing phone still in hand when he got an idea.

“since these extras won’t get the hint, i’m gonna answer them. think we can play up a little show, angel?” you breathlessly moaned out a “yes” before throwing your head into the pillows. your gummy walls beginning to clamp down on him harder, you were close.

he devilishly grinned as he pressed the ‘answer call’ button on his screen and put his phone on speaker, throwing it near your head so your friends could hear you loud and clear. the influx of voices bled into the air.

“thank god you answered dude! we were really beginning to freak! thought you were de- wait… what the fuck is that sound?” it was kaminari talking on the phone, but he could definitely hear the voices of kirishima and midoriya next to him along with some other voices he couldn’t quite identify in the background. he could hear the loud hum of the air conditioning, so he assumed they were still in someone’s hotel room. katsuki quickened his pace and reached around under you to rub your clit and bring you even closer to the edge. your moaning was louder, unrelenting. ready to give him all of your sweet juices.

“well? get on with it? ya really gonna interrupt me ‘n my girl having the best fuck of our lives and just go silent? or do you guys enjoy being nasty fuckin’ pervs?” my girl. his girl. your heart and pussy both fluttered at the two simple words that left his mouth. your lips breaking into a sweet, sleepy smile.

the grip his free hand had on your ass cheek once again pulling you out of any sweet thoughts you could have and back into the filthy ones. so close to release, you were teetering off the edge. the tight coil of pressure building in your stomach, begging to unravel around the thick cock of the muscular man behind you.

“c’mon, baby, show these nasty extras what you sound like when you cum on my cock.” that one perverse sentence was the one to finally throw you off the edge. white hot pleasure overtook your spent body. practically screaming his name as clear liquid splashed onto his toned stomach and dripped down his sweat pant-clad thighs and your naked ones, seeping onto the plush mattress and ruining the sheets. he held his tight black top up to avoid getting any of your messy release on it.

katsuki let out a guttural growl, “fuck yes. you hear that boys? hear how my nasty fuckin’ slut just squirted all over me?” you hated to admit it, but the thought of your shared friends listening into the two of you fuck like a digital peep show was so exhilarating to you. it was by far the dirtiest thing you’ve ever done during sex. by the pride in katsuki’s voice, you could tell he felt the same way.

his thrusts started to become sloppy and rougher, signaling that he was very close to his own release. his hips quickening as the sound of skin slapping skin also got louder and filled the thick air.

“fuck baby fuck baby.. ‘m gonna fuckin’ bust so hard. want to me cum in you? want me to fill this slutty fucking pussy?” his deep voice was laced with desperate groans as he so badly wanted to let himself go. you feverishly shook your head ‘yes’ at him, still moaning and yelling at the overstimulation.

the thought of his friends still listening in filled katsuki with a sense of pride that he’d never felt before and the sight of your naked body so weak under him making him so close to release that he could practically taste it. he began to feel his balls tighten and constrict, signaling that he was just a few thrusts away from a mind blowing orgasm. the straw that broke the camel’s back was the sight of your peachy little ass rippling and bouncing every time his hips thrusted in. a loud groan ripped from his throat as he pushed in one final time and painted your pretty walls white. the two of you were covered in a light sheen of sweat, little bits of his hair stuck to his wet forehead. some of it dripped down onto you and he used his thumbs to try and wipe some away. the feeling of rough hands performing such a gentle gesture just for you made your heart swell.

he was about to reach for his phone that still had the call going, when you lazily reached out for it instead.

“hope you enjoyed the show, boys, we’ll be down in a few!” somehow you made your sleepy voice sound so sultry it made katsuki’s softening cock twitch inside you again, like he could already go for round two. he was pulled from any thoughts of fucking you again when you wiggled your hips as a signal for him to pull out and he reluctantly did.

“what? done with me already?” he teased.

“never, just don’t want to leave them waiting for too long.” you weakly pushed yourself up and got out of the bed to head to the bathroom.

“we can leave them waiting as long as we fuckin’ please after the show we just gave them. and don’t forget to pee, i’ll have your ass inna chokehold if you get a damn infection!” he had to slightly yell the last part so it could reach your ears behind the closed bathroom door.

“whaddya think i’m doing in here, dimwit!” you yelled back. you loved being one of the few that could tease the temperamental man without having to worry about it being your last day on earth if you do. he chuckled to himself as he searched for another pair of pants to wear, now that his current ones were tainted with your juices.

you exited the bathroom as he finished redressing himself. he could tell you had just brushed your teeth due to the scowl that was always on your face after you did. he knew you abhorred the taste of toothpaste. hell, you were still using children’s toothpaste when he met you and teased you into being an adult and ditching the strawberry sparkle flavor you could actually tolerate. he nudged your shoulder and pointed at your still half full glass of water, telling you without words to drink it to get rid of the taste.

you finished the glass began to pick up your clothes and dress in silence. you both loved the domestic feel in the room after you made love. this time, though, you would actually be able to remember it since you guys weren’t drunk of your asses.

“can’t believe we did this again.”

“you’re telling me. call me crazy, but i’m beginning to think you actually like me or something.” you stated with fake shock in your voice.

it took both of you until now to admit it, but you were both tired of just being a drunk hookup buddies. trying to make this situationship or whatever clearly wasn’t happening since you were always yearning for something more. yearning for more time together. yearning to be something bigger, better than just fuck buddies.

“well miss, i don’t believe you’re crazy. just a little stupid.”

“hey!” you swatted at his thick bicep.

“y’know i’m just playing, princess.” he walked around to your side of the bed to help you pack your clothes together as his were already done, leaving a soft kiss on your cheek as he bent down to get your leftover things.

“I don’t know mister, I think you’ll have to take me out to prove that you’re just playing.”

“take you out now?”

“yes sir!” you ruffled his pretty, blonde locks and gave him a playful salute. he shook his head and took your bags from you. insisting that he carry yours and his. your heart pounded a little faster in your chest at the sweet gesture.

“‘s a date then,” he smiled at you as he gathered your key cards and left them on the table where they were when you arrived, “and stop calling me sir before ‘m forced to take you again.”

“you don’t have the energy to do it again!” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him.

“oh yes i sure ‘s hell do. one look at your ass and ‘m ready to go again.” he playfully smacked your ass and wolf whistled at you, causing a light yelp to escape from your lips. even though he carried both of your bags, he still managed to open the hotel room door for you.

“okay. I guess I can be good for you, sir.” you said, slyly as you walked through the opening and out into the carpeted hallway.

“you’re on thin fuckin’ ice, sparks.”

“as long as i’m with you on the ice, i couldn’t give two shits.” you got on the tips of your toes to kiss his soft, pink lips. he moved his mouth in tandem with you, neither of you wanting the lovely moment to end.

you ended up pulling away first after losing your balance from staying on your tiptoes for too long. he offered you his available hand to help you gain your footing, but even after you were stable again, he didn’t let go.

“ready to face those extras downstairs?”

“readier than ready.” you said with a slight giggle. you weren’t easily embarrassed by sex. with all honesty, the thought of your friends getting flustered by hearing to two of you made you want to either cream your pants or physically laugh out loud.

you trickled out of your thoughts when you noticed that katsuki’s hand was still intertwined with yours, still not attempting to pull himself away for you.

you smiled and quietly sighed with delight as you kept walking down the hotel hallway to reach the elevator. you didn’t let him go, either.

908 notes · View notes

clearlydiamondz · 8 months

Note

Can you do Erik with a bratty gf glasses wearing girl ????

Rule #1: Refer to me as only daddy or sir

Rule #2: No panties

Rule #3: No cumming unless given you permission

Rule #3: No touching unless given permission

Rule #4: Always be honest

Rule #5: Don't be a Brat, Punishment will meet actions

(Y/N) sadly looked at Erik as he got ready for work. She knew that he was going to be busy all day for his 12 hour shift, probably not being able to see her for the rest of the day but that didn't matter. She needed him. She was mad at herself for being tired when she came over. Her classes had her stuck in her laptop and books, so as she soon as she saw his bed she was out like a light.

Erik didn't mind though, he knew that (Y/N) was working hard to become a RN, and he also knew that she needed her rest. Matter of fact, he needed her to have all her rest for Spring Break that was ahead. He was determined to use her to his content, (obviously with her consent) and he needed her to have all her rest. He took off the entire week just to spend time with her. This was the last day.

"Don't look at me like that." he told her. Her pouting, and her eyes enhanced by the glasses made him want to just call out and fuck her senseless now.

"I just miss you. I haven't had you in what.. two weeks?" she complained. He closed his eyes sighing. The way this girl was so persuasive didn't help his need for her. He grabbed her by his cheeks making her look at him. "Please daddy, I just want to put my mouth on it. Two minutes, please?" she pouted again. His squeeze tightened as her glasses moved on her face, being crooked. She fixed her glasses by pushing them with her middle finger in the middle.

"Be a good girl, okay? Daddy will take care of you when he gets home if your good okay? We will go to one of your favorite restaurants, I promise." he told her grabbing his coat and his lunch. He was dreading going into his 12-hour shift at the hospital as a neuro-surgeon.

The two of them met at a medical convention in L.A almost a year ago. Her school decided to do a field trip for all medical students to be able to have a chance of networking. He was a speaker at the convention, and immediately she caught his eye. She was in the front row, taking notes with her iPad with her red zee-loo framed glasses. She asked the most questions, and was the most entuned in the conversation. Obviously, a lot of the girl students were asking questions about him personally because of how good looking he was. (Y/N) was different, she wanted to get all of the details on the health field.

Now, here they are almost a year later, and Erik has have her heart and he has hers. Helping her with her studies, letting have a place to lay her head when she didn't want to be with her roommates.

Her pouting face was now angry, Erik automatically realized it. "Fix your face." he gave her a kiss on the lips as she rolled her eyes. Luckily, he didn't see it as he turned around walking to the door. "Break a rule and your ass is mine! Daddy loves you!" he yelled and he was out the door. She turned around looking at his empty apartment.

12 fucking hours.

She was on hour 8 and she did everything she could think off. She turned in some last minutes assignments, did the laundry, clean out his refrigerator, and cleaned up the entire apartment. She still had time to herself, so she decided to have a little fun. She'll start of small.

Recently just getting out the show, she sat in front of his wide body mirror taking pictures of herself. Some were innocent, some were not so innocent.

Erik sat down exhausted from the five hour surgery of a a traumatic car crash. Grabbing his phone, he saw that their was a few text messages from his dear (Y/N) grabbing it. Opening the text, he immediately put it back to his chest as he saw glimpses of what she was doing.

He turned around to make sure that there was no one staring from behind, before lowering his brightness and looking at the photos. "My God..." he whispered to himself.

There she took an innocent looking picture on the bed with nothing on. He could even see in the picture how she sat where her thighs and ass making her thickness more provident. The only piece of clothing (more like accessory) was those same red framed glasses that made him fall in love even more. The things he wanted to make her do was dangerous.

The next photo was her sitting on the floor, leaned against the bed with her spreading her pussy wide enough for him to see but not enough to see everything. The hints of red on her toes, on her fingers, and her glasses was something that was sending him on edge, especially with her dark skin.

Erik : Did I not tell you to touch yourself.. you tryna get that ass spanked I see.

(Y/N): Daddy I haven't touched myself, I just sent you pictures.

(Y/N): But it's so hard, can I play with one of your pillows daddy?

(Y/N): Technically I wouldn't be touching myself...

Erik : No little girl, what the fuck did I tell you

It was a minute before he received a response. He assumed she was upset with him for denying her a rightfully and much needed orgasm but he didn't care.

He was sadly mistaken.

There in their text thread, was a video of her riding one of his pillows, nipples hard, and clitoris grinding against the pillow. She was definitely in need of a orgasm with the way her clit was swollen and moving against the pillow.

Her eyes was to the back as she continued winding her hips, gripping onto the pillow with one hand and playing with her titties on the other hand.

With his eye twitching, his dick damn near pulsating, he knew he couldn't finish the rest of the shift.

#erik kilmonger x reader #erik stevens #erik stevens smut #erik stevens x reader #killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger smut #erik stevens ua

196 notes · View notes

sunohws · 3 months

Text

irresistible - choi soobin

pairing: top!biker!soobin x m!reader

synopsis: After receiving a phone call from the Hospital, you find out your ex-boyfriend had gotten into a minor accident. You also find out that is impossible to resist him.

genre: smut, minors dni.. please stay away. its kind of angsty idk

word count: 3.1k

a/n: made this while listening to maze in the mirror and happily ever after. my ears were busting from that eargasm. I was waiting for skipping stones to play but unfortunately it never came... also this is super SUPER long.

The workday was coming to an end. You found yourself fantasizing about your night. You in your cozy pajamas with some fried chicken and the new episode of his favorite tv show. A great way to end your work week. Your favorite way in fact.

You were just about done with your paperwork. Just ironing out the final details. So close to going home for the night. Your phone began to ring. It was an unknown number, so you ignored it. You continued the work until the same number rang again. You thought 'Maybe they have the wrong number and will figure it out soon.' However, the phone rang again.

You sigh in frustration and annoyance as you pick up your phone to answer this troublesome caller.

"Hello?" You says with a huff.

"Is this Kim... Y/N?" The voice on the phone speaks. You were just about to hang up. You aren't really interested in whatever program they want to sign you up on.

Regardless he continues the conversation, "Yes this is he. Who is this?" You ask.

"Hi I'm Yoon Dayoung. I'm from Asan Medical Care. You are the emergency contact for Choi Soobin."

"Soobin?! What happened!?" You panic. You shoot out of your chair in shock. Your heart racing at the sudden movement and the anticipation of the verdict.

"Mr. Choi was in a motorcycle accident. From what we can see, he is alright. He has some minor bruises and some wounds. His in the bed now being treated. We need someone to pick him up. He should be ready to be released in a few hours or so."

"O-ok! I'm on my way now!" You jolt out of your chair. Grabbing your jacket on the way out. You squeeze out a jumbled sentence to your manager about an emergency at the hospital on your way out.

While on the road, your adrenaline cooled, and anger raised. You began cursing out Soobin. You were angry for his recklessness. You were angry that you were still the emergency contact. But most of all you were angry that Soobin scared him. You thought you'd lost him. Just thinking that brought tears to your eyes. Yes, you'd been broken up for a few months now. But there was still love in your heart for the man.

When you made it to the hospital, you checked in with the same receptionist who had called prior. She told you where to find him. And off you went. Your mind had simmered when you saw Soobin.

He was laying in the hospital bed with a few bandages wrapped around his body. One around his right wrist. Another across his chest. A few band aids on his head and arms. You had analyzed every part of Soobin that was hurt.

When you walked all the way in Soobin was asleep, most likely due to the amount of medication they had given him. So, you sat down in a chair near him and waited for the raven-haired man to awaken.

A few hours had past, the sun set and the night cooled. Soobin decided to open his eyes.

"Y-Y/N?" His voiced crooked.

"Oh. You're up. That's good. I'll go get the doctor." You respond back.

"Wait-what are you doing here?"

"Apparently I'm still your emergency contact?" You say before he walks out the door. You left Soobin there to sit in embarrassment.

While he waits for You to return. He sits up with a groan and a curse. Soobin swivels his head around to get a look at the time.

9:45 it reads. He wonders how long he's been out for. All he remembers is going out for a ride around 4 or 5ish then another motorcycle swerving into his lane. After that, everything went black. He hopes the other racer is okay if they did get hurt.

His bones feel swore but nothing too crazy to slow him down. Soon enough You come back with the doctor. However, you don't stay, you leave. Soobin assumes you're going to sign him out and wait in the lounge.

After the checkup, the doctor writes Soobin's prescription to pick up and clear him to go home.

Soobin walks out into the lounge with his damage helmet in hand, reminding you why they are here in the first place.

"I can find a way home from here. Thanks for coming." Soobin tells you. He can't bother to look into your eyes due to the embarrassment.

"No need. I'm dropping you off home." You insist. And Soobin doesn't fight it. He follows you out into the parking lot. You both get in the car. Not another word announced.

The drive was awkward and silent. The air, tight and thick. Soobin contemplated making small talk. But you and him knew that y'all were past that. The drive continued for about a half hour before they got to Soobin's place.

"Thanks for the ride." Soobin said as he gathered his things and exited the car. You gave him a head nod and a pressed grin in response.

When Soobin was gone you let out a huge sigh. You felt like you'd been holding in this breath for what seemed like forever. Your car now smelt like Soobin. A smell you had missed. The faint smell of cologne. His cologne. As you were basking in the smell, a gentle knock on your car window snapped you back to his senses.

It was Soobin, with his same ivory grin. A sparkle in his eyes that only You knew what it meant.

"Yes?" You say as you rolled down your window. "Come inside for something to eat or a drink. It's the least I can do." Soobin implored.

"Nah. I'm okay. Go inside. Get some rest." You turned down his offer.

"Come on Y/N. I know you just got off of work. I know you're hungry. Who knows how long you've been waiting on me. Come inside." Soobin appealed. It was something about his tone or how well he knew you. His voice hooked you in and you couldn't say no anymore. Not that you put up much a fight anyway.

"Alright fine. I guess I am a bit hungry." You agreed. But you'd try to remind himself to remain composed. Don't let things get crazy. Just a meal. Just a meal. He repeats.

Before You knew it you had been swept up in Soobin's charms.

Soobin's place looks the same as it did a few months ago when You had last been there. Dark and masculine. Clean as well. You sat at the dining table for two near the kitchen.

"I have left overs from my mom. It's really good." Soobin says as he gets the food from the refrigerator.

"Oh great. I missed your mom's cooking." You recalled.

"You missed it?" Soobin teases, and you can hear the grin in his voice. He then heats up the food in the microwave.

"Well yeah! My mom is in Japan! Of course, I miss home cooked meals from a mother figure!" You corrected. Your head drops, eyes looking in your lap.

"Oh okay." Soobin taunted.

"It's the truth." You whined.

"I believe you. Now eat." Soobin hushed the blond. He placed the warmed food on the table. He went back to get utensils and such.

The two began to eat and talk. Picking up as if they never stopped talking. They laughed and recalled fond memories. Dinner was over and you began to clean up. It was like your body went into auto pilot mode. Just like before.

"Oh you still remember where the plates go." Soobin noticed.

"Shut up." You say as you continue to wash the dishes. Soobin had been making remarks like that all evening. He did it on purpose. It's a game to him you think to yourself.

"You know, I've missed you..." Soobin confesses. All of the sudden, the room gets thicker. And you can feel Soobin's eyes burning on your skin. His voice was raw.

You can't find anything to reply back with, so you continue with the dishes. Your heart began to quicken. Your mind wondered. You thought about you and Soobin's more intimate moments. The little touches, kisses, dates. All the things you love about Soobin. All the things you hated about the man.

Like a snake Soobin slivers his way back to you. He takes your hands to wrap around his waist. His body is warm against you. And you can feel yourself fall into the embrace.

"Soobin..." You let out a breathy plea. Soobin plants a soft kiss on the back of your neck which sent unwanted flurries through your now sensitive body.

"I miss you Y/N." Soobin confesses again. This time he twirls you around so that their faces are close in proximity. Your wet hands fall onto Soobin's white tank top. It had faint red stains, predictably Soobin's blood. You stared at the bandage going across the man's chest.

This was the very reason the two broke up in the first place. Soobin's motorcycle. You couldn't handle the stress of the motorcycle, especially after the major accident Soobin had a few months back. Early in their relationship. You worried every day since then. The stress became too much for you so you left.

Soobin can see the gears turning in the your eyes as you look at his scars. He sees the worry build in your eyes, so he takes your wrist to plant a soft kiss, before he runs your hand over the wound to let him know that he was okay.

You looked at him with so much softness, that Soobin could actually give up the motorcycle for good.

It was so easy for you to fall back into Soobin's old tactics. His old charm that wins you over even when he doesn't want to admit it. Staring into Soobin's eyes it's like nothing has changed. You want to go back but you just can't. Today just proved his point.

However, the longer you stay in Soobin's presents the more his will chips away. And Soobin knows this, so he grips harder onto your waist and he doesn't break his stare on you.

"Soobin." You repeat.

"Y/N, please." He testified.

"Look what happened today. Do you not understand how terrified I was when I got the call? Thank goodness it was a minor accident. But what happens if the next time it's not. Like before. What if you-" Your voice breaks off as your throat get clogged. Your eyes began to redden as tears began to form.

"Baby. You don't have to worry about that stuff. I'm standing right here, aren't I? You can't break me." Soobin cups your face.

"Can't you just give it up?" You respond.

"Y/N it's my passion."

"A dangerous one!" You shout. Tears prickled at his eyes threatening to fall.

"Baby." Soobin cautioned.

"Stop calling me that." You throw Soobin's hands off your face and walk away.

You don't make it far before Soobin grabs your wrist. He pulls you in. And without a word he kisses you. His lips swallow Yours. His lips are soft and welcoming. His grip on your neck deepens as he becomes more passionate. It had been multiple months since he felt your lips against his.

And you didn't break the kiss instead, you endured it. Taking hands to grab at Soobin's biceps. He would get turned on just by looking at his muscles. The pure strength on this man was crazy.

The kiss disregarded any discourse they had before. A new argument was being fought. But with their tongues. Soobin's hands traveled around your body. Making you feel just, how badly you were deprived of psychical touch. It had been so long since you were touched by a man. Your body yearned for more.

The kiss finally breaks but it's not for long, Soobin swirls your back into the counter in the moments that they parted. He goes straight for your neck. Soobin plants sloppy thick kisses down your neck. Making you grab onto the countertops for support. Enjoying every second of this.

Fuck the breakup. Fuck the motorcycle. Just fuck me. You thought.

Soobin dragged soft lips along your neck. Kissing, tugging, biting. Everything lips, teeth, and tongue could do to a person. Your moans vibrated on Soobin's lips and your body pulled him closer.

"My room?" Soobin says words hot on your skin.

"Your room." you reply. There was not a moment for you to turn back, even if you wanted because Soobin dragged you across the house to his dark bedroom. Throwing you on the bed quickly. Your bodies connected instantly, Soobin taking his needy hands to trail vigorously upon your body. Grabbing anything in its path.

Soobin goes back in for a kiss. He's messy and sloppy as his tongue explores corners of your mouth. Your tongue is also grazing every inch of Soobin's mouth. With such passion it would be impossible to separate you two. They stopped every so often for air.

"W-wait." You try to catch your breath.

"What's wrong?"

"We should stop. You're injured." You sit up, he rearranges his clothing. Wiping his lips off as well.

All Soobin can do is laugh.

"What's funny?!" You look serious but Soobin laughs harder. "Hey!" You repeat.

The laugh stopped as if a switch was turned. Soobin's eyes darken, and his dominance spewed over you, as he leans over. "Do you really think a few scratches is going to stop me?" His voice is low, so low that it sends waves to your core.

"Uh...?" you respond meekly.

"Exactly." Soobin grin. He waits no time ripping your shirt off. Planting his soft lips onto the bare skin. Continuing his work through the rest of your body. And you didn't protest anymore. You wonder why you even questioned Soobin. There are many nights and scenarios where he knows Soobin's true stamina. You can only hope there's mercy for you tonight.

As passion burns, clothing gets removed and fingers start entering new territories. Causing many yelps from you. Two fingers crossed and swirled inside of you. Warming you up for what's to come. Based on how tight you were, Soobin could just tell he wasn't with anyone after him. That pleased him in many ones than just one. Soobin thrusted deeply one last time before abruptly yanked his fingers out. Causing your back to arch under him. Spiting an inaudible curse. Soobin just smirked and gave you a quick hard kiss.

Impatiently Soobin took his cock and lined it up with your hole, then invited himself into you with no mercy. Moaning into the tightness. Tightness that griped him so well. You let out a deep moan, your eyes shut and you throw your head into the bed. Soobin finding his breath after the first thrust. The entering is always the best feeling. Anything after it is just trying to chase that same feeling. Soobin dragged his cock practically out of you before shoving it back in. To chase that same feeling. He was going to fuck you hard. Make you feel it in your soul, make you not want to ever leave again.

Soobin continued with a pattern he knew drove you crazy. Hearing his name come out of your mouth in dirty moans made this even better. This was makeup sex at its finest. A sick part of him wanted to keep breaking up with you so he could enjoy this type of sex more often. However, that was just a horny thought and he no real plans of letting you go. He was his and only his. You would have to go back to Japan for Soobin to leave him alone but then again that's not far enough.

You wanted to pass out due to the pleasure being too much. It overwhelmed him. He hasn't had sex since the last time Soobin touched him. You couldn't be bothered to entertain a new person after Soobin. You had just been getting by with TV and work.

You were almost angry with how sensitive you were. Your cock was hard. Really hard. His body betrayed him instantly. The slight touch from Soobin and the war was over. Soobin won.

Not to say you didn't miss Soobin, you really did. Your relationship didn't have many flaws, only the motorcycle issue. They got along just right and when they didn't, Soobin knew just how to make thing better.

Just like now, Soobin knew all the spots to hit to drive the man under him crazy. Slamming into you like the car that ran into him.

"I'm close!" You moaned.

"Fuck- me too." Soobin bit his lip as he picks up the speed. Everything suddenly got louder and faster. The moans, the strokes, and their hearts. Soobin pumped harder and you squished their bodies closer. With one finally deep thrust they both let out the longest cry with white filling their eyes. The climax roughly coursed through them. Leaving you twitching under Soobin and Soobin groaning.

You too were still as their bodies registered what just happened. The room was still. The air still hot but filled with heavy breaths.

"That was..." Soobin says finally.

"Wow." You finish the sentence. You look at each other and smile like love struck idiots. Like routine, Soobin springs into action with aftercare.

"No, I'll do it this time. You're injured remember?" You stop him.

"I'm fine. Let me-" Soobin tries to protest.

"Sit." You demand and Soobin abides. He watches as You goes to the bathroom to get warm rags to clean up. He admired his work, the redness on the back side of You from his insane thrusts to the purplish-red love marks all over the man. You can feel Soobin watching you, so you blush a bit.

You continue cleaning you both. You grab one of Soobin's shirts to wear to bed and a pair of shorts for Soobin. When all is done you lay in bed with Soobin.

"Phew. That was a lot. I'm tired." You say as you snuggle closer to Soobin.

"I could've done it."

"But I did."

"I know and you did a great job." Soobin kisses the top of your head.

"Soobin...I missed you too." You finally say back. you kiss Soobin's neck.

"Round two?" Soobin says with that look in his eyes. It was supposed to be sweet!

"NO! I just cleaned us up! Go to bed." You turn the other way.

"I'll do it this time." Soobin grabs on to you, dragging his hands all over your body. He kisses your neck and whispers tempting things. You giggle and fight back. You knew you were going to lose but it was worth a shot.

For a man who just was in the hospital he had a lot of energy. In the end, He ended up cleaning you up after many, many rounds.

YALL THIS STAR DIVIDER IS SO CUTE IM IN LOVW WITH IT.. USNG IT FOR EVERYTHING ATP. also isnt my new pfp cute :33

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ch4singchase · 3 months

Text

The Ballad of Moths | LUKE CASTELLAN

Summary: The group of demigods face Thalia's injury, should they continue their journey or look for a way to remedy the girl's condition?

Word count: 4.3K

Warnings: Mentions of blood and Injury, mention to violence, description of emotional distress and description of medical situations (treating injuries with antibiotics and bandages etc)

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three | series masterlist

chapter 03: Sometimes, People Are Just People

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in the backseat of my mom's car—an old black Impala that carried the lingering aroma of spilled coffee. The rhythmic hum of the engine and the steady motion of the vehicle hinted at our journey.

Before fully waking up, I stole a glance at the front seat, where my mother navigated the route with a map by her side. The details of our destination eluded my groggy mind, another day unfolding in the tapestry of our lives.

"Is everything okay, ma?" I asked, rubbing my eyes to dispel the remnants of sleep.

Caught off guard by my voice, my mom turned to look at me through the rearview mirror, weariness etched across her face.

"Yes, mausi," she attempted a smile, though it failed to reach her eyes. "Sorry if I woke you up; you can go back to sleep."

"No, no, I'm good," I stretched my arms, shaking off the fatigue. "I woke up on my own."

"Good to hear that," my mother nodded, redirecting her gaze to the road while stifling a yawn. "We still have a fair distance to the hotel—probably another hour or so."

Surveying the quiet highway, devoid of much traffic except for the occasional weary traveler, I suggested, "If you want, I can take over for a while, and you can rest."

My mother cast a puzzled look at me through the rearview mirror. "This isn't a parking lot."

"I know," I pressed my lips together, "But you're tired, and the road is nearly empty. I can follow the map until you feel more rested. I've been observing you drive, you know…"

Mrs. Gaumont sighed audibly, as if seeking approval from the powers above for her impending decision. Whatever doubts she harbored, she decided to proceed.

"Okay," she relented, pulling the car over to the side of the highway. "But if anything goes wrong…"

"You come back to the driver's seat, got it!" I grinned, hopping out of the car, prepared to switch places.

Mrs. Gaumont wore a frown as she settled into the backseat, where I had been. Observing me carefully, she watched as I adjusted the rearview mirror to keep an eye on her and the road behind, and positioned the map in a way that allowed me to glance at it without distraction. All the little rituals she followed before hitting the road—she noticed that I wasn't kidding when I mentioned I had been watching her.

Her smile this time was genuine, reaching her eyes. It might have hinted at the wish that someday, I could navigate life on my own. I'll never be sure, but I like to think that's what her smile meant.

"You can rest now, ma!" I called out, meeting her eyes in the rearview mirror as I merged back onto the highway. "I've got this."

And deep down, she knew I would. My mom always knew that I was capable of taking care of myself without her constant guidance. Perhaps, that's why she let go so willingly.

So peacefully.

“You’re really good at this,” Luke finally commented after a while, snapping me out of the reverie.

Glancing at the backseats through the rearview mirror, I noticed Thalia trying to stay awake by gazing out the window, while Annabeth observed my actions with keen interest—from the way I alternated my gaze between the road and the map Luke held for me or shifted gears in the car.

Swallowing hard, I met Annabeth's eyes for the umpteenth time. Unlike before, I wasn't frightened; instead, I was taken aback by her genuine interest in my presence.

But who could blame her? According to Thalia's explanations, they had been traveling together for a considerable time.

“Let me see if I understand,” I furrowed my brows, recalling everything the trio had shared with me. “You’re also connected to these Greek gods…”

“Yes,” Thalia muttered from behind, narrowing her eyes at me, mirroring the curiosity of her smaller companion.

“You're the daughter of the thunder god, one of the Big Three, and because of that, you're pursued by a plethora of monsters,” I reiterated their explanation word for word.

The three of them nodded, awaiting my next words.

“You’re the daughter of Athena…” I turned my gaze to Annabeth. I chose not to delve into the more peculiar aspects of her origins—born from an idea of her mother as a gift; the more I tried to comprehend, the stranger it sounded.

“And you,” I looked at Luke, who raised a brow at me, “You're the son of Hermes, which makes all of you like me, as I'm also the daughter of a god. Everyone inside this car is a half-blood.”

My last statement carried a hint of uncertainty.

“Or demigods,” Luke shrugged, brushing a black curl out of his eyes. “More commonly, we're called demigods.”

“Got it…” I squinted my eyes, doing my best to concentrate on the road rather than the knot forming in my head from all this information.

Once again during that journey, I caught the gaze of the boy with black curls alternating between my face and the leather wristband I wore. I couldn't discern if he was equally intrigued by my magical weapon or if he still found amusement or confusion in the fact that it took me more than a minute to transform the sword back into the wristband.

Honestly, I hoped it was the former. Yet, given the number of times he repeated the same eye movements and subtly moved his lips, it seemed to be the latter.

“Where are you from?” Thalia inquired, her voice betraying a hint of weakness that she tried to conceal.

“Hmm,” I frowned, glancing at the map again, “I'm not sure, maybe Missouri?”

“You're American?” the girl with two electric blue eyes asked, her surprise leaving me bewildered.

“As far as I know… Yes? I’m American.” Seeking an explanation for the sudden question, I looked into the eyes of the others, but each of them appeared surprised by my responses.

Here we were, children of Greek gods, fleeing from monsters that sought to harm beings like us, yet what surprised them was that I identified as American?

Noticing my confusion, Luke snorted, shaking his head.

"You have a different accent, that's all," he answered simply.

But that only deepened the crease in my forehead.

“Well, most states have different accents,” I tried to explain. Since when did I have such a strong accent?

“Yes, but we had been to most of the states,” Thalia reasoned, raising her brows. “Yours doesn’t sound like any accent from here.”

I remained silent, trying to remember if my mother had already commented on anything. When I asked her about my father for the first time, she had told me that she had met him in Missouri, so I ended up deducing that both she and I were also born in Missouri.

But if she met my father here, then I was born here. Which meant that maybe my mother wasn't American. Maybe that explained why I had never met or seen my grandparents. They might not even be here in the United States.

It also explained the many times that my mother had to show her passport to a guard or police officer in addition to her ID. There were also some curious looks that I had recently noticed every time I opened my mouth.

Did my mother have an accent? Probably, because I grew up with her presence always present, hardly talking to other people, I never found it strange. For me, it was normal.

In fact, everything in my life before, at the time, seemed normal to me.

This was just another detail at the tip of the iceberg.

"I didn't ask badly, I was just curious." Thalia commented due my silence, "Sorry"

“No, it’s alright” I shook my head, “I just hadn’t-”

Noticed. But I was interrupted before I could say that.

Thalia squeaked in pain, her face retracting into a grimace and her hand instinctively went to her leg.

“Hey, Thalia,” Luke shouted, looking back from his seat, “Stay strong, we’re almost there. Take the next turn.”

I followed his order, watching Thalia quickly, she was way paler than before. I had no idea what I could say or do to help them, so I just continued to drive.

Viola’s pale skin tainted with her own blood jumped into my mind.

“She’s having a fever,” Annabeth bit her cheeks after resting her hand on the forehead of the daughter of Zeus, “I can try to make it better but it won't bring down the fever completely.”

Annabeth retrieved a cloth and a bottle of water from her bag, carefully dampening the cloth before placing it on Thalia's forehead. The gesture was a stark reminder of the mystical and perilous world they lived in, where even a fever could have otherworldly implications.

Just as dangerous as a monster.

"My backpack in the back has some water bottles. You can offer them to Thalia, Annabeth." I suggested, looking toward the two girls in the backseats. The daughter of Athena promptly followed my instructions, but Thalia declined, her voice weak, conveying, "If it's truly an infection, you need to stay hydrated."

Luke glanced at me, surprise evident that I was offering all my water to their friend. If he had suspicions, I was aware he wouldn't be unjustified. Until now, my association with them was mainly due to being a demigod and the sole driver among them, and I was fine with it.

To reinforce or challenge his surprise, the boy with dark curls turned to me. "You don't need to do that. After the next city, it'll be ten minutes until we reach my mother's house."

His mother's house—his designated resource and medical help hub. I mentally noted that, sensing I wasn't the only one doing so.

"But I'm going to," I asserted, meeting the boy's gaze with determination.

While I didn't know them well, and it might not be wise to offer all my water without knowledge of our future path after Thalia's recovery, I knew I couldn't bear witness to someone else dying on my watch.

I wouldn't let that happen.

"And also," I took a glance at the map for confirmation, "maybe it's best if we try to stop at a pharmacy. We can get some inexpensive medicine to take care of the infection and try to prevent it from worsening or recurring soon."

"That's not a good idea," Luke shook his head, reclaiming the map to identify which nearby pharmacies gave me that nonsense ‘enlightening’. "We don't know if it would actually help, and it could delay us getting to my mother in time to get Thalia's real help."

"The pharmacy closer to us is on the way to your mother's house," I pointed out. "Some medicine could at least buy your friend some time before we get there."

“But we don’t have any money,” Annabeth interjected, unsure for whom she should side. She knew Luke for a longer time, but she was also worried about Thalia and wanted to take any chance they had to help her.

And, well… She had a point. I didn't have enough money, especially for antibiotics or antiseptics.

My eyes shifted between Luke and Annabeth, but Luke simply shook his head in refusal. Resigned, I returned my gaze to the road, sighing. There wasn't much for us to do but hope—always hope.

Luke kept his eyes on me, puffing and huffing as he pondered something to himself. Finally, he puffed one last time and retrieved a leather wallet from his pocket.

"Actually," he admitted, holding up the wallet, "we have."

I furrowed my brows, contemplating the oddity of a teenage boy carrying a leather wallet. Such accessories were typically associated with adults.

“Weren’t you against the idea?” I chose to veer away from the wallet's origin, delving into another question from my growing list. This list, I suspected, was only at its inception.

Luke avoided eye contact, placing the map back in my view. "Don't make me change my mind. I'll only agree if I'm the one at the pharmacy. You two stay with Thalia and keep an eye on her."

The unexpected response left both Annabeth and me speechless.

Luke emphasized, "Don't let anything happen to her”.

"Of course," I assured him, stealing a glance in his direction.

"Always," The little girl agreed, fiercely.

Heading towards the pharmacy pinpointed on the map marked a brief pause in our hour-long journey. Already navigating through an extended route to avoid law enforcement and bustling streets, sacrificing a bit of time seemed a worthwhile trade-off to secure additional aid for Thalia to withstand the remainder of the trip.

The pharmacy sign was discreet, sunlight still reflecting off the windows that morning. I wondered about the time—was it around 9 or 10 in the morning?

Luke directed me to park on a nearby street, concealing the car within the shadow of an alley. As I parked, Luke swiftly exited the car, sporting a less-than-pleased expression with narrow eyes and pursed lips, reminiscent of someone who had tasted something sour.

I stifled a snort, speculating if it was his ego at play. He fit the mold of Olympic heroes perfectly.

"I'll be right back," he informed us, tucking the leather wallet back into his pocket before closing the car door.

My gaze trailed after him until he reached the pharmacy entrance. Sensing my watchful eyes, Luke turned towards the car, flashing a smile. Although it was hard to confirm from our distance, the sunlight glinting off his teeth and the sparkle in his dark eyes hinted at its being a showoff move.

Sighing in dissatisfaction, instead of vocalizing my frustration or offering an obscene gesture, I unfastened my seatbelt and turned towards the back seat.

Annabeth stared at me with wide eyes, assisting her friend, who was in a cold sweat, in drinking more water.

"How many days since she was attacked?" I inquired, recognizing that for an infection to manifest, the wound couldn't have been inflicted today.

"Two days ago," Annabeth replied, swallowing nervously. "We've been pursued by Furies; they're the ones responsible for her leg injury, but we managed to escape them."

Escape, not eliminate. There was a clear implication in those words.

"Okay, so it's definitely an infection," I affirmed, a realization I had harbored before, now underscored by the urgency imposed by our limited time. "Raise her leg; we need to help with her blood circulation."

Annabeth furrowed her brows but complied with my instructions, despite Thalia's groans. "How do you know that?"

"Ah, my mother," I admitted, mindful about the way words sounded out of my mouth, "She taught me a thing or two about what to do in emergencies."

Reaching for my bag between Annabeth's feet and my seat, I positioned it under Thalia's elevated leg. "Now you can let it down; my bag will assist with improving her circulation."

The little girl nodded, taking this moment to water Thalia’s cloth again before returning it to her forehead. All we had to do was wait for Luke to return from the pharmacy.

The tension in the car lingered, and I didn’t dare to turn my back to the two girls, my eyes fixed at Thalia’s state. She was still awake, just too tired to say anything. When she noticed my eyes upon her, she gave me a short smile and a quick thumbs up.

Noticing that, Annabeth smiled at me and Thalia, gripping her friend’s hand as she whispered something to her. Slowly, my eyes drifted back to the pharmacy.

Thinking back at our little discussion, I couldn’t help but think if Luke had resented me. We have been in this car for less than forty minutes together, the longest I have been knowing them so far, it wouldn’t be great if I had already managed to have someone I wished to befriend resent me instead.

I stopped my thoughts in their tracks, befriend? I flinched at myself once I realized my own words, how long since I had the opportunity to make friends?

I knew the answer to that question.

It had been a long time since I knew people around my age that I felt click so fast, at least, on my side. A longer time since I wished I could make friends that were like me.

However, that had been the first time I was doing everything on my own, even friends. I wouldn’t be surprised if I had already screwed this over.

I sighed, biting my lips. Perhaps, it was for the best; I needed to head to Long Island once I could be sure that Thalia was alright and not at risk of dying.

Annabeth's demeanor changed once she put her eyes on me, uncertainty running through her eyes, but she locked eyes with me and began to speak.

“Look,” she started, “Don’t mind Luke, he doesn’t hate you or anything, he just… It isn’t used to it.”

My eyes widened before turning to the small figure, my thoughts were as plain as the noise in my face?

"How long have you known Luke?" I asked, attempting to avoid any uneasy silence.

"I've known them for quite a while.” Annabeth sighed, “We've been through a lot together."

That, I could figure. I was on my second day as a demigod, everything continued to feel new and surreal. As if I was trapped in my childhood dreams.

But no, that was reality, I just needed to adjust. Even if it meant that my life would be complicated from now on.

I nodded to Annabeth’s words, noticing the guarded tone in her voice. “I don’t mean to get in your way, when Thalia gets better, we can say our goodbyes”

I knew too well how it felt to be tolerated, even if most of the time it was a feeling my mind created from no evidence. But, either way, I didn’t wish to go through it again.

“What? No,” This time, Thalia was the one to exclaim, her voice low and rough. Annabeth had to move the water bottle away from her face, “Who said we don’t want you on the team?”

“You’re also a demigod, we have to stick together,” Annabeth stated, her determination slipping at every word.

I shook my head, “We met less than an hour ago.”

“Everything becomes more dangerous when you’re a demigod alone in the world,” Annabeth told me, her voice turning to a careful tone, “Luke told me that once, we can’t leave any of us behind.”

I felt a mix of surprise and gratitude. It warmed a part of me that had been cold and isolated for a long time to know that someone wanted me to stay.

They were strangers at the time, but for a bunch of strangers, I had never felt so welcome.

"Thanks," I mumbled, my voice carrying a subtle sincerity that even surprised me.

“And if you’re worried about Luke,” Annabeth shrugged, “I’m sure he likes you, he is… Protective, it’s hard for him to let people in. It's a survival instinct, I suppose."

Survival instinct. The words hung in the air, resonating with the inherent dangers of our existence. Demigods, pursued by monsters, bound by the whims of gods—we lived in a constant state of vigilance.

Luke wouldn’t be wrong for holding on to it.

“I get it," I replied, empathizing with the complexities of their reality. "It must be tough."

Annabeth nodded, her expression softening. "We all have our struggles. Luke just… carries his differently."

As our conversation reached a natural pause, the car door creaked open, revealing Luke’s silhouette.

Luke returned from the pharmacy with a small bag in hand, his expression more neutral than before. As he slid back into the car, he handed the bag to Annabeth.

"Here, this should help for now," he said, his voice carrying a mix of concern and urgency. Annabeth took the bag, and I couldn't help but notice the worry etched on her face.

"What did you get?" I asked, glancing at the bag.

"Antibiotics and some bandages," Luke replied, his gaze shifting between Annabeth and me. "It's not much, but it's all we could manage for now. Thalia needs proper medical attention, and we're not far from my mother's place. We'll get her the help she needs there."

As Annabeth carefully assessed the medications, she turned to us, "Can you give me a couple of minutes before going back on the road? I need to manage it without worrying about speed bumps."

There was a collective understanding of the gravity of the situation. Thalia's condition required more than a quick pharmacy stop, but the interim measures were necessary. Luke and I exchanged glances, both realizing the priority at hand.

"Take your time," Luke reassured Annabeth. The car fell into a temporary stillness as we awaited the next steps.

Then, with a subtle shift, Luke turned his attention back to me. His eyes held a different intensity, as if he had something important to convey.

“Everything alright?” he asked, taking the leather wallet from his pocket and storing it in the glove compartment of the car.

“Yes,” I answered, “nobody bothered us while you were out and Thalia didn’t get worse.”

“Good, good,” Luke darted his eyes to the outside before looking at me again, “How did you know about the infection or the antibiotics?”

He might as well have noticed how Thalia’s leg was resting above my bag, but he didn’t address that point.

I gulped, scratching the nape of my neck, “My mother taught me a lot of things, how to treat injuries, name of medicines, how to get money… I think she knew that I would have to survive by myself one day”

That twinkle was back to Luke’s dark eyes, his lips twisted in a way as if repressing something.

“You can ask, you know,” I tried to encourage him, “A lot of strangers and the police had already asked me before, I’m used to”

“What happened to her?” finally, Luke asked, the known curiosity waltzing in his eyes.

“A cyclops found us,” I worried my bottom lip, forcing a smile on my face as I explained, “We were shopping for resources until I lost her from sight and heard her voice from afar, I could swear it was her…”

I didn’t need to continue, Luke understood where that story ended. Perhaps, being a demigod for a longer time than me, made him understand exactly how things would run in our lives.

“You must miss her,” that wasn’t a question.

In fact, the boy's tone of voice made me believe he understood the feeling very well.

“I do,” I agreed, rubbing my eyes before tears could show up again, “A lot.”

Luke fidgeted with his fingers, nodding again, but it felt more like a gesture to himself than to me.

"I'm sorry about earlier,” he managed to spill the words out, the thing he really wanted to say since he had sat down, “I just… Your idea helped a lot, I knew your idea would actually work.”

I raised my brow at that. I was still shocked by the fact he had apologized in the first place.

“It's just…” he sighed, shaking his head, “I don't know how to explain it. I'm usually the one who gives the ideas, and in less than half an hour, this awesome person came up with a plan to help my friend. It is complicated."

The sincerity in his words caught me off guard, definitely. I hadn't expected my suggestion would have that impact on him. I almost felt bad for doing so.

A hint of vulnerability surfaced beneath the layers of his guarded demeanor.

"Wait…” I stopped for a second, thinking back to his apology, “Do you think I am awesome?"

"Of course I do," Luke furrowed his brow, “What person who has just learned that he is a demigod goes face to face with a monster without knowing how to use a sword?”

Someone who isn’t afraid of death, but mad at it—I guessed.

“A pretty stupid one,” I said instead.

He simply shook his head, almost laughing at my answer, “I think a brave one would, and you did.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line, uncertain about what to say to that. Rarely, I was shy, and at the time I was stubborn enough to admit to myself that I was, in fact, shy.

“Ahm, you’re brave too,” I stared back at him, “You know, hitting monsters with that golf club.”

“I try my best,” he shrugged, darting his eyes to the golf club that rested next to his feet, “I kinda lost my sword, so now all I have is that thing.”

"You still do fine, hero," I smiled, fastening my seatbelt.

Caught off guard, Luke mirrored my movements. "Do you think so?"

"Of course I do," I echoed his earlier sentiment, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips.

As Annabeth seamlessly reentered the road after completing her task, a warmth settled within me. The connection forged in adversity lingered, leaving a scar on my heart—a good kind of scar.

The road stretched ahead, and in the comforting hum of the car, Luke's voice cut through the air, altering the course of our shared journey.

"You're part of this team now," Luke stated, a reassuring smile playing on his lips. "We stick together, demigods looking out for each other.”

Surprise registered on my face, and I searched his eyes for any hint of insincerity. Instead, I found a genuine invitation—an offer of companionship in a world that often felt isolating.

“What do you say?" he asked a final question.

The weight of the decision hung in the air, and for the first time in a long while, the prospect of not facing the world alone felt like a genuine possibility.

Taglist: @2hiigh2cry

(if you wish to be add to the taglist, let me know in the comments!)

#percy jackson fanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #dionysus pjo #chiron #percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #clarisse la rue #thalia grace #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #the ballad of moths #theballadofmoths #female original character

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kryptonitejelly · 2 years

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Officer Repellent | Aaron Hotchner x You Criminal Minds - Aaron Hotchner x You Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x You Genre: Fluff Warnings: Cursing/swearing, reader getting hit on by a drunk officer; unwelcome advances. Length: Drabble

Where you get hit on by officers on the case, and Aaron decides you need officer repellent.

***

“Come on now darlin’, what say you and me go out for a drink now that we’ve got that son of a bitch.” The familiar scent of stale cigarette smoke and burnt coffee that you had come to dread while working the case in the last week hits you before you hear Officer Evans’ voice.

You glance towards the approaching officer and steel yourself. As a female on the job, you were no stranger to advances from the local police officers and detectives. It was something you disliked, but usually just shrugged off with a polite no, or simply by ignoring their attempts. There were however, the occasional advances which left you feeling uncomfortable and this was one of them. Officer Evans had slid up to you on the BAU’s first day on the case, introducing himself with a handshake that lingered too long. Over the course of the week, you had found yourself avoiding him, dreading the accidental brushes against your arm, shoulder, or hand that occurred in the station, and the looks that ran up and down your frame when he thought you weren’t looking.

You open your mouth to decline his invitation, but thankfully, found yourself interrupted by a medic, asking if you could give further details on the condition of the victim when your team had found her. You respond with a firm nod to the medic, and follow her towards the ambulance.

***

“To the BAU.” The call of commendation by one of the lead detectives on the case was met by raised glasses from the local detectives, officers, and your team.

The jet had only been cleared for flight back to DC the following morning, and Aaron had accepted an invitation from the lead detectives on the case to take the team out for a round of drinks at a local bar as a thank you.

You clink your raised glass against Emily and Derek’s before putting it to your lips and tipping it back.

“I would love some fries right about now.” Emily groans as she sets her glass down. “All this beer and nothing in my stomach.” You see her straighten up, her eyes darting around the bar as she attempts to locate a server.

“I’ll place an order.” You laugh, as you see the starts of a pout form on the corners of her mouth as she tries, but fails to get any form of attention.

“Wings?” You question, and Derek gives you a thumbs up. You nod and slide off your chair before heading towards the bar counter.

***

“Alright, we’ll send them over as soon as we can.”

“Great, thanks.” You flash the girl behind the counter a grin, and turn on your heel to make your way back to the team.

“Well guess we are getting that drink after all.” The familiar drawl from earlier in the day hits you right as you turn, the words more slurred than you had heard this afternoon.

“Officer Evans.” You respond, your lips pressed into a line.

“Thats my name darlin’” He responds, taking a step forward as you take one back, feeling the counter of the bar press into your back. “You ran so fast, we never got a chance to finish our conversation.”

You glance towards the side, ready to take a side step to slip away and beat a hasty retreat back to the safety of your team only to note his hand coming to rest on the counter behind you, effectively caging you in.

“I really should be getting back.” You take a shift to your right, as you gesture towards his arm. “If you excuse me.”

“Playing hard to get? Is that how you single big city girls do it.” You see him run his tongue across his top lip as he leers. His eyes are glassy, and you can smell the whisky on his breath.

“Officer Evans, I - ” You straighten up, pulling yourself taller, as you push against his arm with your palm, taking a step towards the right, fully intending to return to your team, prepared to use the necessary amount of force if necessary.

“- oh come on agent, you’ve been basically begging for me since you and your team got here. Walking around the station in those tight jeans, hips swaying. So why don’t you be a good girl now and let me fuck you like you’ve wanted.”

He takes a step further forward, clearly drunk, and you feel the anger bubble in you as his words, crass and untrue, interrupt. You open your mouth to speak, your fingers curling into your palm, fist ready to ready to force your way out teach him a lesson, but you find yourself interrupted by a deep voice, and a hand that comes clamping down on the officer’s shoulder in a vice grip that causes him to wince in pain.

“If you don’t want the chief hearing about how one of his officers has propositioned one of the FBI agents who has just helped you solve the case your department couldn’t crack for months, I recommend you step away from my agent, officer.” His voice is low, quiet, but threatening. It causes Officer Evans to tense up, as the blood drains from his face.

“Agent Hotchner, I-”

“Leave.” The growl that comes as a reply spells danger and it sends the officer scurrying.

***

“Why didn’t you tell me.”

The cold air hits you in a refreshing wave as you step outside, Aaron bringing up the rear as he shuts the door to the bar.

“Didn’t want you to be distracted.” You shrug, as you both step off towards the right of the entrance. The night is silent, with only the occasional car whizzing past.

“How long?” His tone is unimpressed. He knows you can take care of yourself, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying, from wanting to shield you from everything, unsub to officer.

“Since the day we arrived.” You admit to his question, as you look up at him, standing in front of you, his arms crossed in front of his chest, lips pressed into an angry line.

“You should have told me. I would have asked for him to be removed from the case.” Anger flashes in his eyes, and you know he is mad - mad that one of his agents (he would have stepped in if it was any agent) was being made to feel uncomfortable, mad at himself for not having noticed that the woman he loved was being harassed, mad at the officer for even daring to, mad that he wasn’t there to protect you from the sleazy scumbag.

“There was enough for you to worry about.” You place a hand on his forearm, your thumb rubbing against the fibres of his suit jacket, reassuring him that its ok, that you are ok. He remains tense, for one beat, two, three, four, five, six, fighting internally with himself, quelling the anger burning inside of him, before he sighs, allowing the tension to escape his body.

His next move catches you off guard, as he uncrosses his arms in a flash, and pulls you into him by the shoulders. You come crashing into his embrace, and his arms wrap around you. You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne.

“Marry me.” The words are simple, as they cut through the cold night air. He speaks again before you can even respond, his arms winding themselves tighter around you. “Marry me, so that I can put a ring on you and prevent things like this from happening.”

“Is this your version of officer repellent?” You can’t help but chuckle quietly as you pull your face away from his chest, looking up to meet his serious brown eyes.

“I’m serious.” His gaze bores into you, asking, his earlier questioning hanging in the air as his eyes search yours, making clear the gravity of his ask, that he isn’t kidding, that he means it. The situation is almost comical, with you both standing in the middle of an empty street in god knows where with him asking you to marry him out of the blue, but you feel your heart flip in your chest, the pit of your stomach swirling with a dozen butterflies.

“Ok.” Your voice is a whisper as you wrangle your arm from between you both, raising it to cup the side of his face. “Ok Aaron Hotchner, I’ll marry you.”

His lips come crashing down against yours.

***

8 months later

“Detective Moore has the hots for you.” Emily sniggers as you fill her paper cup with coffee before filling your own.

“Well remember that blonde officer from the last case we did?” You tease as you cap your coffee cup. “And how he couldn’t take his eyes off you?”

“He was cute.” She laughs, admitting as she recalls said officer’s baby blue eyes and the harmless glances he kept stealing towards her during the case, as you both sleeve your cups and walk back towards the main station floor.

“I was wondering if you wanted to ride out with me to the coroner’s office?” Detective Moore approaches you both, his eyes trained on you, as he flashes you a smile. You see his gaze trail along your neck, your lips, before meeting your eyes.

“Sure, we’ll both ride out with you.” You nod as you raise your left hand, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before motioning to Emily beside you.

You watch as the Detective’s gaze trains in on the diamond engagement ring, stacked beneath the wedding band, that flashes as it catches rays of sun filtering in from the nearby window.

“Ah yes - alright. Well, right this way Agents.” He takes a small step back, almost involuntarily, his face falling slightly as he clears his throat.

You see Emily cough, in attempt to hide a peel of laughter, as she throws you a smirk, before you both follow the Detective who has taken the lead in hurrying out of the station. You steal a side glance at the back of your husband, as he confers with Spencer and the lead detective on the case on the geographical profile and you slide past the seemingly oblivious trio and out of the station

You phone buzzes in your pocket, as you slip into the backseat of Detective’s car.

A.H: Officer repellent.

You can’t help the chuckle that leaves your lips and you raise the coffee cup to your lips as you hazard a glance towards the door of the station. Officer repellent indeed.

Current @taglist: @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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pynchkilledme · 1 month

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One Day at a Time ✧ Yunho

✧ Pairings: Jeong Yunho X fem!reader ✧ Genre: angst; ✧ Word Count: 3.3k ✧ CW: established relationship; major character death; mentions of suicide; depressive thoughts; ghost encounter (kind of); ✧ Synopsis: When an accident changes the course of your life forever, your husband takes his last days on Earth to make you love life again.

[Author's Note]: Hello! It's my first time posting my work here so I hope you appreciate it. This oneshot started as a simple writing exercise, but I fell in love with it and decided to share it with the world. If you find any typo or you think something more should enter the content warning section please let me know.

The poorly lit road that leads to your summer house in the mountains always made you apprehensive, but on this rainy night, you couldn't stop your hand from sweating and every little thing made your tension grow.

The lampposts half hidden by the forest, the foggy windshield, the radio buzzing without signal, the heavy raindrops on the car hood; all these made you lean over the panel, trying to predict any abnormality on the road, even though it wasn't your turn to drive.

Yunho, behind the wheel, seemed perfectly calm. Almost like he had prepared himself through all his life, just to drive old cars on stormy days.

“Hey… chill out” he said while passing his right hand on your thigh between gear changes “,we are almost there!”

And that was the last sentence before that curve. The last words before a sudden flash blinds you.

“Hello, how are we feeling today?” the blonde woman inside your computer screen promptly asks as soon as you open your camera, but your sunken eyes give her the answer she needed. “Dreamt about the accident again?

It’s been 9 months and 18 days since the accident. 9 months and 4 days since you woke up in a hospital bed just to find out you would never hear your husband's sweet voice again.

“I know I said I was getting better and almost never had nightmares, but in the last 3 days…” you begin to describe in detail what makes your dream more and more real, waking you up out of breath every single morning.

Your monologue follows for a couple more minutes, remembering the sensation of Yunho’s arm holding your body against the seat instinctively. The doctors said the seatbelt would already prevent a fatal impact in your case, since the collision happened in the driver's side, but for you, that single gesture had saved you.

“Sometimes I wish I didn't come out alive” you dropped without thinking twice. After all, that’s what the two therapy sessions a week were for “I could be with him now, wherever he is!”

“I’m pretty sure that's not something he would want, Y/N” something in that soothing voice made you want to cry and you could already feel a lump up your throat “it’s a long process, painful and irregular, but…”

“You know, I think at this point he doesn't have to like anything” your crooked laugh mixed up with the teardrops flowing discreetly by the side of your face “It’s all too quiet, too boring, too empty!”

“And how is your adaptation to your medication?” Susanna referred you to a psychiatrist around 3 months ago and you were finally out of the sickening phase of the medication.

“Well, I didn’t kill myself yet!” acid humor was your way of dealing with all this situation, but of course your therapist did not approve 100% of your methods “I think it's finally stabilizing in the right dose, I’m already quitting the complementary medicines!”

“It’s awesome to hear that, Y/N! Soon you will be able to see everything more clearly” looking down, your therapist took notes. ‘You just need time to do its work’ you completed in your mind. Damn time. “Our time is up, see you on Thursday at 3pm?”

You nod your head yes and kiss her goodbye, going back to your loneliness as soon as the video call disappears from the screen. Seated there, in the kitchen of the house you bought together with such hard work, the feeling was overwhelming. You even thought about moving out, but leaving your memories behind didn't seem right to you.

Whether you want it or not, Yunho was in every detail of that house. The colors on the walls that you chose together; the funny food illustrations hang in the kitchen; the office in a mix of games, books, Spider-Man (his obsession) and sad movies' posters (your obsession). A penetrable structure of everything that you were together, everything your love conquered and dreamed of conquering. Structure that, despite being packed with all sorts of things, each day felt more abandoned and lifeless.

Without anyone humming made up songs; without anyone laughing out loud of a video they just sent you; without almost ineligible messages in the fridge door and without anyone pulling you to dance to the cheesiest songs ever written. It was an endless list of things that were and would never be again. Things that only made sense because of Yunho and that had gone away with him.

The thoughts were so suffocating that you didn't even realize you were standing there for 15 minutes, in front of the notebook screen, screen that was already black due to the lack of interaction. It was when you finally gathered your strength to stand up, closing the notebook on the kitchen table and going to the sofa.

Your days were mostly like that. Sometimes laying down in your bed when you couldn't get up, other times you could at least drag yourself to the sofa, changing the atmosphere a little.

Your friends started a rotation where at least one of them called you every day, but you couldn't keep a conversation for too long anyways. It always ended up in tears and you didn't like to be a burden to them, so you started making up things to do, be it an imaginary food in the oven or an hypothetical postman ringing your doorbell. Not that they believed you, but they decided that it was better to give you space.

About 3 weeks ago Susanna asked you to do a "homework" for the next session, a request that became more and more latent in your head as Yunho's birthday approaches. You couldn't convince yourself to do it, not when the exercise to deal with the grief involved writing a letter to your husband. One he would never read.

The estrangement also came from the fact that it didn't seem natural for you to write letters. The last letter you wrote was telling how your vacation was in 2006, on the first day back to kindergarten classes. 'Does email reach heaven?' you thought, giggling. If Yunho was here, he would probably suggest the simplest way possible to solve this. 'Send me a SMS' would be his first advice. 'If you have no data you could try via messenger, honey' he would say mockingly, but it would be solved.

Without a second thought you searched for your cell phone under the blankets. In your lockscreen a picture of the day you decided to take the train to the other side of town, just to visit a library that someone told Yunho sold coffee and a corn cake fit for the gods. After a few seconds of contemplating, you unlocked it and the screen opened directly on the bright wallpaper of Yunho’s chat. You had done that a billion times before, but you could never go past the last message. A picture of his passenger seat covered with 8 boxes of your favorite candy and an audio right above.

It was a 13 second audio and even so you couldn't press the play button.

'You just need a little courage…' your thoughts were interrupted by a weird noise in the back of the house, and you got up to search for it. The backdoor was locked, so you unlocked it just to take a peek out there. But there was nothing besides overgrown grass.

The sound of a door slamming and someone laughing broke the silence of the house.

‘Honey, you won't believe…’ that sound was enough to make everything around you stop in time. It was his voice. ‘I got into this store and your favorite candy was on sale!! Buy 3, get 1 free!’

The screen of your phone was bright on the sofa, showing the audio that just played. You didn't understand how, but while your tears flowed you just wanted to hear it again. And that's what you did. Over and over again.

In the audio before that, Yunho apologized for forgetting to fill the water bottles, but promised to reward you with kisses. All you wanted most was that everything got solved with the shower of kisses that Yunho always gave you when he got back from work, but it was impossible and in your subconscious you just wanted to scream.

“Why did you leave me here?” you said softly, against your impulses. When you closed your eyes, you tried to control your breathing, before all that ended up in crisis.

“I swear I tried to stay, Y/N” said the sweetest voice you’ve ever heard. The voice that made you shake with nervousness when you were just getting to know each other, and the voice that made you cry from happiness when proposed to you. A voice that only existed in your head and in the 2G of memory that your chat with Yunho occupied in your cell phone. Or at least you thought.

“But I’m here now…” this time the voice sounded almost real and a shiver went up your spine. An inexplicable fear of opening your eyes and realizing it was only your fertile imagination. “I was always here!”

You couldn't believe the trick your head was playing on you. Yunho, with his 1.85cm, was standing in front of you. His brown hair parted in the middle, falling over his tired eyes; the long sleeved white shirt you ironed in the morning of the accident was intact, fitting perfectly on Yunho’s body.

You couldn’t believe it, but you wanted to. Your body relaxed, leaning on the sofa. Your shaking hand inevitably covering your mouth, as if any uttered word could make it all disappear. That man, who you knew by the back of your hand, kneeled in front of you, his eyes sadly smiling, like someone who mourns.

“Are you going for a ‘Ghost’s’ remake?” you said jokingly, still unsure of what was all that. Yunho seemed exhausted, as if he didn't sleep for days, but he gave you a crooked smile showing he understood what you were talking about.

“Are you saying I’m as pretty as Patrick Swayze?” his hand on his chest showed he was flattered. Of course he was pretty. Even prettier than the actor and his answer made you laugh a little, releasing all the tears you were holding back.

You raised your hand to reach him, but they trembled as if electric shocks ran through your veins. He brought his hands under yours and you could see how your hands were smaller next to his, but you couldn't feel anything. This just intensified your cry, because all you wanted was his touch.

“I’m sorry that we can’t feel each other,” he said quietly, getting closer to you. - “I wish I could wipe away your tears and say that everything will be fine”

You didn’t know what was happening, but the voice that had always the power to soothe you wouldn’t have a different effect now. Your breath slowly returned to normal and you used your wristband to clean whatever was running from your nose. So many questions in your head, but for a while you just wanted to absorb every little detail of what was in front of you, just like the first time you saw him.

“I found out that you needed to talk to me,” Yunho jokes. Your mind was quite funny today.

“Well, it wasn’t- how are you even here?”

“I was always here, Y/N” tilted his head to the side, closing his lips in an almost unnoticeable smile “you just couldn't see me”

“And why now? A-am I dreaming?”

“Well, you can see me now ‘cause I kind of convinced the ones up there to let me help you. My time here is almost over and I started to feel a little desperate because nothing I did was actually working and-” the way he started to babble was too real even for a creation of your mind.

“How come… it wasn’t working? What were you doing here?”

“Uhm, I kind of couldn't let you here, not when everything around you was so gray. They said I couldn't be here past my birthday, ‘cause that would bring me problems and then I passed the last 9 months trying to push you out of bed, opening the windows so the sun could come in,'' now Yunho was the one crying and it was impossible to ignore the pain in his voice “it's been so hard to show you how life is still pretty… how there's a lot of things to live out there!”

It had become evident to you a long time ago how life wasn't worth it without Yunho in it. And well, it came to you way before he couldn't actually be there.

You remember like it was yesterday the path your bare feet made through the white clover lawn. A simple altar in the end of a corridor of mismatched chairs reunited the most important people of your life. On the sides your friends, the family life gave you, and in the middle your soulmate. The one on the other side of your red string and from that moment would be your forever.

You could see through your wedding veil how Yunho was beaming from ear to ear, his eyes resting on his red cheeks. You felt like running to the altar, so you could be by his side as soon as possible, but you held back as you smiled at your few guests, mostly from your families, who smiled at you with teary eyes.

When you finally got to the altar and raised your dress a little, Yunho looked at your dirty feet and laughed. And when he lifted your veil, your eyes connected just like when the two of you first met at college, as if there was a new constellation of possibilities. “You look like an angel” Yunho whispered tenderly and then you turned so the ceremony could follow.

“But I miss you. I miss you ‘cause you are in absolutely everything. Your smell is in the clothes hanging in the closet, your smile is all over the pictures on the walls. I hear you when I turn the radio on your favorite program and I see you when I wipe the mirror clean. My mind is always bringing you back to me as if it tortured me with your absence, as if it reminded me all that time that I can’t have you.”

He didn't say anything, just stared. His wrinkled forehead and lips so tight they turned white, denouncing the pain you both shared.

“There’s so many things I should live with you, so many places we would visit. It 's not fair! It’s not fair that the sweetest person I've ever met is not here to appreciate every second of the most banal things in the world…” the venting went out of your mouth like a thunderstorm. You wanted to scream and cry, but also wanted to utter the most beautiful words ever created.

Yunho wanted to touch you. Wanted to feel your soft skin one more time, caress your face and wipe away your tears. The ache he felt seeing you suffer was bigger than any physical pain he had ever felt in his 28 years of life. It felt like his heart was being crushed and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

“We will never-” your voice fails with the thought. The matter that hurts you the most every time you think about your future. A dream that will never come true, at least not in this life. “I will never know what it would be like to have a family with you…”

“But we were a family, love! Nothing will ever change that”

“But I will never know what it's like to be a mother, Yu! I will never know what it is to look in the eyes of the purest form of love we could create. I won’t see you become a father and I won’t know how your eyes and my nose combined would look like in this little being.”

And suddenly he didn't know what more to say. He knew how much of a dream that was to you and how that specific wound would never heal with time. He knew that even though you could deal better with his absence one day, your heart would never get used to the impossibilities of the future. The part of you and of your dream that would go away with him, leaving a bitter taste behind.

“I am so sorry, honey. And I know that nothing I say will make this hurt stop. And it's gonna be tough, almost impossible, for a long time, but one day it will be less painful. And the next day less and less, till a day it will be just a little piece of your heart” the words barely came out of Yunho’s mouth and you already imagined how it would be to not feel anything at all. Never feel the thrill of a joyful day again if it meant you wouldn’t feel not even a second more of that pain.

“If you can't do this for you right now, please, do it for me. Live one day at a time, holding to the monotony of a routine till everything gets more tolerable,” you could see his hands caressing your thigh. “You're so strong, my love! One of the strongest people I've met. You gave me the best days of my life without much effort! Your smile brightened every moment, even when everything around was cloudy. My life was the most beautiful and the most complete with you and, despite being short, I wouldn’t change a second of it to live more if it meant not having you.”

At this point you tried to hold back your tears and a huge knot clung to your throat. Would you be able to do it for him? One last request that only you could fulfill?

“Promise me that you will try and I promise to meet you again. I promise to follow each of your steps regardless of how long it takes. I promise to find you in our next life, even if our thread gets tangled and the path becomes longer. I promise that this won’t be the last life we share,” you closed your eyes pondering if you could keep that promise. “Promise you will live everything you can live, always remembering I will be by your side”

Yunho raised his hand so he could place it over your heart. He didn't want to go, but he needed to. He just needed you to promise.

“I-I promise I will try” your voice was like a whisper and your fists clenched, your nails marking the palm of your hand as if it could remind you that this was real.

With your eyes closed you could feel soft lips touching your forehead. “I love you forever, Y/N '' this time his voice sounded like a thought.

When you opened your eyes, your living room was empty again. The wall was yellow with a small beam of light coming from the window. It looks like it's just you once again. The cell phone vibrated by your side and you picked it up to see the notification, but there was nothing. When you unlocked the screen and the white wallpaper of your chat lit up your face, you could see the selected message from 1 year ago.

[Yuyu]: I LOVE YOU FOREVEEEEER!!!

You were not alone and would never be. “Love you more, Yu” you thought while you brought the phone close to your heart. Maybe you could even live.

One day at a time.

#jeong yunho #yunho x reader #yunho angst #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez oneshot #jeong yunho x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez #ateez fic #yunho oneshot

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lukabitch · 1 year

Note

I have a request but Idk if you have ever watched the Resident evil the final chapter movie (or the rest) so i will put a spoiler warning here lmao

Spoiler :

So Wesker Like gets his leg chopped off in the end by a door (i think it was a door) and he has to stay there until everything Explodes and he dies so i wanted to ask if you could maybe write something where the male reader is down there with alice and the others but when the others left the reader Hesitates for a second and decided to like get back to wesker, help him with his leg and get him out of the place before everything explodes, I imagine that the reader and wesker always had this like villain x Hero Releationship where they tease each other but never rly make a move because they fight on different sides but because the Reader has feelings for Wesker and Wesker was always like kinda nice to us we decide to save him and he is thankful and finally makes a real move (like a small kiss or something like that and maybe a confession) but then he teases us afterwards with his stupid Attractive smirk🙄 and we just laugh it off and slap him softly at the arm while smirking too

Im just down bad for this dude rn im so sorry💀 you ofc dont have to write that, you can just ignore it but i had that in mind for a while now and i cant get it out or write it myself because im bad at like everything in my existence, have a Great day/night <3

I appreciate the amount of detail you put into this. Seriously you went above and beyond the expectations on this blog. Thank you so much for the request Anon! :)

Cw: Blood, dismemberment, general medical stuff, i read the wiki still might be inaccurate.

“We’re gotta go!” Alice called out you and the rest of the crew. Everyone was quick to make their way to the exit. You however turned back and head further into the building. Your mind was fighting against what you were doing but another part of you was saying do it.

You moved fast not wasting a second to get to Wesker. Hearing him struggle made you worried that getting him out would be useless. Still you made it down to him without a leg.“Shit hold on!” Rushing over to him you immediately tied a makeshift tourniquet just below the knee.

You pulled him up and drag him out of the building. You got him in a car and fucking floored it. The building blew up shortly after getting the fuck out. “I need you to tell me where one of your safe houses are.” He mumbled an address as you make sharp turns.

“You’re a horrible driver.” Wesker chuckled out causing you to flip him off. “Don’t make me regret not leaving your ass.” You looked over to see him giving one of his signature smirks. “You love me too much to do that pretty boy.”

You haven’t really thought about your feelings for the man. The two of you always had this banter that was kind of flirty. Even if you wanted to go for it things just wouldn’t work out. “Yeah sure that’s exactly why I went back for you.” You tried to sound sarcastic but you didn’t sound sure of it.

Pulling into a driveway you hopped out and pulled Wesker out having him lean on you. It was a bit difficult to get him inside especially without the adrenaline. You managed though and got him laying down. “Look I’m going to cauterise the wound. Unless you have morphine in your pocket it’s going to hurt.”

He just nods his head bracing himself for the pain to come. There wasn’t much to do just heat some metal and press against the open wound. Wesker took it well considering though you weren’t too shocked about that. You wrapped up the wound the best you can.

“There you go sorry that I don’t have anything to numb it.” You smiled up at him before grabbing a blanket for him. “Thank you Y/n.” He pulled you down wrapping the blanket around both of you. This definitely isn’t how you expected today to go but you weren’t complaining.

“You look like a puppy leaning against me like that.” You would have talked back if he did kiss you on the lips. He watched your face darken with blush. “Thank you for coming back for me. I love you for it.” He seemed really sincere about it.

“I love you too wesker.” You mumbled giving him a peck on the cheek. “I know you do.” Of course he has to be a cocky asshole about it. You can’t help but smile at him you really do love him.

#dbd #dead by daylight #dbd x male reader #dbd killer #request #albert wesker #albert wesker x male reader #wesker x male reader #dbd wesker #dbd mastermind #dbd fanfic #re fanfic #resdient evil #resdient evil fanfic

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lussiane333 · 1 year

Note

I saw the name VINCENT SINCLAIR IN THE LIST OF WHO U WRITE FOR?? Omg u got my favorite slasher, now I HAVE to share my ideas w u

ok ok, so let’s say his s/o is an artist too, right? I feel like they would model for each other. Like, we all know how there are head canons of Vincent and his s/o going on cute dates like sitting under the shade of a tree and having a picnic with various fruits and stuff, yk, the romantic shit, but I imagine them sitting only a foot away from each other both with their noses in sketchbooks as they glance back and forth from the paper to the other and each time they make eye contact they just blush n get shy or something cute like that-

or like, if his s/o has long hair, they just do each other’s hair to relax after long days of murdering and waxing n stuff. But I also imagine Vincent having a really southern accent when he whispers. Bc, well, we know he can breathe, so wether he can speak or not doesn’t rlly matter since he can just kinda whisper without a voice lol. But both of his brothers have THICC southern accents, and in EVERY SINGLE FANFIC where Vincent speaks, (which I don’t agree with but I’m not here to shame bc that’s not cool) he never has an accent :(

u don’t have to even respond to this lol I know I’m not that imaginative, but I hope that I gave u some ideas or inspiration!

-btw u look great today ;)

Hello there! I'm glad you decided to share your ideas and thoughts with me 🖤

If you are also into art, he would want to make and create stuff with you together! (Vincent would like to hear your every idea how to make his "living figurines" even more interesting looking)

If you brought up the idea of drawing and sketching each other, he would clean around his space and try to make it the most comfortable for both of you!

He would get everything, your every little detail. For him, drawing and painting is the other way to admire and cherish beauty.

Vincent would definitely stop drawing unintentionally and look at you, you'd notice him, give him that beautiful smile he loves, and if he's without mask you would notice his mouth corners slowly rising up, never taking his eyes off you. I also imagine tired Vincent and you in bed, massaging his palms, helping him to relax and he's just like in heaven.

He asks you to pose for him very often. He has this little sketchbook that is full of drawings that are forming into the final piece of you.

The hair stuff? Yes. Brushing through his long hair while being pressed against him, he just melts.

Imagine he is working on his next thing, or cleaning his knives, or medical supplies he has, he's deeply focused and of course his hair is getting in the way. He doesn't pay it no mind, he's used to it and it somehow comforts him even. But getting the stuff out of his hair is not so comforting.. So you walk over to him, and put his hair up with a tie and kiss his cheek, he really does appreciate it.

After a long tiring day Vincent loves when he can just lay on top of you and bury his face into the crook of your neck, feel you, and smell your hair and scent.

His absolutely favorite thing is when you tangle your hands into his hair and go through it with your fingers. Best way for him to fall asleep. Now if you have long hair, expect Vincent want to braid and brush it every chance he gets. He likes how your hair looks and loves the way it smells! If you're using some oils, he's doing it for you now. If you have short hair he still wants to brush it, stroke it, and help you wash it in the shower.

The accent.. Again, Vincent snuggled up with you, arms around you and listening to you talk about things, and maybe you even asked him something he doesn't really know, he just looks at you and is like:

"I love ya.. so much" and holds you even tighter to him.

#vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x you #house of wax #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slashers x reader #slashers #slasher headcanons #slasher imagines #slasher fandom #slasher community

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dovithedarklord · 4 months

Text

Age of Monsters - Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

Leona and the small group gather information so that their adventure can take them further towards their new friends.

Hello!

I don't have an explicit trigger warning for this chapter! I'll link the map, just so you know where the characters are going!:)

Map

Have fun! :D

I.M.L. - Infected Mammalian Lifeform. I.H.L. - Infected Humanoid Lifeform.

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Fifteen

......................................

The door of the dark little room creaks open as Alejandro leads us into the small room chosen as the scene of the interrogation, which is painted in a ghostly green shade by the light of a single neon lamp on the wall. The smell of dust and mold settles in the air, and with the keenness of a trained hunting dog, my nose recognizes the faint, barely perceptible smell of blood, which lurks as a subtle reminder between the worn walls. This is probably not the first information-gathering discourse that takes place within the confines of the unsettling room, but it will give the right atmosphere to the important conversation that will soon begin.

As Alejandro, with not the least bit of care, places the woman's unconscious body on the chair in the middle of the room, for some reason, the restrained temper inherent in the movement immediately reminds me that there may be a much older and different acquaintance between the two of them than just the cat-and-mouse game between the criminal and the Hunter at her heels. From the way he firmly grabs the shoulders of our target who turned into Cinderella, so that she doesn't fall off from the sitting position, for some reason I get the feeling that he'd rather wrap his gloved hands around her neck to crack her spine before she can start telling her story. But despite the fact that I somewhat understand his reluctance, unfortunately, we need her to be alive at least until she decides to talk. Therefore, I approach them with measured steps, breaking the Hunter's rather tense focus on our bandit, and sweeping aside the woman's dark hair, I smooth my palm over her forehead covered with cold sweat. My energy travels along my fingers in slow waves, and when it reaches the damp skin, it begins the humble work of dragging my unfortunate victim back into the real world so that we can get down to interrogate her as soon as possible.

Her elegant eyebrows meet as she finally begins to return from the peaceful land of dreams, and I'm filled with undisguised pleasure as I feel the intrusion of nausea running through her body under the touch of my energy, because although she deserves more than this little discomfort for trying to tear a new hole in me, but I'm content with this for now. Because based on the heavy air that is slowly settling in the room, I have a hunch that the feeling of sickness after passing out will be the least of her problems if my companions start asking questions. Her eyelashes flutter and her eyes open, and as she tries to focus her them, blinking confusedly, I just back away and lean against one of the cold walls to give the stage to my more experienced friends. For I suspect that they are already burning with the desire to have a chit-chat with her.

It takes a few seconds for our captured thug to fully collect every shred of her consciousness, but as soon as she manages to regain her vigilance, her gaze glides across the room with cold indifference, and when her dark eyes catch Alejandro standing opposite her, then the corners of her mouth curl up in a sneer. And in the smile she puts on her face, there is such a wicked joy, which makes it quite obvious that these two certainly have quite an interesting shared past behind them.

"In the end, you managed to catch me, Vaquerito." The woman speaks up, and although her voice is still hoarse due to the forced sleep, I can clearly sense the malicious edge with which she turns to the leader of the unit. And I find it quite impressive how, despite the fact that she is sitting in a completely obvious tight spot, she still has the desire to assume superiority, as if she had not been cornered by predators. But maybe it amazes me even more how she makes herself comfortable in a minute, crossing her legs in front of her with graceful laziness, because that's exactly how I reacted when karma caught up with me. Even if the situation doesn't seem bright, she clings to her self-esteem with tooth and nail, and if she can irk her enemies with this, that's even better.

"Fate catches up with everyone sooner or later, Valeria." Rodolfo aptly remarks, hiding in one of the dark corners as he fixes his disdainful gaze on the woman, taking on the same unfriendly aura as his leader. And based on this, the dislike between them is probably not just the work of a casual encounter, but rather the result of some deep-rooted betrayal, which can provoke such a violent temper from these two Hunters. Interesting.

"How do you know each other?" The question breaks out of me, giving voice to the curiosity that is awakening in me, because I'm more and more interested in what could have been the affair that went wrong, which laid the foundation for this chilly climate. The woman is a mystery anyway, as she seems too harmless for an entire colony to fear her, but I have seen enough of her in the past few hours to know that she is very good at covering up the unique abilities that earned her position. To be the head of a band of thugs, whose name they only dare to utter whispering, she has to be quite an extraordinary bastard.

"She served as a soldier in the liquidation unit. She soon got tired of not having enough power and left instead." Alejandro shares his answer with us succinctly, spitting the words almost with disgust, and even in this small explanation, all his contempt is concentrated, which is moving through the man with the ferocity of a raging storm under the surface.

And this is just enough information for me to piece together the picture of how this con artist was able to slip out of the eager hands of the authorities for so long. She knew exactly how the system worked because she was lucky enough to have firsthand experience, and that's exactly how she sniffed out its weaknesses, which she shamelessly exploited. She knew how and where the patrols were conducted, she knew how to evade them, and she knew how to steer clear of the monsters that inevitably crossed her path. So it becomes quite clear why she was able to attack me with such deadly efficiency. Because she was trained to survive against tougher opponents than me, and so my intuition was correct, that if I gave her a few more minutes, she would have finished me very easily. Or at least she would have incapacitated me long enough for her to escape.

"I had to resort to more violent means to assert myself in a world that only revolves around you, right?" Valeria retorts, scrunching up her nose with such disgust that it's easy to deduce how much joy she found in being able to serve in the unit. And I can somewhat understand her loathing, because in teams specialized in killing mutants, the life of ordinary mortals is more than difficult. The training is the least of their problems, which in itself is terribly taxing both physically and mentally, but the fact that in most cases they are used as living shields in front of the beasts is valid a reason to be angry. Although it's presented as an attractive occupation within the walls of the colonies, and they try to advertise to the many frivolous idiots how well they will do if they join, the reality soon catches up with everyone. Safe accommodation, five meals a day, and a suspiciously high salary sounds good, but it doesn't change the fact that in the eyes of the government, they are nothing more than expendable chess pieces, that they aren't afraid to sacrifice to defeat a few beasts. But the woman would have had the very simple choice, if she was so cunning, that after suffering a tactical injury, she could have requested to be transferred to one of the many enforcement units operating in the colony. But obviously, then she would have lost the authority that comes with the noble task of serving in liquidation units. And this garbage seems ambitious enough, that once she has tasted the good life, she will only want more.

"What a clever little Healer you managed to catch for yourselves..." She suddenly turns to me, and as her eyes zero in on the dry blood-stained tear on my vest, her mouth stretches into a foul grin, as if she was proud of the fact that she was able to harm me. And I suspect she is. But there are no hard feelings, because she is sitting in some deep shit thanks to me. "They would kill for her on the black market."

And this one comment of hers covers the room in frozen shock so spectacularly, as if winter had arrived between the walls shrouded in darkness. She measures me up with such confident malice, as though I were nothing more than an animal destined for slaughter, and I don't doubt that she would be able to frighten anyone with this performance. But unfortunately, her tactic won't work against me, because she uses the same dirty little strategy that I like to apply when I want to get under someone's skin. I poke at where I know it will hurt the most, and I'm certain my provocation will reach its destination the soonest. She has chosen the wrong person to frustrate by explaining the bitter reality, because I have been aware of this fact for a very long time. More than one horror story circulated in the colony, in which defenseless Healers were ambushed in the open street and never found again, and this was just enough of a threat in the eyes of the general population that the newly screened Healers voluntarily waltzed into the open arms of the first unit they saw. Because it's much better to voluntarily end up in a parasitic relationship than to sink to the level of a disposable tool after being taken to god knows where. This doesn't mean that official units are any better, but maybe fewer people die miserably there. And now I'm at least not afraid to admit that I have got real lucky with my little team, because I'd probably be a thousand times worse off anywhere else.

The superiority on the woman's face fades in an instant, when I simply fold my arms in front of my chest with a comfortable calm, and with my chin held high, I stare back at her with a biting smile, holding her increasingly serious gaze. I only need to observe the downward curve of her mouth to know that she is rather annoyed that her petty taunting is not achieving its goal. But I get it, it annoys me too when my current mean stunt fails. Perhaps we have disturbingly more in common than I'd like to admit, but that's okay. This makes it easier to outmaneuver her.

"Where's the serum?" Riley gets to the point, putting an end to our little stare-down duel, and as my ears are hit by the rough irritation hidden in his voice, I forcefully suppress the surprise that tries to sneak onto my face. Because although I know that his patience is probably just running thin from listening to this empty chatter, I can't exclude the thought from my mind that I might have something to do with the way his shoulders fill with tension. It might be possible that the excited little voice in my head wants to see more into everything now, but I want to deprive myself of my fun and delusions less and less.

"I was just an informant, I didn't steal that junk." She shrugs lightly as she tears her attention away from me and directs it to my rather formidable companion, radiating careless indifference with every cell in her, about which it slowly becomes clear that it isn't just a part of a charade befitting a cocky criminal. This woman is truly self-centered enough to believe that the fame and authority she had gained in the wilderness had accompanied her here as well, and will protect her if one of my buddies decides she has stretched their patience enough. Brave, but foolish.

"What kind of informant?" Alejandro snaps, and apparently, already at the beginning of the conversation, his patience with the game of the woman's sharp tongue begins to run out, and considering the hazy but complicated memories they share, it's not surprising that the man finds it progressively difficult to hold on to the threads of his nerves that are slowly wearing thread-thin. And when the woman only responds with an amused snicker and pulls her hand back to prop her elbows on the back of the chair, she gives the man one more reason to follow through on the threats in his head.

"Do you think I'm stupid enough to put myself on the line?" Valeria remarks, and based on her emphasis, she labels the Hunter towering menacingly above her as the half-witted one, outrightly enjoying the way the red clouds of rage pass through his eyes. "Someone saw Alviar when he came back with that monster, and rumor started spreading in the colony that he was hiding something valuable. I just had to have a little chat with one of the workers and that was it." She explains her clever little machination, confirming the assumption that had already been formulated in my head. Although the poor fool didn't reveal the juicy information on their own accord, it doesn't change the fact that they indeed coughed up what was being hidden in the institute in the mountains.

"And you immediately passed the info on to someone else, huh? You low life…" A disbelieving, bitter laugh erupts from Alejandro as he fixes his furious eyes on the ceiling, perhaps hoping that observing the mold blooming on the plaster would restore self-control to his veins laced with fiery blood. And I have to admit that our pretty outlaw manages to get under the Hunter's skin in a really remarkable way, because she twists every word she says in just the right way to provoke another reaction from him. And while others may not understand what her goal might be by infuriating a person much stronger than her, who could rip her head off her neck with his bare hands, I know what the game is about. Although she risks her safety by getting her interrogators all riled up, she knows that no one will touch her if they want information, and thus she easily controls the conversation, because the focus shifts from important matters to anger. And this only confirms the fact that, even if the serum is not, the major information is in her possession.

"Why would I have kept the information to myself if I found a buyer for it?" The woman argues back with feigned indignation, as if the assumption that she wouldn't take advantage of this business opportunity would be insulting to her. "If this shit gets out, it's only good for business." She informs casually, as if she wasn't stating why it was beneficial to release a substance that could cause the end of humanity. And this is where her first sentence laced with misconceptions is uttered, because if she were really that intelligent, she would know that no one would be safe if the serum fell into the wrong hands. And she's no exception either.

"What the hell are you talking about?" The head of the unit snarls, and every cell of his body is filled with tension ready to attack, as if with each passing minute less and less would hold him back from squeezing the woman's graceful throat, if I only take a closer look at his posture in addition to his words. His hands clench into fists and his shoulders instantly stiffen with fury like a tiger about to pounce. And there is no doubt that the woman crushes the last crumbs of his fragile self-restraint when she heatedly leans forward and spreads her hands wide, as if she had to explain how the world works to a complete idiot.

"Use your head, you idiot!" The exasperated yell bursts out of Valeria, jamming her index finger into her forehead with almost painful force, thus emphasizing the use of which she wants to recommend to the man's attention. "The more monsters there are, the less time they have for us."

And from this rather logical justification, an icy atmosphere of gloom descends on the room at once, because this fatal stupidity is truly a compelling argument for such a woman who is corrupted to the core. And given the fact that she fled from a liquidation unit, it's no wonder she believes she has all the tools needed to protect herself when the goods she sold the intel about will find a new owner. But she didn't see what we experienced, and she has no idea what kind of world-shattering potential lies in that substance. Because if she knew, she wouldn't be digging her own grave by helping someone steal a chemical weapon capable of kicking not only the world's, but also her ass. And don't get me wrong, I understand the selfish interests behind her actions, since she just wants to make her business flourish, while the Hunters and everyone else are fighting for their lives. But nothing proves her blinded narcissism more than the fact that she doesn't take into account that if her customers die, the business will collapse faster than she has time to realize what's happening.

"You filthy... " Alejandro breaks the stunned silence that has set in, and he charges towards Valeria, who is still sitting with easy calmness, with such suddenness, like an enraged bull, in front of which the red veil has been waved. And if it wasn't for MacTavish appearing next to him to hold him back, he would undoubtedly wipe the knowing, smug smile off her face with his own hands.

"Calm down, hermano!" The Scottish Hunter tries to calm his fuming friend, and as the muscles on his forearm tense, it becomes clear that this isn't as simple of a task as it seems. But Alejandro forces his cool composure back into its place with the skill of a leader, and as he fills his lungs with oxygen with a few quick breaths, he lets the man with the mohawk pull him back. "Who was the buyer?" MacTavish now takes over the lead of the investigation, and although his deep voice sounds relaxed, there is an edge of threat in it, which warns the woman that if she continues to play, then he won't be kind enough to prevent the violence that comes her way next time.

"You'd like to know, huh?" She grins, and it seems that she doesn't feel the seriousness of the situation, because she raises her head defiantly, as if one of her captors wasn't about to rearrange her physical integrity. And even though I also share the strange masochistic fetish, during which I challenge fate against myself with my irksome behavior, I'm not this stupid or brave either. However, someone who wants to hold an entire criminal organization in her hands certainly needs this audacity. What a pity that it won't achieve the expected effect here.

Because Riley, who has been watching in silence until now, runs out of patience in an instant, and as he stomps closer to Valeria, each step is filled with such ominous heaviness, that makes our little criminal's lips press together into a thin line in an instant. And as the man bends down to her, and almost hides the body of the hitherto confident woman in the shadow of his burly figure, it must become painfully obvious to her that she is now facing an opponent who isn't afraid to tear her jaw off, if he finally can open her mouth with it.

"If you don't start talkin', I'll break every fuckin' bone in your body one by one." The masked Hunter threatens, emphasizing each word of his promise, and his voice, which plunges into the frightening depths, is the perfect proof that the woman has one more sassy remark before he makes his warning come true. My eyes slide to his broad back, and I discover the straining material of the uniform, which stretches between his two shoulders almost in agony, as he towers over his victim with the keen attention of a predator about to pounce, and my stomach jumps excitedly, because my dubious feelings about him flash in my mind again at the most inopportune moment. But unfortunately, there's something maddeningly attractive about seeing the threads of his restraint snap in his head. I'm really sick.

However, it seems that the message interwoven with painful vows has reached its goal, because even though a few minutes filled with suffocating pressure pass, Valeria finally folds her hands in front of her with a tired sigh, submitting to the not-so-discreet urging of my dangerous companion. When the masked man sees that he has managed to break the gangster's relaxed mood, he just turns around with satisfaction, only to settle down next to me and advance again into a scary ghost, who only intervenes when absolutely necessary.

"A separatist group called "Vulture" bought the information." She shares the first useful knowledge with us, at least as enthusiastically as if we pulled it out with pliers. And it's not surprising that she isn't eager to give up the identity of her customer, because it could give her a very bad reputation in the dubious circles where she operates. But she has to swallow this bitter pill now if she wants to keep the ability to walk, which will allow her to stroll out of here when we're done with her.

"Where are they now?" MacTavish continues his determined inquiry, searching our prisoner's face with his eyes, probably scanning for a lie in every twitch of her face. And good thing he does, because we can't rule out that she will try to screw us over. It would be a pretty brave thing to do, but we won't know the authenticity of her information until we check out ourselves, and by then she may have disappeared from the radar a long time ago.

"Everywhere." Comes the short answer, which leaves much more dissatisfaction than certainty. It's clear from the faint, amused wrinkles gathering around her eyes that she's having quite a good time even in this predicament, as if she has nothing to lose by continuing this mysterious act. And that makes me wonder what she could be playing at. Why is it so important to her, in addition to her reputation, to preserve the intimate details of her customer's identity?

"Ya shouldn't be foolin' around right now." The Scottish man warns her, and gestures towards his masked bosom friend with one of his hands, reminding our criminal once again that no matter how much Riley hides in the background unnoticed, he hasn't vanished into thin air, and is still very much close by, waiting for the opportunity to make his threat become a reality. And that would make any sane person feel like talking, but this woman is something different, and she just distorts her mouth into a contemptuous pout and tilts her head to the side, as if she would just feel sorry for the Hunter for cooling his mouth out by trying to extract more valuable knowledge from her.

"I'm not kidding." Valeria shakes her head, conjuring up the act of false innocence in her features for a moment, not trying to make her play seem credible even for a minute. "That group is constantly on the move. Good luck finding it." She elaborates, and there is such a caustic sneer in her voice, as if she still has something up her sleeve that no one else knows. And when the gruff voice of annoyance breaks out of Alejandro again, the diabolical grin on the woman's face makes it evident that this is indeed the case. Because although she could fool anyone by pretending that she is just happy that she cannot serve us with more interesting facts than this and that is what fills her with morbid glee, it doesn't escape my attention as she imperceptibly checks her surroundings with her black eyes, as though she is waiting for something. And then the realization hits me that she is not protecting her unknown business partner, but is still hoping to get into a bargaining position that will allow her to dance back to her underworld businesses unscathed. How very sneaky.

"She knows where they are." I interrupt the ever-increasing tension with my clever little remark, fixing my eyes on the woman with unflinching calmness, because even though she may try to trick others, I know these tactics too well not to see through them. "She's waiting for a deal." I mention this detail, drawing a pitiful half-smile on my face, because although I think it's infinitely naive that she still sees a chance to get away from our little meeting as a winner, but, nevertheless, it’s remarkable how shrewdly she clings to every trifle that she can turn to her advantage.

"And she's smart too." Valeria comments on my observations, and now she doesn't even try to suppress the malicious grimace that appears on her face. Every delicate feature fills with a sly edge as her mouth curves upwards in a superior smile, communicating with her entire being that we are about to get to the point where she is back to taking control of the entire conversation.

"She won't get it." Alejandro barks almost immediately, and the intensity of his barely restrained fury comes to life in his voice, as he takes a few threatening steps towards his enemy, perhaps hoping to awaken fear in the woman. But it leads to nothing, because Valeria leans back in her chair with laziness and swings her crossed legs with sincere carelessness, as if she wouldn't be affected by the outburst of the Hunter, who is getting more and more agitated in front of her, even for a minute.

"Oh, but you need me to start remembering." Our gangster states, and her emphasis conveys the unspoken message that whether or not we can move forward and prevent the impending disaster depends on her goodwill. And I have to admit, it's quite brilliant how thoroughly she played her cards up to this point, because from the moment her eyes opened and she realized the corner we helped her back into, she immediately worked to turn the situation into her own favor. "I'll tell you where they are if you release me after."

And this one demand momentarily helps to unsettle the firm and fearful aura of my friends, because the woman presents a very simple problem. Either we give her what she wants, or she dies holding the knowledge to herself. Because I have no doubt that this sick bastard would be able to hold back the information out of defiance if she could fuck with us until her last breath. This dilemma is exacerbated by the fact that even though our allies here have helped us until now to prevent the risk of potential mass murder, it's also quite clear that Alejandro has no intention of releasing the hard-earned criminal from his clutches. The outlaw has been playing on the man's nerves for years, and I don't think that he would like to add another couple of years to this game. And as the Hunters look at each other and engage in a silent debate, I see the sparks of disappointment and venom rekindle in the unit leader's eyes, with which he acknowledges that, unfortunately, for the sake of the greater good, he will be forced to release his twisted opponent.

"All right." Riley finally agrees to the deal, turning his dark eyes on our hostage again, and for some reason, I get the feeling that the calmness with which, after the aggressive warning he gave not long ago, he now allows Valeria to have our conversation according to her whims, is beyond suspicious. Because it's quite strange for a man who can torture me for months with his dislike to adopt such a dubious, but no less diplomatic, demeanor.

"They hang out next to Colony No. 41 until they get rid of the goods. It won't be easy if they want to do it secretly, so they might still be there." Valeria gives us the details of her beforehand deeply hidden knowledge, and the satisfied hum in her voice makes it immediately evident that she is now blabbering with the peace of the victors. And this inevitably puts a sour taste in my mouth, because it seems that I still have to refine my manipulation after the woman's impeccable presentation. But I don't have time to think about how I could develop my meanness further, because MacTavish appears before our little duo with Riley with a few long steps, leaning closer and fixing his intense gaze on his masked bosom friend.

"We need to tell Price. Our hands can't reach there, and we'll need help to find them." The Scottish Hunter informs us of his concerns, which raises a rather real problem. As much as we would like to keep this little action while staying under the radar, it seems that the complications that arise are far beyond what we can covertly solve. Colony No. 41 is located at such a distance that even its surroundings are alien to us, not to mention that the red zone and uncontrolled region around it are also famously gathering points for the assorted dangers that happily hide in that awfully large area. And the bastards we have to sniff out now were probably directed there precisely by this tempting fact. It's just big and barren enough for them to lie low in peace until the sale is done. And we will need the help of someone who knows the place like the back of their hand, because we cannot allow ourselves to go on an aimlessly search until we find the separatists.

"I'll let him know." Riley nods, and springing into action almost immediately he hurries towards the door, only pausing for a few fleeting moments next to Alejandro, who is still seething in the middle of the room. "The woman is yours, Alejandro." The masked Hunter pats the man's shoulder, causing his eyebrows to meet rather bewildered at first, and then, when he realizes the gift his comrade gave him, only an appreciative grin curls on his mouth framed with dark stubble.

"What the fuck? We agreed!" Valeria yells, and for the first time, real emotion moves between her features, and the betrayed hurt that shines in her eyes is almost appetizing, as if it's really hard for her to believe what she's hearing. And I suspect that it's so, because I'm also a little lost for a moment, and I just furrow my eyebrows in confusion and blink at the masked man turning back from the door, who fixes his eyes on the angry woman with such contempt, as if he was just about to correct a bad child.

"I lied." The Hunter says simply, and anyone else would miss the slight change in his tone, but my sharp little ears can hear the satisfaction radiating from his words. And as I realized that it was the man, whom I recognized as a rolemodel of duty, who stabbed our cunning criminal in the back, my surprise turns into amused joy in a blink of an eye. Because I wouldn't have expected him to be able to break his word in such a sly way, even though, if I think about it more, I was already lucky enough to experience his vile tactics firsthand when he took me to my lovely little forest trial. But now, as I follow him with a wicked little grin as he calmly leaves behind the thug immersed in frenzied Spanish swearing, it occurs to me that there is another side to this dangerous man that is waiting to be witnessed. And this awakens the insatiable desire in me to find out as soon as possible what kind of surprises he has in store for me.

⃰

The late afternoon sun caresses the pale walls of the small room with its orange flames, where we retired to welcome our captain's call in intimate loneliness, which hopefully gives us more good news than we came across. During our interrogation at dawn, though we gained the next important clue, which could advance us in our research after the lost serum, but unfortunately it was just enough to raise hope. Because the woman has managed to give us an area as our next destination that, if we have to search blindly after the separatist group, it's guaranteed that we will lose the trace of Alviar's clever little discovery. Even so, we are at a two-week disadvantage, during which the thieves could easily have found a sympathetic buyer for the goods, and it's only up to the generosity of fate whether we can prevent the transaction or not. And we don't have time for aimlessly wandering in search of those scums.

This, in turn, plants the impatient pressure in my brain, which helps to fill my throat with the dryness of a desert by tightening its bony fingers around my neck. And I just have to look at MacTavish sitting next to me to know that he is definitely sharing my doubts. Even though his posture seems peaceful as he leans back on the worn sofa, the nervous bouncing of his leg and the restless play of his hands in his lap tells me that every minute he is creeping deeper into the tension of waiting.

And as if they had felt that my mind was in decline, suddenly the communicator rings with a sharp beep, which has been waiting in Riley's hands for our team to contact us. As the man leans forward while pressing a couple of buttons and slides the small device into the middle of the coffee table, the faces of our two familiar companions appear in the emerging hologram. And it's enough to observe their condition worse than washed-out shit, and I know that we are not the only ones that our little adventure wears down so enthusiastically, which gives me some consolation.

"Laswell!" The Scottish Hunter breaks out of his silent tension, bending forward with a sincere smile on his face, leaving behind his nervousness for a moment at the sight of our station chief. It's a fact that the woman's appearance can mean good, because her skillful hands might have been able to reach places where she returned with some valuable help. And we need nothing more than for her to come up with something exciting so we can finally continue our investigation.

"I'm glad to see you in one piece!" Laswell greets us, and she scans our trio sitting on battered furniture with her light eyes as if she were searching for invisible injuries. And it's quite charming when I almost feel the maternal worry in her voice, but my consciousness spins in a much faster turn from an impatient desire for knowledge than I can properly appreciate this small moment.

"Did you find somethin'?" Riley gets down straight to the point, leaning his elbows on his knees, focusing all his attention on the woman, on whose face a rather troubled expression appears at his enthusiastic question, which causes her brows, emerging under from her light hair, to knot together, and I don't need my womanly intuition’s help to know, that this only could mean something bad. Because according to this, the separatists may form such a professional group that even challenges Laswell's skillful abilities.

"I tried to dig deeper, but I only found a few old reports about the group." Laswell sighs, and in the little gesture, as she tiredly smooths her hands over her forehead, she conveys all the frustrations she tries to suppress with her professionalism before it gets too close to the surface. Although it's quite amazing that in a matter of hours, she has come close to the information at all, because I suspected that she had to do her search again within quite illegal frameworks. "They covered their traces very well." She resignedly shakes her head, and through the bluish image of the hologram, I can see that every inch of her is filled with nervous frustration for not being able to find the information to support our mission. But it would have been too strange if something had gone smoothly for once.

"Fuckin' hell ..." Mactavish sweares, accompanied by an irritated huff, voicing the annoyance that is slowly but surely becoming more and more apparent on his features. It's quite obvious that the recent series of complications has pushed down his tolerance for bad luck, but if luck finally decides to smile at us, he will soon have an outlet for his anger.

"But John has better news." Laswell hints at the positive developments, giving us the rays of hope again before we can immerse ourselves in the exasperation that the continuous complication of the events planted in us. And on this statement, we all focus on the captain, on whose mouth framed with a thick beard the beginnings of a malicious little smile appear, which helps to revive my optimism from its ashes.

"Our conversation with Shepherd went better than we hoped." Price reveals, an even through the communicator, I can hear the satisfaction that weaves its deep voice. And I had no doubt that he would make his promise come true, and after the dubious business, he spices his words to the leader of the colony with sufficient violence, but I wouldn't even imagine that the revenge-thirsty meeting would be so successful that we can profit from it soo soon. But our captain always delights us with pleasant surprises, and I particularly like the fact that he can act in such a petty way when people queer his pitch.

"I hope ya cornered the fucker." The Scottish man joins in, and from the evil little grin on his face, I get the feeling that although he regrets not being able to be present to make the colony leader come around with his own hands, but the successes of his superior fills him with enough satisfaction as well.

"As much as these scum can be." The bearded Hunter notes, and his expression contorts into a wry grimace, making it quite clear that he didn't push the old man nearly as hard as he would have liked to. Of course, we knew that it wouldn't be easy to hold the leadership accountable, even if their crimes could be proven clear as day. Despite the threat of mutants, the functioning of the world hasn’t become less corrupt. Small communities are even easier to rule over, and the scumbags, such as Shepherd, take advantage of this with great pleasure. But I was still hoping that Price would at least put the old shit in a coma. "But he got the help you need. The private liquidation unit serving at Colony No. 41 will help you find the separatist group." The captain describes the little gift from the leader of the colony, and although I have no doubt that he sees this help as a step forward, the restrained anger moving into his bright eyes promises that the actions of the old man, who has unexpectedly turned as tame as a lamb, won't be forgotten just because he threw a few bones to us.

Although it's not surprising that Shepherd has become so cooperative all of a sudden and is more than happy to fulfill our wishes, because it's also in his best interest that his ugly little secret remains deeply buried. Because if someone were to tell on what kind of dirty godly game he was playing with his doctor and what kind of shit he was stirring up, then the outraged mob would hang his dismembered body on the wall of the colony before he would have time to figure out how to calm the people's anger. And that's why I'm quite sure that, to achieve maximum success, he will add helpers to our daring venture, with whose assistance we will be able to deal with your unpleasant little problem with absolute certainty. The old fart is smart, but if there's one thing I've learned the hard way, it's that sooner or later karma kicks everyone's ass with enough force to feel the sting.

However, it doesn’t escape my attention, and pulls me out of my contemplation sufficiently, as the aura of my two companions becomes progressively more gloomy at the mention of our helpers, as if the mere intorduction of them would be enough to induce caution in them. MacTavish's face hardens in the blink of an eye, and the curve of his mouth pressed together in a tight line is proof enough that, if not personally, but had the luck to encounter the reputation of the unit. And I just turn my gaze to Riley with interest, and my confusion increases further when I catch the intensity with which his narrowing eyes stare at the looming image of the hologram. Who could they be talking about?

"Shepherd has assured that they'll cooperate with you in everything." Price states as he sees the obvious doubt overtaking the two Hunters, beckoning them to calm down with one gloved hand. And now my curiosity flares up vividly as to what kind of unit it might be, the mention of which is enough to instill such caution in the mood of my two experienced friends. "But be careful." He adds, and this only further strengthens the bad foreboding that is slowly awakening in my mind. A little rivalry certainly can fit into the busy lives of the liquidation units, but I highly doubt that's what got my two buddies so frustrated. This is about something else, and my curious mind is already hungry for answers.

However, it seems that the man's admonishment is enough for these tough guys to regain their confidence, because they only hesitate for a few seconds, and then, accompanied by a nod of agreement, they indicate to their leader whether forced or not, but they will go along with this new set up. We would have no other choice anyway, because now we have to hold on to even the most pathetic straws if we don't want to be cut to pieces by some advanced mutant bastard.

"You're leaving tomorrow morning." Price continues the briefing, and as we talk about our new trip, my stomach involuntarily jumps, and I can only wildly hope that my body will finally pull itself together so that I won't have to pray for nausea to leave me alone. My self-esteem wouldn't survive that, I'm afraid. "They'll be waiting at their base. We hope they can provide more information." He ends his little speech with this, and I don't like the suspicious look he gives us at all, because it makes me very uncertain about what prospects we can look forward to. And I have a hunch that this concern is not for our research abilities, but for our new little friends, whose identity is weighing more and more on my mind, because it starting to irk me that they arouse my curiosity with vague hints.

"Good luck." Laswell sends her last good wishes to us, and then after flashing an encouraging smile, she ends the line with this final word, leaving us alone to peacefully digest the news that was shared with us. The more I delve into my thoughts, the more I'm unsettled by the fact that although we have become richer with another clue, we haven't made a single iota of progress. We're just dancing around the ever-increasing problem, which we sometimes get a little closer to, only to be pushed further away by another fucking obstacle right after. And this is starting to test the limits of my battered nerves in every possible way.

"Steamin’ bloody Jesus." The Scottish Hunter buries his face in his hands accompanied by an exhausted groan, and now for the first time, it's obvious that he is starting to feel worn out due to the excitement we suffered through lately. I do not doubt that they have been trained to endure this stress ever since weaning them from mother's milk, but it seems that even in the life of such battle-hardened tanks, there comes a point when the load becomes too much. "This won't be an easy ride." He notes not so optimistically, and it's not entirely clear which part of the task ahead of us, which full of complications and question marks, he is referring to.

"We'll work it out." Riley declares with rock-solid confidence that leaves no room for doubt or uncertainty. Because based on the decisiveness in his emphasis, it can almost be taken as a guarantee that if it's up to him and his abilities, everything will happen as it's written in the playbook. And for the first time, I want to believe that this man full of ominous promises is right.

"I hope you're right, Ghost." MacTavish replies, and then, accompanied by a hum of agreement, he leans on his knees with his palms and stands up with jerky movements, stretching his tired limbs for a fleeting moment. "We'd better rest." He advises, smoothing one hand on the back of his head, making weak attempts to massage out the tension that has built up there. "Ya too!" He suddenly fixes his lively eyes on his best friend and me, with such reproach as if it weren't my greatest desire to finally be able to sleep through the night without my mind racing to solve the current goddamn difficulties. Unfortunately, I have too much brain capacity to not overthink every single detail in my moments alone.

Raising one of my eyebrows, I follow with my cynical gaze as he, after one last wave, leaves the scene of our small meeting, presumably finally taking advantage of the comfort of the accommodation provided by our hosts. Undoubtedly, he deserves to collect his freshness before the rather nerve-wracking mission ahead of us, so that he can throw himself into the excitement with sufficient aggressive enthusiasm. As the door closes behind his departing figure, silence settles in the room again, in which only Riley and I are left alone, in our complete peaceful solitude.

Leaning back, I slide my arm onto the back of the sofa, so that I can rest my head on my palm, and I close my eyes with a heavy sigh, trying to silence the thousands of thoughts buzzing in my skull a little. And it doesn't seem like an easy task, because the more silent minutes pass, the more my senses sharpen, because if I'm not pondering on the doubts swirling in my brain, then my body has just enough power to tune in embarrassingly quickly to every little movement of the man sitting next to me. And maybe the fact that he spends his free time in my company should raise questions in me, when the comfort of his own room could be much more tempting to him, but as my eyelids open lazily and I peer at him under my eyelashes, then these little things get pushed back in the back of my skull right away.

It seems that he too may be deep in thought, quite intensely, because he still keeps his eyes fixed on the long-inactive communicator, as if he wants to find a solution to the many worrying details that have arisen in him. And as the leader of our small team of three, the cogs in his head are definitely turning with full steam, as he plans how he should direct our next steps, and there is something exceedingly mesmerizing, the way a tiny muscle twitches on his face hidden under the mask, and the sunlight sets orange sparks into his brown eyes. And I would like to trace the clenched line of his jaw with my fingers, to see if I could remove the tension…

"I didn't know you could be so deceptive, Riley." I suddenly interrupt the idyllic moment, because I'm afraid that if I study the man even a moment longer, the pull of seduction will win in me and I will do something incredibly stupid. Although it's good to have my fun with him, this calmness can lull me into the silly idea that there would be no consequences if would I let the urging of the little voice in my skull prevail.

I manage to surprise him with my comment, because for a moment he just glances back at me questioningly, only to quickly understand from the devilish little smile on my face that I'm referring to the exceedingly evil tactics he used during the interrogation of our criminal. And this breaks him out of his rather troubled contemplation just enough to lean back with a relaxed movement and, leaving his tense hunched posture behind, stretch out comfortably on the sofa. And it doesn't escape my attention, as his knee settles only a few torturously short inches from my leg, I'm forced to scold myself contemptuously since this almost insignificant moment can wake up the warmth under my skin. Because I'm starting to look pathetically starved, which my self-esteem are able to tolerate less and less.

"You don't know a lot about me yet." He states easily, and anyone would think that he has put on his calm indifference again, but my ears can hear the breath of roughness in his tone, which almost challenges me to join this game that he is now inviting me to. And the tremble in my stomach won't let me dance back when he so generously devotes his outstanding attention to me, the weight of which now fills every fiber of me with excited sparks.

"How mysterious." I remark, turning to him, resting my chin on my palm, as I give in to the temptation to let my gaze run over the man. He doesn't have his usual gear on now, and although I can't hide the fact that he can capture my interest even when he's armed up to the neck, but this way, when he rests in civilian clothes next to me, there are much more that my hungry eyes can feast on. And the guilty thoughts wake up in my head immediately, when I recall what it felt like to run my hands through his muscles, the bulging lines of which are now only slightly visible under the dark fabric. And I forcefully suppress the ache moving to my canines as I bite into the inside of my cheek, because suddenly I want nothing more than to sink them deep into the tight flesh and hear again what it's like when his deep voice emerges from his throat a hoarse grunt. "I wonder what I should do to find out more about you." I divert my attention from the images in my head, because even verbal teasing seems safer now than letting my eyes wander further on the Hunter. Because the whole man is a bewitching phenomenon, and I'm less and less able to command myself around him.

"If you ask the right questions, you might succeed." He answers simply, and while the statement itself might surprise me, the way his words roll off his tongue arouses my curiosity much more, because every single sound is an invitation to the dance, as if he just wants to make me give in to the attraction raging inside me. And it's possible that it's just the dull fog that descends on my mind, imagining dubious meanings in every word, but I'm unable to say no to this invitation, if he's aware of what he's doing, if not.

"And if I ask the right questions, will I get the answers I'm interested in?" I ask with a cheeky smile on my lips, and I don't try to hide the defiant edge that moves into my voice, because I want him to know that I'm not afraid to indulge in this dangerous little game, because I wouldn't mind for a minute if I burned myself in the process. Especially if his touch would be the one boiling over my skin like a personalized branding.

And it seems that he understands exactly what he has started with his behavior, because although the material of the mask covers every single feature, I can tell from the small, amused wrinkles that gather around his eyes that he is very deliberately entertains himself by planting the sultry tension in the air of the small room, which sends a pleasant shiver down my spine. And this makes me wonder if I'm really in control of our little duel, because all I have to do is observe the vile little light that sparkles in his eyes, and I know that this conversation is going exactly where he wants it to.

"You can try." He notes, sort of casually, as if he hadn't just given me permission to use my sly tactics against him. Although he had already shared with me when we arrived here that our little fling in the infirmary had not taken his will of life away, and perhaps even enjoyed it, but this is different now. Now he is almost provoking me to find out how far I can go with my ploys, to see what awaits me on the other side of the wall he has built around himself. And I'd be a real fool if I didn't fulfill his request if he is asking so kindly.

"Even if I play dirty?" I keep pushing the question, because now that he has given his consent to my daring activity, I have neither the strength nor the desire to curb the urge of excitement bubbling in my stomach. My body moves almost by itself as I lean closer to him with slow movements, and as one of my sneaky hands finds his thigh, I can feel the hard muscles running there twitch for a moment, even through the rough material of the jeans. My palm is almost burned by the heat of his body, which radiates through the fabric, and I, almost holding my breath, look into his dark eyes, in which something quite dangerous glimmers. And the little voice in my head whispers that I have now voluntarily walked into the trap he set for me, like a silly little mouse who dances in front of the cat in the hope that it will not be eaten. But an unholy little part of me wouldn't mind if he would sink his claws into me and tear me apart if I had a chance to taste him that way.

And the air gets stuck in my lungs as he suddenly moves and bridges the tiny distance that separates the two of us, and my body instinctively stiffens in surprise, like a deer caught in a trap. His hot breath almost burns as he brushes his mouth against my ear, and I can't get the fantasy images out of my head, as I fall into the trap of his broad shoulders, when he puts one hand through my legs and rests it on the other side of my body frozen in startled excitement. Because it's projected in front of my mind's eye like a relfex, as he towers over me exactly like this, and I, pressed under his naked body, dig my nails into the skin of his back covered with thousands of small scars, as he moves between my thighs. And that's enough for me to bite my own tongue and hold back the lustful moan that threatens to come out of me with an almost desperate force.

"Go on. I'll look forward to it." He murmurs softly, and his deep voice is sin itself, because, like some poison, it creeps into my head through my ear canals and helps the daze to settle in my brain. I almost get dizzy as my nose fills with his scent, which I would already recognize even in my dreams, and which makes scorching fire arise in the pit of my stomach, and desire ripples through every fiber of me. My fingers clench involuntarily and my blunt nails dig into his strong thigh through the fabric, and the soft chuckle that breaks out of him is almost cruel when he realizes how pitifully he made me crumble with these few words.

But as quickly as he arrived, he leaves as suddenly, and I just blink in a daze after him as he falls back into the comfort of the sofa. It takes a few seconds for my head to clear from the intoxicating effect of his proximity, and for me to understand what happened. And as soon as my brain is able to produce coherent thoughts again, because I have banished the last intrusive, lustful fragment of imagination from it, then a wicked, but no less playful grin moves onto my face, because this reckless man doesn't know what he gave his blessing to. Because now I see more clearly than ever what it is that attracts me to him so much. Every tiny movement, every dark look, every word imbued with exciting danger lures me in, and I won't rest until I know what it's like when he loses his carefully built and iron-fisted control. I want to know what kind of fire lurks behind the harsh exterior, and there is nothing that can prevent me from reaching my goal. Especially when he encourages me so generously. Just be careful Riley…you don't know what I'm capable of.

⃰

"We're here!" Nik shouts over the noise of the engine, and I almost thank the heavens that I finally hear these words, because although my body indeed tolerated my second flight better than I had hoped, unfortunately, the contents of my stomach were also doing somersaults as if all its intentions would have been to try to break out of me. Luckily, the thousands of thoughts running through my head and the closeness of the masked Hunter sitting next to me beneficially distracted me from the attack of the stomach acid pooling in my throat. And although at first, I found it very interesting that he found my company so voluntarily, after our little discussion yesterday, I no longer question what his purpose might be. Because whatever is going on in his head, I have no reason to resist when he offers himself to me on a silver tray.

I don't have to look to feel Riley's gaze scanning my tortured features, and without words, I can guess that he is probably assessing carefully whether I will or won't let my breakfast meet the outside world. And although it moves my dark soul, that our relationship has already reached the point where he worries about my well-being, luckily my pride gives me a much stronger motivation to hide my weaknesses. So, as soon as this metal box called an airplane finally stops for good, I stretch out my limbs that have become stiff during the journey with a relieved sigh, thereby breathing life back into my body.

And when the peace of my biorhythm returns, then I only momentarily catch the cheeky grin spreading across MacTavish's mouth, who is sitting across from us, which makes only one of my eyebrows raise questioningly, because I find it difficult to understand why he is having so much fun. Like a well-arranged choreography, they took their seats after we said goodbye to our Spanish friends amid a myriad of good wishes, and even then I could see the cheerful sparks awakening in those light eyes, but I chalked it up to the excitement of the new action making him so excited. But now, as he comfortably stands up and grabs the shoulder straps of his tactical vest, and his gaze goes brazenly over the duo his bosom friend and I created, I have an irresistible desire to find out what the hell is his problem with the sharp words that wishes their way on my tongue.

However, I don't have time to formulate my speech full of selected colorful words, because Riley straightens up with a completely unexpected movement, as if he has just come to his senses from the deep meditation in which he have sunk during our journey. And as he casts his waiting eyes on me, I spring up too, because now instead of the interesting silent play, we have more important things to do. And despite the fact that the two Hunters exchange a quiet look before all three of us head towards the door opening from the cargo deck, although it awakens my curiosity, unfortunately, I have very little brain capacity left to analyze the behavior of the two men. Even when the curiosity that settles in my head begins to frantically scratch the inside of my skull.

The cold breeze brings the smell of rain, which tickles my face as we leave the plane, and the huge building in front of us is covered in sad grayness by the blanket of dark clouds gathering in the sky. It might seem ominous that on the next stage of our mission, the weather greets us with such a whimsical gift, but this cool wind is a relief after the almost suffocatingly warm air that we have had in the last few days. And this could be a lucky turn for us, because those dirtbag criminals wouldn't risk crossing the red zone in a storm, unless they have suicidal tendencies.

"You came earlier than we expected!" Comes a strong, accent-heavy greeting, and I, along with my other two companions, turn my head almost immediately in the direction of the sound to discover a figure covered in uniform and tactical equipment from the gate of the wire fence running on the side of the runway. It doesn't take much logic to figure out that one of our new companions showed up so kindly to welcome us, and it doesn't take much brain activity either to understand that the mask and sunglasses covering his face are not the only thing that triggers an instinctive feeling of caution in my head. Shepherd wasn't fooling around when he was looking for competent help, because even the reception committee is made up of an S-class big boy. Which could be good news on the one hand, but the aloof aura that the two Hunters suddenly put on doesn't escape my attention.

"We had no time to waste." MacTavish remarks, and instead of his companion, who has sunk into restrained distantness, he is the one who takes the first step to break the ice of the new situation, and crosses the distance separating him from the newcomer with a few long strides to extend his hand out to him. My Scottish friend takes on directness with his usual instinct, but I know him just well enough to catch the breath of tension creeping into his shoulders, which reveals that he is far from being as relaxed as he appears to be. And this again raises the question in me, what on earth did this private unit called KorTac do to deserve this precaution?

"Lucky for you, we also work quickly." Our host replies, and it would be impossible not to notice the confidence sweeping into his words. And it may even feel like bragging, as he fires off his comment, but it seems much more like a purposefully presented statement of fact, as if he just wanted to let us know that my two friends are not the only big dogs here. "Horangi." He accepts the extended hand of the Scottish Hunter to shake it with the same determination as before, and nothing but professionalism radiates from his movements.

"Soap." MacTavish also introduces himself, and then letting go of the hand of the very Korean-sounding Hunter, he turns to us. And this makes me wonder how was the very American colony able to lure him here, when presumably his own would have been willing to keep him there even by force. Interesting. "This is Ghost and Viper." The Scottish man presents our callsigns, and I don't even try to object to him referring to me by the name he invented, because maybe it's for the better if everyone else besides them knows me by it. It fills me with an unreasonable sense of security, even though the leader of Colony No. 17 has probably already filled our new companions in before the arrival of our small group.

"Shepherd already told us about you." Horangi nods towards us, thus confirming my already clear assumption. The old man has indeed become quite eager to please in order to protect his own skin, but it doesn't make up for the fact that we are now forced to slowly become world travelers precisely because of him. "Come, my partner is interrogating as we speak." The man cuts the excitement of the introduction short, then turns his back on us with self-evident relaxation and starts towards one of the hangars located in the yard of the base. But I'm much more baffled by what he wants to suggest than his easy demeanor, because it would be quite amazing if, in the span of twelve short hours, they had already laid their hands on such a person who could guide us closer to our destination leading to the separatist group.

"Who?" Riley finally speaks up, and his tone holds the right amount of suspicion, as if he too would find the suggestion that his colleagues are working at such an unexpected speed quite unbelievable. Because that pace would be truly astounding, as it would mean that they began to work the moment Price had his little chat with the colony leader, which wouldn't be much of a feat in itself, however, if they actually found someone in such a short time, from whom they can extract useful information, it's equivalent to a miracle. And this gives me quite dubious feelings at best, because it raises the small question of how much dirtier and more brutal methods they have, if they achieve such rapid results with it. And it immediately becomes evident why these two tough guys became so grim when the captain mentioned who we would be working with. Because only one type of man and Hunter works so enthusiastically. The one who can be bought with hard money. Which basically wouldn't be a problem, except that even my less experienced self knows about such groups that they aren't afraid to carry out highly questionable actions if they are backed with enough credits. Shepherd… you sneaky old piece of shit. You don't leave it to chance, do you? Now the only question is whether you paid them to watch us while we spend our days together on the mission…

"We found a weak link at dawn." The Korean man says quite cheerfully, and it would be impossible not to hear the boasting from the way he tells about their achievement. And it could only be deliberately ignored, how the jaw of the masked Hunter, walking next to me, tenses under the black fabric in a blink of an eye. Off to a great start. I wasn't wrong about the competition either. "And if it's up to my partner, that birds definitely started singing by now." He adds with quite a bit of malice, and just from this one sentence it becomes clear that his friend can't be less dangerous than he is.

Without another word, we just silently follow our new tour guide, who leads us through the hangar's wide-open entrance into the spacious hall, where serious-faced little soldiers work with much more discipline than I have ever experienced back in our modest little home. It's enough to observe how they respectfully, but no less rigidly, greet the Hunter galloping at the head of our little team, and I immediately know that it's not Price's paternal but benevolent strictness that reigns here, but that someone holds these people in a much bigger iron fist. Which doesn't directly mean bad, but it says enough about the one who runs the unit.

And Horangi leads us with unceasing enthusiasm towards a battered container, the door of which suddenly opens, and we get close enough for me to see a broken body bathed in the paleness of the neon light, which, curling up on the ground, begins to whimper softly, like a tortured, wounded animal. But I don’t have the opportunity to study the wretch any longer, for a dark figure appears on the threshold, more gigantic than I have ever seen in my life. The man, with cool calmness, wipes the blade clutched in his gloved hand with a dirty rag, and when he thinks his weapon is clean enough, he slides it back into one of the many holsters resting on his tactical vest with the tenderness of a gentle lover. And there is something viscerally disdainful in the way he throws the dirty piece of cloth behind his back and takes one last look at the poor guy, who begins to sob on the floor, before turning all his attention to our group, which has just stopped in front of him.

"I made him talk." He declares simply, and I can't take my eyes off him, because shock settles in me with instinctive speed, which makes a thousand little voices in my head scream at the same time: be careful! Because, as those cold blue eyes survey my companions, and then slowly settle on me, I know for sure that this guy is so dangerous that all the precautions our captain warned us to take are justified. What on earth did they stuff this dude with to make him so big!?

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gasolinerainbowpuddles · 11 months

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𝑭𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑳 𝑾𝑶𝑴𝑨𝑵 ║ Chapter 2 - Not Yet Corpses, But Still We Rot

Please read with caution if you have difficulties with works concerning: SA, physical violence, torture, captivity, trauma, and similar topics as they are discussed throughout the series. All highly sensitive portions WILL BE MARKED with my sensitive material banner if you wish to skip the more challenging portions. The sensitive material banner looks like this:

║ＰＲＥＶＩＯＵＳ ║⋄── •✧• ──⋄║ ＮＥＸＴ ║

Maria felt comfortable to be around. At least, she felt more comfortable to be around than anyone else you had encountered so far. You wondered if she was the only woman in this entire place as you had only seen man after man after man. You found yourself seated across from her in a small room near the front gates.

It was chilly, but it paled in comparison to the hours you spent locked in the shed. The small bowl of soup and Tommy’s jacket that still engulfed you certainly helped you hold onto some warmth. You had tried to give his jacket back, but he insisted you keep it until they could get you one of your own. You can hear him pacing out in the hallway.

He was kind, but he was still unsure of leaving you with Maria alone. She catches your attention by calling your name – the fake one you had given when you were still too afraid to be honest about such a personal detail. And now you were too afraid to correct your lie, so you answer to your alias, although a bit too slowly still. You would need to work on that.

“I’m not going to ask what you’ve been through,” she started with a level tone and gaze. She leaned back in her chair and adjusted her legs to accommodate her belly. She studied you with a placid expression, taking time to carefully choose her words. “I don’t need to ask what you’ve been through because it’s clear that, whatever it was, was a lot.”

You make no measure to agree or disagree. You were still weighing your current predicament. You had refused medical attention upon entrance, and you tried to ignore the way Maria’s eyes zipped every now and

then to the injuries on your face and neck. After a few moments of silence, you decided you’re already in this deep and might as well return what kindness you could to these people.

You tell Maria there are no more in your group other than the party that had left this morning. You give her a rundown of Sam’s movements over the past 6 months. It’s to the best of your knowledge, but it’s limited information considering you were purposefully kept in the dark most of the time. “And, are there . . others, like you?” she carefully probed. You shake your head and focus on a dent in the tabletop. “No. They’re all gone now.” The memories of Mae, Sam’s sometimes secondary pet and sometimes group consolation prize, flooded your mind. You wished she could’ve held on a little longer. She could’ve been here with you right now. Instead you were alone, arguably safer, but that didn’t guarantee the safety would last. If your past experiences taught you anything, it was that things can get very bad, very quickly and with little to no warning. It was never wise to trust things would stay okay just because they happened to be at the moment.

“You know, your group was sizing up our settlement earlier today. Made the mistake of assuming we don’t have outposts and watchtowers to catch that sort of thing,” she revealed. Your eyes widened as they met hers.

“How do you know it was my group?” you challenged in a weak voice. Of course you had wondered what Sam had done when they made it back to the cabin and discovered you were missing. If it was truly Sam and his men that had been spotted by Maria’s people, you wondered who out of anyone had made it back to the cabin at all.

“All it takes is one rider to be lazy with their tracks. Makes short work of following their entire trek. That’s how we were able to locate that cabin out in the middle of nowhere. How we found you.” Maria explained this all in such a velvety way that you wanted it to make sense, but you were struggling to piece together all the new bits of information she was feeding you.

“Are they … are they here? Did you bring them back here?” you questioned, the last few words inching up an octave with fear.

“What do you mean? After the ambush? Did we bring any of their party back to Jackson? As prisoners?” she amended. You nod your head with a stiff jerk as you feel the sick creep of panic slip into your bones. There weren’t enough metal bars and locks in the world to confine Sam in a way that could make you feel safe, not if he was still alive. You would never be safe from him.

“Pointless to keep dead men as prisoners, don’t you think?” she posed with a weary smile.

“Dead?” you repeated. The word sounded hollow and unreal. “They’re dead?”

“Would’ve been a lot harder to pick them off if they hadn’t so quickly gone into ‘every man for himself’ mode,” she mused. “Caught them by surprise from the left flank, and they didn’t stand a chance with our vantage points and manpower.”

You cough in a choke, unable to lodge the thick lump in your throat. Maria pushes some water across the table to you, and you numbly take a few sips before looking at her again.

“How do you know it was them? How do you know they’re really dead? How do you know somebody didn’t get away?” The questions spilled from your mouth before you could stop yourself.

You didn’t want Maria to be offended, getting the impression that you didn’t find her or her group up for the task of handling Sam and his men. They seemed very organized and established, but you knew what Sam was capable of.

“Like I said, we have our own patrol and watch groups to stop this sort of thing before it can even start. Each body matched with the headcount our first watch post clocked, about an hour before we ambushed them on the mountainside,” she clarified.

“You got Sam?” you pressed. Your lips were tingling and joining with the static haze in your ears.

“I’m not sure which one was Sam, but, yes, he’s dead. They’re all dead,” she confirmed.

Your mind was racing trying to remember what he was wearing this morning. “He had– There was a-a green jacket. Yes, gr-green. And, and his pocket! His pock-pocket has a m-missing button?” you said in a frenzy.

Maria sat for a moment, absorbing your uncharacteristically animated reaction. “Can’t say I was looking for any missing buttons on green jackets.”

Of course not. It was ridiculous to even consider she would’ve been focused on such a trivial thing while clearing an entire group of armed men.

“Can you take me to them? Can I see them? Can I see if it’s really him?” you begged. You had to see for yourself that Sam was gone. You had to know he couldn’t get you anymore. You needed to see the body. His body. Lifeless. You needed to see he couldn’t hurt you anymore.

“Look, I understand if you maybe had some sort of… ‘attachment’ to some of these guys, but–” Maria started gently.

Your incredulous bark of a laugh hit the air so abruptly that Maria’s eyebrows rose straight to her hairline. “Attachment?” you echoed with revulsion. “No. They are going to come back for me. You, you don’t understand! Sam is not going to-to just let me go. He’s not going to just let s-someone else have me.”

You shook your head with a humorless laugh as you hugged yourself tightly. Your heartbeat was thrashing against your ribcage like a hummingbird was trapped in your chest.

“Stay here,” Maria ordered calmly as she stood and exited the room. You were preoccupied with the gripping possibility that Sam was still alive and was certain to come after you. He wouldn’t stop until you were his again. He would blame you for the deaths of the crew. You just knew it would be your fault, somehow.

You try to stop the shaking of your hands, but it only travels up your arms and rocked your chest as it made its way through the rest of your body.

Your teeth were chattering with fear when Maria, Tommy, and another man you recognized from the patrol group entered the room.

“This is Jason. He was head of the watch group that first spotted your old group. He said he saw a few green jackets out there today, and he is willing to describe the men to the best of his memory,” Maria explained.

Jason gave a quick nod in greeting and began recalling the first sighting. “First green jacket was on the guy we think was head of the group. Calling out orders and seemed to be making the decisions.”

You listened with rapt attention, desperate for any undeniable identifiers. Jason gave a physical description of the man that was eerily accurate to that of Sam, but you couldn’t let yourself believe it was really him, that he was really dead.

“He was easiest to remember ‘cause he was the leader, we think. That and he had a brown and white spotted horse. Rest of ‘em were all solid color or looked that way.” Your stomach bottomed out. Of course. Sam never let anyone else ride his horse, and you were all too familiar with the pattern of their coat.

“Oh my god,” you whisper hoarsely. Your eyes felt hot and wet, and you scrunched them shut.

“If that’s Sam, I’m the one that took him out. Wanted to clear leadership first. I’m sorry if you were, uh, close to him,” Tommy confessed. He had no way of knowing he was offering up condolences for killing the man who had kept you prisoner and subjected you to absolute torment for the past two years.

“You? You killed him?” you repeated, locking onto Tommy’s eyes with fierce concentration. You didn’t feel lightheaded, but your body was rocking back and forth in a small circuit. It felt like electricity was shooting through your veins.

“I did, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” he apologized again.

The surge of relief exploded out of you in a loud sob and propelled you into Tommy. Your legs gave out, and you grabbed haphazardly at his lower legs and boots as you tried to remember how to embrace someone.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” you chanted in a strangled sob against his laces.

Tommy was rigid under your touch, unsure if he should react or return your gesture. Jason cleared his throat at the uncomfortable shift in the room, but Maria’s hand found its way to your back with a gentle pat.

“You don’t have to worry about Sam or anybody else. Not while you’re here,” she said firmly.

She and Tommy both helped you to your feet, and all you could do was mutter apologies for your outburst and try to pace your breaths. You shoved your hands at your face to wipe away the tears and winced when you hit a particularly tender area you had already forgotten about.

“Let’s get you to the clinic before I take you to meet your new roommate,” Maria encouraged.

You sniffled and shot her a confused look. “My what?”

Susan seemed pleasant enough, considering you had shown up to her doorstep at nearly 9 o’clock at night, looking like fresh hell and as skittish as a cat with a long tail under a rocking chair. She seemed thrilled to have your company for some reason, but you could’ve just been reading the situation wrong. It had been a long time since you had been around other people like this.

Susan was probably in her early 70s if you had to guess, although the state of the world tended to make everyone look older than their age. You were surprised when she shared that she had lost a daughter that would be around your age.

She had been a single mother and lived only a few hours from the settlement, which she identified as the only reason she had made it here alive in the first place after she and her daughter fled their QZ. As for how she survived and her daughter didn’t, Susan only offered a sad smile and a “wrong place, wrong time.” You didn’t press her for any further detail, and she was kind enough to not ask you a single thing about yourself.

“Susan lives alone but has been looking for a housemate for quite some time now. So long as the right candidate came along,” Maria explained. “It’s harder for her to get out some days when the snow picks up, so having a young set of helping hands will be appreciated, no doubt.”

Susan nodded in agreement, and her eyes sparkled with excitement when she caught your gaze.

“Don’t worry, though, about getting to work just yet. We’ll give you plenty of time to rest and settle. I’ll see to that.”

Susan spoke with such unyielding affection that it was hard to feel hesitant about anything. You nervously fidget with the cup of tea she made you. “Sleepy time tea” as she called it. All of this unsolicited goodwill still had you on edge if you stopped to think about it for more than 3 seconds.

“Tommy and I are just a few doors down. His brother and niece are right next door, too,” Maria informed you as she stood slowly and stretched her lower back against her hands. “There’s not much going on at this end, so you’ll be away from the busier parts of town. I know it will be a big adjustment.”

“You want some fruit leather for the walk home, dear?” Susan offered.

“That sounds great, Susan,” Maria replied. Susan shuffled off to the kitchen, leaving you and Maria alone once more. “Listen, I know it’s a lot to take in, but you’re in good hands with Susan,” Maria uttered in a low tone so your new roommate couldn’t hear. “It’d be nice if you were able to find a way to let her indulge in some of those mother instincts. She lost her daughter, and she’ll be the first to tell you that she’s been sort of … ‘lost at sea’ ever since. Losing a child doesn’t mean you’re not a mother anymore. You’re always going to be a mother.” Something sad flashed for just a moment across her face when she spoke.

You nodded in understanding. The idea that you could fulfill someone’s emotional needs was just another outlandish concept that had turned out to be true today.

Susan sauntered back into the dining room with a small brown bag for Maria, and she placed a few pieces of dark burgundy squares on your saucer. You looked up to find her giving you a small wink and a quick squeeze on your shoulder. You must have been completely flummoxed by the day’s events because you didn’t even flinch at her touch.

“I’ll be by in the morning to check on you. Head to ours if you need anything overnight,” Maria instructed. Susan saw her out and then focused her attention squarely on you.

“Eat up, Lovebug. You’ve got a ways to go before I say you’re fit for duty,” she chuckled warmly, rubbing a swift path between your shoulder blades before clearing the rest of the dishes from the table. You were grateful for the first moment of real solitude since you had been discovered in the shed earlier today. The strange hum of electricity filled your ears, punctuated by the crackle and hiss of the fire in the living room. The cascade of water from the kitchen faucet was a white noise, just like the whip of the wind outside.

You nibble at the square of fruit leather Susan had left you, and it took all your remaining fortitude to not burst into tears at the heavenly sweet flavor of strawberries and apples.

Maria was right. This was going to be a lot for you to comprehend.

You tossed and turned for most of the night. The warm shower Susan got running for you had been an intense experience. The feeling of hot, soothing water running over your sore, damaged body was a foreign sensation, and your body didn’t know how to respond to such a pleasant thing. You lied and told Susan yes when she asked if the shower had calmed your nerves any.

The soft, warm clothes Maria found for you were a little baggy, but beggars can’t be choosers. You squirmed at the sensation of fuzzy, cozy fabric against your clean, soft skin. You felt like a different person, but your mind wandered back to your reflection from earlier.

The shower was heating up while you disrobed, and you caught sight of yourself in the vanity. You didn’t come across mirrors very often, and you tended to avoid them whenever you did. The frail, battered woman looking back at you in the crystal clear vanity mirror was unrecognizable. Was that you? Surely not. Why were your eyes so blank and flat? Was the mirror dirty? Were you so exhausted your eyes were playing tricks on you? Was it a trick of the lightning? But it was you. You’d recognize that heaping mess of curls anywhere, twirling and twisting every which way over your shoulders. It looked like a dark cloud around your head. Your fingertips grazed the muddled blues and greens across your cheek, a complimentary palette to the hues on your neck, chest, shoulder, wrists, backside, legs … You shut your eyes and turned away from the mirror.

You rushed through your shower, and Susan had somehow set up the spare bedroom in the time it took for you to get a shower and get dressed. She made no effort to hide her enthusiasm for tending to you, and after an hour or so of it you had gotten a little more comfortable with it. After all, you were doing this for Susan’s benefit, just like Maria had asked. Who were you to begrudge this hospitable, gracious woman, who hadn’t blinked twice at the notion of you living with her? She didn’t even know you. None of them did. Why were they so trusting? You knew you weren’t exactly in peak physical condition, but you were still much younger and wilier than Susan. You could overpower her if you really wanted to.

When she kept calling you “Lovebug” or “Bug” for short, you tried your best to hide the curious confusion at the nickname. Susan seemed to notice because she asked, “Do you mind me calling you that? Sorry. I have such a terrible habit with little nicknames. I can stop if it’s bothering you.” She was earnest, and you appreciated her willingness to address you by your own choice of name. “I don’t mind it at all, Susan. It’s really nice,” you promised, only partially embellishing the truth.

You had given them all a fake name, so neither one was even your actual one anyway. Maybe in the coming days you could work up the courage to introduce yourself properly. The last thing you wanted was for everyone to think you were a liar. If you weren’t trustworthy, you’d probably no longer be welcomed here, and you had nowhere else to go.

The twin size mattress in your room hugged every rigid curve and poke of your body. So much open, uncramped space was unsettling. You stretched your legs out, but it felt too strange, so you curled them back up into your chest. You silently counted the number of stars you could see from your window.

You jerk awake, and realize in a groggy haze that you must’ve fallen asleep after all. The stars you’d been counting had faded into the pale morning sky. You still and listen for any movement. Your new living arrangement slowly came back to your memory. You didn’t hear Susan. You didn’t hear anything at all. The silence was deafening and claustrophobic. There wasn’t a warning from your body before your breath began quickening in the quietude of your room. Your room. Another distressing pleasantry to add to the pile, right on top of hushed, peaceful house. The warmth of the quilt and your new clothes suddenly felt stifling. You shimmied Tommy’s jacket off you, but the oppressive heat only grew.

Locks of your unruly, kinked hair stuck to the sheen of sweat on your brow. You licked your lips, faintly aware of the chapped but not as dry as usual feel to them. You scanned the room for the glass of water Susan had left you last night. It sat empty on the nightstand. You must have drank it sometime during the night, forgetting about it just as you had forgotten drifting off entirely. A shaky leg hit the carpet followed by a firmer second leg. You tried to get your bearings through rapid, shaky inhales. The combination of plush fabric and cushy carpet on your feet was too much all at once, so you ripped your socks off.

Your new, light blue t-shirt hung loosely around your frame, but it didn’t offer reprieve from the creeping blaze spreading through your body. You gather your pants tighter, tying the drawstring in a snug knot, before prowling into the hallway and down the stairs. The walls feel like they’re closing in on you. A suffocating sensation grips your throat.

You fumble with the lock on the front door before wrenching it open and stumbling onto the porch. The icy wind that stung your face felt like a mollifying fog surrounding you, but your breaths are still coming in jolts and tremors. You clamor for the open area past the porch steps. The freezing bite of freshly fallen snow riddled your bare feet like glacial needles, and it instantly brought steadied breathing. The whip of a wintry, harsh wind collided into your body, wrapping you in a grounding clutch.

The crushing feeling of impending doom was subsiding, and you had enough of your senses to notice the dry, itchy thirst in your mouth and throat.

You surveyed your surroundings, an entirely new environment with the slow sunrise leaking faint light across everything. A large snowdrift against the side of the house caught your eye, and you trudged to it with devout focus. You were starting to lose feeling in your feet, but you managed to drop close enough to the pile of fresh snow to reach out and cram a handful of it into your desperate mouth.

Your eyes flutter closed at the quenching drip of ice across your tongue. You didn’t care that you were on your hands and knees in the snow – an oversized pair of flannel pajama pants that were getting more saturated by the second, a short sleeved cotton t-shirt, no shoes, no socks, no jacket.

You actually feel invigorated being able to flee the overstimulating house and sate your own needs. The corners of your lips turn up from all the excitement, and you hastily shovel more handfuls of snow into your mouth. You hum with satisfaction at the tranquility settling over you. The trees in your line of sight swayed gently with the gusts of cold air that make you feel present for once. For the first time, you lucidly contemplate your new situation. You’re not confined to the house anymore because you simply got up and left. You aren’t a prisoner to anyone or any place.

You push yourself back onto your knees, the tops of your feet planted firmly onto the ground on either side of your thighs. Your eyes flutter close one more, just briefly for the moment of peace that found you.

“Uhhh, you alright?”

You whip your head around to locate the voice. A teenage girl, no more than 15 or 16 at most, is eyeing you curiously from the neighboring house’s porch.

“You fall or something?” she called out, grinning despite herself at the strange scene she’d stumbled upon so early in the morning. Her face fell when you scrambled to stand and face her direction straight on, revealing your battered face and numerous bruises. Your hands ball into fists reflexively. This was the first person you had run into alone.

“Hey, whoa. You okay?” the girl asked in earnest. She kept her eyes trained on you as she took a few steps back, heading towards her front steps to make her way to you. It’s then that you see the large silhouette of a man coming from their front door. Your entire body goes rigid. Your feet feel like they’re cast in concrete, anchoring you in your spot. You can feel the tremble moving through your legs and up your body.

“Everythin’ alright over there?” His deep, booming voice sounds like thunder after hearing the small girl’s.

Your stone hold breaks with a frightened jerk at his question. He reached the banister at the edge of the porch, and the massive entirety of him seems to be looming over it to get a better view of you. His large, hulking frame wasn’t just a trick of the eye from your ground level view. He really was that broad and imposing.

Your gaze burns into him as his eyes travel to your arms, neck, wrists, cheek … You realize you must look incredibly unwell and probably in need of help. Your stomach clamps at the thought. If you were in a bad enough situation that you needed help, that only ever meant someone was waiting in the wings to take advantage of you.

Your lip quivered uncontrollably, and your teeth chattered now from fright more than frost.

“You from Canada or somethin’?” the girl playfully bids in a self-soothing tease. She’s clearly trying to downplay her bewilderment and tension at this injured, mute woman before her - outside, disheveled, and underdressed.

You hadn’t noticed the girl had already bounded down the steps and made her way right next to you. Your eyes dart between her and the man, who remained in his same place on the porch. You manage a shaky step backwards and raise your hands in front of you, palms out and waist high, in a motion of retreat.

Your brain is in overdrive. How quickly can you move before the man is able to close the gap between you? It’s stupid to even entertain the thought you could escape him. There was no doubt he could outpace you many times over. Your labored breathing is accented with errant, nervous whimpers, and you know it only serves to make you look like weaker prey.

The man on the porch gripped the railing under his incredibly large hands as he watched you closely, taking in your wary and terrified disposition. He could see the primitive terror in your eyes and face.

“Give her space, Ellie,” he commanded sternly to the girl. You jump again at the sound of his deep voice. He has an unfriendly face, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. There’s something more gentle there. Not gentle enough for you to let your guard down, however.

“So, you got a name or . . .?” Ellie pressed, fascinated with her new wild woman neighbor.

Your cognition was on the fritz. You offered your name -your real name, not the made up one you had been giving. Your eyes felt like they were going to snap out of your head from zipping between Ellie and the man on the porch so fast.

Ellie didn’t seem put off by you whatsoever as she introduced herself.

“I’m Joel,” the broad, intimidating man informed you as he raised one of his hands from the railing to send a single, jerky wave. You recoiled at the small movement despite the fact that he was several feet away from you. His hand returned to the railing within seconds of your jumpy reaction. You had to stall for a moment, just long enough to buy yourself enough time to build up the courage to make a break for it. “Huh-Hi. Ellie. An-And Joel,” you grunted so quietly it’s a wonder how either of them heard you at all.

The sound of your name - the fake one you had given Tommy, Maria, and Susan - turned everyone’s heads to your front porch where Susan stood, looking very concerned.

“Oh dear, my little Lovebug, come inside!” she beckoned, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders tighter as she made to come into the yard to gather you.

“I-I’m coming, Susan. S-Sorry,” you croak. Your throat is back to feeling dry and scratchy again. Your steps are heavy and wobbly, but you cower away from Ellie who had kindly tried to steady you. “Jesus, sorry,” she muttered, unsure of what she did to make you so nervous. You walked faster now towards Susan, just in case Ellie - or worse, Joel - decided to try to help you walk.

“I’wa - Jus thought’a - Thought I heard s-something. Came ta’see the n-noise,” you lied through chattering teeth, making the short trip to meet Susan on your front steps.

“Bug, you’re safe here. It’s alright. You don’t have to go looking for noises. It’s not that kind of place,” she reassured you, rubbing a hand against your shoulder.

You felt safer next to Susan even though she was even less capable of defending herself or you from Ellie and Joel if she had to. You fidget nervously with your shirt and wish your feet weren’t numb from the cold so the freezing sensation could still be a distraction to you.

“Besides, if there’s any noise, sweet Joel here will come to our rescue. He and his sweet little daughter Ellie. Tommy is Joel’s brother, you know,” she added as extra encouragement, sensing your tense mood.

It was clear Susan was fond of both Miller brothers as well as Ellie. You glanced over to Joel to find him still studying you. His searching gaze made you uncomfortable, so you dropped it and looked the other way.

“Yeah, I th-think Maria had, uh, h-had said that,” you mumbled.

“Oh my word, you are out here with hardly a thing on! You don’t even have any shoes on! Bug, come inside this instant!” Susan scolded with no real malice behind her words. She ushered you up the steps with a wide arm.

“Nice to meet you,” Ellie called out in what sounded almost like a question.

You peeked back over to her and then to Joel, who nodded once in acknowledgement that he shared the sentiment. You snapped your head forward and headed inside with Susan.

Thank you everyone who read ch1 and have come back for this next one. It means a lot, and it really does make me happy that people seem to have a connection with it.

A quote I think fits really well with this chapter is from Sylvia Plath: "Is there no way out of the mind?"

Catch ya later,

♥Puddles♥

#fic: feral woman #fw #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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