#cs two part fic
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Finished Work: “The Weight of the Crown (is a Feather on the Waves)”
At long last here is the conclusion to @kmomof4‘s birthday fic begun back in October. I am sorry it took so long Krystal, but I hope you will enjoy!
Summary: Newly crowned Queen Emma must face her childhood friend, now arrested for piracy, and the responsibility to her crown and people weighs all too heavily on her shoulders. Killian may be a pirate, but there is more to the story than others know, and she can hardly bear to betray him now.
This is now (maybe?) almost M-rated in the second part. I’ll let you readers be the judge of that. The last two section breaks are where that occurs, so if you don’t want to read my attempts at a love scene stop at that next-to-last page break.
Link to Part One Here on Tumblr
Also available on Ao3, if that is your preference....
Part Two
They were hardly out on the open sea, barely beyond her kingdom’s waters, when Emma - thrilled though she was to be reunited with her dearest friend and practically trembling with awareness at the feel of his calloused hand over hers on the wheel while he guided her through steering his ship - felt the pangs of guilt creeping into her awareness. She had abandoned her post, left her duty undone. The throne she had been raised to take over, the people she had been trained to rule, all her life, were left behind with those cold, unfeeling sycophants in her absence.
Her breath hitched in her chest, a choked sort of cry stifled inside her before it could make much sound, was either heard or felt by Killian all the same. Near as their bodies were pressed together at the helm against the crisp, strident wind coming off the waves, it was no real surprise he had caught the movement, but more than that, he had always possessed an uncanny ability to recognize her moods, knowing when she was angry, amused or troubled - sometimes before she could fully realize it herself.
“Come now, Swan,” he crooned softly at her ear, his free arm not helping to steer wrapped around her waist as his warm breath ruffled the loose curls blown free about her face by the wind. “Talk to me, Princess… you always could before.”
Emma swallowed, not sure where to begin or quite how to explain. It was the truth; once upon a time he had been her trusted ally - and she his as well - but this flight from her own land had been her decision. To free him and abscond herself, she had chosen that willingly, and she did not intend to make him feel as though he were at fault. Shaking her head slightly, Emma gave no response, though she did lean into his side where they stood together at the bow, relishing the comfort of his embrace on her wrought emotions.
It would seem, however - just as when they were young - that Killian could not leave a problem at rest if it might be within his power to solve it. Merely holding her apparently would not do, even if for several quiet minutes they each soaked up the peaceful stillness in the warmth of each other’s presence after years apart. Yet, after an interval, his low voice husked once again, pleading gently but fervently, “Princess, please… let me in. I have not been away so long as to not know when you are troubled.”
Sighing, Emma turned just slightly, pulling away merely far enough to look into Killian’s eyes and trace a finger across his furrowed brow as he studied her with concern. She felt as if she no longer deserved the title, but the way he called her Princess, the way his beloved voice enveloped the honorific, warmed her to her very soul. Rather than flattery or forced obeisance, from Killian, it felt like the birthright it had always been meant to be.
“You need not call me that,” she finally whispered, looking away with a sense of shame. She could not have stood by and seen him sacrificed, not when she was the only person who could prevent it, but had she instead sacrificed all the other lives meant to be in her care?
“What… Princess?” he questioned, knowing what she meant, but having to be sure, because of course she was the Princess - his Princess - nothing could ever change that. “Why would you say such a thing?”
“I left my people to those vultures!” she spat, pushing from his arms and taking several steps away, to lean over the ship’s rail gulping lungfuls of the brisk, chill air, needing the distance to keep herself from sinking back into his arms and allowing him to soften the blow. “I acted out of my own wishes, fleeing what I could not bear, regardless of their needs. A-and even before that…I was only…pretending. I am not my parents… I could never be the ruler that they were together.”
Killian didn’t hesitate for even a second to follow her, trailing her along the ship’s railing and reeling her into the solid warmth of his chest once more, her nose tickled briefly by the hair peeking from the open collar of his shirt as she clung to his waist, breathing in the scent of him that she had almost forgotten with the years - salt of sea spray, a spicy musk, worn wooden planks, and fresh ocean breeze. She couldn’t help but feel some sort of pressure inside her release. Since her parents’ loss, and their state funeral, the rituals and decisions which had to be made, she had put up a shield, forced herself to remain strong, to cover the fear, the despair, the trembling grief rending her heart in two. She could ill afford to show weakness; she had to embody strength. Yet, there in Killian’s arms on the open water, so far from the court and the whispers and how she had been forced to hide, Emma could finally let go.
Before she knew it was coming, she was sobbing into his skin, melting at the feel of his strong hand gently stroking her back, soothing murmurs whispered into her hair. The whipping wind and crashing waves hid the sound and swept her tears away as they fell. She could finally grieve, and it refused to be held back any longer.
“Let it out, Darling,” he crooned, swaying slightly with her enclosed safely in his grasp, only letting go enough to lightly stay their course with a slight turn of the wheel. He would be there for her in this moment. There was nothing he wanted more. It was why he had returned, risking his mission, his freedom, his very life, to do so. He had known what the loss of her mother and father would do to her, how alone she would feel, and yet how determined she would be to carry on. Never would he have expected anything less from the young royal he had grown up beside. He had missed much in the intervening years, including the joy of seeing her blossom into the stunning woman who had first met his eyes as he was brought before her throne for judgement.
Had it truly been just yesterday? His mind reeled at how quickly so much had changed, and he could only imagine the havoc playing on Emma’s emotions already wrung and strained to the limit by grief and isolation.
Still, there were some things time and distance did not change. Even as children, she had seen him no differently than herself or any of the other highborn youth she knew. He was accepted and valued as an equal, just as he knew she had been raised seeing her parents treat the youngest or most lowly of servants with the same respect given to the highest officials and visiting dignitaries. She had come by her goodness and fair, kind heart most naturally, and it had been nurtured by loving parents who saw that gentle grace as strength rather than weakness. Of course, she feared to fail those whom she saw as her responsibility with her parents’ loss. Killian would wish her to be no other way. Still, he hated to see her in pain and regretted that his capture while seeking to ascertain if she was well had meant such a wrenching decision on her part.
Letting her have all the time she needed (the heavens above only knew how long she had been damming such raw heartache and fear inside) he only spoke again beyond soothing murmurs when he felt her drawing a large, shaky breath to steady herself and her tears finally slowed.
“Emma, darling, please know that I am in awe of you - the risk you took, the sacrifice you made to save my unworthy hide.” Here he crooked his forefinger, placing it under her chin to tilt her face up to meet his eyes. Relieved when she offered a watery smile in return, he continued. “All the same, I do not expect to keep you from your birthright any longer than necessary. Nor would I force you to choose between myself and your beloved subjects who need you. It was never my intention to stay gone from Misthaven permanently…”
Emma shook her head uncomprehendingly, her mussed golden hair flying about her face in the breeze, even as he attempted to smooth it back for her solicitously. “But Killian,” she protested, “you cannot mean to return now. It would be suicide - or madness! They intended to force your execution!”
“Oh aye,” he affirmed, eyes glittering with a banked strength and cool calculation that sent shivers up and down her spine. “I know that is their goal. However, if we find what I have been seeking all this time, I will gain redemption, and we will end their covetous grasping for power once and for all.”
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Emma’s blunt but eagerly intrigued questions in spite of her initial confusion had bolstered Killian’s confidence when he began to haltingly explain the proof he had sought, keeping him far from her for so long. Her brow scrunched in serious thought was utterly charming, leaving him absolutely unable to resist kissing that furrow lightly before he pressed on, illuminating the plot he believed he had uncovered.
In the years since he had known Emma well, since he had set sail with his brother, newly named Captain of his own ship, full of wide-eyed dreams and the naive belief of winning glory and proving himself worthy upon his return to seek her hand, much had changed. He often felt he could barely remember that young lieutenant with the entire world in front of him. Liam’s loss, and the treachery which had caused it, had changed his life’s trajectory. Killian had vowed in the pit of anger and despair that he would not return to Misthaven until he had physical proof in hand; the supporting evidence he needed to see justice done. And he had been sailing with that goal, wandering far from home and comfort, ever since. All the same, when, in some backwater dockside tavern, word reached his ears of the king and queen’s deaths - of the loss Emma had suffered - nothing else had mattered more than reaching her side. Now that they were reunited, it was time he confided in her; she deserved to know the truth he sought.
Even as his words had barely begun to spill from his lips, Killian felt some fraction of their weight lift from his shoulders. Emma seemed to understand their magnitude almost immediately, and looked up at him with unblinking devotion, not flinching or pulling away, but trusting his word without question. She didn’t interrupt with questions or reasoning at all, even when he spoke of the duplicitous nature of their mission learned too late and whom he suspected was responsible. Only when he choked out, voice faltering tremulously, how Liam had died in his arms, did she move at all, pulling him closer and running her fingers gently through the hair at the nape of his neck in silent comfort. His eyes closed involuntarily with unshed tears at the soothing gesture, sheer relief still flooding him merely at unveiling the hurt he had carried alone for so many years.
Her unswerving support and acceptance, the sense that Emma would stand behind him whatever he revealed bolstered him as he began to explain further - painful as it was, it was needed too, like lancing a festered wound. He was finally able to purge the haunting darkness that lingered over the memories of that special, top secret quest to a distant and long-forgotten island, and how Liam’s blind faith in the honor of their superiors had led to his demise. By the time he reached the realization he had come to - that he and his brother had been used as pawns and considered an acceptable loss - and revealed the blackguards he feared were still lurking in the naval hierarchy and the royal court as well, Emma’s fingers clutched his arms with a white-knuckled grip, her lips pressed firmly in a thin line. Yet, though she appeared pale and shaken, she clearly did not doubt him. He loved her all the more for it, even as his heart broke to shatter her good faith in some of those whom her own parents had trusted and she had been led to as well.
“Killian,” she whispered, eyes wide and the tiniest of tremors coursing through her as she looked to him almost plaintively. “Could these same people have caused my parents’ deaths as well? The sickness struck them both so suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere. Would these villains’ treachery truly aim that high?”
Her words struck new resolve into his vow. Though he had long since sworn that he would not rest until Liam was avenged, seeing Emma’s pain, and knowing all too well that the villainy she suggested was entirely possible, renewed his commitment to justice - for his brother, his hero, and for her parents as well. He might still be without the tangible proof he needed to see those responsible punished, but he would get it. He knew it was out there. He hadn’t been able to find it alone, but together he knew they would. He would never stop fighting, and he had yet to see Emma fail.
Hating that his response would almost surely rip open anew wounds that were only barely beginning to heal, Killian sighed before looking her steadily in the eye. A quick, somber dip of his chin affirmed her query as well as his weighted “Aye” that followed.
Emma’s breath felt trapped somewhere in her throat at his affirmation. Those same advisors and nobles who had wanted her to hang this man beside her, his strong arms the only thing holding her together, were likely hiding the villain he sought. Grasping, devious jackals, they had clung onto her parents’ robes for years, snapping up any rewards and morsels they could get their hands on. Did they plot to topple the King and Queen for their own gain? What more could they be seeking? They’d been well taken care of - more than Emma had often thought they deserved. Could they really think she would grant them more? They had to know better… Or did they think she would be more easily misled? Fooled and towed along under their influence?
Her thoughts richocheted around inside her head; her breaths growing more rapid and labored before she even realized, until Killian gently murmured soothing nonsense in her ear, wrapped one arm more tightly around her shoulder and lead her over to where she could sit on a large barrel near his place at the wheel.
Suddenly though, she did not wish to be soothed. She wanted to charge back into her kingdom, into the throne room and demand the truth. Challenge them all, look them in the eyes, and discover any who had actually dared to repay her mother and father’s mercy and kindness with murder. She couldn’t bear to let the indignant fire burn low. It was not to be borne!
Once more it seemed he could read her mind. “Emma, love, I know the anger you’re feeling,” he began gently, not coddling her, but lingering within reach the moment she needed him. “Your parents were the best people I know… outside of Liam… and yourself, of course.”
She couldn’t help the way her heart fluttered at Killian’s warmth and sincerity in that admission, even as her ire rose again when he continued.
“They did not deserve such repayment for their generosity - nor did Liam in his trust and dedication. But do not give all over to vengeance. It’s a dangerous slope I have nearly fallen down too many times since Liam’s death. We must be strong, Love. We will see justice done, I swear it. But I will not see you lose who you are in the process.”
Tears burned against the back of her lids as she blinked rapidly, determined not to let more fall. She wondered almost dazedly how there could be any water left within her to cry. For months now, ever since her mother had followed her father into unconsciousness and it became frightfully clear they might not recover, that she might never again see their eyes open to gaze on her with the loving, doting expressions she had taken for granted all her life, she had felt so alone. She had held her head high as they planned the funeral service, chosen their final robes and garb, accepted expressions of loyalty and support from foreign leaders, and weathered suggestions and criticism from her own counsel. Through it all, she had held fast like a rock outcropping in a raging sea, buffetted and struck by waves over and again, yet unmoved, though she felt the wearing pressure with each strike. To have him there before her now, blue gaze burning intensely into her own, hands clasping hers tightly as if to even more fervently impress upon her the sincerity of his words. His vow was sealed, he would not be swayed whatever might come, and for Emma that was more than enough, more than she could have looked for. After barely holding the tattered pieces of her life together for so long with just her own two trembling hands, his support, his added strength, was everything to her in that moment.
And so, when he bent his head to lightly kiss her brow in reassurance, Emma tipped her head back, pushed up onto her toes and brought her lips to meet his instead. Her unexpected fervor lent her unerring accuracy, and as their mouths met, Emma felt a sense of rightness unlike any she had ever known. A shudder ran through Killian at the show of passion, but he didn’t pull away, with a low rumble of pleasure in his chest, he gathered her to himself and pressed further, delving into the kiss with a fire that stole her remaining breath.
There emblazoned against the sun burning on the far horizon, Princess Emma’s roiling, storm-tossed world righted itself again. She could see the course before her, with her pirate at the helm, standing at his side. And together, they would not fail.
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It was some months later yet, when they sailed into Misthaven’s port once more. As Killian’s ship jauntily sliced through the lapping waves of the bustling harbor, seagulls crying overhead and his crewmen calling out to those on shore as they tossed out lines and manuevered toward an empty berth, Emma stood at the rail, eyes wide to take in every detail of her beloved homeland, anxious to see if there had been any noticeable changes. The salt breeze lifted her loose blond hair off her neck, and she turned her face into it, savoring the crisp, invigorating air and the freedom it whispered to her.
In truth, if she had not felt so responsible for things here, were she not duty bound to return and see wrongs made right, she would have stayed at sea with Killian forever. The shipboard life had more than agreed with her as days, and then weeks, had rolled by - it had been exhilarating.
And, with a wry smile and knowing shake of the head, she conceded to herself as she glanced down at the looser, lighter garb she wore, Emma found herself humorously wondering if any of those in the cabinet she had left behind would even recognize her. She had to admit to herself that she did look more like the buccaneers around her on the Jolly’s deck than the sheltered princess she had been when she left.
She had never imagined herself leaving Misthaven at all, but now it felt strange returning to her home. Perhaps the real truth was that her home had shifted. She let her gaze scan the wooden planks and spars until they found Killian’s form standing tall, directing his men, manning the wheel; capable, in chage, and electrically commanding all her attention the moment her eyes rested on his beloved face. Home was with him now; she had cast her lot as clearly as he had his own.
And then before she knew it, they were disembarking, her hand resting warily on Killian’s arm, alert to be sure none would move to take him from her before they had said their piece. His men remained with the ship, watching over it steadfastly until their captain returned, knowing none would dare board or try to take her from them.
All eyes on the long dock turned toward their wayward ruler as she walked on the arm of a known brigand, a criminal whose visage they must surely have seen gracing wanted posters from here to the castle. As they stepped off the gangplank, Emma forced herself to hold the gaze of any who met hers, to carry herself, not only as the returning monarch of her realm, but as the pirate queen she had just begun to find within.
She could feel Killian’s muscles tense beneath her fingers, coiled and ready for action at the slightest provocation or mere hint of a threat toward her. Even by touching only his wiry forearm, she took comfort in the vigilance and surety he radiated - even moreso as he placed his hook in clear view of any who might approach them. The false casualty of the way he held himself sent as clear a message as anything could that neither of them were to be trifled with - and that he had the ability to back up his unspoken threat.
The crowd along the wharf parted for them on either side as they made their way along the streets to the path which would lead them all the way to her castle. Emma could feel countless stares peppering her skin, but she merely kept her face forward, standing tall, her hand on Killian’s arm as they passed through the throng determined not to let any of her nerves or uncertainty show.
It seemed to take no time to reach their destination, and looking up at the familiar walls of strong, unyielding stone, Emma marveled that though it had been months, and she felt changed to her very core, the castle keep seemed as it ever had - unaltered in its grandeur, and familiar as if it had merely been awaiting her return. They were let in immediately by many of the same guards who had watched over Emma and her family all of her life, and though she stiffened at the mistrustful, cold stares directed her pirate’s way, no worse action followed, and they entered unmolested.
Emma knew the way, and she did not hesitate. She felt emotion rising deep inside her, but it was not fear of what they would face next, or fear of not being welcomed back to her rightful place. Instead, it was righteous anger and the churning in her gut calling for vindication - for Liam Jones, for her parents… and for Killian himself. They had found their proof at last, gained testimony form a witness who confirmed what Killian had always suspected. Vipers in their court, posing as friends while wrecking havoc and setting up a future for themselves, no matter the cost to those sacrificed on the way.
As they reached the Grand Hall, she clutching the vial in her hand and Killian with sworn witness statement in his grasp, Emma stormed into the council meeting she knew would be in progress. She would not wait, nor give the culprits any chance to sneak off and avoid capture. They had surprise on their side, and they would rapidly lose that as word traveled of their arrival.
The mammoth wooden doors swung back with a dull thud against the stone wall as Emma charged through, heedless of the commotion, and headed right into the midst of her arguing, overdressed advisors. Marching forward, she didn’t stop until she came to a halt right at the end of the large table where the others sat. Her green eyes flashed with righteous lightning, her lithe form straight and proud, and her shoulders back as she stared them all down with a magnificence that stole Killian’s breath. He could not take his eyes off her.
Her “Uncle” Grumpy stood awkwardly, spluttering and starting off, “Now, see here…”
But it was not the angry man or his nervous looking brothers who held Emma’s attention. She was busy watching the reactions of Lady Bleu and Sir Sidney in particular. While Granny Lucas, and even traditional old Marco, at least had the decency to express their joy and relief at seeing her home and well, Emma studied the furtive glances and anxious squirming that sought to go unnoticed in those she already knew were guilty.
And when Lady Bleu stood from her seat at the head of the table, facing Emma, clearly having become council head in the new queen’s absence, opened her mouth to begin a falsely gentle reprimand about how things were done and barging in to disrupt a meeting’s progress, Emma was ready.
Though he had been searching longer, had given so much of himself, and had every bit as strong and just a claim, Killian only stood at her shoulder, a silent, firm support as she faced them all down. He knew she must show strength and leadership here, to take back what was rightfully hers from those who had plotted to wrest it away.
“You lost sight of ‘how we do things’ long ago,” Emma warned in a voice that brooked no condescension or subterfuge, not anymore. Holding up the vial in her hand, containing the poison for all those gathered to see. “This would not exist otherwise. My parents would still be here to guide us, as would Captain Liam Jones of their royal navy,” she intoned gravely.
It was obvious to all how Lady Bleu’s admonishments died on her tongure, and she sank wordlessly to her seat; not to mention how all color drained from Sir Sidney’s visage. Not a word or sound escaped his uselessly opening and closing mouth.
They had a captive audience then, and were not interrupted as Emma placed the deadly vial on the table and explained just what it could do - the damage it had already done. Even as she then ceded the floor to Killian to explain his part of the tale, one which went back much further than she knew, none of their listeners moved or seemed to breathe. Their claims from months ago that still rang in Emma’s ear and haunted her nightmares - that he was only a filthy, marauding pirate, not even deserving to live - seemed forgotten in the wake of the revelations and evidence he laid before them. Finally they knew, as Emma always had, that he had only deserted because his orders, his superiors, had been corrupt. He had gone rogue to find the truth and make things right.
In light of the knowledge they had procured, it did not take the rest of the council long to find the conspirators for the crown guilty, leading them away until they could be tried. Perhaps it made Emma cruel, but she could not deny the satisfaction she felt at Lady Bleu, Sir Sidney, and a few keys others she knew less well, being led away to the cells as Killian had been not so very long ago.
Looking over to him, Emma found her sailor already watching her with an awed and peaceful look in his eye - one she had not seen since he and his brother set sail on that fateful mission years ago. It was finally done. He had seen his vow fulfilled.
Tears started in the corner of Emma’s eyes, though they didn’t yet fall. She had not known to make such a vow, but the image of her mother’s kind hearted, hopeful face swam before her eyes just then, remembering all the times Queen Snow had told her daughter about their duty to their people, the privilege and honor they enjoyed, and the care and respect their subjects were due in return. To think that some of those Snow had most trusted in her mission to rule an honest and fair kingdom had betrayed her; had plotted the demise of one so pure of heart and devoted to their well-being, sliced Emma’s heart open anew. Yet, to think that she had aided in some small measure in seeing that poisonous root dug out and exposed once and for all… it was the best thing she could have done to honor her mother’s memory.
Killian’s face clearly showed he could read her thoughts and understood them only too well. They lingered just long enough to see that things would be stable until morning - and to be certain all were fully aware of Captain Jones’ full pardon, before they excused themselves for the night. Exhaustion both physical and mental was beginning to take hold, and there would be much more yet to do on the morrow.
It had been a long and arduous journey, but they could at last drop anchor and draw breath in peace. As they slipped below deck into his cabin, Emma drew strength from that, and for the moment let it be enough.
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Below decks as her captain lit a lamp and some candles to flicker gently against the darkness, and Emma could once more feel the easy rocking of the waves she had grown to love, tension and worry slid from her shoulders like a discarded cloak. She watched Killian move gracefully about the small space while she stood near his bunk, simply drinking him in with wide eyes, finally believing that the worst battle had been won, and they were still together, standing in his sacred space, readily made hers as well.
His gaze found hers across the room, and though there was still an echo of long-held grief within his eyes, there was affection and the sparkle of dawning joy in the stunning blue as well. A smile lifted one corner of his lips as he made his way toward her, one Emma returned with warmth suffusing her at his look and her heart fluttering madly in her chest.
He had long since discarded his leather great coat over the back of a chair, but now one-handed he was deftly unbuttoning the last few buttons he had bothered with at all, and his loose shirt fell open, exposing the dark hair that trailed down his firm stomach, the sight making Emma’s mouth go dry. Though she had been presented when she came of age, courted and wooed by eligible young royals and nobles from far and wide, she was still largely innocent when it came to men, Killian standing before her in his open shirt and simple breeches the most undressed she had ever seen one - anything else she knew came from extremely furtive research in the castle library and her own imagination.
Until this very moment in fact, when she found herself lightheaded and dizzy with what she could only assume was true need and desire, she had never wanted to see more of anyone else; her memories and dreams of the man standing before her now had been enough. Her pulse pounded wildly, hammering at her temple as he continued drawing closer, holding her in his thrall, until he soundlessly came to a halt right in front of her.
“Are you alright, Emma?” he murmured, bending to peer into her face more closely, concern at her speechlessness and rapid breathing clear on his countenance as he delicately brushed a stray hair back from her face.
She tried to find her voice, but still found herself nodding mutely in response; eyes drinking him in ravenously, but her mouth dry with nervous surprise and giddy anticipation; her tongue seemingly fused to the roof of her mouth.
“My Princess,” he added, his voice as much a caress as his fingers over the apple of her cheek, trailing down her neck, and skimming across her collarbone. The rough callouses from years hauling ropes, gripping the wheel, manning his ship through all weather and danger, were a delicious contrast to the soft delicacy of her own skin, and Emma shivered despite herself. Catching her lower lip between her teeth, she continued to hold her pirate’s gaze, pleading with him to continue his ministrations, which she had no words to explain. Her face flamed at her own brazen desire even as she stepped backward just once, enough to feel the bunk against the back of her knees, and then rose on tiptoes to press her bosom more fully into his wandering hand, mewling for a kiss until his mouth fully captured hers.
Killian’s eyes widened at Emma’s actions, a groan reverberating in his chest, almost pained to hesitate longer. When he swept his tongue between her willing lips, she gasped, trembling, but far from protesting leaned further into his arms, opening gladly as her eyes slid closed in bliss.
Clutching Killian’s arms to keep herself from collapse, Emma’s senses reeled at the onslaught he brought to life within. She felt at once burning from the inside out and doused in cool relief at finally knowing his passionate touch. It was nothing to fall back upon the thin mattress which had held her sailor all the nights they had been apart, and open her arms for him, welcoming him to her embrace in turn. She felt chills at being parted from his warmth for even a second after the inferno he had stoked in her veins, and she could only feel euphoria when he lunged forward, covering her with his long, lean frame once more.
Drawing a shuddering breath, Emma brought both hands to cradle Killian’s scruffy cheeks between her palms, searching his waiting expression and lovingly stroking her thumb along the trace of the scar beneath his right eye.
“My Love?” Killian whispered, his breath bearing warm concern as he voiced the question.
“Yes, Killian,” she murmured, nodding vigorously and pulling him closer still, both answering his soft address and granting him permission, giving him all, and urging him on, at once. “Please…”
The smile which broke over Killian’s face then was incandescent, crinkling up the corners of his eyes and transforming his entire aspect to pure joy. “Oh, my Swan,” he crooned, leaning down to briefly capture her lips again, then languidly, sensuously beginning to trail down her body, eyes still watching her with a devilish humor twinkling beyond the sheer devotion.
“Killian,” she managed, trembling at his every touch and fluttering breath along her skin, knowing they have finally neared the point when they will become one.
With purpose, he pulled one of her boots, then the other, from her feet, followed by her stockings, and then he was working the tight borrowed breeches she had worn since boarding his ship down her legs and baring the very heart of her to his hungry eyes.
Lifting her foot to bestow a kiss to its arch, Killian ran the cool steel curve of his hook up her leg with weighted portent, from the ankle he still held aloft all the way to the crease where her leg joined her body, making her squirm at the proximity to where she already sensed such need for his touch, even if the wealth of those pleasures were yet unknown to her.
Emma flushed all over at how the blue of Killian’s eyes darkened and burned as he drank her in, actually licking his lips while that devouring gaze travelled the length of her laid out before him and came to rest where she felt embarrassingly, desperately wet and clenching for his touch. She did not know what to say or how to urge him on, and as he hovered over her, she almost tried to hide or cover herself, before he worked his hips into the cradle of her quivering thighs, running his hand along her bared side and mouthing encouragements into her skin.
“Swan, Love, you are a marvel,” he proclaimed, his scruff abrading her most sensitive skin, tingling and sending shivers of ecstasy out from the very center of her to top of her head and the tips of her fingers and toes. “And I find…” here he pressed several openmouthed kisses to punctuate his words before again trailing his hook along the path his lips had made. “Pirate that I am…” until his hand and the carefully wielded steel held her open for his onslaught as she panted and writhed, torn between pleading for more and begging for mercy, “I find I must stake my claim to such decadent… unsullied… treasure.”
Then his tongue and teeth were there, feeling as if he would turn her inside out in bliss. Emma’s fingers scrabbled wildly for purchase across the sheets and fisted in his hair, her head thrashing desperately on the pillow beneath it. “It’s - Oh!....Ah! Y- y- yours!” she managed to cry before she was wailing, crying to the moon and stars overhead at the sensations he was wringing from her body, feelings she had never known she could experience to miss them before that moment.
**************** ****************************** *****************
After the wave had crested and fallen, and Killian had indeed claimed her yet again, Emma lay boneless and sated, running her fingers through his sweaty hair as his head rested on her chest, ear pressed to her still-racing heart, sprawled half atop her and half to her side. Though she had her kingdom to rule, and the person beside her who could help her, be her partner just as her parents had done and would surely have wished for her, Queen Emma of Misthaven could have happily basked in the glow of that simple quiet moment forever, never moving from that very spot.
“I’m yours,” she reiterated calmly, solemn and true, no longer pitched in the throes of passion. She stroked her fingertips over his brow lightly, as if to soothe him to his rest after such wondrous exertions. “Body and soul, Killian Jones.”
And before they both let sleep claim them, he gathered her closer still, arms wrapped around her tightly and nose nuzzling into her neck, Killian replied, “Aye, my Treasure, body and soul, just as I am yours.”
Tagging: @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @laschatzi @whimsicallyenchantedrose @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @anmylica @sotangledupinit @donteattheappleshook @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @winterbaby89 @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @darkcolinodonorgasm @hollyethecurious @stahlop @xarandomdreamx @lfh1226-linda @drowned-dreamer @zaharadessert
#cs two part fic#cs EF au#captain duckling au#the weight of the crown (is a feather on the waves)#part two#the conclusion#at last#birthday fic for @kmomof4
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The Best Kept Secret on the Grid || Part Four
MV, CL, CS, LH, LN, PG, GR, FA, DR, OP x fem!reader
Warnings: fluff and flirting (sorry there will be smut next time) Reader gets to go on a hunt of her own!
WC: 3.1k
F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five
Thank you to @kimi240302 for being inspired to make this collage, it’s perfect! 💕 and it inspired this fic!
It was strange that the elevator had arrived on your floor, and even stranger that it was empty. Your penthouse apartment took up the entire top floor of the building and required a keycard just to use the private elevator. Only Max had the spare keycard.
Sticking your head inside you found it wasn’t entirely empty. Tucked into the corner was a gift box tied off with a delicate silver bow, your name written on the tag hanging from it. You thought about calling Max first but it wasn’t unusual to receive gifts from him so you carried it inside and opened it.
Your jaw dropped at the beautiful ball gown neatly placed inside. Each crystal of the glittering bodice was individually sewn on with meticulous care and it must have cost a small fortune to make. There wasn’t even a label to give a clue as to who the designer was, but it was clearly custom made and you knew without even stepping into it that it would fit perfectly.
Lifting the train out, you found an equally stunning half mask along with a small blank card that you turned over. Hand written in an elegant script is said: Le Bal Masqué 2200. You looked at the time and saw there was just over an hour to get ready.
You had just settled the mask over your styled hair when there was a knock on your door and you slipped your heels on before answering. Expecting to see Max waiting, you were surprised to find a stranger holding a card with your name on it, silently handing it over before you could ask what was going on.
It’s your turn to find us tonight,
M.
“Your car is downstairs, madame,” the messenger said as he held the elevator door open for you.
The excitement brought a smile to your face as you stepped inside, wondering just what he had planned for you. You obviously weren’t hunting them the same way they chased you on the island, the dress was far too nice to ruin.
You were occupied by your thoughts the entire drive through the streets of Monte Carlo until you arrived at a cliff side residence. The gates opened at the car’s approach and you could see the mansion was full of men wearing their finest suits.
“Have a lovely evening, madame,” the chauffeur said as he opened the door for you.
You thanked him as you stepped out, your entrance garnering plenty of envious stares from the women and looks of longing from men loitering on the steps. You had scanned what you could see of the men’s faces beneath the masks and determined why this was a hunt - three had the same blue eyes and dirty blonde hair as Max while two could have easily been Charles at first glance.
Smiling to yourself, you climbed the stairs and entered the large foyer full of men who could all pass for yours.
“Champagne?” You took the flute from the waiter’s tray and saw two rolls of stickers beside it. Noticing the curious lift of your brow above the diamante mask, the waiter tapped the first roll. “The green sticker is for when you believe you have found one of the drivers here this evening, there are only ten so choose wisely. If you believe you have found an imposter, place a red dot on their lapel and they will be escorted off the premises. You have until midnight. Happy hunting.”
You smirked over the rim of your champagne flute and grabbed the roll of red stickers first. Turning to survey the crowd, you chuckled as you whispered to yourself, “Oh Max, you’ve outdone yourself.”
“Enjoying your evening?”
You turned to the man with a thick Spanish accent and immediately knew he wasn’t your Nando, though the jawline beneath the mask followed the same curve and his short beard was shaped similarly. The voice was too deep and the eyes were more green than hazel to match Nando’s so you plucked a red dot from the reel and slapped it on his suit as you answered, “Extremely. Thank you for coming.”
His lips turned down and a large unmasked man stepped out of the shadows, already guiding him out of the residence. You were already making your way to the ballroom where the crowd swelled, dozens and dozens congregating on the dance floor where a band were playing new hit singles but in a classical way. Perhaps band wasn’t the right term, there were so many instruments it was practically an orchestra.
An arm curled around your waist as you swayed to the music and you tipped your head back to meet a pair of brown eyes so dark they were almost black. He didn’t speak as he pulled you closer and for the first time you weren’t certain if the man was an imposter or your Esteban.
“You’re not going to ask how my night is going?” you baited him, a quick smiling parting his lips as he shook his head. Pursing your lips, you weren’t ready to rule him out with a red sticker but you needed to hear his voice to decide if he was worth one of the precious ten green dots in your hand. “Then how about a drink instead?”
His smile grew as he took your hand in his and led you to one of the small bars dotted around the ballroom. Looking at the long fingers laced with yours, you saw a thin tan line on his index finger where a ring had spent a lot of time and you tried to remember if Esteban had one too. Charles, Pierre and Lando definitely did but the memory of Estie’s hand drew a blank - you knew his fingers from how they felt between your legs not by sight apparently.
“Two piña coladas, please,” you ordered as you watched what features you could around the mask but there was no sign of disgust. “One for the road,” you added as you placed a red sticker on his collar.
“How did you know?” the lookalike asked with an English accent.
“Pineapples.” You shrugged and took the cocktail that was placed in front of you. “He hates them.”
Half an hour later the crowd had thinned dramatically. The security team had been kept busy as you felt like the Oprah meme, slapping red dots on the imposters - you get one, and you get one. With a large portion of men gone you were able to focus better and there were two men in particular you had your eye on.
All it took was one laugh and you were peeling back the first green sticker, heading for the pair of dark haired men chatting in the library. Their backs were to you as they laughed at silly book titles and you announced your arrival with a kiss to the shadow of a beard before sticking the green dot to his forehead.
“You two together was always going to be a dead giveaway,” you teased as you stuck another sticker on Lando’s nose. “Only Carlos can make you laugh like that.”
“Don’t tell me we were first?” he whined as he saw the otherwise full strip of green dots. “How have you not found George?”
You trailed a finger over the perfect lines of his suit before tugging the bow tie around his neck. He swallowed at the smouldering look in your eyes and let you drag him closer by the throat until your lips brushed his ear. “Why don’t you help me?”
His lips parted to answer but Carlos pulled him away before he could impart the information he knew. Blocking you with his body, Carlos shook his head at your attempt to break the younger driver. “Rules are rules, hermosa, and you are running out of time.”
He jutted his chin at the grandfather clock and smirked as he ducked from your reach with a laugh when you tried to take back the green sticker. “Uh uh uh, I’m well and truly yours.”
“You’re lucky you’re handsome,” you warned as you left them to their game and continued your hunt. “Alright, George, Gerorge, George, where would you be…oh.”
You had wandered through the throngs of people inside the impressive mansion but you hadn’t explored the rest of the property. It was very easy to understand Lando’s complaint when you walked out the wide open doors to the infinity pool set on the cliff face.
“I’m not sure how I’m going to get this to stick to you,” you said as you held a green dot on your finger tip. George grinned beneath his mask as he looked up from the waters edge enjoying a warm dip in the pool. Water dripped from his hair and ran down his chest as he stood up, tracing a wet palm up your calf through the slit in the dress. He was the only one at the soirée who had taken his suit off and he had also decided to put his bow tie back on before hopping in the heated pool. “You look like a stripper.”
“A very expensive one I hope,” he teased. “You look hot, love, you should join me and cool off.”
“Wish I could,” you sighed, feeling a little like the white rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, “but I’m running late and still have seven of you guys to chase down.”
George pulled himself out of the pool and grabbed a towel, a few drops of water catching on the crystal bodice as he shook his hair out. He dragged the towel down his body and you used the dry spot on the centre of his chest to plant a green dot on him. “Tagging my heart, love,” he chuckled, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You don’t need to chase us, we are waiting for you.”
He sent you a wink as he swiped up his suit and left you poolside, confused by what he meant. “You’ll figure it out, I know you will.”
Dawdling along the balcony, you chewed over his words before realisation struck. You found Lando and Carlos together and George in the water - places where they loved to be. It seemed so obvious once you thought it and you rushed inside to the ballroom. You hadn’t questioned why the orchestra was masked but when you spotted the dark head of hair at the grand piano it made sense.
“It’s my favourite Frenchman,” you whispered in his ear and the melody bounced over a miskey.
“Monegasque,” he corrected automatically, turning to see the amusement shimmering in your eyes. “Bonsoir, mi bella.”
“You might want to rest those fingers, Charles, wouldn’t want you to get a cramp later.”
He grinned at the remark and dragged them across the keys. “Don’t worry, I’m just warming up.”
“So am I.” You reached out and stuck the green dot to the index and middle finger on his right hand before kissing the dimple on his cheek. “Those are mine.”
You followed a waiter as he slipped from the room with an empty tray and found a set of stairs leading down a floor, into a busy kitchen. Your next target stood out among the white shirt chefs and you were once again amazed at how they had managed to find strangers with such a resemblance to your drivers.
“What’s cooking, good looking?”
Fernando turned with a spoonful of something that smelled delicious and your lips parted for him. A heavenly moan hummed from your chest as you tasted what he had been stirring on the stove. Nando smirked as his eyes followed the line of your lips before he leaned in and caught them with his, rolling his tongue across your bottom lip.
“You missed a bit,” he said as he wiped the spot of sauce with his thumb before licking it clean. You momentarily forgot what you were doing but he had his wits about him as he took a green sticker and placed it on his collar. “Now this is my colour.”
“Not red?” He shook his head as you flattened the dot to make sure it wouldn’t be lost in the 25 minutes you had left. “So the Ferrari rumours…?”
“Just rumours, querida, but I don’t think you have time to gossip.” He pointed the spoon to the clock above the head chef’s station. “There’s still a few spots left.”
“Vegan special,” the chef shouted as he hit the bell for service and a waiter arrived in an instant. “Deliver this to the home theatre.”
“One less now.” You grinned and pulled another sticker out. “See you at midnight.”
You followed the waiter into the quiet depths of the mansion until he reached a door and you took the plate from the tray. “I can take it from here, thanks.”
Lewis was so engrossed in the film he didn’t notice it was you in the room with him. It was only when he looked closer he saw the green dot stuck to the white china plate in your hands and looked up with a wide smile.
“I take gratuities in orgasms, just so you know,” you said with a laugh as he moved the plate and pulled you onto his lap instead.
“It’s your lucky night, baby,” he purred in your ear as his hand slipped up the slit in your dress. “I’ve been told I’m a heavy tipper.”
His fingers teased along the lace edge of your panties and you only just managed to clear your head before he could erase all your thoughts with his touch. “Rain check,” you groaned, not wanting to leave just yet but Fernando had given you an idea before the chef had set you onto Lewis’ path. “Where would you go if you wanted to hear the juiciest gossip?”
Lewis chewed his lip as he thought it over before deciding, “The bar, a few drinks definitely loosens lips.”
“Then that’s where I need to go.” You thanked him with a kiss before leaving the theatre and made your way back to the busiest room in the place. But, before you could leave the lower levels you heard a distinctive accent and skidded to a stop.
“When they said you guys came from a land down under, I didn’t think they meant the basement.” Daniel’s smile split his face as you stepped into the games room where he and Oscar were chalking their cue sticks.
“Thank god you’re here,” Oscar sighed gratefully and placed the cue down on the table, turning to face you with a smile. “I suck at playing pool.”
“Maybe that’s because it's billiards, not pool,” you pointed out as you stepped into the space between his legs.
“I don’t even know what that is,” he admitted, his hands running over the dresses bodice and down to rest on your ass. “You look gorgeous.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit.” You straightened the bow that had tilted at some point and draped your arms around his neck. “It suits you, handsome.”
His nose wrinkled and you giggled as he tugged at the tie, sending it off kilter again. “It feels like I’m being choked.”
“There’s some pleasure to be found in a bit of choking. Isn’t that right?” Daniel asked in your ear as he stepped up behind you, his fingers delicately circling your throat. He guided your head back to his shoulder and traced his nose over your racing pulse, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume. “Hmm, maybe we can show him how good it can be.”
You could feel both of them coming to life as they sandwiched you between them, digging their erections into you. Your eyes fluttered shut at the temptation to drop to your knees and taste the Australian drivers, but you forced your eyes open and squirmed free of their intoxicating embrace.
“Soon, promise,” you panted as you slapped a sticker on Daniel’s ass and made Oscar whine needily when you placed one over his tented trousers, rubbing your palm over it to make sure the green dot was secured. “Very soon.”
The largest bar was set up in what you guessed was usually a dining hall and it spanned the length of the room. Leaning against the bartop was Pierre, his chin on his fist as he listened to the revellers unravelling their innermost thoughts aloud. He was engrossed in the tale, nodding encouragement when the woman’s cheeks turned scarlet red beneath her mask.
“And what did he do?” Pierre asked eagerly.
The woman covered her lips as she giggled before leaning in and whispering her confession. Pierre’s lips parted with a gasp, his eyebrows rising over the top of his mask as he stood upright. “Non!”
“Oui!”
Pierre spun around at the sound of your voice in his ear and he tore his mask from his face. “Ma chatte, look at you,” he said with a playful bit of his lip as you gave him a slow spin to show all of your curves glittering beneath the chandelier light. “Beautiful. And just in time too.”
You followed his gaze and saw there was only three minutes to midnight. “Shit,” you whispered as you grabbed the second to last sticker and pressed it to his chest. “Gotta run.”
Your calves burned as you climbed the stairs, spiralling higher and higher, racing the hands of the clock until you reached the top floor. The entire wall was made of glass and overlooked the dark water beyond the cliffs, but it wasn’t the panoramic vista that caught your eye.
His back was to you, the black silk tie of his mask flattening the back of his hair that would usually stick up in all directions, especially after combing your fingers through the strands. But it didn’t matter if you couldn’t see his face, you would recognise him anywhere.
His hands were crossed at the base of his spine, right one holding the left. It was how he stood whenever he was on the podium, how he stood when his anthem played. It was how he stood when he desperately wanted to be elsewhere but was forced to be patient.
You wrapped your arms around his narrow waist and found his eyes reflected in the glass. “Hi.”
The grandfather clocks throughout the mansion struck 12, the loud dongs echoing through the halls. “I wasn’t sure you were going to make it.”
You smiled into his shoulder at the teasing in his voice. “I always knew where you would be.” Stepping around his body, he pulled you into the circle of his arms so you were both watching the horizon as fireworks began to light up the sky above the sea. “There was only one place my Max could possibly be…at the top.”
Click here for the next part.
#the best kept secret on the grid#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#formula 1 fanfic#f1 rpf#formula one fanfiction#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#f1 x you
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this is what yallz fuckass fics look like.
im gonna tickle you
-ms,cs x reader-
(part two maybe?)
you were sitting dzewn on the couch at your friend CHRIS house, when matt suddenly came by and said..
-hey babycakes
-i-i-i- WOOF WOOF MHHH🥹 i- IM SO SORRY DADDY- MATT. IM SO SORRY I DIDNT MEAN TO-
-its okay shuga jus let me rub on dat pusieee
-no please-
-what daddy wants, daddy gets. now c’mere.
chris walks in to the living room
-hey mannnn i jus smoked sum dope ass shit ykyk im like sooo high rn. why are you touching y/n magical spot. only i get to do that. grrrr
-s-sowwy papi- may-maybe next time?
-nah
matt starts tickling you and you cant help but pee yourself. he now decides its time to get the rose toy.
-plees dont! bae stop him!
-dw im getting your bitchass outta here.
he flies your ass to bahamas last minute. matts crying and doing pushups on the floor now. great. you should go kys.
-hey ily
-same omg we twinnem
-stfu hoe before i bust in your face
thats all i have for today lovies i hope you enjoyed <3 should i make a pt 2? cause this was rlly interesting!🥹
#christopher sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo
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one night only! — gojo satoru and geto suguru.
wc : 2.1k
summary : fem!reader goes to a club with shoko to be free from her scary guard dog besties, satoru and suguru show up anyway, just a bunch of intimacy really. maybe one lil suggestive part w satoru?? mention of wlw shoko and possible insinuation of stoner geto lmao
part of : the star paradox collection.
notes : i headcanon poly satosugu as often toeing the line between platonic love and romantic love bcus these three idiots rlly can't tell the diff sometimes. also shoko is gay and is my gf don't @ me. also this is ooc of how satoru and suguru would be at a club cs lets be fr satoru would be an emotional drunken mess while suguru is in the bathroom smoking or smth
other : im having so many teenage romance thoughts ab poly satosugu. also this was kinda inspired by a poly marauders fic i read agesss ago
current casette : i was never there - the weeknd. me and your mama - childish gambino.
You can feel the bass of the music in your throat, your heartbeat racing to catch up with it.
Parties like these only had one common thread : brainless, brainless fun.
“That one over there,” Shoko murmurs against your ear as discreetly as she can, but just as loud as for you to hear her over the thumping music inside the club. Your gaze moves from the sequin strap across Shoko’s shoulder and over to a girl across the way, a redhead, leaning against the bar and knocking back an expensive looking drink. “She’s pretty.” You turn your head to Shoko’s ear.
Satoru and Suguru have been… hovering these past few weeks.
You love them, truly, the bestest best friends anyone could ask for. But two popular conventionally attractive men by your side at all times? It does put a damper on your love life. Shoko would be able to understand your point of view — if she wasn’t playing for the other team at least.
The redhead looks over her shoulder out at the mass of bodies on the dancefloor, the dark blue dress she has on really accentuates her figure — among other things. “You should go tal–” Before you can finish, Shoko’s mouth is agape, eyes fixed on the girl, and being the wingwoman that you are, you shove her forward a little. “Talk to her.”
“You sure?” Shoko wobbles forward, tipsy but sober enough to take a pretty girl home. The neon lights inside the club flash pink and blue then red and green then pink and—
“I don’t wanna abandon you, name.” You only laugh at Shoko, giving her two firm thumbs up, nudging her forward again, and still, she stands there contemplating. That is, until the redhead turns around and locks eyes with Shoko.
Oh, she’s far gone already.
“Don’t leave my peripheral.” Shoko kisses the side of your cheek and begins to saunter off, just as the song playing in the club changes to a softer, more sensual song.
There’s something about parties. Something that gives you the uneasy feeling two specific people could pop up at any time – two people you’re trying very hard to make clear to that you’re your own woman.
What makes a grown man wanna cry?
You slide back to the spot on the dancefloor you and Shoko shared moments ago, and with a sigh of near relief, you let the music transcend you to a different realm. Your body sways among the masses, a tinge of alcohol probably clouding your judgement because on any other occasion you’d find dancing in public embarrassing—
When it’s time, when it’s time, when it’s time, it won’t matter
There’s a sense of complete euphoria that washes over you, and before you know it, a slender arm snakes around your waist. And despite your better judgement, you know who it is before you look over your shoulder.
It’s an eerily intimate thing, feeling the chill of the six eyes raking over you.
You’re sure Suguru must be the only other person to feel how it feels, the goosebumps that rise on your flesh, hair standing on end. But not in fear. In something else entirely—
“You’re so pretty.” Satoru whispers against the edge of your ear. He doesn’t sound drunk. At the very least he barely sounds tipsy, just a small slur of speech in between, and you look over your shoulder at him.
“Prettier than you?” You stop moving and let out a laugh, and he goes brainless. Crystalline orbs stare down at you, and he pulls your body flush against him, pressing his body into yours from behind.
“Don’t stop,” he mumbles and your body sways, resuming with the rhythm of the blaring music. A whisper of the lyrics leaves his mouth, and you nearly forget how he knows the song — must’ve been in one of Suguru’s playlists. One of those playlists he keeps.
“Satoru—” you’re about to scold him, maybe tell him this is a thin line, one you’ve been toeing for too long.
Satoru brings his other arm around your waist, both his hands meeting in accord atop the flesh of your stomach. He waits for a beat, waits for you to tell him no, but it never comes.
I’m on the edge of something breaking
His head dips to your height, his hair tickles the back of your neck. You can feel the heat from his lips on your skin as he hums along to the lyrics. “Just feel it for a little...” He whispers.
Even in his tipsy but not-so-tipsy state, he knows exactly what he's doing. You think, maybe he’s always known. At least in body but not in mind.
If I keep going I won’t make it
A sigh escapes your lips, something akin to a breath of relief, like a weight lifts off your shoulders.
Satoru’s body grinds forward onto you, and your head tilts back onto his chest, a mouthful of lyrics leaving your mouth in a gasp. “Feels good, yeah?” He grins down at you, pleased, his voice a bit off-key in a more Satoru-like fashion.
“Didn’t know you knew the song,” the words leave your lips as you both lock eyes. He rolls his eyes and sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh of your shoulder playfully.
“Suguru plays it all the time—” He replies, then continues to hum along with the song, his voice barely sounding like his own. “It’s too sexy to not know.”
There’s a sense of comfort in not knowing the depth of what you feel in this moment.
Satoru spins you around to face him, and the breath leaves your lungs. And the moment in between knowing what your relationship is and not knowing all but fades to black.
And with the way he looks into your eyes, and leans forward, you think he just might break the line two.
And it’s all because of you—
The song fades out, to a more upbeat one, and Satoru’s hands fall limp at his sides. Suddenly, you remember how to breathe. And you swallow the lump in your throat, all while he gives you the signature goofy grin you’ve come to cherish.
You turn your head to look across the mini crowd, and Shoko is still there, one arm slung around the redhead as they both knock back shots.
Temporary. It’s no big deal, you and Satoru were just tipsy.
But that sense of relief is short-lived.
Embarrassingly so.
“Boo.” A sharp exhale leaves your lips as soon as you turn your head, and instead of Satoru staring down at you, your view is blocked by Suguru.
You look at him like a lost child, and he rears his head away to laugh at you. “Don’t look so scared, name.” He smirks, slyly, like Suguru always does when he’s taunting.
“You dumbass—” You breathe, a hand colliding with the edge of his shoulder in a soft shove and Satoru can’t help but laugh at the sight before him.
Then, Suguru’s fingers wrap around your wrist, two, then four then he’s tugging you forward, straight into him and Satoru. “Don’t be so mean to me, you’ll break my heart.” He says it so condescendingly, with such a smile that makes your heart leap at your current predicament.
Satoru really wasn’t done. He just brought in reinforcements.
“As if—” You grumble, and the lights dim for a second before flashing a neon purple. And that’s all the time Satoru and Suguru need.
“—I have a heart?” Suguru towers over you, and he bends his knees just a little, resting his chin against your shoulder so you can hear him. “Or as if you could break it?”
You think Suguru’s been smoking. The warmth of his breath against your bare skin makes you shiver a little. You think you feel a little dizzy just from looking at him.
The way his eyes are downcast, eyelids heavy, like he’s bordering on the precipice of eternal sleep or the best dream he’s ever had, one he doesn't want to wake from.
He looks at you like you're the latter rather than the former.
Satoru swings his hand forward, interlocking his fingers with yours, pale slender digits finding purchase between yours as he moves to your side. “As if to both.” He rolls his eyes, and Suguru lets out a soft whistle, “You’re so cold, Satoru.”
The song playing begins to fade out, and Suguru takes advantage of the few seconds before the song switches, that small gap of silence, and he whispers, “Dance with us..?”
“Duh.” You grab ahold of Suguru’s hand with your free one, all while Satoru’s grip on your other hand tightens just a little. “Who else would I dance with?”
These things are no secret, never have been and never will be. And you have a funny feeling you know why your love life remains so stagnant.
How does the old age thing go? Never let your girl have a boy bestfriend. Or worse, two.
The three of you saunter to the middle of the dancefloor, the neon lights flashing shades of blue.
And if you didn’t know better, you’d say whoever the DJ is, they’ve got a sick sense of humor.
Because they manage to play the most romantically erotic song you could ever hear in a club setting. Ironically, a song you recognize from your playlist — no doubt you learned it from one of Suguru’s tracklists. A very extensive one titled with a leaf emoji.
I’m in love when we are smoking that—
Suguru’s arm moves to wrap around your waist from in front, and he tugs you close as the soft tempo reverberates through the room. He shrugs some of his hair off his shoulder, dark eyes finding yours and he doesn’t dare look away for a second.
Suguru must think you're a pipe dream. That you’ll disappear if he blinks.
Your bodies rock from side to side and Satoru doesn’t let go of your hand, instead he slides behind you, following the rhythm you and Suguru have set in tune, raising your intertwined hands to his lips, and for a moment he uses them as a makeshift microphone to sing—
La-la-la-la-la
Suguru grins and he presses his chin atop your head, his other arm coming around to hug you close to his chest, while Satoru meets you both halfway, and it’s really just a sandwich swaying side to side with you in the middle.
I’m in love when we are smoking that—
What initially started off as something so simple, you coming to a club with Shoko wanting to finally get laid since your best friends managed to scare all the guys off — has turned into something so soft, so intimate.
There are never many words, never much explanation when you’re with Satoru and Suguru.
And it’s clear none of the three of you know what this is or where you stand. But for now, that’s okay.
La-la-la-la-la
“You okay?” Suguru dips his head to mumble into your ear, and you nod, words failing you.
In truth, you’ve never felt so soft, so safe yet so… vulnerable. But that’s also okay.
Satoru cranes his neck and leans his body over yours to look between you and Suguru, having not heard a thing. “You two okay?”
And you laugh. Suguru does too.
Suguru’s arms around you keeps you grounded against him, and Satoru’s weight against your back keeps you firm between them. “If you need us to stop… if you need a drink I can—” Suguru tries, but you cut him off with a soft pat to his shoulder.
“Don’t stop,” you mimic Satoru’s words from earlier as your own into Suguru’s chest and he melts. “Yeah?” He whispers.
“Yeah.” You affirm, and he nods, his chin going back to rest atop your head. And you wrap a free arm around Suguru’s middle, the other still softly interlaced with Satoru’s at your side. “M’ happy here.”
“In the club?” Suguru asks, albeit a little louder so you can hear him an amused smile slipping onto his features. “No, just—” Your words fail you. But this, there can’t be any intent without feeling, true unbiased feeling.
And you feel it, coursing through you in soft waves for them.
That unbiased wavy feeling, almost like you’re floating. That feeling for them. Though you don’t quite know what to call it yet.
“Here,” you mumble and a smile stretches onto your face. “With you, and Satoru too.”
Suguru stops swaying a bit, and at the change in movement Satoru stops too, peering over your shoulder to see what’s happening.
But Suguru only grins a little. “I’m happy too,” he says. Then he glances at Satoru, and Satoru glances to you. “I guess if you two are so happy, then me too.” Satoru chuckles.
#★ DRIASWRLD#tsr ⭐️#jujutsu kaisen#satosugu x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#satoru gojo#suguru geto#gojo x geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen fluff#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#satoru x reader#gojo x reader#suguru x reader#geto x reader#jujutsu kaisen drabbles#jujutsu kaisen fic
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https://www.tumblr.com/hoshigray/725915919672573952/sit-down-for-this-one-alright-how-bout-a-gigolo
your fic with toji i love it sm 🫶🫶🫶 BUT how would he react if reader tried someone elses services cs her friends told her to try it out…
noonie, you're so real for this bc damn, why the hell didn't i think of that :OOO lol hope you like this, hon~~ spin-off of this → ☆;
cw: gigolo! Toji x fem! reader - smut so minors DNI - dumbification - toji being jealous/possessive bc duh - cunnilingus (f! receiving) - clitoral play (biting/grazing + pinching) - degradation (toji calling you a whore and slut) - scratching (f! receiving) - impact play; pussy slaps - prone bone + full nelson position - pet names (baby, mama, princess) - new playboy may or may not be Gojo *shrugs* ;) - just Toji fucking you dumb, lol - mention of drool and tears.
wc: 1.6k
What should've happened today was Toji enjoying a night to himself because tonight he's seeing a client he hadn't seen in a long while. Nothing wrong with spending an afternoon with an old acquaintance, specifically when it entails a good night of getting his dick wet for a thick sum of cash. Besides, he planned on seeing you afterward — his little sweet thing — stopping by your place and spending the night.
It's funny, isn't it? He met you because of this little hustle of his, and here he is fawning over you like some dumb schoolboy. It makes him feel a bit of a wimp, catching feelings for a customer? That's rookie moves. But he couldn't care less; long as he gets to see your darling smile and fuck the ever-loving shit out of you once per week, all is good in the books.
Seeing and swooping you off your feet later tonight is what was supposed to happen. That's all he was thinking about exiting the hotel room after his client left and paid for his services as promised. So, why the hell were you the first person he saw out of the room? Your face utterly petrified when you turn to see him with another man's arm dropped over your shoulders. A familiar man — another playboy who seemed elated to be around with you. Toji could assume the worst from what he was seeing. Oh, hell no.
What happened today was meant to be kept between two people — you and this new playboy. It came out of fucking nowhere when your friends crowding you about this "new guy in town," elucidating how handsome and pretty the guy is and how great he was in bed ("I'm telling you, Y/n, you really outta try him out!" "No, for real though. Like, here's a pic of him we took right after he ate me out! Don't you think he has the most gorgeous eyes~?"). You had to admit the young man was charming, but that didn't necessarily mean you wanted to do anything explicit with him. So, why did your friends schedule a night with him for you!?? Still puzzled over the fact, you can't seem to answer.
Regardless, you did have sex with another guy today — another Gioglo at that. It wasn't anything serious between you two, just casual sex for money. Plus, it was a pleasure to hang out with him, as the guy seemed fun to be around! Even with his dark shades on, the brightest thing was his dashing smile. However, a deep part of yourself felt guilt over the charade because you haven't had services with anyone else other than Toji. Sure, you and the older man aren't in a labeled relationship outside of an escort and his client. But still, he's the only man you've been intimate with. He's the only one who knows your body more than you, what you like, and how to turn you on. You were his favorite after all.
To be in the hold of another man just felt wrong...That's why your eyes go wider than golf balls when you unexpectedly bump into him when leaving your hotel room with your new one-night stand. Oh, fucking shit...
It all happened relatively quick. One moment, Toji snatches your wrist and pulls you off the young playboy, having you follow his storming march to the hotel room he just left. The next moment, you're gasping for dear life with Toji propping you against a wall, his head buried between your legs dangled on his shoulders, and his mouth ravishing your soaked folds.
"Ahhh!!Ahhhh!! Toji, too fast, please st—Ohooo!!!"
"Shut the fuck up," he says coldly, giving your clitoris a light bite before giving it a slow lick. You jerk and shiver at the tease. "Stay still, or I'm droppin' ya."
Toji smacks on your chasm, a scream leaving your lips, and you just know the others next door heard. And a pinch to your clit results in incoherent babbles, drool pooling in your mouth drips down your chin.
It doesn't stop there. All your clothes discarded to the floor, he has you pinned on the bed by your shoulders, your legs trapped between his, and his pelvis hammering down on you. Forced wails erupt from your throat with every hash rut to the ass, your slit clamping onto him with every graze to your sweet spots. You grip the sheets from his vigorous pace, tears coursing down your hot face and staining the cream cotton pillowcase.
"...Ahhhaaa!!Nnmmph!! Ohhhhfuckingshiiiiit!!" It isn't the first you've had Toji drill his cock into you with a harsh cadence. Yet, with how each fierce and snappy thrust turns your mind to mush, being pinned to the mattress as your breath gets snatched away, you knew long before that what Toji was doing to you was different than all the other times you've had sex. A lot more aggressive — a lot more deadly.
And the older man doesn't falter at all, nope. If anything, your cries only fuel his drive even more, a grin lifting his scar on the right of his lip. "Hmm, what's wrong, baby? Not fast 'nough for ya?" You open your mouth, but your words are comprised of euphoric wails. Ticked, Toji smacks your ass, and a yelp escapes your sore body. He comes down to your ear while grinding his hips on your ass, choked shrieks are muffled by the pillow. "Hey, I'm talkin'. Hmm? You thinkin' bout that other fucker's dick inside ya, huh? He fuck ya real hard like this?"
"N-Nmmm....Noooo, I—OhhhhJesusssss...."
"You what?" A sharp thrust to your chasm prompts you to howl and your eyes roll back, too fucked out of your mind to know how loud you are. "Heh, y're lookin' real stupid right now. I bet you can't think a fuckin' thing with my dick in—Mmmm! fuck....Grippin' on me hard, actin' like a real whore, princess." More abrupts hits to your ass as his nails dig to your bare shoulders; the pain coincide with the pleasure you're experiencing has you seeing stars.
He fucks you like this for what feels like an hour, your ass and pussy hot from the constant contact of his pelvis and balls smacking deep into you. The feeling of his dick being practically the only thing rotting your mind.
But you don't get rest just yet, though. Towards the end, the sun is completely down, the city lights are displayed from the hotel window, and your ecstatic moans still fill the room. Your back is to his chest, your legs pulled back to your chest by his arms and forcing you in a headlock, while his intense ruts return and his cock churns your spongey insides. Here is where you've given up restraining yourself, letting Toji use your body as his plaything, tears and drool painting your face into a gorgeous mess.
"....Ohhoooo, Ahhhoooo—Hmmmm," your brain is too long gone to think proper sentences, your mouth sprouting out nonsense. It all humors the man beneath you, his gruff chuckles vibrating your back balanced on his chest. "Soooo deeep — sosodeeeep..."
"Feelin' good there, mama?" You only respond with a euphoric hum, another snicker from the older man. "Too fucked outta're mind to answer me. Lettin' another man touch this pussy; you take dick from everybody, huh. What a fuckin' slut..." He pushes his length upward to your hole. Come leaking from you, and a white ring around the base of his dick is evidence of your session. "Hnngh! But I made ya like that..."
"....Fuuuuck, Tojiiiii, don't stooop!!" You cry out to him with gritted teeth, your haze only worsening with his cock brushing up on your G- spot precisely. "Ohhhhhh, right there, right thereeee!!"
"Mmmph—Ohhhh shit," the way your cunt contracts around him almost makes him give in to another orgasm, biting on your shoulder to compose himself. "....Shit, shit, shit, so fuckin' tight, baby...."
The hot air and thick musk of your buddies get to your head, your head ringing and pounding. Screams grow higher with every stroke, and the cold shivers crawl up your spine. It's almost here. "Toji, Tojiii, I'm gonna cumm—hic—sooocloseee!!"
Toji sneers once more. "Yeah, you are. Cumming is all y'r pretty, dumb brain can think about." And with that, his pace increases speed, drilling your walls with his veiny girth. It all electrifies your nerves, your breathing off the rails, and your climax slapping you hard with the deep thrusts he gives you.
With a cloudy mind and a mindless smile, your slit flutters on Toji's length beautifully. Too enraptured with the blissful sensation to worry about the spit streaming down your puffy lips. And it doesn't take long for Toji to be under the same spell as you, his rhythm falling back with the spill of his load inside you. His brows trenched while pumping into you, his balls pulsing with your velvet walls.
Heaving bodies soon fall into a tranquil state, your breathing finding its way into a steady flow. Finally, Toji permits your body and mind to relax from his relentless hold, releasing your body from the full nelson and gently sliding your tired body next to his.
He wipes the saliva from your mouth with the back of his hand, his hooded jade eyes never leaving your fatigued ones. "Hehe, sorry 'bout that, baby. You just feel too good to share."
You purr into his touch, his hand cupping your cheek. "Too good that you'd break my ass?" He barks an exhausted laugh at your remark, a tired giggle fleeing your lips.
"For you, I'd break anyone else that thinks they can have you." Toji kisses your temple.
"And my ass?"
"...Only if I'm the one breakin' it." You playfully hit his abs, and another laugh leaves the older man before you two sleep in each other's warmth.
want more like this? plz send me more thirsts ♡
#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕#anime smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk smut#jjk x you#jjk thirsts#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines#toji x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji fushiguro x reader#daddy toji#dilf toji#toji imagine#toji fushiguro smut#fushiguro toji x reader#fushiguro toji smut
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Jigsaw - {CS}
↪ Summary: You are the lead detective in an investigation surrounding one of the most infamous killers the city has ever seen. Unfortunately for you, Jigsaw knows you're onto him and has played you like a game at every turn, threatening the case and your status. Your determination to catch him finally gets you a lead, only for you to find yourself tangled in a special trap that he designed just for you. Let the game begin.
↪ Pairings: Jigsaw Killer Choi San x Female Detective Reader
↪ Rating: M 18+
↪ Genre: Non-idol/Slasher/Horror movie au/ Suggestive / Fluff/Friends to enemies to lovers
↪ Word Count: 5.7k
↪ Warnings/Contents: References to classic horror movies, mainly Saw, Silence of the Lambs, and Scream. Mentions of death/murder/being shot (not detailed). Seonghwa and Mingi both make cameos in this story with a few other members being mentioned. Swearing and implied smut (MDNI). San being a teasing little shit, makeout sessions, fondling over clothes.
↪ Side Notes: To the wonderful @pinkywritings hi darling I was your assigned Ghost Writer for the @atinyhalloweenproject. This is my first time writing for San and I had a lot of fun with it so I hope you enjoy it! Sorry it is so late I wanted to have it out by Halloween but due to the sudden weather change we haven't had power. I tried to make it longer to make up for that so hopefully it doesn't feel rushed and was worth the wait!
I honestly may do a part two to this or an expansion later on because I love the idea of Jigsaw San but we'll see.
↪ Click here to see my other Ateez stories
↪ Click here for other kpop masterlists
↪ Click here to join my fic taglist
“Police officials are seeking any leads in identifying the man known only to the public as the Jigsaw killer. He is believed to be linked in multiple disappearances and murders that have taken place around Seoul for the past three months. The victims were all found in various handmade traps and had a puzzle piece drawn somewhere visible on their body. At this time investigators have no leads and are asking the public for any knowledge they may have on this public threat.”
The reporter's voice faded to nothing as the volume on the TV was lowered to zero. You groaned softly to yourself as you tossed the remote to the side, running your hands through your hair as you sat forward on your couch. It had been just over a month since you were assigned the Jigsaw murder case, the last detective backing out after the man in question threatened to target his family. The case was quickly transferred over to you, one of the best detectives in your field, but it was very quickly starting to test your patience.
Whoever this Jigsaw was, he was a clever man. He left no trace, no evidence, nothing that would allow you to track him down. You went through surveillance, interviewed the family and friends of the victims, tried breaking down his traps for any clues, but any lead always led you right back to square one. You had tried to be patient, hoping that eventually he would slip up and give you something, but it was starting to sound like wishful thinking. Even worse, he knew who you were and started calling you out directly. You would find notes addressed to you, pictures, voice messages, all calling you out and taunting you. It was like he was playing some cruel game with you and you had no choice but to play along or risk losing everything. You couldn’t even walk to work anymore without some reporter chasing you down demanding an explanation or any evidence you had in the case. It came to a point where you only went to the office when called, and the rest of your work you did from home.
Various evidence pictures and case files were thrown across your coffee table, a few rough notes scribbled in between. You had been looking at the same files for the past couple of hours, dissecting every last word to see if you had missed any connections. Your last victim had been found 72 hours ago, and you knew you only had a day at most before the next one. There were a few things you had discovered about Jigsaw, and the main one was that he worked on a schedule. Once someone was reported missing, it would be three days before their body turned up and the cycle would start again. Whoever this man was, he clearly enjoyed his patterns, and that is what you found yourself looking for, any pattern you may have missed.
“Working from home again I see?” you practically jumped out of your skin as you heard the deep voice of your roommate behind you, turning around to see his tall frame leaning over the couch.
“For Fucks sake Mingi you almost gave me a heart attack!” you whined, reaching up to lightly smack at him, “what are you doing here anyways I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.” You and Mingi had been friends for as long as you could remember, having met back in high school and staying together through college and your time at the police academy. He was like a brother to you at this point and you trusted him so you didn’t mind if he saw your work, even if he technically wasn’t supposed to. Mingi always found your work to be fascinating and would bug you randomly about cases, which only grew more when you started investigating Jigsaw, though you assumed it was just because you got to bring your work home now. Just as you predicted, he made his way to the other side of the couch and took a seat next to you, picking up one of the crime scene photos to get a better look.
“I was going to stay at Yunhos tonight but something came up and he had to cancel,” Mingi explained, running his thumb over the picture he was holding, “ouch this looks like it would have been painful, what is it?”
“That’s one of Jigsaw's latest traps,” you answered, snatching the photo away from him, “I’m looking through it to see if I can find any missing clues.”
“Have you found anything?”
“Sadly no, he’s very good at covering his tracks. It’s been a month and we still don’t have any leads on this guy, it’s like he’s a ghost or something.” Mingi hummed softly as he continued to look through all the pictures, careful not to mess them up knowing you would yell at him if he did.
“Now I’m no expert but, are you sure you’re only looking for one person?” he asked, catching you off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean all these crime scenes you’ve shown me have been pretty big and this says it only took three days, seems like a lot of work for one person if you ask me.” Mingi explained, “and that’s why your patterns wouldn’t line up like you want them to.” You blinked up at him dumbly for a moment as you processed his words, looking back down at the file you had basically memorized by this point. You didn’t want to admit it, but Mingi had a point.
“You know that’s actually not a bad idea,” you muttered.
“I can be helpful sometimes you know,” he bragged with a laugh, earning himself a punch to the shoulder. He didn’t have time to retaliate though as you were packing up all of your things and rushing towards the door, “Wait where are you going?”
“I need to check on something, don’t wait up for me!” you called back, pulling on your coat and running out the door as he called after you. In your rush you hadn’t realized that you dropped part of your case file on your way out, nor did you notice Mingi pulling out his phone to call someone as he closed the door to your apartment.
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You made it to the crime scene in no time, an abandoned warehouse located just on the edge of the city. You parked your car a bit away and pulled out a flashlight as you made your way inside, ducking under the caution tape and pulling your jacket closer to yourself as you looked around. The clean up crew had gotten most of the scene cleaned by now, but the trap itself was still there. A weirdly broken mess of chains and blades that you wouldn’t have been able to put back together if you wanted to, making you wonder how Jigsaw even came up with the idea in the first place. You shook the thought out of your head and made your way to one of the blades, leaning down to inspect it carefully. It was sharp with a curve to it, but almost messy in design as if it was handmade. To test that theory you took a look at another one and noticed the same thing except this one was thicker and less curved despite being set up the same way. The chains themselves were also a bit sloppy when you looked at them closely, almost as if they had been done in a rush. It wasn’t as clean as Jigsaw's normal work, and now Mingis suggestion that you were dealing with more than one culprit seemed more plausible.
You took your phone out to snap a picture just as the door to the warehouse opened, a new light pouring in and a familiar voice calling your name.
“Over here!” you called back, flashing your light in his direction so he could see you. Quick footsteps made their way towards you before a familiar figure came into view. Park Seonghwa, a senior detective that had transferred over to your department a little over a year ago and assigned as your partner. You had been against the idea at first since your original partner had been killed only a few weeks prior during an investigation gone wrong. The chief had insisted it would be for the best though since you needed the help and Seonghwas cool and more collected nature would balance you out nicely which would prove to be true. Your impulsiveness had driven the older detective crazy a few times, but for the most part the two of you got along well and you could even consider him a friend. He was wearing a long black coat and matching gloves and his hair was long and falling into his face rather than slicked up like normal, probably because he had been at home resting when you called him.
“Would you care to explain why you called me out here in the middle of the night when I haven’t heard from you in the last 48 hours?” Seonghwa questioned, unable to hide the annoyance in his tone.
“I’ll make it up to you but I figured this couldn’t wait,” you muttered, going back to inspect the chain again, “I’m trying to prove a theory about something.”
“That theory being?”
“What if Jigsaw isn't working alone?” you challenged, “what if it’s more than one person, that would explain why nothing lines up.” Seonghwas eyes widened a bit and you could have sworn you heard him mutter something under his breath, “what did you say?”
“Oh nothing,” he brushed you off, “what made you so convinced of this new theory? Did you find something?” You froze for a second, not wanting to expose yourself for letting a member of the general public view the case file.
“Just a hunch,” you lied, “but I mean look at the way this trap was built, it's messy compared to the others, almost as if it was made by someone else.”
“Or maybe Jigsaw just ran out of time and rushed on it,” he argued.
“Can you just humor me for five seconds Seonghwa,” you groaned, “maybe I’m wrong yes but isn’t it at least worth looking into?” Seonghwa rolled his eyes but gave in, walking to the other side of the trap to get a better look. You were too distracted by your own work to pay much attention to him, meticulously looking through every detail of the trap despite not actually knowing what you were looking for. Your instinct was telling you that there was something there you were overlooking, something that was hiding in plain sight, you just had to figure out what that was.
“Hey Y/N,” Seonghwa called out after a few minutes, “I think I found something.” Your head shot up and you quickly dusted yourself off before making your way over. Seonghwa was standing in the corner of the warehouse holding what looked to be a tape recorder. “I found it tucked away over here, may have gotten knocked around during the investigation,” he explained.
“Does it say anything?” you asked, taking the recorder from his hands and pressing the play button. There was only static for a moment before a robotic voice spoke up, like someone was speaking through a voice changer. Despite that, you couldn’t help but feel like the voice seemed familiar to you, but it was hard to tell through the editing.
“Hello Detective Y/L/N,” the tape addressed you, sending a chill through your body, “these past few weeks you have been running around in circles trying to discover who I am. You have been closer to the truth than you realize but you always end up blindsided by your work and, as a result, you overlook the answer that is right in front of you. I have enjoyed silently watching you up until this point but now it is getting quite boring so why don’t we make this a bit more fun? Do you like games, detective? I hope you do because I want to play a game with you. I have left a riddle for you, the answer to which will tell you all you need to know about who I am and what I do. You have 48 hours to find the riddle and tell me the answer or you will find yourself and those closest to you in a very undesirable situation. The timer starts the second this recording ends, let’s hope you are as clever as everyone says you are. Let the game begin.”
You felt your blood run cold as the tape came to an end, barely registering Seonghwas hand on your shoulder as you tried to process everything you just heard. Seonghwa tried talking to you but you ignored him, pushing his hand off and rushing back to your car, your partner not far behind you.
“Where are you going? We should report this to the office first!” he called after you.
“What good is reporting it going to do? You heard him Hwa I have 48 hours to figure out who this guy is or we’re all screwed, I can’t waste time.”
“So what you’re going to rush into something and get yourself killed?” he argued.
“Better than doing nothing and getting everyone else killed,” you snapped back, “now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find this riddle he’s talking about.” Seonghwa called after you again but by this point you had gotten in your car and were already making your way back to your apartment. Part of you felt like going home was a bad idea, but you also couldn’t help but feel like something was pulling you to go there. The same feeling of familiarity that you got hearing the tape returned, making you feel more and more uneasy as you pulled into your apartment complex. Like you knew who Jigsaw was and yet the image of his face was blurred any time you tried to imagine him.
Mingi didn’t seem to be home when you got back, his shoes were gone and the light was off. You couldn’t focus on that though, as your attention was drawn to the stack of papers placed neatly on your coffee table. You carefully walked over and looked through the pile, recognizing pictures from all the different crime scenes you had investigated so far, each one marked with red ink.
‘Y/N, doesn’t this random pattern seem a bit too random?’
‘This is quite close to home don’t you think?’
‘The truth has been in front of you the whole time.’
‘Why do I do what I do?’
‘Did you miss me?’
You ran your hand through your hair as you continued looking through the pictures, realizing that the riddle was basically going to send you on a scavenger hunt. It would take forever for you to go back through each crime scene and look back through everything to find out what he was talking about. Even worse, it was pretty late and you could feel exhaustion slowly taking over you, slouching over the coffee table and eventually laying against it as you fell asleep trying to decipher the riddle.
You were jolted awake by the sound of your phone vibrating, groaning softly as you sat up and reached into your pocket for the device. You half expected it to be a call from Mingi or Seonghwa, but instead you were greeted with the same robotic voice from the night before. Only this time, you were able to hear his actual voice a bit more and it was one you swore you had heard before.
“Good morning Sleeping Beauty, I hope my riddle didn’t keep you up all night,” the voice immediately woke you up, straightening your posture as you looked around.
“Who is this?” you asked.
“Aww I’m almost offended you don’t remember me, we go way back you know,” the voice responded, “I’ve missed you Y/N, and even if you don’t remember me now I know you miss me too.” You paused for a moment at his words before realizing now was not the time to worry about that.
“Why are you doing this?”
“That. my dear detective is for you to find out, you always did enjoy the thrill of a good challenge didn’t you? I figured you would have solved my puzzle by now but since I believe in giving people a fair chance I’ll give you another clue. One of those puzzle pieces doesn’t quite belong, once you find the answer I will be waiting for you in the place we last met, don’t keep me waiting Doll.” With that the call ended, causing you to groan in frustration and toss your phone to the side.
“I’ve had about enough of these damn games,” you huffed, rubbing your hands over your eyes. You looked through the pictures again before one in particular caught your eye. It wasn’t one of the Jigsaw crime scenes, but instead it was a picture of an older house, one that you recognized from your last murder investigation with your old partner, San. The memories slowly came back to you and that’s when it finally clicked for you, the puzzle and the reason the voice sounded so familiar to you. That was impossible though, San was dead, you had been at the hospital with him when the doctors told you there was nothing they could do. There was no way that San was still alive, and yet you would recognize his voice anywhere. Shaking your head, you grabbed your phone and stood up, calling Seonghwa and telling him to meet you at the house in question as you left your apartment and got in your car. The whole ride there you tried ignoring the feeling of dread that came over you, hoping that your intuition was wrong.
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Seonghwa was already at the house before you got there, leaning against the wall with a blank expression. “I take it you found the answer to your riddle?” he asked as you walked past him, leading him inside.
“As much as I hope I am wrong I think I did,” you confessed, “and if I’m right the clue we are looking for should be here somewhere.” Seonghwa stood still in the middle of the room as you frantically looked around, digging through his pocket and following your movements with his eyes.
“This isn’t one of the crime scenes,” he pointed out, “what exactly are we looking for?”
“Jigsaw said to find him at the place we last met and this place was the only one pictured that wasn’t one of the crime scenes,” you explained. Seonghwa hummed softly at your answer, but you ignored him as you continued looking around.
“Why here then, what’s so special about this place?” you froze for a moment at the question, an action that didn’t go unnoticed.
“This was the last place I investigated with my first partner,” you answered, “he was shot during the investigation and I thought he was dead but I’m starting to think I was wrong.”
“You think it’s him,” Seonghwa stated rather than asked, to which you nodded.
“I don’t know why he would do such a thing, but it all lines up.” Seonghwa sighed and glanced down at his watch before making his way towards you.
“I’m surprised you know, you solved the riddle faster than we thought you would, we’re a bit ahead of schedule.” His words made your blood run cold, freezing as your head turned to look at him.
“What did you just say?”
“I’m sorry about this Y/N,” Seonghwa apologized, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a syringe, “just know I don’t make the rules, I’m just the delivery guy.” Before you could react to his words he had grabbed you and injected you with what you assumed was some kind of anesthesia, your body going limp in his hold almost immediately and your vision going black. The last thing you remember hearing was his voice and footsteps approaching before you completely lost consciousness.
When you returned to consciousness the first thing that you noticed was that you couldn’t move. Your arms and legs were handcuffed to a chair that also appeared to be bolted to the floor so you couldn’t tip it over. Tugging at your restraints, you glanced around to find that you were in some sort of workshop, various trap parts and gadgets tossed around multiple workbenches. At the front of the room were what appeared to be security monitors, each watching different parts of the city that you could just barely make out.
“I have to hand it to you Y/N,” a voice said from behind you, “the last detective didn’t make it nearly as far.” The sound of footsteps echoed through the room before a figure appeared in your vision, wearing a full body red and black hood. Even though his face was covered by the hood, you could feel the presence of your former partner.
“How, I thought you were dead,” you whispered, not sure what to feel at the moment. In any other circumstance you would be over the moon to know he was alive, but how were you supposed to feel knowing he was the serial killer you had been anxiously tracking down. Shock, betrayal, anger, sadness, confusion, all of these emotions swirled through your brain like an endless whirlpool, pulling you in deeper and nearly bringing tears to your eyes.
“Everyone did,” San replied, turning away from you to face one of his work benches, “the doctors said it was a miracle, that no one thought I would make it through the night let alone make a full recovery.” You could hear him messing with something, but couldn’t see what it was, struggling to look past his shoulder as he continued talking, “I tried to find you after you know? I thought you were the only one left that cared about me, and yet even you managed to turn your back on me.”
“I always cared about you,” you argued, “that’s why I’m trying to understand why San, why did you do this?” It was at this point that he finally turned to face you, pulling the hood back so you could see him properly. He looked almost the same as you remembered, but there was a cold gaze in his eyes that almost made him feel like a stranger. This wasn’t the warm hearted and cheerful person you used to consider a friend, he was a killer. Despite this, however, you couldn’t help yourself from falling for his familiarity, almost as if you could convince yourself the old San was still in there, somewhere.
“You never realize just how valuable life is until you are inches away from death,” he explained, “the adrenaline and the fight to survive, it almost feels like you are being reborn. The more I thought about it, the more I realized how corrupt the world we live in truly is, because no one really knows how to appreciate the life they are given until it is nearly taken from them. You may not understand it now but trust me my methods will help make the world a better place.”
“You’re killing people because you want them to appreciate life?” you questioned, wondering if he was actually being serious. There was no way a person's mind could be that twisted, right?
“You think I’m a killer?” San asked, not needing a verbal response since your glare was enough confirmation, “that’s where you’re wrong you know. I have not killed anyone, all of my games are survivable as long as the player has the will to fight for it. Those who failed the games basically killed themselves.” You wanted to argue that putting people in these death traps still made him a killer but he cut you off, “Seven people have won so far, seven people who had that will to live and had the chance to be reborn. They understand what it truly means to be alive and now they help me spread my message. You may not understand me now, but I really do hope that you will be the next.”
“So what, am I the next person that gets to be put in one of your death traps then?” you groaned, tugging at your restraints. San pouted a bit but shook his head.
“Your game began the minute you took the case from Detective Kim,” he explained, “you and I always seemed to have an understanding so I had hoped you would pick up on my clues and join without a fight, but you were far too stubborn to listen. Eventually I had to cut my losses so I had my apprentices plant fake evidence to finally get you here, it was the only way.” Your heart dropped a bit at the word apprentices, your mind immediately going back to Seonghwa and how he was the one who brought you here.
“So you’re telling me the whole time,” you trailed off.
“Seonghwa was working for me, yes, Mingi as well, they both survived my games and agreed to help with the cause and when you took over my case I knew I could use them to guide you in the right direction,” San explained. He took a moment to glance at a clock on the wall before sighing and making his way over to you. San rested his hands on the arms of the chair and used them to prop himself up so he was leaning over you, “As much as I have enjoyed our little chat I’m afraid we do not have much time. I really do like you Y/N so I will give you a choice. Join me and together we can help change the world for the better.”
“And if I refuse?” you challenged.
“Well then I guess we’ll have to play a game,” he hummed, leaning away from you, “The second I walk out of this room it will lock and a timer will start. Behind you are two doors, each with a different combination, one door will lead you to the exit, and the other will lead you to me. If you choose to leave then you will be free but you will lose your chance to catch me. If you choose to come after me, then you have a chance to learn the truth at the risk of your freedom. The combinations are hidden in this room and you will have exactly one hour to find them and leave through the door of your choosing, and trust me you don’t want to know what will happen if you run out of time.” San chuckled softly before pulling away and walking behind you, “This is your last chance to accept my offer Y/N, I would hate to lose you like this.” He waited for a moment but when you didn’t respond he sighed, “Very well, let the game begin.” You felt him place something into your hand, which you quickly realized was a key, before the door slammed shut and San was gone.
ღ ღ ღ ღ ღ
It didn’t take you long to unlock yourself, taking a second to rub your wrists as you stood up and made your way cautiously around the room. You did your best to stay calm and not look at the clock as you examined the doors and then looked around for the combinations, which you quickly realized were hidden on his tools. The question was, do you free yourself and turn your back on the case, or do you risk it all and try to go after San. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to just get out of there and not look back, and yet you quickly found yourself moving on autopilot. Before you could really process what you were doing, you had entered the code for the door labeled “Truth” and ran through it, stepping into a dark hallway and letting the door lock behind you.
You took a moment to compose yourself before heading forward, placing your hands against the walls to help feel your way through the space. All the doors were locked until you came to one at the very end that was cracked open, revealing what looked to be a makeshift office space, with nothing but a desk and filing cabinet in the room. You poked your head through first, looking around for any sign of life before slowly stepping inside and making your way to the desk, only to gasp as you felt another body pin you to it.
“I knew you would come after me,” San whispered, spinning you around so that you were facing him. Your body was pressed between his and the desk, his arms caging you on either side as your eyes locked.
“I can’t let you get away with this,” you argued, trying to wiggle away from him but San was stronger so he held you in place.
“Come on Doll, you and I both know that’s not why you came after me,” he teased, “maybe it was at first but if that was the case now you would be fighting me harder.” He was right, even if he was stronger you knew you could at least hold your own enough to get him away or subdue him long enough to call for help. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to actually fight him off, struggling against him enough to save your pride but not enough to actually push him off. “So tell me,” San continued, “why did you really come after me, was it because you were curious about my work? Or, was it because deep down you missed me?” Honestly, you weren’t even sure if you knew the answer, your body having reacted before your mind could catch up.
“This isn’t right,” you argued, reaching your hands up to push at his shoulders.
“And yet here we are,” he teased, backing up enough to wrap his arms around you and pull you closer to him. Your bodies pressed together and your arms instinctually made their way around his neck which made him chuckle. “I always knew you were special, you understood me in a way that no one else ever did. Stay with me, nothing will be able to come between us.” San leaned down until your lips were centimeters apart, his breath tickling your lips with every word. You tried not to give into him, knowing that this was wrong, but you also couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you just from being near him. You had always cared for San when you two were partners, hell there was even a time where you could argue that you did have a crush on him. That was back then however, when he was the sweet and easy going detective that decorated his desk with mini plushies and would whine if you forgot to get him a pastry on your morning coffee runs. This version of San wasn’t like that, even if the allure was still there, he was cold, twisted, and a killer.
“I can’t do this,” you argued, “you’re not the man I once cared about.” You tried to turn your head away from him, but he gripped your chin to force you to look at him.
“Yes I am, behind all of this it is still me and I can prove that to you,” he whispered, “just let me show you.” When you shook your head again he huffed, loosening his grip for a moment before it tightened again, “Fine then, how about another game?”
“I already won your stupid game though!” you challenged.
“Yet you still haven’t learned,” he fought back, “the least you can do is give me a chance to convince you. If you don’t give in then I will go with you to the station and turn myself in, but if I win then you quit being a detective for good and you stay with me.” You gave him a questioning look, at this point more than positive that he had gone insane. However, if playing his dumb games meant putting an end to Jigsaw, then you were more than willing to oblige.
“Alright fine, deal,” you reluctantly agreed. You only had a moment to register Sans smirk before he was pulling you against him again and connecting your lips. One hand stayed pressed against your back to keep you against him, while the other tangled itself in your hair, tugging slightly to get a reaction out of you. The kiss wasn’t rough or forced like you had expected, instead it was gentle and passionate, like he wanted to take his time with you. His lips were surprisingly soft against yours, and you began to slowly melt against his movements. You kissed him back and allowed him to have more control, whining softly against his lips when he tugged a bit harder at your hair. Your own hands trailed down his body, tracing his shoulders and chest for a few moments before daring to go a bit lower. San groaned as he felt you palm him over his robe, tightening his grip on your hair and deepening the kiss as his own hand reached down to grab at your thighs and your ass.
All your resolve melted away at his touch and you found yourself giving into him completely, relishing in the way he invaded your senses. All rationality had left completely, replaced with an unusual desire as San explored your body. As desperate as he was, his touches remained soft and left you craving more whenever he pulled his hand away. San walked you back until you reached the desk, lifting you up enough to sit you on top of it and slotting himself between your thighs as he finally pulled away. You only had a second to catch your breath before you were pushed back slightly and pinned down by your hands. San hovered above you with a knowing smirk, taking a moment to enjoy your flustered expression before leaning down to whisper directly in your ear.
“Looks like I won. Game Over!”
Ateez taglist: N/A
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Captain Swan Fic Recs are back, baby! - April Edition
Hello, cs friends! It's been like, what, seven years since I last did this? Who's counting. Enjoy the fruits of y'all's labour and some amazing stories. Keep writing, we need you
-Sophie
when Emma falls in love [from the vault] by @spartanguard
Inspired by "When Emma Falls In Love" by Taylor Swift, part of series based on songs from the vault
everyone's wondering why Emma doesn't screw the hot bartender already, it's not like he hasn't given signs. but with emma's romantic past it's not like she's throwing chances to anyone, scruffily attractive as they may be. yet, it's not her past that's worrisome. will they break the curse?
rated T | 6.2k words | AO3
Untie Me | captain swan fic | office romance | mature | 3/5 | 5.9k | in progress, by me
“Didn’t you pay attention to trigonometry, Jones?” she balances her weight on the stick, languidly, in a way that ticks something into his already drowsy brain. “Is this the part where you offer to teach me, Swan?” he says, advancing to her.
Read on Ao3 or ff.net
I, lost, was passing by - by @dykelilypage
Five years ago, Emma's father had given her a necklace for her birthday. It was a beautiful ruby encased in a golden chain, that sat heavy on her chest. It was safe to say then, that Emma was more than a little bit pissed off to discover that it had been stolen from right around her neck. The one stroke of luck to the whole ordeal was that she knew exactly who had taken it. Killian Jones.
rated E | 6267 words
love scare by @exhaustedpirate
it's a little canon-compliant one-shot that i place during the six weeks of peace, more specifically, like a day or so before 4B
rated G | 922 words | ao3
Expecting a Secret [3/3] by @walviemort
Summary: After the events of 3x19, Killian is at his lowest after being rejected by Emma. When Snow’s labor turns out to be a false alarm, Zelena offers Killian a deal: she’ll leave the Charmings alone…if he gives her the baby she needs for her spell instead. There’s just one hitch: he has to keep it a secret. At least it will only take 10 days, right?
The Heart of a Villan (5/5) by @beckettj
There are only two people that can make me care about football: Ted Lasso and this.
Words: 6181 ~ AO3
Perilous Harbor by @veryverynotgoodwrites
Emma Swan is heir apparent to her parents' kingdom in the Enchanted Forest, and a powerful wielder of light magic. This makes her the most wanted woman in the realm, not only for marriage, but for leverage against the king and queen. While her parents have been able to keep her safe so far, an attack is launched on Princess Emma that leaves her no choice but to seek the protection of her worst enemy - Killian Jones, infamous captain of the Jolly Roger and his pirate crew.
ao3 in progress 19/23
a work of art by @sotangledupinit
“I always have to clean up your messes,” she mutters to herself angrily, eyes glaring down at the red liquid on the floor.
Between Waking Life and Our Dreams (12/?) by @nachocheese-itsmycheese
Season 3b canon divergence: Storybrooke is still missing when Emma, Killian, and Henry reach the town line.
AO3 T
The Fluffy Problem by @ineffablecolors
"Oh, I'm going to have fun paying you back, Captain."
ff.net
The Cure for Loneliness (4/?) by @laianely
Killian went to the world without magic to finally kill Crocodile, but instead he met Emma in Gold's shop. And his whole life turned upside down overnight.
E 16k words in progress AO3
Pan Says... (8/?) by @hollyethecurious
After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.
To Cleave Destiny by @iamstartraveller776
She was going to pass the night the same way she did every year in adulthood: by getting drunk enough to forget that the world was incredibly unfair.
Ao3, in progress, T, 4k
Note:
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If you have more fic recs or more links, drop them in the comments and I'll include them. You creative mermaids, love ya.
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Favorite fics (Charles):
1.Charles Leclerc:
Deserving (fluff)
Something full (+PG) (Smut)
Him taking your virginity (smut)
So mean to me (smut)
Marked (smut)
Too much (car sex) (smut)
Shut up and make your choice (smut)
Pretty when you cry (smut)
Crying eyes (smut)
Just relax (+CS) (smut)
Love yourself (+PG) (smut)
Riding shotgun (+PG) Part.1; Part.2 (smut)
Charles punishing reader (smut)
True temptation (smut)
Him being jealous (smut)
Jealous (smut)
Fighting lesson (smut)
Real orgasm (smut)
Start again (smut)
Piano lesson (smut)
Dirty boy (smut)
Inked (smut)
Podium finishers (+MV, LN) (smut)
What happens in vegas (+MV) (smut) (love this)
First time squirtig (smut)
Waking up (smut)
Best friends? (smut)
First win of the season (smut)
Personal trainer Charles (smut)!
The blueprint (smut)!
Don't go (smut)
In the car (smut)
Eye contact (+MV) (smut)
Keep going (+MV) (smut)
Wait for you (smut with fluff) (this is so cute and funny, I love it)
A game of red Part.1; Part.2; Part.3 (+CS) (smut, fluff at the very end)
Overworked uni gf (fluff ant the start, smut at the end)
Spanking (suggestive?)
Broken glass (fluff)
Unwanted (sister) (fluff)
30 more minutes (fluff)
Magic in your veins (sister) Pt.1; Pt2 (fluff)
You're the only friend I need (sister) (fluff)
Sleep talking (fluff)
A mean interviewer (fluff)
Once Dance, Chérie (fluff)
A sleepless night in Monaco (fluff)
Night tea and tears (fluff)
Daydream (fluff)
Slipping through his fingers (daughter) (fluff)
Midnight support (sister) (fluff)
You can't do everything (fluff)
Please don't leave me (fluff)
Deal (idk)
Make the world go away (fluff)
Rom-com (fluff)
Our first night in Paris (fluff)
War (fluff)
All you got (fluff)
Hoodie (fluff)
That time of the month (fluff)
Reconciliation (fluff?)
Make a mess (fluff)
Right time (fluff) (this is long and gold)
Childhood friends (fluff)
Making movies out of memories (fluff)
Only you (fluff)
A little teenage dream (fluff)
You're lying, right? Grounded (+LN) (fluff)!
Ghost whisperer (fluff)
Orange peel theory (fluff)
Lessons in anatomy (fluff)
Come here (fluff)
Some extra goodies (fluff)
MASTERLIST
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As, Bs and Cs - Chapter I
A CRM!Rick Grimes x OFC fic!
This is quite a lengthy chapter to hopefully build up the necessary context and foundations to their connection.
Masterlist
Next Chapter
The world had ended over a decade ago, the walkers consuming the population bit by bit until there was nothing left. The Civic Republic scrounged up who they could, their numbers growing to the thousands.
Still, the ones they had were not good enough.
They were civillians. Normal people who did normal things and didn't understand like the rest of them.
The Civic Republic Military was losing more and more soldiers with every mission, becoming overwhelmed with the number of walkers that roamed outside their walls. There weren't enough people to replace them - enough competent people at least.
In a decade or two, the CRM could collapse, and it would be no one's fault but their own.
They are the ones who had saved thousands of people who couldn't fight, when they should have looked for more soldiers in their place.
The CRM was weakening, and if it crumbled the Civic Republic and all its people would pay the price.
That was when Dr. Greer had proposed a... curious idea.
The Civic Republic was not without its faults, and neither were its people. They had their fair share of criminals who would pay the price with community service, but there was a small percentage; almost minute; who were worse.
Major General Beale had wanted them sentenced to death for their crimes, but Okafor had protested. He argued in favour of their usefulness - the skills they needed to commit the horrors they did was what was necessary in the CRM.
They could find use of them, he promised.
And it seemed Dr. Greer had.
Dr. Greer was a geneticist before the world had ended, with a long and profound career in foetal medicine.
A controlled birthing population - a programme designed so the CRM could gain the soldiers they needed without gaining too many mouths to eat.
The programme had only been a whisper for the last few years, a quiet promise and a tempting future. But the opportunity to implement it had never arised.
Until now.
The Campus Colony had been set aflame, and with it, it had stolen over nine thousand souls.
The perfect opportunity.
Now, all they needed were the perfect lab rats. A way to prove the programme would work - a method to rehabilitate criminals and give the CRM what it needed.
Major General Beale had wanted Okafor to be the first to try, but as whispers of Rick Grimes' rebellious streak took hold of him, he saw it as the sole opportunity to truly have control over the man.
Rick Grimes had spent years trying to escape the Civic Republic, all of his attempts ending the same - in failure. But he had grown daring, even willing to cut off his own arm so he could have a chance to return to his life before the CRM.
When the man had finally agreed to join the CRM after years of rejection, the ease behind his decision only made Beale grow more suspicious.
Rick had changed his mind so easily and had given up on finding his friends and family in a blink.
It made Beale uneasy.
So he would do what he could to keep the man tied to the CRM, even if it came in the form of a child.
***
"I didn't sign up for this."
Rick's voice was filled with fury as Okafor stood before him stone-faced, having recounted what Beale and Greer told him as he passed on the orders to Grimes.
"Yes, you did. The minute you said yes to joining the CRM, you said yes to every condition Beale makes."
Rick scoffs, a hand running through his hair as he paces up and down the sparse space of his living room.
His voice deepened to a growl, "this wasn't part of the deal. This wasn't our deal!"
"I know," Okafor's voice softened. He knew what was happening was wrong, but there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. Not right now.
"But you have to, Rick. If you don't, then someone else will. You're a good man, Rick. The others aren't."
Rick narrowed his eyes, growing sceptical of his words. He couldn't believe this was happening.
Okafor called it a controlled repopulation, a programme designed so the CRM could have the soldiers it needed in the future. But he saw it for what it was, and it wasn't anything good.
"Why do you care so much if I say yes?"
Okaford clenched his jaw, "because it's my fault she's here. And the least I can do is make sure she won't end up being partnered with someone that would hurt her."
"Your fault?"
A grim smile twitched on Okafor's face as he sighed and took a seat on Rick's couch, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shook with morbid amusement.
"I brought her here. As a 'B' not an 'A'. She lost everyone because the men in our ranks knew no control, and I promised her she would find everything she needed here. And now what? She's a 'C'? A criminal turned into a pet for Greer and her people to study her like she's a fucking lab rat."
A bitter laugh escaped his throat as Rick came to a stop in front of him. He waited, hoping the silence would urge Okafor on.
"My men and I were sent on a covert mission - a retrieval. But one of the recruits got spooked, lit up everything around him as fast as he could. By the time we got him down, it was too late. You could hear her screaming, like it was battering your brain. We went to look for her and found her and her people inside a small cabin a few clicks north."
"What happened?"
Rick's voice was sombre, he knew what had happened.
"They were all dead and she was dying."
Okafor looked up at Rick, eyes wet despite the blank look upon his face - "I brought her back. Said she was a 'B' and spent every day after convincing her to join the CRM. She said no, of course."
He scoffed before he continued, "when she finally got citizenship, shit. Let's just say the world really didn't change much from before. She got herself a life sentence, would've been given death if I hadn't stopped Beale."
Now that sparked Rick's interest, what damage could someone do to have Beale want to sentence them to death. Or better yet, what hold did she have on Okafor for him to still fight for her after the supposed horrors she committed.
"This is a second chance. For things to go right."
Rick shook his head vehemently, "no. This ain't right. This ain't no second chance. This is worse than death. Worse than torture. Look what you're signing her up to."
"But it's the closest she'll ever get. Look, if this works, if the programme is successful and you give them what they want, she'll get her freedom back. Five years, Rick. It's five years and then she is no longer your burden to bare."
Before Rick could protest further, a bellowed voice called him from the front door, the blatant order being punctuated by three heavy knocks.
At the sound of Beale's voice, Okafor's shoulders straightened, and he stood up with a stiff spine as he looked into Rick's eyes, a hazy vision of pleading behind the stoic mask of an obedient solider.
"Say yes, Rick. Don't fight against it. They'll make you take someone anyway. Just let it be her. No one says no to Beale."
Okafor didn't give Rick a chance to reply, skirting past him as he swung the door open and stood at attention, saluting Beale in greeting. Rick followed him instinctively, copying his every move.
Beale nodded at the men to stand down, marching past them. Behind him followed a stern-faced woman, narrow-framed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose as she pursed her lips in distaste at the sight of Rick's apartment. She made her way towards Beale, nodding at Rick and Okafor before she looked over her shoulder and called, "bring in the girl."
They all turned to face the door now, the quiet jingle of chains growing more ominous as the faceless figure of Alara Hunter drew closer.
Rick held his breath when he finally caught sight of her.
She was flanked by four soldiers, their grip on her arms and shoulders so tight Rick could see her skin blanching under their touch. She was dressed in a thin vest, blue jeans, and socks. Her hands were cuffed, and so were her ankles, each one attached to a single chain held by the soldier on her right.
He couldn't help but furrow his brows as he lifted his eyes to track her face only to find half of it concealed behind what appeared to be a muzzle.
Her dark eyes darted across the people standing in Rick's apartment before flickering back to where Rick knew Okafor stood. He could see her throat move as she swallowed harshly at the sight of the man.
Apart from the chains and muzzle, she looked well. Rick wanted to scoff at the thought as soon as it entered his mind. Here she was, a young woman who had lost freedom, who was chained and tied down by the CRM.
But she looked clean and healthy and angry.
"Rick Grimes."
It was Greer who spoke, a pleasant smile upon her face that didn't match her demeanour.
"I believe Okafor has explained to you the purposes of this task?"
Rick clenched his jaw, turning to face the woman. He couldn't help but take a final glance at the woman standing at the door - Alara Hunter.
He turned back, catching Okafor's gaze before he nodded solemnly, "yes, ma'am."
"And so, I believe you are happy to participate in this mission of ours?"
Mission?
He wanted to spit in her face, call her vile and absurd and stupid. This wasn't a mission. It was immoral and unethical and torture.
Still, he held himself back.
He had seen the other men in the CRM: brutes that were all too happy to hurt instead of speak. Cowards who wasted bullets on flickering shadows. Men who had never truly grown up, and behaved like unsupervised children.
It wouldn't be fair to subject her to such a fate because Okafor was right. Regardless of whether or not Rick said yes to Alara, he would still be assigned a partner, and so would she.
He gritted his teeth as he nodded, "yes ma'am."
Beale let out a deep chuckle, moving forward to clap a hand on Rick's shoulder as he spoke, "this may be the best decision you've made, son. You are doing the CRM proud."
Rick looked over his shoulder once more, catching Alara's dark gaze, which grew hopeless as the seconds ticked by, and he wondered for a moment whether the people he left back in Alexandria would be proud.
"There are some conditions, of course."
"Conditions?" He turned back to Beale with a look of incredulity, eyes narrowing as he took a step back and shook the hand off his shoulder, "what conditions?"
"Given your... history here at the Civic Republic, Dr. Greer thought it best to ensure your compliance."
"The hell is that supposed to mean?" It was Okafor who spoke now, drawing forward as his gaze skipped between Rick and Alara, who stood motionless at the door.
Greer spoke now, her voice sounded pleased as she sniffed lightly, "we believed it necessary that your first few copulations were witnessed. Simply to ensure adherence of course."
Rick felt bile burn the back of his throat, a wave of nausea that just grew strong every passing second since Okafor first told him and Greer's plans - "you want to watch us have sex?"
"If you would like to put it so crudely, then yes."
***
The conversation hadn't lasted much longer than that, Rick unable to have much of a say apart from agreeing to their terms.
Okafor had shifted to meet Rick's eyes with his own pleading gaze, and Rick had agreed to Beale's conditions under a certain stipulation.
He had only wanted the first attempt to be witnessed, but it seemed that Greer was unwilling to go any lower than three. Rick agreed begrudgingly, knowing three was still better than the initial seven Greer had wanted.
It was under Greer's command that the girl was escorted to his bedroom, and Rick was unable to hide his look of disapproval and contempt as they looped her chain around a post on his bed. It made him sick to see such a thing, made his stomach twist and turn as he held back his anger with strained difficulty.
As they made their way out of Rick's apartment, Greer turned to him with a leering grin, eyes running over his form as she wished him luck and revealed that she couldn't wait for the performance he put on tomorrow.
Rick froze at that, tomorrow?
Greer could only laugh coyly, an expression that was unsuited for her ageing face. She ran a hand over her slicked back hair, adjusting her bun as she smiled in earnest - "tomorrow is trial day number 1. It seems our experiment started at the perfect time, Miss Hunter begins ovulating tomorrow."
Rick shifted uncomfortably at the fact, unsure of what to say or do. It seemed Okafor was the same, eyes darting between Rick and the closed door over his shoulder where he knew Alara had been hidden.
"I have left you with the booklet instructing you on how to care for your programme partner, as well as how to discipline her, should she become aggressive. Do follow the guide Mr Grimes, we wouldn't want to place our first participant in any harm."
Rick could only blink, hand tightening around the small handwritten booklet Greer had passed him whilst Beale's men were dragging a reluctant Alara to his room. He could only nod, unable to meet anyone's eyes as he reached for the door and pushed it shut.
The last thing he saw was Greer exchanging a victorious grin with Beale and realised that they believed they had won.
And for once, Rick feared they may have been right.
***
After Okafor had left with Beale and Greer, Rick's apartment rung silent. If he hadn't seen Beale's men drag the girl into his room, it would've seemed like nothing had ever happened.
But it did.
Rick wasn't sure what to do - whether he should just sit on his couch and finish his bottle of rum, or if he should go in and make sure his "programme partner" was okay.
She hadn't so much as twitched in the wrong way since they dragged her to his doorstep. Her eyes wandered. They darkened and misted and narrowed, but she never moved too quickly or pulled away too harshly.
Whatever she had done was enough for Beale to have wanted her dead, and for Greer to want her genetics to be passed onto the soldiers she was curating.
Rick glanced at the closed door to his bedroom, wondering what monster hid beneath the chained woman who stood in there. Then he thought for a moment of who he was before the CRM, before Alexandria. Of the beast he had become after months on the road, surviving day to day with his children and his friends- his family.
Okafor had said one of his men had killed her people, and Rick knew that if he had been in her position and everyone he knew and loved had died, he would want to destroy the Civic Republic and all it stood for.
It was in that quiet space of reflection that he realised she may not be the monster they all made her put to be. And if she was, she couldn't be worse than the one that lurked in the shadows of his being. The monster that was chained down by threats. The monster that was trapped in a community of faux civilisation.
Rick steeled his spine, and with every step he took towards the bedroom door, he wondered how exactly he had been dealt such a fate.
***
Alara Hunter hadn't always been angry. She used to be quiet and shy and cry at the smallest inconveniences. She liked to think an echo of that girl still sounded inside her, but sitting on top of a stranger's bed, her wrists and ankles wound in chains and her lips forced shut, she wondered how she had managed to get herself into such a predicament.
She wondered how she had changed so easily.
She wondered why she was always so angry.
She still cried. Of course, she did. But her tears were filled with fury, with hatred. Towards everyone - her father for leaving her when the world ended, her people for shielding her that night, Okafor for bringing her to this God forsaken community. And herself.
Alara was so angry at herself. For letting herself be brought here instead of fighting to die at her people's side, for letting herself get trapped with the very people that slaughtered them, for letting them take advantage of her and get away with that too.
And now, what?
A sex slave for the CRM. A breeding whore. A mindless cunt.
Not an A, never a B. Trapped as a C.
Her heart hammered with rage, her hands trembled and her eyes clouded as she struggled to breathe through the muzzle. Like a dog, they had chained her and tied her down.
She promised herself, with a soundless voice echoing in her mind, that she would kill them all. She would burn them to the ground and make sure they couldn't rise again.
She wouldn't let them win. She couldn't.
The sound of a door creaking open pulled her from her thoughts, and she looked up to find the man who had been assigned to take everything from her. To break her.
Beale hadn't outright admitted that was the reason he agreed to place her in the programme so easily, but she knew. She could see it in the way his eyes lit up with triumph when Rick agreed, how he grinned viciously when Greer was adamant to watch their copulations.
He thought this would break her, but she wouldn't let it.
She stared at the man - Rick. He was tall, tall enough that she was sure even if she was standing she would have to crane her neck to look him in the eyes.
And his eyes, she found she couldn't look away if she tried. Something hollow glistened in them, as though the man was no longer human.
An unfamiliar whisper spoke in her mind, like calls to like. And she wondered how much truth was held behind such a statement.
He was handsome, she couldn't fault him there. But he was a soldier for the CRM and that made him an enemy. It meant regardless of his pretty eyes or gravelled voice, he was just as bad as the rest of them.
Just as bad as Greer and Beale and Okafor.
Rick steps closer to her and Alara can't help but shrink away. It seems he expected her reaction, halting on the spot as his eyes soften. The sight did nothing but ignite a smouldering rage in her heart - if he felt pity for her, he should let her go. Let her escape.
For some reason, it seemed Rick was able to understand exactly what she was thinking, and he spoke placatively as she narrowed her eyes in his direction, "I can't take the cuffs off."
Alara rolled her eyes, that much was obvious. If he wasn't going to help her, then she didn't want to speak to him. She drew herself back further on the bed, her back pressing against the headboard as she turned to look out the small window of his bedroom.
The view wasn't the best, but it was more than the sliver of light that occasionally glimpsed through her cell. She felt the gentle touch of a setting sun heat her skin, she could feel herself flush under its soft embrace as she wondered how many years it had been since she had felt the sun on her face. The wind in her hair.
Her skin had paled in her dark cell, her tan from harsh summers in Georgia stripped from her when she was sentenced. It was then she decided; it had been far too long.
She closed her eyes and counted Rick's breaths as he stood, watching. The setting sun was a timer to the start of her doom, she heard Greer's plans and it was moving too quickly to put a stop to them now.
Rick's breaths were slow and steady, like he was trying to control his own wild beast as he watched her. She pretended they were the sound of a clock ticking, that time had slowed down to let her savour this broken freedom and make most of the hours she had left.
The bed sunk under an unexpected weight and the light warming her face had been blocked by a head. She kept her eyes closed pretending she didn't notice the difference- pretending her face didn't grow warmer under his intense stare.
"Have you eaten? It's late."
She kept quiet, hoping he would think she was dozing off and leave her be. But he saw the way her lashes fluttered, the way her chest rose and fell in quick successions as she struggled to breathe through the mask, the way her fingers twitched when he shuffled upon the bed.
He scratched the back of his neck, unsure of what to say or what to do.
"I could make you something to eat. I- I could make pancakes, Ca-" he took another deep breath, settling a quiet ache in his chest, "or eggs or something."
Her eyes burned as she kept them shut tight, thinking about when the last time she had a warm meal was. She turned away from him, nodding as she reached a hand to run through her hair only for the chain to stop it short of her shoulders. She gritted her teeth at the harsh tug, unable to hide her sniffles and the tears streaming down her face.
Why was she crying?
Was it anger? Fear?
Rick watched her for a moment as she tried to compose herself. She struggled with the limited movement and tangled chains, she screwed her eyes shut and her shoulders raised as she took deep breaths.
Rick couldn't help the apology that escaped his lips as he stood from the bed, nor could he stop the guilt weighing upon his shoulders at the broken laugh she replied with.
***
Rick hadn't eaten much since joining the CRM. Being forced to give up the idea of returning to Alexandria had taken a part of him, had broken it beyond repair. He rarely felt hungry anymore.
At most, he would force himself to eat some slices of toast so he wouldn't stumble during training. Or if he was truly lost in his thoughts, he would make himself Carl's favourite meal and pretend his son was there, eating it alongside him.
That was what sat in front of him now - blueberry and peanut butter pancakes, with whipped cream dolloped on to make a smiley-face and sugar sprinkled on top. He remembered the day Carl had first begged him to make it, and his pleading eyes and mischievous grin had been too precious to say no. It had tasted horrible, all sorts of sticky and sweet lathered in soft bread, but when Carl had asked him so proudly what he thought, Rick could only smile and clear his plate.
The handwritten guide Greer gave him sat on the counter near him, and the page he had left it open on strictly forbade him from giving the girl utensils, in case she hurt herself or him.
He didn't have any plastic cutlery on hand, so he could only sigh as he took the paper plate back to his room to lay on top of the bed.
Alara stared at the carefully decorated stack, and though the muzzle hid the shape of her lips, he saw the corner of her eyes crinkle and he liked to think it was because this small memory of Carl had been enough to make her smile.
He bit his lip before he spoke, "I can take the..." he gestured carefully to her face, "I can take it off, so you can eat."
Her eyes gleamed with hope, her lips burning at the stretch of the mouthpiece wedged between so she couldn't bite her tongue and choke herself to death.
"But I got'a put it back on after, okay?"
Her eyes narrowed, she pushed the plate away as a garbled scoff could be heard through the muzzle. She knew she shouldn't be surprised, it wasn't as though the muzzle was a newly added piece to her prison regalia. No, Beale had ordered it to be placed on her after her first few weeks in the CRM prison cell didn't go too well.
"Hey, look," Rick's voice sounded strongly as he got closer, sitting at the edge of the bed and facing her, "I wouldn't do it if I didn't have to. But it's in Greer's instructions, and if I ignore it, it's not going to end well for either of us."
She looked at him with scepticism in her eyes, but it took one look at the warm plate of pancakes to dissolve any resistance. She agreed reluctantly, and Rick reached around her head to unclip the mouthpiece.
It covered her entire mouth and lower jaw, pressed tight against the skin in a way he knew had to be uncomfortable.
Alara could feel his slow breaths on her neck, and goosebumps broke out marking their way down her arms and chest. Rick felt her shiver against him, and as he continued to unlatch her muzzle, he murmured a promise to try and get some clothes that would fit over her manacles.
When he finally gets the muzzle free, the first sound to escape her was a relieved sigh, making the most of her momentary freedom. She stretched her jaw and Rick leaned away, throwing the muzzle on to the bed as he stared at her with his gaze anew.
When he had first seen her, he couldn't deny her beauty - not with her long, dark hair and her soft brown eyes. But now, seeing her face whole, he couldn't help but be mesmerised by the sight of her.
Alara was young, her youth visible in her face. She looked untouched and unharmed by the end of the world, but Rick knew that thought was a lie.
She licked her lips, the skin cracked and dry from being forced to remain stretched over the mouthpiece. She looked away from Rick, pretending he wasn't there despite how hard it was to ignore that the man sat directly opposite her.
He pushed the plate closer, encouragingly - "eat."
She reached for the plate, unsurprised by the lack of utensils, and ripped off a piece of the pancake. She reached to place it in her mouth, only for her chains to stop her short. She growled lightly in frustration before leaning her head down to take it into her mouth. The awkward position hurt her neck, the muscles already aching from the weight of her muzzle.
She sighed contently, the pancake warm in her mouth and the cream melting quickly. It was sweet and left a cloying taste in her mouth, her jaw tingling as it was exposed to flavours that had been hidden from her for so long.
She looked out the window again where night had fallen, and slowly chewed the food in her mouth as she savoured it. When she swallowed, she turned back to take another piece only to find one waiting inches from her face.
Rick watched her with a contemplative gaze, before encouraging her by saying, "it wouldn't do you any good to eat like that."
She bit her lip, wondering what she should do. But this might be the only meal she gets before the trial if Greer had it her way - she didn't know what instructions Greer had left, so she couldn't risk not taking the opportunity if it stood before her.
Another careful thought entered her mind, pushing her to get close to Rick - close enough, intimate enough that he may possibly choose her over the CRM.
She kept that whisper close to her heart, looking deep into Rick's eyes that resembled the sky and she ate the piece he held for her. He watched her chew and swallow, and something in her begged her to speak.
To show her gratitude or to fill the silence. Something to show him she was human, something to make it easier for him to care.
"This tastes horrible."
It was the first time she had spoken in years - she had given up talking because there was simply no one to listen, and her broken screams had been silenced by Beale's muzzle.
Her voice cracked with every word, rasped and dry. The sound of her voice felt like that of a stranger's.
To her surprise, Rick simply laughed, his eyes glistening with the faint memory of something as he tore off another piece to feed her.
They then chose to sit in silence, Rick feeding her every bite and watching her chew and swallow methodically. By the end, Alara hated to say that she grew fond of the weird taste and wondered when she could try them next.
When Rick stood to dispose of the plate, they both pretended not to notice how he forgot to replace the muzzle.
***
The bed was soft - foreign. After years of a thin mattress on the cold cement floor, she didn't think she could get used to something like this bed again. Nor the feeling of sleeping without a chunk of metal strapped across her face.
It had helped with one thing though, that stupid muzzle. She had learnt to make the most of each breath, quiet inhales for six deep seconds, hold for four and release over eight. Wait and repeat.
It was a structured sound, calculated based on the accompanying breaths that sounded from the ground.
Rick also lied awake, eyes focused on the ceiling as his mind whirred around how everything had changed so quickly. Again.
First the bridge. Then the CRM. And now, her.
For once, he found himself thinking of someone else other than those whom he had left behind in Alexandria, and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing. He thought of her reaction to the pancakes, a ghost of a smile on his face as he reminisced a fading past with his son.
He wondered what colour Carl's eyes had been when they widened in glee. Had they been the bright blue of a summer sky? Or the misty clouds right before a thunderstorm? Carl had always loved thunderstorms, loved to run through the rain and splash in the mud before everything had gone so wrong. Had his eyes been blue at all?
And what about Judith? Who had she grown to resemble? He imagined she would be a spitting image of Lori, with her long brown her and her kind eyes, but she would have Shane's short temper and remarks and it would make her that much more precious to him.
His eyes burned, and he sent a silent prayer to whoever would listen and begged to be reunited with his child. An even quieter whisper confessed he wouldn't mind which one.
Alara's breaths teetered off, her silent counting falling apart as Rick's own grew shuttered in the dark. She wasn't sure if she should say something - he had chosen to stay here, to sleep on the floor and listen to the guide even though he had already ignored it once.
Then she thought of the miserable nights she spent in her damp cell, how she wished there was someone she could share her burdens with so they wouldn't hollow her soul and burn her will.
"How did you get here?" She whispered into the dark, her voice still scratchy from the lack of use.
She heard in sharp inhale, one he tried to cover with the rustling of blankets as he turned his head to look at where she lay on the edge of the bed.
Lying on her stomach was the only comfortable position she could manage. Her head rested on her arms, her legs curled as close to her body as she could manage. She could only look towards Rick in her mangled state, but there was something in her gaze that looked content at the feel of the beds soft embrace.
Even the smell was so unlike the stale wetness that clouded her cell, it had smelt like the air right before the rain fell in autumn. Now, her nose was buried in the faint scent of musk, leather and something earthy, and she liked to think this is what freedom would smell like, had they let her roam outside.
"Someone found me when I was hurt," Rick believed there was no harm in revealing such information, a small part of him hoping the small similarities in their pasts would make her trust him even more.
"They brought me here, I haven't left since."
"Because you didn't want to? Or because you couldn't?"
The silence that rung between them spoke for itself.
"They took everything from me before bringing me here. The only thing I wanted was my freedom, and they've taken that too." There was no hesitation in her confession, only conviction.
Rick watched as she shifted her head so she could focus on the lamp on the nightstand instead, and before he could wonder if she would use it to hurt him, he saw her eyes glisten in the faint shadows of light.
"And now..." her voice wavered for a new reason entirely, "they're going to take my choice from me. And I can't do anything but wait."
A harsh laugh escaped her, her head shaking vigorously on the pillow as she shook her head and her voice dropped to something promising and threatening - "I'm going to burn them all. I'll make them all pay."
"You can't."
He could feel her glare through the dark, but he knew his words were true.
"There is no killing them. There is no escape."
"You don't know that. Not unless you've tried."
Rick lay a hand over his stumped arm, his heart sinking as he remembers all he sacrificed to escape only to stay trapped.
He doesn't say another word for the rest of the night, falling into a fitful sleep.
I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! There are many more to come <3. Let me know if you have any theories or ideas for what might happen next, I would love to hear them! And to the people who have been following me from the start, thank you for being patient during my long break. I hope I gave you guys something worthwhile to come back to <33.
Taglist: @hhhilloklll @bellstwd @classyunknownlover @voodoopoetry @graveyardblossom
#crm!rick grimes#rick grimes x oc#rick grimes x reader#rick grimes#rick grimes x you#the walking dead#the ones who live#twd towl#twd fanfiction#rick grimes angst#rick grimes fic#rick grimes fluff#eventual smut#twd x reader
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WIP Wednesday: “One More” (part two)
Okay, here (at way too long last! ;p ) is the second part of Melanie’s @searchingwardrobes birthday gift fic, which I began way back in November! I don’t have much of an excuse for why it has taken me so long, other than that I have gotten too many WIPs going at once, and I’m having to take turns. Anyway, I also waited until I had the third installment ready to go as well, because ~*FAIR WARNING*~ this chapter is sad and angsty and I didn’t want to leave you with it for too long without the next update, I don’t even feel like I should make you wait a week. Just please know going into this one that this isn’t the end, and there’s more yet to come, so don’t give up hope... (I can already feel Krystal @kmomof4 scolding me for the angst and pain!)
Okay, without further stalling, Part Two of “One More”...
Summary: Through the years, Emma keeps waiting - one more placement, one more year, one more separation - until she can find where and with whom she truly belongs. It turns out the person to show her has been right beside her all the time...
{A 5 Part CS Modern AU}
From the beginning here on Tumblr, or on AO3 if you prefer
Part Two
by: @snowbellewells
ii. seventeen years old (three years later)
“Just one more year, Emma,” he assured earnestly, his sparkling eyes wide and imploring her to understand. “Just one more year and you’ll be fre to go wherever you want. We won’t be apart that long.”
Tilting her head to look up at her best friend, Emma blinked back the tears rapidly gathering behind her eyelids, determined not to let them fall where Killian could see. She nodded in agreement, logically knowing his words were true, but unable to deny the hurt that lanced through her at the thought of their parting. The ache in her chest expanded and grew with every breath she took.
For all her life, Emma had been alone. Oh, not physically - she had rarely experienced true privacy or had space to call her own - but emotionally, with no one to listen to her hopes, her fears, her secrets, to laugh with her over inside jokes, or to offer a shoulder when she needed to cry. Not until three years ago when she had almost literally fallen at Killian Jones’ feet. Since then, Killian, and his older brother Liam too, had become what seemed to Emma like her whole world; the best approximation of family that she had ever known. To think of him leaving her behind, when she was stuck in one place and unable to follow, was crushing. Even as she tried to seem supportive, it pained her more than she’d like to admit.
Perceptive as always, Killian paused in his torrent of explanation to really take in her expression, the struggle on her face no matter how she tried to mask it. Reaching up to brush his fingers under her eye, he subtly wiped away the errant tear she hadn’t yet realized she’d let fall. The enthusiasm he had been broadcasting was tempered with concern for her as he murmured lowly, “Hush now, Swan, what’s this? Surely it isn’t all for me.”
Emma bit her lip, shaking her head quickly in frustration at herself. She hadn’t wanted to dampen his excitement or hold him back from the opportunity before him. Grasping his hand abruptly before he could withdraw it, she clutched it in both of hers and interlaced their fingers as she pressed it to her chest. “Killian,” she choked out, trying to push past the emotion clogging her throat, “Of course it is! I want to be happy for you - I do - and I didn’t want to cry. B-but I’ll miss you so much. Without you… it’s lonely, Jones.”
He dipped his head to playfully waggle his eyebrows at her in the way he had that never failed to make her laugh. Emma shook her head at his antics, feeling the tiniest bit better in spite of nothing having changed. “Seriously, Jones?” she griped, equally in jest, even as she put her hand to his chest and shoved him away, disgruntled by his antics. She sniffled, the tracks of her tears drying as she found he had her laughing again, bouncing back from her push and wrapping her up tightly in a hug she couldn’t escape, no matter how much she wriggled or feigned protest.
In truth, for a moment she had to catch her breath and concentrate on not reacting to how much more solid and muscular his pectoral muscles felt under her palm and how wildly her heart fluttered when he pressed warm, full lips to the crown of her head as he held her close. Killian was no longer the lanky fourteen-year-old boy she had met on the front steps, though she had been under his spell even then.
No, he was nearly a man now, ready to strike out on his own and find what he was meant to do in the world. The military had served his older brother well, had even given Liam the means to take guardianship of his younger brother when his enlistment had ended about the same time their mother had passed away, leaving Killian all alone. She had heard Liam speak fondly of the places he had seen and the comradery he had shared with his fellow officers when they talked over supper sometimes while she was over at their house for the evening, or when the travel shows all three of them enjoyed happened to feature a place he had sailed. He didn’t bring it up all that often - Emma could sense without being told that the elder Jones never wished for his younger brother to feel guilt or like he had been a burden - but his fond reminiscence of the experience was clear nonetheless. Killian too spoke of his brother’s service with a definite sense of pride, looking up to the brother who was role model, parent, and friend rolled into one with a desire to follow in his footsteps.
This would allow him to do just that, as well as give him a real start in the world. They were two young men without much to their names. That he could then afford schooling when he returned was huge. Emma knew Killian wanted to prove himself, to show that what Liam had given up was worth the cost, for his big brother’s sake almost as much as his own. Even setting making Liam proud aside, Killian was smart. He wanted badly to go to college - either for marine biology or astronomy, most likely - whether he would usually admit it or not. This gave him that chance without putting he and Liam both into years of debt.
And he would be marvelous at it. Emma had no doubts about that. She might be biased, but there was literally nothing she had ever seen Killian Jones set out to do that he wasn’t brilliant at once he started.
So it was just the matter of the huge hole he would leave in her life while he was gone. She needed to try not to let him see how desolate the very thought made her feel. It wasn’t forever. Like he said, ‘just one more year’. She would be out of the system, graduated from high school, and free to go wherever he might end up. She could find a job, make her own money, and figure out what called to her, what she was meant to do as well. As long as he came back, and whatever she found was also with him nearby, everything would be fine. She could do this.
Offering him a crooked and rather wobbly smile, Emma returned Killian’s embrace, making him promise he would write every chance he got, and that he’d return with stories and pictures from all over to share with her. Meanwhile, he swore he’d be there with her again before she had a chance to really miss him. She nodded her agreement, already knowing that wasn’t possible. She would miss him the moment he left; like she had been split down the middle, like the other half of her body and soul was gone. It was the same empty feeling she’d carried with her from home to home, town to town, one foster family to another, until she’d ended up with Killian next door.
Emma didn’t want to go back to that, even if it was only temporary. But, if they had the rest of their lives afterwards, she could make do.
%%%%%%%%%%%%%%
It wasn’t until eight months later, when she saw through the screen door an unfamiliar and official-looking vehicle sliding silently up to park along the curb outside the Jones’ house that Emma truly feared her best friend might break his word. When two soldiers in dress uniform got out and moved slowly up the walk to Liam and Killian’s front door, one holding what even from a distance appeared to be a folded flag, Emma knew. Her head felt heavy, and she listed to the side as if she might fall over, dizzy and unable to see straight; suddenly she was unable to draw a full breath.
Liam came to tell her himself, an hour or so later, looking shrunken and pale to her eyes; his grief eating at him in a manner she knew all too well. Granted, Emma knew before he managed to tell her that Killian was gone, but that couldn’t have made putting it into words any easier for his elder sibling. They might be saying ‘missing’ rather than dead, but the detached, blank haze that had taken her over in order to survive didn’t seem to comprehend the difference. Liam promised he would tell her of anything he learned, that they should hold onto hope, that there was still a chance, and he assured her that she was still welcome at their house any time. She thanked him, promised to check in with him - though she wasn’t sure she could be in that house knowing that Killian wouldn’t be standing there again - and they hugged and cried together until both their eyes ran dry.
That night as she lay in bed unable to sleep, all Emma could think was that ‘one more year’ had become the rest of her life… and she was once again alone.
Tagging a few who might enjoy: @searchingwardrobes @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @jrob64 @apiratewhopines @cocohook38 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @darkcolinodonorgasm @stahlop @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @scientificapricot @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @let-it-raines @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @drowned-dreamer @kday426 @lfh1226-linda @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @wefoundloveunderthelight @cosette141 @sotangledupinit @booksteaandtoomuchtv @justanother-unluckysoul @bdevereaux @thislassishooked @blackwidownat2814 @tomeandflickcorner
#wip wednesday#five part cs modern au#one more#birthday fic for @searchingwardrobes#part two#cs angst#young emma#young killian#lieutenant duckling (sort of?)
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By Your Side || cs
"The quiet guy who lives next door to you hardly seems to notice you, but you can't help but notice him—he's gorgeous. You've given up all hope of striking up a conversation until he comes to your rescue one night after your ex shows up at your house, drunk and looking to take you back, whether you want him or not." - Prompt
🩹 Pair: San x Reader(f)
🩹 Rating/Genre: NC-17; Fluff, slight comfort, slice of life, neighbor au, strangers to lovers
🩹 Word Count: 6.4k
🩹 Warnings: Minor injury (cuts/scrapes), small amount of blood, intoxication/drunk character, insinuating cheating, cursing
🩹 Author’s Note: This is my first non-BTS fic, so I’m nervous! Ateez has really stolen my heart. They’re now one of my ult groups, so expect to see more of them on my blog heh. I’m excited to start writing for them. I have more Ateez fic ideas in mind that I’m looking forward to writing in the future! As always, I hope you enjoy it.
ateez masterlist | main masterlist
The slope of his nose was perfectly leveled. His hair was straight and parted in the middle to expose some of his forehead. His lips rested in a slight pout; his brows furrowed as he struggled to slide his key correctly into the keyhole of his mailbox. You would have offered to lend him a hand, but he soon got the key in successfully. The view of his face was covered by the mailbox’s door.
You should have torn your gaze from his profile. If he caught you staring, it would be too awkward to extract yourself from the situation. You would stumble over your words as you tried to formulate an excuse. However, he was like a magnet. Your eyes stayed glued to him, scanning what little you could see now. Perhaps it was the fact his hair color had suddenly changed from a bright pink to a dark black. Although you enjoyed his magenta hair, the black hair made him more alluring. While the obvious change in his appearance caught your attention, you couldn’t deny that another reason why you were so fascinated with the man was that he was extremely handsome. From his soft eyes to his sharp jawline; it was difficult to ignore him.
San has been your neighbor for almost a year now. Recalling his move-in day brought a smile to your face. Not just because he was your gorgeous new neighbor, but because his friends came and helped him move his furniture and boxes. You were leaving your apartment to run a grocery errand and had stumbled upon yelling whispers. His friends were trying to stay quiet amongst their chaos, but it was clear whispering was not their forte. Although you didn’t stay for long, you had gathered they were arguing about how to get your neighbor’s couch through his door. Through the havoc, you had caught your new neighbor rolling his eyes with a smile on his face as he carried a box inside behind them. They were finished by the time you had come back from your grocery shopping. And even though you didn’t see your neighbor and his friends, you could faintly hear them through the door. Usually, the noise would slowly boil your blood, but it was hard to get irritated by the contagious laughing next door.
A soft click and the rattling of keys tore you from your memories. Much to your horror, you were still staring at your neighbor. You ripped your gaze to your own open mailbox and hastily grabbed what little mail you had to distract yourself. However, your stare didn’t go unnoticed as you swore you saw his lips curl into a small smile before he left without a word.
Your shoulders sagged when he was out of your vision, eyes dropping down to the two envelopes in your hand. You had never been the greatest with keeping up with checking your mail, but after your neighbor made himself a home next door, getting your mail was the highlight of your days. It became an excuse to get a glimpse of the eye candy living adjacent to you.
Eventually, you would grow out of this strange attraction you had for your neighbor. At least you hoped you would. You had realized trying to start a conversation was harder than you imagined. It wasn’t because he gave you the cold shoulder, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say something to him. Every time you had built up the courage, your throat would close up and prevent any words from escaping. You wouldn’t be surprised if he thought you were a creep at this point. He never struck a conversation either. Maybe you had already scared him away.
The thought had a sigh leave your lips. You didn’t want to do that.
You shut your mailbox and twisted the key, locking it. You stared at the small, metal door. Today will be the last day for a while, you told the inanimate object. You were going to give your neighbor some space.
It was time to let go of the silly crush you had formed. It wasn’t going to go anywhere.
Choi San was a quiet man.
He kept to himself and was never the cause for any ruckus that occurred in your apartment complex. Well, he may have been if he was with his friends, but never alone was he any trouble. He was an enigma, and you couldn’t help but feel more drawn to him because of it. You wanted to know him for more than a pretty face.
Five weeks passed when you didn’t check your mailbox every other day. You had been accustomed to visiting your mailbox frequently, so it felt strange not to. Any time you had seen San, it was simply through passing. He would be leaving his apartment while you were entering yours or vice versa. You kept your gaze averted, forcing yourself to resist the urge to steal a glance. It wasn’t easy. Though, getting rid of any addiction was always difficult. No matter how weird it sounded, you had come to terms you were addicted to San. At least, you were addicted to the attraction you felt when you spotted him. You shouldn’t have been so down the first time you skipped going to your mailbox. Whatever trance you were lulled under in his presence was too strong to ignore.
You shook your head to yourself when you realized your thoughts were drifting to the man next door. Again. Goodness, you were hopeless.
You snatched your phone from the counter and strolled to your TV. You sunk into the cushions, pulling the blanket that was slung over the couch’s arm over your body. Despite it being the weekend, you had no plans on going out.
Last weekend was a friend’s birthday, and you were still trying to regain the energy you had expelled. The nights were fun, but you needed a few weeks to recuperate.
Twenty minutes passed before knocks at your door startled you. A quick glance at your phone’s clock informed you it was half-past eleven.
You were going to ignore the knocks as it was late, but the sounds persisted.
Sighing, you pushed off your blanket and shuffled to the door. You quietly glanced through the peephole and cursed inwardly when you saw who it was.
Normally, you would turn away from the door, but a part of you was worried about why your ex-boyfriend was knocking at your door so late. The relationship ended a little rocky, but you didn’t hate him. You hadn’t talked to him since and avoided his friends in case you would accidentally run into him. Because you didn’t dislike him enough to feed him to the wolves, you opened your door.
Hyunwoo’s eyes widen at the sound of your door opening.
“Oh, I’m sh-o glad you a-answered,” he sighed in relief, hand leaning against the frame of your door. Most of his weight was on that hand. You were sure if you moved it, he would lose his balance.
There was something off with him.
“Are you okay?” you questioned moving your hands slightly in front of you in case he was to fall.
“Peachy,” he answered. He tilted his head as his eyes took in your night attire. The long shirt and short shorts weren’t anything designer, but it had Hyunwoo smiling.
“You not occupied, are you? ‘M just wanna shee you. Was ‘bout’a go home, but Kwan dropped’e off here. I don’t remember telling ‘im that though,” Hyuneoo rambled, his other hand waving aimlessly as he spoke. His gaze dropped as his brows furrowed at his last sentence. He looked confused suddenly.
The more he spoke, the more you realized he was intoxicated. If it weren’t for his slurring, you would know from the smell of alcohol coming from his mouth.
It was late and you did not wish to spend your weekend taking care of your drunk ex.
You glanced behind him to see if his friend had come along too—hopefully sober. Unfortunately, all you saw was empty space.
“Where’s Kwan?” you wondered. Please say waiting in the car.
“Gone. Sh-aid ‘m betta’ off here.” Hyunwoo looked up at you again, face no longer scrunched with confusion.
“Is he coming back?”
Hyunwoo shrugged and looked down when he heard something drop. Following his gaze, you saw his phone on the floor. Before you could pick it up for him, he moved the arm resting against the door frame to grab it.
“Wait-” you tried to stop him.
“’S’kay,” he mumbled as he reached down. Barely a second later, he was losing his balance.
Your hands reached out to grab his shoulders, but his knees had already hit the floor.
“Owww,” he whined loudly, making you do a quick glance at the other doors around you. Great. Someone’s going to hear that.
“Is Kwan sober? I’ll call him and have him pick you back up.” You grabbed his phone and stuffed it in your pocket then pulled Hyunwoo up from the floor. You helped him lean against the wall outside your door.
“N-no!” Hyunwoo exclaimed and reached a hand to stop your movements. Your eyes widen at his fast reaction. “Not leaving ‘til you talk to me. Want’o talk.”
His head leaned back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed harshly. His hand still gripped your wrist. Despite your wishes, it appeared you would have to babysit him until you could figure out what to do.
“Why ‘ou look sh-ad?” Hyunwoo pouted. The hand on your wrist slowly moved up to your face. You grabbed his hand and stopped it from caressing your face. You moved it back to his side. “Always hated sh-eeing you sh-ad.”
You ignored his words.
“Let’s get you inside while I call a ride for you,” you suggested and started to slowly move to your door. Your phone was inside, and you didn’t want to leave him outside alone. You could drive him back to his home, but you didn’t want to be responsible for him any longer than you had to. You weren’t sure why Kwan would leave him here like this, but you weren’t happy with that knowledge.
Forgetting he was unstable, Hyunwoo hastily pushed off the wall to stop you from going inside. Although you didn’t understand what he was fearful of, you guessed it was because he wanted to stop you from calling someone.
“Hyunw-” you gasped as you felt him grip your waist firmly and begin to stumble.
Unlike before, he fell with you in his hold.
You staggered to the floor.
“Shit,” you hissed as you felt the heel of your palms burn from scraping the concrete floor. There was also an aching pain in your ass from falling backward on the hard ground.
Suddenly, the sound of a door clicking open stole your attention from the stinging in your hands.
Standing with a startled expression was your handsome neighbor. His hair was wavy and fluffy, making you want to ruffle his locks. He wore black sweatpants with white stripes down the sides and a grey muscle tee. You wondered how such a cute face could be on a body like that. The contrast was eye-catching.
After four weeks of barely seeing him, you wanted to stay seated on the floor with your eyes glued to his. Unfortunately, or fortunately, you didn’t have the chance because Hyunwoo’s voice brought you back to your situation.
“Don’t worry,” Hyunwoo reassured your neighbor, hand waving him off as he tried to stand up. “Jus’a’lil accsh-ident.”
San’s expression soon turned into concern as his eyes darted from Hyunwoo to you. He quickly moved forward and held out his hand.
“Are you hurt?” he asked as he waited for you to accept. His voice was tender like the gaze he had cast toward you.
Even though now was your chance to feel his skin upon yours, part of you didn’t want to. You were too embarrassed at having been caught on the floor with your drunk ex somewhere behind you. You couldn’t even entertain your lingering crush on him at the moment.
Because you didn’t want to make the situation any worse, you took his hand anyway and allowed him to pull you up. His hand was large around yours and cool to the touch. You muttered a thank you as he lifted you. He was stronger than you imagined, and you accidentally stumbled from the strength he used to help you stand.
His hands rested on your shoulders to steady you while yours came to rest on his biceps. A slight blush bloomed on your cheeks at the feel of his bare skin, and you quickly retracted your hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said sheepishly then glanced behind you, not bothered with you having touched him.
“It’s okay,” you murmured. “I’m okay-”
Abruptly, San quickly held out a hand and grabbed Hyunwoo, stopping him from falling on you again and dragging you all to the floor. San’s other hand still rested on your shoulder.
He looked at you after studying Hyunwoo for a moment. “Can you walk?”
Once you nodded, San moved the hand that was on you to grab Hyunwoo. He could hold him up better.
“Did you want him in your home, or should I rest him against the wall?” San questioned, quickly assessing Hyunwoo’s state. Although you both have never spoken to each other, the only form of exchange were head nods, you had heard his voice on occasions. Sometimes while he was on the phone or if his friends came over. Nevertheless, his voice was as smooth as you remembered. You would have indulged in the way it comforted you if it weren’t for this particular situation.
“’M can walk!” Hyunwoo scoffed and attempted to push San’s hands from him. “Yn, tell ‘im to let me go.”
“Follow me,” you quickly said and ignored your ex’s whining. You didn’t want another neighbor to see what was happening. You stepped inside your apartment again, holding the door open as San helped Hyunwoo stagger in. You gestured to the couch then shut the door.
“Whatcha’ doing, man? I sh-aid ‘m can walk!”
San disregarded Hyunwoo’s pleads as he guided him to your couch. He eased your ex down on your couch, having to quickly push him back onto the cushions when Hyunwoo tried to stand again.
“You’ll be fine. Just sit for a while,” San said calmly to Hyunwoo, yet there was a firmness to it that made it sound more like a command than a light suggestion.
Hyunwoo huffed in his face but stayed seated finally.
“Yn,” Hyunwoo called. “He ca’eave now.” He gestured to San who was hovering near the couch in case Hyunwoo decided to kiss the floor again.
You glanced at San, wanting to tell him you were okay now, but part of you didn’t want him to go. Whether it be because you needed his strength if Hyunwoo were to fall again or if you simply wanted to be in his presence without standing near your mailbox.
As if San could sense your hesitancy, he offered, “I can stay if you want. I don’t mind.”
“But I do!” Hyunwoo protested.
“That’d be nice,” you sighed, a headache forming.
“It’s not ‘ike you’o ignore me,” Hyunwoo interjected; his body sagged against the cushions as if feeling defeated.
“May you give us a moment? Sorry. You can sit over there,” you asked San and pointed at your dining room across the room.
“Of course,” he answered politely and took a seat at your dining table. He pulled out his phone and averted his attention from you. You figured he did that more so out of courtesy than boredom.
You moved closer to the couch to grab your phone.
“Why did Kwan leave you here?” you asked Hyunwoo. One of his hands reached up to grab your forearm. He stared at you with half-lidded eyes, lips tugged down in a frown.
“Something ‘bout me bein’ annoying. Sh-aid I needed to talk’o you.” He tugged, rougher than you believed he meant to, but it caused you to fall next to him on the couch. For some reason, your eyes quickly glanced at San, but he was still looking at his phone screen.
“Okay,” you said slowly. “What did you want to talk about?”
As you waited for his answer, you scrolled through your contacts to find Kwan.
“Us-h,” Hyunwoo said and gently rubbed your forearm. When he noticed your attention was heavily directed to your phone instead of him, he placed a hand on yours that was holding the device.
You finally glanced in his direction.
“Maybe we should talk about it another time,” you lied and tried to keep your voice low. Even though it was probably best to talk about that topic when he was sober, you didn’t want to talk about it at all. You felt the conversation would be redundant as you’ve already talked things through. At least, that’s how you felt.
“Pfft,” he scoffed and pushed himself farther into your cushions. Maybe he thought he could embed himself in your furniture so he couldn’t leave. “You’re ignorin’eh too much for me’o believe that.”
“Hyunwoo,” you sighed and gently removed his hand from yours. “It’s been a year already. I thought you moved on.”
As discreetly as you could, you began searching through your contacts. When you found Kwan’s name, you sent a quick text telling him to pick Hyunwoo up if he was sober.
“A year?” Hyunwoo wondered. The look on his face showed he didn’t realize how long it’s been. You barely have seen Hyunwoo after the breakup–could count the number of interactions you had with him on your hands. Sometimes it was at a shared friend’s event or through passing at local stores since you both lived in the same city. Regardless, it was never more than 15 minutes at a time.
Hyunwoo’s shoulders sagged, eyes squeezing shut as if to erase that thought from his mind. “Right,” he mumbled more to himself.
A vibration in your hand turned your gaze away from your ex. Luckily, Kwan was fine to come back. A silent sigh left your lips as you felt relieved that you wouldn’t have to drive him home.
“Get some rest, okay?” you said. You wanted to say you’d talk about it later, but you knew you didn’t want to, so you refrained from the offer.
Hyunwoo’s energy must have decreased exceptionally. He simply nodded and let his head fall back. Gently, you adjusted him so he was laying down. You waited for a few minutes in case he woke up and became needy again. When he didn’t, you carefully got up, placed his phone next to him, and went to where San was seated.
“I’m sorry you had to deal with this, but thank you for helping,” you said as you sat down across from him.
San tucked his phone into his pocket and sent you a reassuring smile. Your eyes flickered to his small dimples. You never saw them too much, but they always had your heart warm in your chest. They made him look much cuter.
“You don't need to apologize,” San assured. “I’m sorry you had to get stuck with your drunk friend.”
You opened your mouth to correct him, but why should you? It didn’t matter if San thought he was your friend or your ex. The details were irrelevant.
Instead, you said, “I’m still grateful you helped me.”
“‘Course,” he murmured.
His gaze moved to your clasped hands on the table. You started to feel conscious of them under his stare and began to tuck them beneath the table. However, San was quick to stop the movement.
He slowly turned your hands over, palms up. You looked at him confused.
“You should clean this,” he instructed kindly and traced a small area on your hands.
You averted your gaze down quickly.
On both palms were red areas with scratch marks. The areas weren’t big, but you could still see the worry in San’s eyes.
The warmth in your chest spread at the fact he cared about your wellbeing even though he didn’t really know you and the injuries weren’t major.
“Come,” he said and carefully rose from his chair. The layout of the apartment must be similar to his because he navigated to the kitchen sink with ease. That or he saw it when he sat at the table.
Silently, he turned on the facet, checking the temperature several times as the seconds passed. You watched with more attention required. You had never imagined the neighbor you’ve been smitten with would be in your apartment. Let alone helping you clean a wound.
You took the time to stare at his profile while his focus was on the running water. He had small stud earrings and his skin was light honey. His hair fell in front of his face, the wavy locks concealing his eyes. You were partly glad for that so he couldn’t see you staring…again.
Once San was satisfied, he hastily washed his hands and then held out a hand. You quickly placed a hand in his. Probably a little too fast, but you didn’t want to be caught distracted.
He led your hand under the water. His movements were gentle as he cleaned your scrapes. For someone who was physically strong, he knew when to be tender. After he cleaned both hands, he dried them off with a clean towel you had handed him.
“Do you have band-aids?” he asked while drying your hands.
“I’ll be fine,” you brushed off his question. Not because you didn’t have any, but because you already felt he did enough. You didn’t want him to think you were totally useless.
San chuckled lowly and peered at your face through his hair. You had the urge to move his hair to see him clearly but resisted.
“I know,” he said, “but just let me play doctor for a few more minutes.”
His teasing tone caught you off guard and you lowered your head to hide the small smile forming on your lips.
“I-I’ll go get them then,” you replied and left to retrieve them before he could stop you. You could hear the faint sound of his laughter as you moved to your bathroom.
You wished you weren’t so nervous being in his presence but after months of admiring from afar, you couldn’t stop fumbling over your words and thoughts.
When you came back, San was leaning against the kitchen counter, hands resting behind him on the countertop. The position had his shirt stretch slightly across his torso. While he had broad shoulders, his waist tapered to give him an attractive figure. His gaze was on your ex sleeping on your couch. You couldn’t read his expression and part of you wondered what he was thinking.
“Band-aids, Dr. Choi,” you announced and held out the box.
San turned his head to you, a smile forming on his lips at your joke. He stood up straighter at the title and took the box from your hold.
“Thank you, Ms. Yn,” he played along. He pulled out some band-aids, picked the correct sizes, then started to open them.
“Now I’m not sure if you’re my patient or my assistant. I don’t think it’s appropriate for doctors to ask their patients to bring them items.”
You giggled at his dilemma and held out your hands when he gestured for them.
“I can be whatever you want me to be,” you teased, not taking the time to consider the multiple meanings that one sentence held.
Your response had San faltering in his movements, thumbs paused as he was in the middle of pressing the ends of the band-aid flat against your skin.
“I-I meant that I didn’t care if I was a patient or an a-”
You stuttered as you tried to explain yourself; however luckily for you, loud knocking interrupted you.
The booming sounds of the knocks startled San and he quickly jumped away from you, letting the second band-aid flutter to the floor and a small yelp escaped his mouth. You bit your lower lip to stop smiling at his reaction. You hadn’t even considered that San might be easily scared. Before you could go down the rabbit hole of thinking of his other traits, another knock emitted.
There was a groan near the couch, and you realized the knocking must be Kwan.
You quickly went to the door and swung it open, not bothering to look through the peephole.
“Long time no see,” Kwan said with a smile that didn’t seem genuine. You had met him through Hyunwoo and while he liked you initially, he started to dislike you after your and Hyunwoo’s breakup.
“Hey,” you greeted. “He’s on the couch sleeping. I can help move him to the car.”
You stepped aside to let him in. As you were about to guide him to where Hyunwoo was, he stopped you.
“What did he tell you?”
“What?” you questioned as you shut the door.
“Do you know why I left him here?” Kwan asked, not bothering to explain himself. His voice was pretty hushed. Maybe he didn’t want to wake Hyunwoo.
“Something about him being annoying,” you recalled.
Kwan scoffed. “That, but also because he’s been so pathetic lately. All he talks about is you and how you broke his heart.”
You gave him a confused expression; you didn’t like where this was going.
“The breakup was mutual. How could I br-”eak his heart? You stopped yourself from asking because there was no point. You knew Kwan would just formulate a reason that would make you feel guilty. Although you didn’t want to hurt Hyunwoo, you both ended the relationship in agreement. You were simply going in different directions in life.
“Look,” you sighed. “He isn’t my responsibility, and he needs to move on. We’re not getting back together.”
You stood your ground even when Kwan sent a cold glare in your direction.
“Even if we did, you think I would be happy? You think me being unhappy would make Hyunwoo happy?” you tried to explain.
“You could be happy if you just-”
“No,” you stopped him with a raised hand. “I’ve moved on. Hyunwoo is a good guy-” Kwan scoffed. “-But I don’t see a future with him.”
“You’re so-!”
“Kwan?”
Both you and Kwan moved further into the apartment at his name being called. Hyunwoo sat up on the couch and began to stand. For once you were grateful for Hyunwoo. You didn’t want to hear the rest of Kwan’s sentence; it was most likely filled with profanities.
“Hey, buddy.” Kwan moved to help Hyunwoo stand. “You ready to go?”
Hyunwoo hummed and then looked at you.
“Call me later, ‘kay?” He spoke slowly, voice a little groggy.
You stilled at the question. You would call if he wasn’t going to try to convince you to get back together, but every conversation after the breakup consisted of him dropping hints of wanting to be with you again.
You must have stayed silent for too long because Hyunwoo exhaled a defeated sigh. Kwan sent you another scowl, threatening with his gaze to say yes.
“It’s fine. Never mind,” Hyunwoo said and waved his hand as if to push away the question that was hanging in the air.
“Why can’t you just talk to him like an adult, Yn?” Kwan interrupted rudely.
“It’s fine, Kwan,” Hyunwoo repeated. “‘M not gonna’ force-”
“No, Hyun, you deserve a simple talk with her.” Kwan directed his attention to you again. “It’s the least she can do.”
You stared at him incredulously. He’s acting as if you cheated on Hyunwoo with ten guys, but you didn’t do such a thing. Why would Hyunwoo agree to break up if he really didn’t want to?
“There’s nothing else to say,” you argued.
“Evidently that’s a lie because Hyunwoo’s been moping-”
“How is that my fault?” you snapped.
“Are you serious, Yn?!” Kwan exclaimed.
“If she doesn’t want to call, then she doesn’t want to call.”
The new voice had all three of you turning toward the kitchen. You had forgotten San was still here in the midst of your personal chaos. San’s once calm demeanor turned fierce. You had never seen this side of San, but you had a suspicion he was holding back on saying more.
Kwan let out a dry laugh.
“Ah, I see,” he said and shook his head. “When did you find him? A day before you broke up with Hyun?”
San clenched his jaw, body tensed as he forced himself to stay put when all he wanted to do was kick him out. Maybe not with force... Unless he had to. He saw himself as a lover, not a fighter, but that didn't matter if you were in danger.
It was clear Kwan had made a false persona of you. You were sure he believed you had done something sinister to Hyunwoo that led to the breakup. Though, it also made you realize that Hyunwoo let him believe that. Did he even try to save your face?
“I think it’s time for you to go. Thanks for picking him up,” you said and disregarded Kwan’s gibe. You didn't need, nor want, to listen to him anymore.
You moved toward the door, but Hyunwoo and Kwan didn’t follow.
“Will you call him?” Kwan asked sternly. He wasn’t going to leave unless you agreed.
Exasperated, you opened your mouth to say fine, but San cut you off.
“It’s clear she has nothing more to say. Drop it and leave.”
“The question wasn’t directed to you, pretty boy,” Kwan said, rolling his eyes.
“Yet you’re meddling with issues they need to solve on their own,” San retorted. His eyes were glued to Kwan’s. If San had acted like this when you first saw him, you would have avoided him at all costs. Everyone has their dark side, per se, but San’s was much darker than you had imagined for someone who seemed like a loving cat.
“I have to because Hyun won’t gro-!”
“Let’s just go. M’ head’s killing me, man,” Hyunwoo said, body struggling to stay upright any longer. Although he wasn’t completely sober, the nap at least knocked some sense in him.
Kwan pressed his lips together but began to walk toward the door. You held the door open and watched as they made their way to the exit.
As they passed you, Hyunwoo tripped. You reached out to grab him, but Kwan held a hand to stop yours. The quick action had startled you and you pulled back. You could hear San’s hurried footsteps as he came closer. You weren’t entirely sure why he was suddenly by your side, but you guessed it was in case Kwan tried to do something.
“Don’t touch him,” Kwan snarled at you and led him out the door without your help.
The second they were out the door, you shut and locked it.
You pressed your back against the door and inhaled a deep breath. Your eyes stilled on the ceiling, trying to ease your tense shoulders as the seconds ticked by.
“Do they visit often?” San asked, pulling you from your thoughts.
“No. They haven’t been here in a long time,” you said and glanced down at your feet. Why did Kwan have to stir up unwanted emotions?
“If they come back, you can just call me and I’ll come over,” he said earnestly.
“They won’t harm me. I don’t need to burden you.”
“They are capable of it, though, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
You looked up at San, head tilting as you tried to force yourself to be rational. The sentence had butterflies flapping in your stomach that you tried to ignore. He was just being friendly–probably would say that to anyone. Knowing how sweet and protective he seemed to be could confirm that suspicion.
“Thanks,” you muttered. “But I still don-”
“What’s your number?”
You stuttered incoherent words as you tried to grasp his question. In the back of your head, you knew he was asking so you could call him if you needed his help. Though, you couldn’t stop the thought of him asking you this for another reason.
“Should I just give you mine instead?” San chuckled softly when you didn’t answer right away.
“No- I mean sure- No, wait, I can just give you mine.”
San laughed again and pulled his phone out. He navigated his way to his contacts and added a new one.
“Number?” he asked again.
This time, you gave it to him.
“I sent you a text so you have my number. I’m serious; let me know if they come back. You won’t be bothering me. I’ll probably come over if I hear them anyway.”
“Why?” you asked before you could stop yourself.
San gave you a small smile. “Because I can’t let my mail buddy get hurt.”
“W-what?” you gasped and looked at him with wide eyes. San laughed, a corner of his lips quirking up in a smirk. The sound of his laughter had you smiling involuntarily; however, they quickly dipped down when he continued.
“You’re not very discrete,” San said teasingly.
“What would I need to be discreet about?”
“You know, I kept thinking I had food or something on my face,” he started to say, “but then I just realized you simply enjoyed looking at me.”
San grinned wider, eyes turning into crescents as he watched your expression change into horror and embarrassment.
“I’m s-sorry!” you said. You were uncertain what else to say and you sure weren’t going to admit the reason why. The embarrassment you felt now would last a solid six months, even more. You didn’t want to add additional time. However, it seemed San was having fun seeing you flustered.
“Why sorry? Who said I didn’t like it?”
A small yelp left your lips, and you brought your hands to your face to hide your flushed cheeks.
“Why haven’t you been coming to the mailboxes lately? I was getting worried.” Although San’s tone was still light, you could catch the hint of concern.
“I went.” Not entirely a lie because you did go, but very briefly and at times that no one would be there. “Must have missed each other.”
San quirked an eyebrow up in disbelief. “I highly doubt that,” he said and gave you an encouraging smile to tell the truth.
“F-fine!” you huffed and pulled your hands from your face. “I didn’t want to creep you out.”
San stared at you long enough to make you feel awkward. You were about to apologize again when San spoke.
“Why would a pretty girl staring at me creep me out? I found it endearing.”
You were sure your cheeks were already pink. Now, they’re bright red.
“Don’t say that,” you said bashfully.
“Mhm,” he hummed as if in thought and kept a smile on his face. “Very cute indeed.”
His reply made you feel he was talking to himself. You hadn’t prepared for San to say such things. Even when you daydreamed of interactions with him, they never turned out like this.
“Would you be okay with hanging out together sometime? Not just when you’re in need of a knight in– Actually, I guess I would be a doctor in sweats instead of a knight.”
You laughed at his joke, recalling how he had tended to your wounds ever so carefully. The lighthearted tone had eased your nervousness.
“Yeah, I would like that,” you answered with a smile of your own.
San nodded. “I’m glad to hear that. How about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” you asked, surprised. You were excited to finally be able to learn more about San, but tomorrow felt too soon. You needed time to mentally prepare.
“About five? I would say earlier, but it’s already so late that I doubt either one of us will want to be up early.”
At the mention of time, you quickly reached for your phone to check. However, you had left it somewhere and from where you stood, you couldn’t see the clock in your kitchen.
“It’s two,” San said.
“O-oh wow. I’m sorry I kept you up.” You didn’t realize how long it’s been–how long you’ve been keeping San from sleeping.
“You apologize a lot, huh?” San observed to which you blushed again. “It’s okay, really. Don’t stress about it. I wanted to stay. So, what do you say? Tomorrow at five?”
“Where will we go?”
San shrugged. “I haven’t thought about that yet. Just wear whatever you feel comfortable in. I’m sure you’ll look b- I’m sure it won’t be anything fancy.”
San’s cheeks turned their own shade of rose as he quickly changed his sentence. Despite not knowing what he was going to say, you felt your heart beat a little quicker with the thought of what he had planned.
I’m sure you’ll look beautiful.
It may not be exact, but you let yourself indulge in what could be a false statement because it made you feel good. His pink cheeks were a good hint that you were probably correct, though.
It felt good to have him finally feel shy. It gave you some confidence.
“Okay then,” you said. “Tomorrow at five.”
San beamed at you. You couldn’t wait to see more of his smile.
“If they ever come back, call me. I don’t care if it’s four in the morning, okay? You have my number.”
“Okay,” you said and reluctantly moved off the door so you could open it.
“You mean it?”
“I do.”
And you did.
Because Choi San was such a caring person you could feel how genuine he was being. You hadn’t wanted to call him at first because you weren’t sure if he was just saying that to be polite. However, you could sense he was being serious with every fiber in his body. Plus, you believed him when he said he would come on his own accord if he heard anyone disturb you.
You slowly opened the door for him and watched as he stepped outside, hands digging into his pocket to retrieve his keys.
Before he stepped into his own apartment, he glanced at you.
“Sleep well, Ms. Yn,” he said sweetly.
You giggled at his reference. Playing along, you replied, “Goodnight, Dr. Choi.”
The warm smile on his handsome face was the last thing you could think of as you fell asleep, eager and anxious for tomorrow.
You weren’t sure where your and San’s relationship was going to go, whether it will be platonic or not. One thing was for sure, though. You wanted Choi San in your life simply because he brought a light you weren’t going to be able to replicate. And that alone was cherishable enough.
ATEEZ COMEBACK LET’S GO!!!!! I’M SO HYPED FOR IT. THESE PROMOTIONS ARE CREATIVE AND INCREDIBLE. I’m extremely amazed by the marketing strategies–unannounced posters, AirDropped codes??? These trailers for their movie comeback? Hello?! Stan Ateez lol. I love that they’re using their storyline to guide their promos. Also, my favorite stage on Kingdom was their Rhythm Ta performance, so I’m very anxious to see what all they’ve been working on. Anyway, I’m just excited to get more into the Ateez community. I need more fellow Atinys in my life! Please be my friend 😫 lol
Thank you for reading! 🧡
©️hongcherry // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY.
Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.
#san fanfic#san fluff#ateez fanfic#san comfort#ateez fluff#ateez comfort#choi san x reader#san x reader#ateez neighbor au#san neighbor au#ateez au#mimikookie writes#q#ateez ff#choi san fanfic
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CS AU: Pan Says... (8/?)
Summary: After waking up in a strange room with a naked stranger, Emma and Killian must endure the twisted game their kidnapper insists they play in order to gain provisions and avoid punishments.
A/N: Look at me getting another chapter up within a month of the previous update! I can't tell y'all how much your replies, reblogs, comments, likes, kudos have meant to me.
I have plotted out the remainder of this story and I believe we'll have 2-3 more chapters. It all depends on how wordy I get, lol. The muse has been very generous as of late, so fingers crossed that I can wrap this up before I need to work on my supernatural summer fic in earnest.
Lots of love to @ultraluckycatnd and @kmomof4 for their exceptional beta skills!
Rated E /Also available on ao3 and ff.net / buy me a coffee / add to tag list / Curious? Come Ask Me!
Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven
Chapter Prompts: I received a couple of prompts asking for the scenarios I've mentioned in this update. I have glanced over them a bit, though. I hope the prompters won't mind.
Warnings: Mentions of anal sex, edging, mutual masturbation, exhibitionism and voyeurism.
Part Eight
Killian collapsed back onto the bed, thoroughly spent and utterly exhausted. The mattress shook from the way Emma’s legs were quivering, her knees and upper body anchored to the bed with her ass in the air, still presented. The ass he’d just taken as a way of technically complying to Pan’s most recent command without actually doing the thing he knew Pan had meant for him to do.
Pan Says… come inside her this time.
The command had only been issued to Killian; a new twist to this particular round of the game. Instructions were given to only one of them at a time, usually when the other was in the lavatory or still asleep, and no longer delivered audibly. They were not permitted to share what the exact instruction was with each other, and had to therefore trust that their compliance to the other’s words was what Pan required.
The morning after their reunion was when it had all started. He’d come back from relieving himself to find Emma awake and looking slightly confused and distressed.
“Swan? What is it? What happened?”
“I… I can’t tell you,” she said. “He said I’m not supposed to tell you I just have to…”
Killian climbed back into bed and took her hand in his. “It’s alright, love,” he assured her. “Whatever it is he’s told you, you won’t have to go through it alone.”
Her eyes flicked up to his, swirling with contrition and a sense of determination. “I know,” she replied. Pushing against his chest, she forced him to lay back as she began to peel his pajama pants down his legs. “I need you to pay attention, because” she paused, swallowed hard, then wet her lips. “Swan says… everything I’m about to do to you, you will have to reciprocate in kind.”
Those next two days they had licked and kissed and sucked and branded and tongued every inch of each other. Exploring one another’s body with nothing more than their mouths.
The third day of Round Three had them experimenting with various toys and apparatus. He’d been told to edge her all day with the various wands and vibrators as she lay tied up from the four corners of the bed. It had been torture. Reducing her to a whimpering, begging, desperate collection of moans, tears, and sobs when all he wanted to do was alleviate the torment. But he’d dared not. Not after the last time they had disobeyed.
He was certain he would get his comeuppance on day four, especially when they woke to a basket of anal toys, in an assortment of styles and sizes. All Pan had required of them that day, however - delivered through a Swan Says… - was to shower and then fit each other with a plug, presumably to begin the process for more anal play later on.
Knowing they both had to be live wires of pent up sexual frustration by this point, day five had been mutual masturbation day.
“Your Captain says… touch yourself, love,” Killian instructed, stroking his cock as he watched Emma pleasure herself.
They had shared a total of eleven orgasms that day, and had become further acquainted with the various toys and butt plugs Pan insisted not go to waste.
Now, day six, Killian was allowed to penetrate his Swan with something other than his tongue or his fingers or a bit of vibrating silicone, but only under one condition… that he finish inside her.
Pan never said anything about it having to be in her cunt, so he’d taken advantage of the ambiguity by taking her ass instead, since they’d both been stretching and preparing themselves for anal play.
And fuck him if it hadn’t felt amazing - the defiance and the tight, forbidden depths in which he’d just spilled himself. Glancing over at Emma, her face shimmering from a sheen of sweat with an expression of sated and elated ecstasy, he knew she had enjoyed it too… but then of course, she did not know the full reason as to why he’d taken her ass and not her pussy.
She was no longer protected from the threat of an unwanted pregnancy.
“Wow,” Emma exhaled. “That was…”
“Don’t try and move too much,” he told her as he reached over and helped ease her into a more comfortable position. “Just rest. I’ll go get something to clean us up.”
“And some water,” she called out after him.
“Aye. And water,” he responded, as though he needed reminding.
He didn’t.
A week into Round Three and they had already settled into a routine. A week-long marathon of teasing, edging, training, and orgasms. A week of them taking orders from one another, of placing a new form of trust in the other’s hands. A week of them not talking about what had happened in the weeks before, or more to the point… the moments before this round had begun.
Swallowing thickly, he pulled back and softly whispered, “I love you, Emma.” Then captured her lips before she could reply.
“I think that’s enough sharing for one day,” Pan’s curt tone crackled over the speakers, forcing them apart. “In fact, Pan says no more talking until Round Three begins… which shall be first thing tomorrow morning. Sleep well.”
Killian’s jaw tightened as he watched Emma open and then close her mouth with longing and uncertainty swirling in her gaze. Squeezing his hand, she rolled off the bed and padded her way to the lav. Afterward, they both got dressed and curled up next to one another in bed, the silence between them deafening.
In the past week, she had not reciprocated those words and he had not uttered them again. Not because he hadn’t meant them, because he had. He did. He does. He regretted saying it, though. Regretted giving Pan more ammunition to use against them. Regretted having the memory of those words first said here, in this setting, under these circumstances. Regretted putting her on the spot when he knew, even if she felt the same, she couldn’t possibly be ready to say it back to him. And that was okay. He never wanted to push or pressure her, they had enough to contend with from the outside demands of their ‘host’. So, for now, all he wanted was to try and make things as easy for her as he could. To protect her and safeguard her to the best of his ability… even if that meant not talking about it and fucking her in the ass in order to keep her from getting pregnant.
“I have something special planned for you,” Pan said, startling him as they finished their aftercare routine. “But it requires a bit of a field trip.”
Confused, they both looked at one another then towards the door as it opened. Killian took her hand as they stood, placing himself in front of her as he always did when they were instructed to leave their cell.
“Pan says to follow the purple line until it ends, then wait for further instructions.”
The purple line? That was a new one. They’d never been instructed to follow that one before. He knew blue led to the showers, green to the rooftop terrace, and yellow to the room where he’d been injected with supposed poison after disobeying Pan’s rules. Emma had told him that she thought the Lost One had carried her along the red line when she’d been taken after their night of lovemaking, so Killian had deduced (and kept the knowledge to himself) that it had led to the medical procedure room.
Following the purple stripe to its unknown destination, Killian made a mental note of the route and cataloged it alongside the other colors. Of course, there was still an orange and black line. Their destination was also a mystery to him, which made making a mental map of the facility difficult, but he attempted to do so nonetheless.
The path ended in a narrow passageway in front of a pane of darkened glass. A hidden panel behind them slid closed, shutting them inside the dead end. Before either of them could question what was happening, the pane in front of them lit up. It wasn’t just glass. It was a window, looking out onto a circular room with tiers of seats that were shielded by thin, see-through screens, their occupants only noticeable in silhouette.
Emma reached out and banged on the window, trying to get someone’s attention, but her efforts were ignored. When someone did pass by - a woman donning an elaborate mask that hid her identity, but not her vanity - and paused to check her red hair, Killian realized…
“It’s a mirror,” he murmured. “A two-way mirror. They can’t see us.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Pan’s voice echoed through the small room. “Besides… their attention is focused elsewhere at the moment.”
Emma gasped, pulling Killian’s focus to where her wide eyes were trained. In the center, lowest level of the room was a rotating platform, and on that platform were two people engaging in various sex acts whilst the spectators behind the screens watched.
“What the fuck is this?”
“An intimate gathering I host one weekend of each month for like-minded friends. Three days of exhibitionist delights and debauched voyeuristic entertainment. This is the second night.”
He paused as dread rolled through Killian’s stomach. His next words made bile creep up his throat.
“You two will be night three’s entertainment.”
“Fuck that!”
“You can’t be bloody serious!”
“I am serious enough that I’m willing to offer you your reward before you meet the terms of my… request.”
Emma scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “There is nothing you could offer that would make either of us--”
“Not even a chance to reach out to your friends and family so you can inform them that you are not only alive, but also in need of their help?”
They both balked then stared at one another. He couldn’t be serious.
“Why would you let us do that?” Killian inquired.
“Because I require your full compliance so that my guests get the experience they’ve paid for. I am, therefore, prepared to compensate you accordingly.”
“In advance?” Emma clarified. “You’d risk us agreeing and notifying our loved ones of the truth only to back out later?”
Pan’s tone sent a chill up Killian’s spine and he knew Emma had been affected by the hushed warning as well.
“I would advise against such schemes. You do not wish to fathom how far I will go in punishing those who embarrass me in front of my guests.”
“What if we simply refuse all together?” Killian asked, knowing there had to be a penalty of equal weight to the reward being offered.
“Then your association with one another is of no further use to me, and I shall reassign you to partners with whom you might be a bit more agreeable to my requests.”
Emma pressed herself into Killian’s side as he protectively wrapped his arms around her waist. They clung to one another, each of them eyeing the door with the fear that it might open and Lost Ones would be waiting to pry them apart.
“The choice is yours,” Pan said. “I’ll give you some time to consider your options.” The panel slid open, revealing the corridor beyond. “Pan says to return to your room. Further information regarding tomorrow night’s entertainment will be waiting for you.”
~/~
Emma couldn’t stop the tremors coursing through her body. She wasn’t sure how she had made it back to their cell on such shaky legs, and the items awaiting them once they’d returned had done nothing to help alleviate her body’s physical response to the dread and anxiety overwhelming her.
In the center of the room was a table that held an old fashioned, corded phone. It had only three buttons on the dial panel; one labeled Nolan, one labeled Liam, and one labeled Decline. Next to the phone was a binder, and within it were the rules, expectations, and procedures for the night of entertainment she and Killian were meant to supply to Pan and his perverted guests.
A note also accompanied the binder. It read, Pan says to discuss the instructions in full before making your choice. Should you choose to comply, make your calls accordingly. Should you choose to decline, press the appropriate button and my Lost Ones will see to your reassignment.
“Say something,” Killian pleaded. Having read through the binder aloud, he’d tossed it over his shoulder then slumped forward with his head in his hands and his elbows braced against his knees.
“What is there to say?” she said, on the edge of panic. “We can’t refuse him. I can’t… I can’t lose you. I can’t let someone else… I can’t--”
“Hey. Hey, it’s alright,” he soothed, gathering her in his arms and cradling her against his chest. “I know.” His lips brushed the crown of her head and his chest rose and fell from a deep, fortifying breath. “But we have to discuss it. We have to talk it through. I won’t give him any reason to separate us. No loopholes.”
Emma nodded and pulled back so she could stare up into his face. “You’re right. We have to follow his instructions to the letter if we want to avoid penalty or punishment, and as much as I really don’t relish the idea of having to” -she gestured towards the binder- “do that. The idea of being forced apart makes me…”
“Aye. Me, too.” Reaching back he picked up the binder and opened it across his lap. “The good news is… none of the spectators are allowed to touch us or participate physically in any of the acts we perform on one another.”
“Yeah,” Emma groused. “They just get to dictate what acts we perform.”
Pan’s guests essentially got to be him for a night. Each of them would be able to make suggestions and vote on what sort of acts they wanted to see their entertainment perform on one another. Those requests would then be relayed to them through an ear bud or in some other manner.
Requests involving excessive violence or anything that might leave a permanent mark would not be permitted. She and Killian would have their identity obscured through the use of a domino mask and could opt to have an alias used in lieu of their actual names as well. Of course, they both had distinguishing features that could give away their identities, but what were the odds of them ever encountering these people again?
“Do you want to fill out the form first?” Killian asked, referring to the questionnaire Pan had provided, allowing them each to select up to ten items they absolutely would not consent to. “Or we could go over it together, if you’d prefer?”
If she’d prefer? Did it even matter anymore as to what she would prefer?
Emma’s chest tightened and her stomach dropped as the periphery of her vision darkened and blurred spots floated in her vision. A dull ringing began to develop in her ears, strengthening in its tone, pitch, and volume as the pressure in her lungs grew critical and she realized she’d been holding her breath. Rage bubbled up from her stomach and despair stung the corners of her eyes.
This was it, she realized. This was her breaking point. Emma had absolutely had enough.
Launching herself off the bed she stomped to the center of the room and rounded on Killian. “No! I don’t want to go over the questionnaire! I don’t want to discuss everything involved with tomorrow night’s entertainment! I don’t want to do any of this! I want to go home!”
Hysterics overtook her and she crumpled to the floor, but not before Killian wrapped her up in his arms to help break her fall. Clinging to him, she wept into his shoulder, her body practically convulsing from the release of pent up emotions and strain.
“I know, love,” Killian murmured, his voice tight and gravely from his own held back emotions. He continued to comfort her with soft words of nonsense as his hand caressed soothing circles over her back. After several long minutes, she could feel dampness against her hairline and when she pulled back to glance up, she found it was because Killian had started shedding tears of his own.
A few hiccups escaped her as she tried to calm herself. Killian’s hands cupped her face and he brushed away her tears with the pads of his thumbs before pressing his forehead to hers.
“Just you and me, love,” he whispered. “We will face this new degradation as we have all the others. Together.”
Pulling back, he brushed her hair away from her face, carding his fingers through the long strands and gently scratching her scalp in the way he knew she liked. “We will forget about Pan and those who have come to witness our debasement and focus only on one another. Aye?”
“Aye,” she replied in a sorry attempt to mimic his accent, which pulled a small smile from him. Flicking her gaze up to meet his, she said, “I’m sorry. I--”
“You never have to apologize to me, love,” he replied, wrapping her in his arms again and holding her tightly to his chest. “It’s a wonder we’ve both gone this long since our last breaking point.”
Emma laughed mirthlessly. He had a point. This certainly wasn’t the first time one of them had fallen to pieces and thrown a well deserved tantrum, allowing the homesickness, injustice, and despair to spill over from their boiling points. Allowing him to pick her up off the floor, she tried to bury the worry about whether or not it would be the last.
“What would you say,” Killian began, leading them back over to the bed and sitting them on the edge, “to us choosing our false names, our aliases as it were, and proceeding in those personas as a way of distancing ourselves from it?”
“You mean like… pretending this is all happening to someone else?”
“In a way.” Killian took her hand and threaded his fingers between hers. “It might allow us to… dissociate from having to fully experience it ourselves if we think about it happening to… The Captain and… whatever pseudonym you might select for yourself, instead.”
Emma rolled her bottom lips between her teeth and considered the suggestion. It would be like role play. The audience wouldn’t be seeing them, wouldn’t be controlling them, they’d be witnessing two characters crafted to play out a role that was separate from the actors themselves. The thought of that released a bit more of tension she was holding onto and an exhale passed over her lips, carrying her agreement.
“Yes. I like that idea.” Cocking her head to one side, she looked up at him with a teasing smirk and taunted, “The Captain?”
A blush bloomed across his cheeks and tinted the tips of his ears as he reached up to paw at the patch of skin behind his jawline. “Aye. Uh… I thought it might serve as a fitting moniker.”
“Hmmm,” Emma hummed with a coy glint in her eye. “I like it.” Wetting her lips, which almost always centered his focus on her mouth, Emma dipped her gaze then flicked it back up, peering at him from beneath her lashes as she sultrily inquired, “Would the Captain be agreeable to having a naughty Wench at his side for tomorrow’s night entertainment?”
A wicked smile stretched across his lips, and she could see the gleam of relief and pride flicker in his eyes before they turned dark and heated. “Oh, aye,” he replied in a deep timbre that damn near made her toes curl. “I think the Captain would enjoy a naughty Wench’s companionship very much indeed.” Plucking a paper from the binder, he held it out to her and with his Captain’s voice ordered, “Be a good little Wench and fill this out so your Captain knows all the deplorable things he’ll get to do to you.”
“Aye, aye… Captain.”
Part Nine
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Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x22 There's No Place Like Home (Part 1)
Summary: A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time. There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season. Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.
Word Count: 484
Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (26) (27) (28)
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Notes: I knew there was no way I could stick to just one drabble an episode for the CS movie, so I didn't even try. There will be 2 drabbles for 3x21 and 4 for 3x22. They are all written, so the plan is to post one per day until they're all posted.
With Snow White off to secure reinforcements, Killian was left alone with the younger version of Emma’s father. There was a long moment of somewhat awkward silence, and Killian couldn’t help but wonder what Emma was enduring at the hands of the queen. The anxiety swelled at the thought. She was in danger, and he was wasting time simply sitting before a fire. He wanted to be off. Now. He wanted to find her, to save her.
But he was and had always been a strategic thinker, and he knew Lady Snow’s plan was a good one. He must content himself with remaining in place and waiting.
Nothing, however, said he must waste the intervening time. Perhaps he could find a way to steer Charming toward his ultimate destiny.
“Are you excited for your nuptials?” Killian asked casually.
The prince shook his head and smiled self-deprecatingly. “Hm,” he said, “marrying Midas’s daughter. What’s not to be excited about?”
“I don’t mean to pry, mate,” Killian said carefully, “but you don’t exactly look like someone who’s doing this by choice.”
David was silent for a moment, staring sightlessly into the fire. “I always thought I’d marry for love, and here I’m about to enter into what amounts to a business transaction, a merger of two kingdoms,” he said. “I don’t know. This whole ordeal makes me wonder if there's even such a thing as true love.”
Prince Charming was questioning the very concept of true love? Things were even more dire than he’d imagined.
“I once felt as you did mate,” Killian said, “and all it took was meeting the right person, and everything changed.”
“Princess Leia, the one we’re rescuing?”
Warmth filled Killian as he thought of Emma. “Aye. I’d go to the end of the word for her. Or time.”
“And she for you, I take it?”
Would she? Would she go to such lengths for him? He knew she had feelings for him, but she’d been running for so long–running from him, running from her family, running from love. Would she follow him through a time portal?
Killian chuckled “I don’t know.”
Charming looked surprised at that. “What’s the problem?”
That was far more than a short, fireside conversation, so Killian merely brushed it aside “There are many complications.”
“Family?” Charming asked. “Because my father is making things quite difficult for me.
“Aye, there’s that,” Killian said, suppressing a grin at the irony of the question. “I’m not so sure her parents approve of me.”
“Given the lengths you’ve gone to to save her, they’d be crazy not too.”
Killian did chuckle. “I hope you remember that.”
Further conversation came to a halt at the sound of someone approaching. Killian and Charming got to their feet, their swords drawn and pointed to the potential threat.
It looked like further discussion on the topic of their respective love lives would have to wait.
NEXT CHAPTER->
#season 3 rewatch drabbles#captain charming bromance fanfic#killian getting approval from Emma's dad#even if Emma's dad doesn't know what's happening
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It's Time to Get to Know Your Mods!
Please give a warm welcome to one of the creators (and the biggest cheerleader) of this event @kmomof4!
Name
Krystal
How long have you been a part of the CS fandom?
I joined fandom summer of ‘16 after bingeing all 4 1/2 seasons the summer and fall of ‘15. I watched 5b week to week and couldn��t get enough of CS when the season was over, so after a Google search, I found a Facebook page dedicated to them and joined it, followed by making my Tumblr account in August.
What is your favorite part about fandom?
The relationships. My very best friends in the world were met through fandom and I can’t imagine my life without them!
What drew you to this event?
It’s my baby!!! After a discussion with @snowbellewells in the fall of ‘17 about the WOEFUL lack of werewolf Killian fics out there, the idea was born. After a series of discussions with @winterbaby89 and @hollyethecurious, I gauged interest in a supernatural themed event and was BLOWN AWAY by the response!!! Summer of ‘18 was our inaugural year, and it has been a FANTASTIC run!! I’m very excited to see what everyone involved comes up with this summer for our final year!
Will you be participating either as a writer or artist? If so, what will you be doing?
Both!!! I have two OS's written- the first very loosely inspired by Dracula and the other a werewolf fic. I figured since it was the last year, it was appropriate to write fics featuring the original inspirations for the event!!! I'll also be doing art for Joni!
What do you do in your "real life?"
I’m a retired homeschool mom, but I haven’t worked outside the home since my first child was born 26yrs ago. Now, with my kids all grown, I’m more of a life coach than anything.
What are you most looking forward to in this event?
All the new supernatural content, of course!!!
This has been a spectacular event for many years Krystal, and we're looking forward to both of your stories on July 3 and Aug 22 and your art!
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We May Have Gaslit Gatekept Girlbossed A Little Too Close To The Sun
You know why you shouldn't work late nights at an office job? Because you might become the new obsession for something in the shadows that shouldn't exist in the human realm. Unless you're into that kind of thing, of course.
Serena, unfortunately, wasn't.
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AO3 Link
(This fic is broken up in 6 chapters on AO3 which may be easier to read for some! I was not going to spend an hour posting and tagging each part here on Tumblr lmao)
WE'RE BACK BABY!!!
Guess who got her little monsterfucker heart broken by an indie horror game and decided to write an obscenely long fix-it fic in under a week agaaaaaain (<- it was me)
Anyways, The Lancaster Leak Episode 2: Crisis At Call Center is very good and I encourage everyone to check out their series (: So hyped for Episode 3 lads they really stepped up their game compared to the first one!!!
Heavily, HEAVILY inspired by the storyline in Crisis At Call Center -- like almost beat for beat. I need to emphasis that this concept is only half original content and a majority of the plot is taken from the game, I claim no originality for that.
The formatting for the bolded note sections may be formatted kinda funky between Tumblr and AO3. Ain't much I can do about that chief it looks good on Google Docs /:
General warnings for gore and death and whatever you already know what I write
Word Count: 36K
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FEDERAL WARNING
The following tape is to be viewed only by Abnormality Breach & Containment (ABC) employees with a clearance level of three (3) or higher under supervision.
Unauthorized duplication - including, but not limited to: video, audio, audio transcripts, still images - and distribution is strictly prohibited and offenders will be prosecuted. Agents caught tampering, destroying, or editing tape will be immediately terminated.
BY PROCEEDING, VIEWER HAS ACKNOWLEDGED RESPONSIBILITY
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CS# 1763-87 - ABNORMALITY AB299
Abnormality Behavioral Observation
Date Range: [N/A]
Observation Status: COMPLETED
Abnormality Status: CONTAINED
–
ABNORMALITY DEBRIEF
Picture Left [ID - CCTV still frame of darkened corner. No discernable shapes can be made by human eye. Abnormality only visible as two contrasting dots in upper-right corner – These are Abnormality’s eyes.]
FN# AB299
Threat Level: D
Containment Capability: Low
Management Capability: Extremely Low
Intelligence Capability: Mid-High
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AB299 OVERVIEW
Abnormality first sighted three months before successful containment. Abnormality has breached the facility a total of seven (7) times during captivity as of this recording.
Abnormality is of great stature at approx. ten (10) times the size of an average human male.
Abnormality walks crouched on all four limbs. Abnormality’s pitch black coloring allows it to blend in shadows aside from red-ringed yellow eyes.
Abnormality is seemingly able to manipulate technologic frequencies and dimensional planes. The latter is believed to be how Abnormality travels unnoticed despite large build.
Abnormality is able to interfere with the following technologies [as of this recording]:
Video Feeds
Computer Software [All Access]
Phone Lines
Note: AB299 unconfirmed to have abilities related to manipulation of localized power sources.
Note: Technological interference documented to be rudimentary and overall harmless.
Abnormality only sighted outside of the facility when actively on a hunt. DO NOT ENGAGE DURING THIS TIME PERIOD.
–
THE FOLLOWING OBSERVATION TAKES PLACE ONE (1) WEEK AFTER ABNORMALITY’S SEVENTH (7TH) TOTAL CONTAINMENT BREACH.
CS# 1763-87 STUDIES NEW BEHAVIORS NOTED OVER A SIX (6) DAY SPAN.
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Picture Left [ID - CCTV still frame of interior shipping office at WerTech Production Headquarters taken from Camera 17]
Location: WerTech Production Headquarters
Note: It is believed Abnormality chose this location to hunt due to wide corridors and tall ceilings, in addition to spacious attached warehouse and storerooms.
ABC tracked Abnormality to site but did not engage in recapture protocol. Attempts at containment during active hunting are ill-advised with a fatality rate of 92%. Highest success rate of recapture achieved immediately after hunting period.
Under Clearance 3 supervision, ABC agents were permitted to observe Abnormality’s behavior in an uninhibited environment for research purposes.
ABC implemented the following observation protocol:
Phone Line Wire-tap
Computer Access [All Levels]
CCTV Access
Electronic Recording
Call Redirection
No WerTech employees were notified of enrollment.
–
Picture Left [ID - A young woman of African-American descent. She has dark brown eyes and black hair. She is smiling. Image taken from employee database.]
SERENA BOYD
Serena Boyd (26) was a college student employed at WerTech Production Headquarters as an intern for course credits. She primarily worked night shifts and completed after hour duties for additional time signed off.
Abnormality seemingly selected her as prey, likely due to late hour solitude.
The following footage and accompanying notes document the unusual correspondence captured between Boyd and Abnormality. Updated overview for AB299 will be provided at the end of observation recordings. Future research of new and/or atypical behavior necessary and pending.
–
BEGIN ABNORMALITY BEHAVIOR OBSERVATION
First Day
–
Filing was not a difficult task. All that needed to be done was to stack the packets in descending order of completion date, or alphabetically by vendor name, or even separated with color coded labels to differentiate job types. The point was that it should not be this goddamn hard to keep files in any semblance of order for longer than a week, Gregory.
Whatever. As much as it was the bane of her existence to have to repeatedly move order receipts from the Zuckermann account out of the filing drawer clearly labeled for names starting with ‘E-H’, it at least killed a full hour of Serena’s time with minimal effort. Besides, she quite liked the freedom that came with being in a near empty office past closing time while finishing up her menial tasks. She could hum, she could bitch, she could coyly look at her manager’s family photos and wonder just how good his salary must be to keep a wife that pretty smiling in every shot.
One more week, Serena reminded herself with a sigh. One more week of unpaid overtime and she should have just enough hours completed for her internship. An internship that she accepted under the impression that she would, of course, be learning more about machine operations and less about how to draft an invoice that was outside of her job description. That was kind of the whole purpose of getting an extended degree with a trade concentration – to actually learn the trade. But it was her second to last course needed before she could graduate and…well, on her resume it would still say she completed her full hours at WerTech, it just wouldn’t elaborate that she managed to get absolutely zero experience in the ten weeks she was there.
It still counted as being fully certified though, right?
Oh well, she could learn all the useful tips and tricks on the job, the real job she’ll be qualified for by the end of the semester. A job that actually put to use all her months and years of studying and testing and cramming rather than wasting her efforts on clerical duties. Serena couldn’t help but wonder if her age or gender or race or some culmination was the reason why her manager insisted she work anywhere but the operations department. Then again, as demonstrated by the fact that Gregory thought an unsigned six-month contract was a great coaster for his coffee, it was more likely the fault of general incompetence. Good thing he was the one with the yearly bonuses and shiny title placard on his door.
She felt her back crack when she rolled her shoulders a few times, groaning at the stiffness from being hunched over for so long. Corporate America: destroying spirits and posture one 9-5 at a time. Or 9-8, in Serena’s case, though that was a choice of her own doing. The more hours she packed on, the sooner she could be signed off.
Speaking of signing off, she went ahead and mosied back to the cluster of cubicles down the hall from the managerial row. The common people, separated from their superiors with distance and private closed doors, with rows of desks jammed into neighboring spaces and flimsy walls to divide the departments. A place Serena wouldn’t wish for any damned soul to spend a moment of eternity in, especially her own, as it was just on the opposite end of the building where the computer hardware manufacturing was done. So close, yet so far away.
Instead, all she could do was drop into her hand-me-down chair that had about two decades of strange stains on the fabric and wake her desktop from sleep mode. A quick refresh of her email showed Gregory sent her a new message thirty minutes prior, which unfortunately meant she was obliged to check and carry out whatever his request was. Saying that she hadn’t seen it in time before she left would imply she had left earlier than she really had, cutting a full half hour from her overtime that he’d be approving on her weekly log.
That was time wasted she refused to give up.
–
[Email Transcript]
Sender: Gregory Jules
Recipient: Serena Boyd
Subject: Trash Run
Hey Serena,
Hate to be a bother, but can you do me a favor before you head out? There’s a cart out in Warehouse B with a few boxes of damaged motherboards the guys forgot to throw away. Can you pitch those in the dumpster so that we don’t miss the morning trash truck?
You rock!
Gregory Jules
–
“And this can’t be done by the first shift crew because…?” she mumbled with a roll of her eyes. Fine, fine, she could toss a few boxes of crap out back, it wasn’t like it was a job involving backbreaking labor and grueling hours to complete. She may not be thrilled about it, but maybe if she dawdles out there long enough she can squeeze an extra twenty or so minutes for her hourly log.
Double checking that she had her keycard in her pocket, she punched in the door code for the warehouse and pushed through one of the massive doors with a small grunt. Okay, as eager as she was to get her hands on a couple soldering tools, she couldn’t deny that the amount of manual labor needed out here was far beyond the physical strength she could manage, and these employees flung open boxes and bay doors like they were nothing! No, online application, she could not move and lift approximately fifty pounds as part of her daily duties.
On second thought, maybe these boxes would involve breaking her back…
It seemed that good luck smiled upon her tonight in the way of simple yet mind numbing tasks. There on a two tiered rolling cart parked by a bay door ramp were the aforementioned parts she was asked to toss out, packed tight into rows of neatly stacked cases no bigger than a shoebox. The good news was, if they really all were just broken hardware, they shouldn’t weigh more than a couple pounds. The bad news was there were probably twenty boxes on both platforms of the cart, which meant she was going to have to throw almost all of them individually as the mouth of the dumpster would be too high for her to drop full armloads.
Well, she said she wanted those extra twenty minutes.
Immediately after pushing the cart outside, Serena was cursing at herself for not grabbing her sweater. The chill that racked down her spine only made the tense muscles in her shoulders ache worse. In and out, dumpster and back, finish and go home. The only person prolonging this miserable task was herself. Though perhaps she was only feeling so on edge because of the fact she was outside. Alone. In the near dark. As an unarmed woman. She shivered again and pushed herself to walk faster towards the dumpster that felt like it was half a mile away rather than thirty feet.
There was nothing to worry about, she was making herself paranoid for nothing. The glow of the ‘WerTech Production’ sign illuminated the backlot of the warehouse enough for her to see, not to mention the security cameras positioned at nearly every junction to ensure no thefts during shipping and receiving hours occurred. So, if she was jumped or kidnapped or murdered or somehow all three of those things at once while being outside for five minutes, Serena could take solace in the knowledge that they may or may not be able to catch her attacker on film. Yippee.
Christ, no wonder she was getting so worked up around throwing away some trash, she was her own worst enemy when it came to reassuring thoughts. What if, instead, she stopped worrying about becoming a television cold case and imagined a scenario where she finishes this stupid chore before going home? And then maybe she’d get a call from Gregory explaining that he had made some mathematical error on her time sheet and accidentally signed off on an extra forty-three hours? And because it was already submitted to her course instructor at the time, she was cleared to receive her credit hours and never had to come back to this place ever again or stand unguarded in their dimly lit backlots?
Her fantasy was unlikely, but it never hurt a girl to dream. Still, she gave a quick scan of her surroundings every few moments to reassure herself that nothing had mysteriously changed. No unmarked cars or headlights appearing, no hulking figure in the distance waiting to charge, just a chilled breeze and the ambient noises of the evening keeping her company. As much as she would love to stay in this half state of anxiety, she found herself all but jogging with the cart back to the safety of the warehouse before the final box had the chance to smack against the dumpster’s walls. For some reason, moving felt safer. Being stationary meant she’d be easier to focus on and attack, whereas keeping a fast pace would make it harder to snag.
Assuming there was anything remotely after her. A mosquito, perhaps. Knife-welding boogeyman, probably not so much.
And yet, the way Serena felt her heart stutter when her eyes caught sight of the property fence somehow validated and heightened her wariness. The tall, netted metal was used to block out any unwanted visitors of the human and animal kind, preventing access into the building unless they went in through the main doors to the reception desk or had a company keycard. There were a few locked gates within the fence to make it easier to enter or exit from one particular side of the building or another, and maybe something to do with OSHA standards for fire safety or whatever. Where Serena stood with her white knuckle grip on the cart, she could see straight down the gap between two shipping containers at one of the gates, despite it being blurred into the natural shadows of night.
And it was open.
And maybe she ran up the docking ramp at an impressive speed and slammed the door behind her, jabbing the lock button in rapid succession under the illusion she’d secured herself ten times more than usual.
And maybe it took an embarrassing amount of minutes for her to steady her heart rate with deep breaths.
And maybe afterwards, she mentally berated herself for acting like a child who was afraid of monsters in the dark.
Where had this newfound apprehension come from? She’d never been like this before, and she certainly never had any problem with working late in an office by herself. Hell, she never even felt an ounce of this kind of nervousness walking out of the front doors to her car every night, although that could be because she was more relieved to pick up a late dinner and crash on her couch than she cared about an ax murderer in her backseat.
Right, dinner. She hadn’t had dinner yet and it was already close to half past eight. These were probably just jitters in relation to low blood sugar, coupled with typical work related aggravation and excitement at being so close to wrapping up her internship. No wonder it felt like her nerves were dialed up to an eleven. On the way back to the finance office (that still made no sense for her desk to be there), she could buy a quick snack from the vending machine outside of the break room for a little pick-me-up. Or potentially a full dinner. The twisting in her stomach was making her appetite more finicky than usual and eating an entire cereal bar sounded pretty daunting right now.
That still didn’t stop Serena from bumping the vending machine with her shoulder just as the metal coil dropped her chosen snack, slyly knocking the one behind it off the rack as well and giving her a two for one of blueberry whole grain breakfast bars. You learn a lot of neat tricks when you’re a starving college freshman that still come in handy as a hangry college graduate.
She pocketed one of the packages and tore open the other, trying to trick herself that she was feeling hunger rather than agitation. Each bite was a little easier to swallow than the last once her body realized it was actually getting some form of nutrients that it had been craving since her lunch break at noon. Yet she couldn’t ignore the feeling of the hairs on her neck prickling, like she was being watched no matter what angle she turned herself to check for shadows.
So, she started walking, because moving was safer.
The same sensation of being observed followed her no matter what hall she dipped into or what speed she tried to maintain. Hopefully, the calories of the cereal bar she hastily stuffed into her mouth would work their magic soon. She was damn near tempted to inhale the second snack in her pocket with the belief her unbalanced emotions would be regulated twice as fast. Instead, she ducked into the women’s restroom as soon as she caught it from her peripherals, the one private place she was sure she –
[Note: Full coverage achieved by use of hidden cameras in rooms otherwise unmonitored]
– could have a moment of peace. It worked that way during normal operating hours, she saw no reason why it couldn’t provide that same comfort now.
Her shoulders slouched in relief at the imagery sensation of a dozen watchful eyes finally shutting themselves. The thumping of her pulse in her ears faded just as quickly as it had begun, another sign of faux trepidation that was soothed in a matter of seconds once she settled down. With a deep sigh that was definitely not meant to help steady her heartbeat, she stepped over to the sinks and peered at her reflection in the mirror, bracing her hands on the cool counter to further ground her.
It was amazing how quickly unwarranted consternation could turn someone into a hot mess. Or there was a chance that was just how Serena always looked these days, a gradual decline in rationality after being temporarily employed at an office job. Her blouse was bunched up near the collar from where she had grabbed her chest, baby hair slicked on her forehead out of place by sweat and curls frizzy at the end. The bags under her eyes looked more pronounced, or was it that the shadows made them appear deeper while she overworked and under-ate? At this rate, she had every damn right to be stressed and it was only now that her body was finally taking it out on her. Late nights bred insomnia more often than not, meals were replaced with junk food or beverages with way too much caffeine, her eyes flickered between computer screens and files and textbooks until they watered.
She really wished this physical and/or mental breakdown would have had the decency to wait until the end of the week. At least then she could have suffered her panic attacks in the comfort of her own home with a bag of frozen peas on her stomach and the entire series of Overruled! playing for the millionth time as a familiar white noise. She still could, if she wanted.
Serena splashed cold water on her face, uncaring how it wet her hair and dripped down onto her clothes. It wasn’t like she would be seeing anyone when she walked out, it didn’t matter how unkempt she looked in the final ten minutes it would take to lock up the building and walk to her car. The touch felt nice on her burning cheeks, a contrast to the frigidity shooting through her core from being outside in the new spring air.
“Okay, okay,” she said to no one but her mirror image. Leveling a firm gaze with the other woman, she tried to even out her voice into something more persuasive. “You’re tired. You’re stressed out. You’re so fucking done with this place. Just…just go home, girl. That’s all you gotta do. Go home and sleep and finish strong.”
She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince the reflection or if she was hoping the reflection would convince her. Either way, she took a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, and walked out of the restroom determined not to let her insides jumble themselves up over nothing. If anything, doing her rounds to lock up the building should provide her with a sense of comfort in knowing she was safe all along. Each locked door relaxed her a smidgen more, though flicking off the lights immediately returned the foreboding she just got rid of. Much like a parent, she had to console her inner child that nothing was going to magically appear that hadn’t been there two seconds before she turned off the lights just because it was dark now.
Even if some of those decorative plants looked awful menacing in the shadows.
Luckily, the routine of triple pressing lock buttons and turning off hall lights was well ingrained in Serena’s mind, helping her breeze through closing up without much of a second thought. Before she knew it, she was already walking down the darkened main hallway back to her desk to clock out, her path illuminated only by the fixed lights of the vending machine and overhead exit signs. Sure, having her back to total darkness and the end of a long, gaping hallway behind her made her neck itch with the overwhelming fear of being observed that had no business being in WerTech headquarters. But as long as she didn’t turn around to confront her fears, it was like it was nonexistent. Schrodinger’s horror movie, in a way.
No way in hell was she going to be sacrificed as the token black character. Serena Boyd was a goddamn final girl.
[Note: Subject remains unaware of Abnormality’s eyes behind her. Abnormality does not close in for the kill, keeping distance in Hallway 3.]
Firing off a reply to Gregory’s email to confirm all requests were done and logging her time out at a quarter to nine, she was out the door and locking the main entrance while her desktop was still running its shut down screen. This time when she was outside, strangely enough, no feeling of dread weighed down her heart until it sank to her stomach. If anything, it was as if that pressure had been lifted off her back, alleviating her tension more and more with every step to the driver side of her car. By the time she was pulling out of the parking lot, the anxiety was completely gone, almost instantly forgotten.
The curse of corporate hell, she supposed.
–
END OF FIRST NIGHT
–
Picture Left [ID - CCTV still frame of Abnormality’s eyes in darkened Hallway 3.]
Boyd shows no acknowledgement of Abnormality’s presence.
Abnormality choosing to prolong hunt is unusual deviation from previous observations.
–
Second Day
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MORNING OVERVIEW
Abnormality has not been spotted on CCTV or by witnesses during daylight operating hours.
WerTech Production employees remain unaware, including Boyd.
Manufactured request anonymously submitted from ABC has guaranteed Boyd will stay later after hours in building alone.
Abnormality continues to pursue chosen prey more intensely.
–
It took everything in Serena’s power to not lean over her manager’s desk and flick him right between the eyes.
“Custodial work,” she repeated back to him.
Gregory raised his hands in defense of her unimpressed frown. “Look, I get it, I know it’s not what you signed up for here,” she didn’t sign up for most of the bullshit he assigned to her, frankly, “but it’s just for tonight! And…maybe tomorrow, too. I’m not sure yet.”
“Greg,” she groaned. Because last night hadn’t given her enough heart palpitations, now she needed a migraine on top of it.
Serena didn’t bring up anything about the eeriness of her previous closing shift.
This time, however, her after hour duties couldn’t be helped. Gregory had received an email that morning reminding him that the company’s hired cleaner would be out the remainder of the week for a pre-approved vacation, so he would need to ensure the biweekly tidying of the offices were taken care of to prevent any build up of messes. Sure enough, that time had been blocked out on his computer’s calendar with a note regarding Gloria’s absence, but for the life of him he could not find any email or written document first notifying him she’d be gone. That absolutely did not surprise Serena in the slightest; the man was lucky his coffee mug could find its way to his mouth some days.
“I promise it’s nothing too bad. Just grab the trash from the bathrooms and conference room. Oh, and water the plants up front,” he said.
“Why can’t Julie water the plants? They’re literally in front of her reception desk.”
“Julie already went home for the day.”
“So, why can’t she water them when she comes in tomorrow morning?”
He blinked owlishly at her. “...because they get watered at night.”
Oh, her resolve was chipping away one stupid sentence at a time.
“Okay, yeah, fine. Fine, no problem. Trash and plants,” she conceded with what little sanity she had left. The performance review on her weekly log better have the most glowing fucking review about how much of a team player Serena was and how she went above and beyond her job description that already had nothing to do with her degree.
Her manager nodded with a smile. “Well, I won’t get in your way then,” he tapped the hefty stack of defunct account files on his desk. “Make sure you get these shredded first, though, then you can take it out with the rest of the trash. Just double check the close date is over five years.”
She rubbed the side of her temple. “Uh-huh.”
“And don’t forget to check your email in case anything pops up from me,” he said while shrugging on his coat, almost halfway out the door.
“Uh-huh.”
“Have a good night, Serena!”
“Uh-huh.”
Perhaps the man had a few more brain cells than she gave him credit for; he certainly knew when to get the hell out of dodge right when any of his workers seemed ready to overthrow the corporate regime. With Gregory leaving her to her own devices, she was now officially alone in the building that mildly perturbed her as of twenty-four hours ago. Well, actually, nothing about it had really bothered her all day or even leading up to her nightly run down, but it was as soon as she knew she was by herself, as soon as she instinctively knew the front doors had closed behind Gregory, did her anxiety start creeping its way into her throat.
She wished Gloria was here. Not only because this was a multimillion dollar business that hired custodians for the sole purpose of janitorial duties so that other employees didn’t have to mop and scrub toilets, but because the other woman was good company the nights when they crossed paths. It was strange that she hadn’t mentioned to Serena that she would be out when they chatted earlier in the week. Maybe she hadn’t thought it important to mention, or maybe it was one of those sudden trips that everyone politely referred to as a ‘vacation’ rather than whatever somber event she was going through. Either way, she would have liked to give Gloria a proper goodbye seeing as Friday was likely to be her last day once her hours were signed off.
She guessed she could leave a little note somewhere for her in lieu of a farewell, something she could stick on the supply closet door before she left at the end of her shift to be found Monday evening. And still, despite all her displeasure at having custodial work pushed on her when she was here as an intern for hardware manufacturing, it wouldn’t be right to take out that frustration on poor Gloria. It wasn’t her fault for Gregory’s poor planning, and ignoring or doing a half assed job only meant more work she’d have to make up immediately after her alleged vacation.
So, like everything else, she sucked it up and did what was asked of her. And it wasn’t because she was a pushover! It was because she was a compassionate coworker and she was determined to get every good grace she could squeeze out of this internship to ensure her recommendation letter brimmed with praise.
The monotonous task of opening each file, scanning the finalization date, and shoving its contents through the singular floor shredder a portion at a time helped distract her from the discomfort tingling down her spine. It was much less bearable almost two hours later when she had dumped all the minced paper and manilla folders into a black trash bag, stepping out of the safety of her manager’s office and into the vacant hallway. Partially lit, thankfully, but hardly any more comforting than if it were totally dark. A familiar unease twisted her stomach like before, urging her to leave go leave before something happened. What that ‘something’ was, her brain refused to tell her, which was ever so helpful.
On the bright side, the bathroom trash was almost entirely paper towels in both waste bins, meaning she could carry all her bags out to the dumpster in one trip with no struggle. Even the trash in the conference room was nothing more than a few disposable coffee cups, though the smell of stale drinks did make her crinkle her nose until she tied off the bag. All that was left to do was brace herself for the unknown terrors of the backlot and she could cross this off her to-do list. If nothing had happened last night, then she really doubted anything would try to –
[Note: Subject remains unaware of Abnormality’s eyes following behind her down Hallway 3. Abnormality does not go in for the kill.]
– make a sinister move that could have just as easily been achieved yesterday. Tonight, she made sure she ate a lunch that consisted of vegetables and limited herself to one afternoon energy drink, so there should be no excuse for jitters as far as she was aware. The fact that she was still experiencing them the entire speed walk down the main hall to the side exit was…unrelated. That was because of caffeine withdrawal and a shock response of eating something that wasn’t twice her daily serving of sodium. Regardless of what she tried to do, her body was hellbent on punishing her with physical symptoms of mental distress.
Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.
She paused at the door that led to the dumpsters without having to cut through Warehouse B. The bags were gripped tight enough that her fists trembled while she shifted her weight from foot to foot, stalling. Come on now, this was ridiculous! If Gloria, a tiny little fifty year old woman with creaky knees, could run garbage out in the middle of the night for dozens of companies without a care in the world, then so could Serena. It was more probable that she’d be startled by a raccoon than –
[Note: Abnormality seen tilting its head in interest at Boyd’s hesitance. Sign of emotional intellect recorded in Intelligence Capability file.]
– star in the next episode of a true crime show detailing unsolved mysteries. All she needed to do was rip the bandaid off. With little fanfare, she pushed the door open with her forearm to let the cool air greet her, the night appearing much more inviting than it had prior. As soon as she was outside, everything felt less suffocating. She could feel the coil of her muscles relax enough for her shoulders to drop, having not even realized they were nearly hunched up to her ears for who knows how long. Maybe the outside wasn’t so bad after all, especially now that her body wasn’t running on empty calories for the sixth straight day in a row.
See, a semi balanced meal and an okayish night of sleep was all she needed to get herself back on track. The continued unease she felt inside the building was nothing more than the fact she wished this place would burn to the ground, as all interns feel at some point. During her walk to the dumpster, she caught herself checking between the shipping containers again at the gate that singlehandedly had her sprinting for her life.
It was still open.
Well…it could have always been open. It wasn’t like she came out of the building at any time of the day to confirm how long it had been ajar. There was a possibility that it had been left open since she had started almost three months ago, she simply had no reason to notice until now. The lock might be broken, or the hinges damaged, or the programmed entry code malfunctioning and so needs to be kept agape to prevent the gate from being permanently locked as a safety precaution. And if nobody had bothered to close it in the two days it had caught her attention, then surely it must not be a big deal.
It was all too tempting to say the hell with it all and jump straight into her car parked at the other end of the building. A quiet walk with a slight chill hugging her was just the thing she needed to clear her head as she shook her fear of being assaulted by every criminal in a ten mile radius. There was a comfort Serena hadn’t noticed she was missing in letting the night embrace her; the only thing watching her being the twinkling stars above rather than something unknown glaring daggers into her back.
As lovely as it would be to hop up on the docking platform and stargaze for the better part of an hour, she unfortunately still had things to do if she wanted to get out of here at a somewhat decent time. She had been hoping it would have been early enough for her to cook herself an actual dinner, but the cleaning duties that were tacked on to her schedule nixed that pretty quick. There was probably a twenty-four hour diner she could pop in somewhere around here, at least to eat something that wasn’t prepared in a microwave.
Plants. Email. Done. She repeated the mantra over and over in her head, trying to manifest the rest of an easy night. Instead, she felt her mood plummet the moment she stepped over the threshold back into the building, as if a vacuum had sucked out any serenity she had just experienced.
Plants. Email. Plants. Email. Plants. Email. Plants –
While her luck often felt hypothetical when it came to dealing with anything relating to WerTech Productions, she could count her blessings that there were only three large plants by reception she needed to water. Easy. It’d probably take her longer to fill up the pitcher she took from the break room as a makeshift watering can.
“Because god forbid you get your water at eight in the morning, huh?” Serena asked the monstera she was currently watering.
The massive leaves did not answer, not even to give thanks. What jerks. No wonder they were so bratty about the specific hour they were hydrated.
“Do you guys even get watered every day? That seems like something only Gloria would remember to do, and she’s not here most of the week so…” Talking to plants was not weird. Talking to plants is totally normal and encouraged. “I’d say you’re stuck with me for now, but really, you’re on your own as soon as the weekend rolls around.”
Serena smiled while watering the last pot, imagining that she was dumping the rest of the tap water on Gregory’s lap. “Because once I clock out on Friday, I am totally, one hundred percent, out of he- AH!”
The pitcher flew out of her hand when she startled, slipping on the fresh puddle on the floor as she whirled around to look behind her. She grit her teeth when she landed hard on her bottom, feeling her pants soak up the unpleasant wetness of water. Damp jeans were the least of her concerns as she frantically looked above for any sign of those…fuck, what were those, eyes? That’s what her mind was convinced she had caught a glimpse of in the reflection of the transom windows above the entryway. Two orbs practically glowing against the shadowed backdrop of evening that swirled with color, looking down directly at her in an unblinking gaze, wide with intrigue.
But that was impossible. Absurd. Insane. Eyes did not look like that, eyes could not tower so high like that, eyes certainly were not in the same vicinity as she was or that would only imply something else was in the building with her.
No, now the idea that it was something rather than someone only made her breathing come out in more ragged gasps. She clutched her shirt, feeling her heart hammering at worrying speed under her knuckles, like it was trying to break free from her chest and save itself. With the confirmation there had been nothing behind her, she whipped her head back towards the windows where she saw the reflection. What she assumed was a reflection, that was. Who was to say it wasn’t something peering in at her, as if that was any better than knowing it was directly behind her?
There was nothing in the windows but stars and street lights.
Right…right, because that was all unbelievable to get worked up over. Giant eyes, really? Like some cheesy sci-fi concept from the fifties? Obviously, she had glanced over while some headlights were passing in the distance. Or a plane was flashing overhead. Or a floater in her vision popped up as a reminder she hadn’t drank anything that wasn’t loaded with sugar in a stupidly long time. No Peeping Tom here with noticeable cataracts, just a girl with a frayed thread of rationality who may very well lose her mind in a place that barely deserved her patience.
Yeah, it was time to go home. Most of the water spilt had been absorbed into the backside of her pants, the rest of it would probably dry up before morning. Sorry Gloria, but this wasn’t any type of cleaning she had the wits for at the moment. She didn’t even bother bringing the pitcher back to the break room, opting to leave it on Julie’s desk. And hey, while it was there, maybe she could make herself useful and water the damn plants for once.
“Fuck me,” Serena said with a thick swallow, cringing how her jeans stuck to her thighs and chaffed with every step she took.
I’m going to burn down this place and not even try to make it look like it was an accident. I want them to know it was me. Capitalism hath no fury like a woman scorned in the STEM field .
She didn’t bother sitting in her chair, knowing it would only add to the mirage of discoloration on the cushion. Not that she particularly cared about that, rather she wasn’t in the mood to sit in soggy pants longer than necessary. Perhaps because her heart was still coming down from the adrenaline overdose while she vigorously shook her computer mouse to bring her desktop back up, the unexpected jumpscare of an entirely red background on her home screen did little more than make her breath hitch. Apprehension turned to confusion as she clicked around on her background with no change to its new glaring color. The program icons were still there, but it was like the calm blue stock logo that was formerly displayed on her desktop had all of its pixels fried to a damaged scarlet.
That wasn’t good. Though from what she could tell, nothing else seemed unusual about her computer’s functionality. There could be an issue with the phosphors that was causing the red light to overcompensate for the blue. In theory, this would have been something Serena was perfectly qualified to diagnose and fix on her own had she been given the hands-on training she was promised to make good on her textbook knowledge. But she couldn’t, so she didn’t, even if she was fairly confident on what to do.
Ignoring the glaring color that was making her eyes squint, her theory was swift to change from hardware error to software corruption when her email window pulled onto the screen. Of course, there was one new email from Gregory, declaring itself urgent and important and time stamped only twenty minutes after he left which meant he would know if Serena flat out ignored him by pretending to go home. Annoying, but not what immediately caught her attention. A pop-up window for an email draft flashed to request if she would like to save her work in the event the program shut down. Considering she couldn’t recall writing any emails within the last four hours on the clock, she dismissed the notification to skim through and jog her memory.
–
[Email Transcript]
Sender: [Empty]
Recipient: [Empty]
Subject: [Empty]
Note: Original email contained roughly 38,000 characters. Below is a cut passage.
sEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡asEren♡a
–
She blinked, pursing her lips. “That’s…something.”
Something she knows for a fact she hadn’t typed, much less received from anyone else. Crap, she must have some type of malware on her computer then. The virus was trying to make her home screen unreadable while pulling her personal information from her profile and email contacts. She was certain it would brick her whole system once it sent out a mass phishing email to her coworkers. Although, really, that wasn’t much of her problem if it was done after the end of the work week…
Still, she went ahead and deleted the wall of text and started a new draft to be sent to IT. If she was lucky, maybe they’d decide to wipe her computer tomorrow morning to stop the malware before it got any worse, effectively leaving her with no access to any of the databases and with nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs on her last day. No, there was no chance she’d have that kind of fortune; Gregory would definitely make her do some type of asinine clerical work like taking out staples from expense reports and fasten them on the opposite corner.
Oh well. If she sweet talked Alice in IT enough, there was a chance she could worm her way into spending a morning going over debugging and system diagnostics for firmware while asking for a demonstration on how to fix her computer. Girls had to stick together in this type of industry, after all. And she knew damn well Alice had the best gossip of the office given that she had remote access to just about anyone’s system. Serena was dying to know if there was any follow up to the board director that was sending electronic payments to his mistress on the company credit card.
After sending a quick heads up to IT that she was in need of their assistance ASAP tomorrow morning and pinky promising she hadn’t clicked any suspicious links recently, she checked to see what was so high on her manager’s priority list that he had forgotten all day to tell her.
–
[Email Transcript]
Sender: Gregory Jules
Recipient: Serena Boyd
Subject: !! Please read before leaving!!
Hey there, Serena,
Super sorry to wait until the last minute, but I totally forgot Jorge wanted me to grab last quarter’s Bangling order forms for him. Think you can do me a solid and grab those from the stock room? Just drop them on my desk and I’ll run them up to his office when I get in.
You’re a lifesaver!
Gregory Jules
–
Yeah, he wanted to be the one to make the delivery to the executives on the legendary second level so that it didn't look like skipped out on the one job he was asked to do. Typical. At least it wasn’t anymore cleaning or shredding, just moving a box from point A to point B. She could deal with that. She’s dealt with everything thus far.
She might not be dealing with it well, but she was dealing with it nonetheless. Such as pointedly averting her gaze from lingering on any reflective surface for too long in case she saw someone stare back.
But why would she think her night would improve in any capacity at this point? Was she so foolish to assume that because she had finished her duties that she could go about her life in peace? Had working here for ten weeks taught her nothing? The worst was always yet to come and it seemed in her final week here it was more determined than ever to sour her enjoyment of near freedom.
With an undignified hum, the lights cut out.
Not just the lights in the office, but apparently the entire building, plunging almost every square foot into total darkness. The red glow of the exit signs barely offered any solace and the security lights along the exterior had died as well, making only scarce moonlight peek through the windows.
[Note: WerTech Production security cameras are equipped with night vision capability. Cameras remain operational despite sudden blackout, indicating Abnormality’s involvement.]
Fantastic. Wonderful. Because Serena didn’t have enough issues last night about the unknown spooks hiding in the shadows. It must be a total power outage as the air was quick to grow stuffy without the vents circulating it. Unless WerTech forgot to pay their electricity bill, which…honestly wouldn’t be that surprising depending on who was in charge of paying that monthly.
This wasn’t the first time the breaker had been tripped. It had already happened once while she was in the middle of her shift and Alice had told her plenty of other instances. Sometimes it would only be a department, sometimes it would be the whole place, and one time they had managed to cut power in HR while flipping the circuit back on for Warehouse A. Every time, the cause for the outage was due to (or at least blamed on) the technicians out in operations and assembly testing too many high voltage components at once. It was an easy fix of going to the storage wing and flicking the switches back on the breaker box, though it was much more of a hassle during work hours when everyone had to wait for their computers to reboot and pray they hadn’t lost too much unsaved progress.
There was no reason it should have tripped now. It wasn’t like she had every desktop turned on and all the power strips unplugged. Unless it had something to do with whatever little virus was in its beginning stage of crashing her PC, but that wasn’t how those things worked. Software bugs couldn’t secretly travel along the physical cables of a power source and knock out anything plugged into a socket.
…she should go check the breaker, just to be safe. She was too close to the finish line to have a blackout pinned on her. Not to mention, she still needed to email Gregory back for her hours. Maybe the hard restart of her system would help kill the program the malware was in the midst of running, too.
The problem was actually getting to the damn storage wing when she couldn’t see more than a foot in front of her. Shapes were swallowed by shadows in such a way that even as her eyes adjusted, it was hard to tell where something jutted out and how far away dim outlines really were. On the bright side, her manager’s office was right down the hall from the employee break room, and under the sink cabinet was a bunch of first aid and shelter-in-place supplies, including a flashlight.
She could only wonder if she looked as moronic as she felt stumbling around in the darkness. Her legs shuffled in hesitant steps while her hands stayed splayed in front of her to catch herself on anything in the way. She’d already knocked her shin twice on a waste bin and the edge of the copy machine in the hall, the second almost causing her to fall. As soon as she was able to press against the left wall, it became much easier to guide herself down a straight line towards the cafeteria. Excluding the grunted string of swears when she clipped her hip on the water fountain sticking out of the alcove near the restrooms.
Oh, she hated this. She hated this very fucking much. The stifling air made her skin prickle with sweat, yet an ominous chill racked her to the core. Despite not being able to see in the slightest, all she could feel was that she was being watched. Every move she made was under someone else’s observation, making her irrationally self conscious of her already clumsy staggering down the hall. Like she was embarrassed that her final moments in someone’s eyes would give the impression that she didn’t know how to walk on her own two feet. Of course, if she was going down, then she wanted to go down with some dignity.
There was no one here. It had already been established that no one was here but her and probably a couple crickets that always found a way inside from the warehouses. Besides, if she couldn’t see, neither could anyone else. Unless they followed the sounds of her tripping and groaning. God, it was killing her not to be able to power walk quicker to the breakroom, knowing she’d only guarantee herself to smack face first into an open door or something. The journey of twenty-some feet might as well have felt –
[Note: Subject remains unaware of Abnormality following behind her as before. Abnormality does not go in for the kill.]
– like a mile long trek with how much energy she exerted just to fumble through the doorway and paw at the lower cabinets until she could feel the bulky flashlight tucked away underneath. It clicked on with a stutter of its bulb, but a shake was all the old batteries needed to keep a steady glow.
No longer surrounded on every side by darkness, Serena found it a smidgen easier to breathe now that there wasn’t the full weight of anxiety on her chest. It was still there, obviously, but now she had the advantage of seeing what obstacles were actually in front of her when the time came to have to sprint for her life from a serial killer ghost. The walk to the storage wing went much smoother thanks to the flashlight’s guidance. Now, instead of bruising her thighs that were still clammy under her wet jeans, she only had to nurse a bruised ego over the notion that she was still afraid of the dark at age twenty-six. Actually, she refused to take shame in that. The dark was goddamn terrifying and people who insisted it wasn’t were either liars or the nightmare entities themselves.
At first, when she opened the door to Storage One, she was confused by the light that flickered inside. If it was a total power outage then it made no sense for there to still be a way that the overhead lights could work, even if the breaker box was mere feet away. That was when she realized the flashes of luminosity were coming from the breaker box itself, spewing out streams of sparks like a fountain on display. The spray of electricity crackled with each pulse of attempted power, burning the air with a bitter smell.
“Oh, shit,” Serena winced, taking an extra step back to avoid any stray spark. That was a little more difficult than flipping a few switches. Workman’s comp was enticing, but she quite liked her fingers to not be blackened stubs and for her heart to remain unexploded.
Despite the illumination of the fried electrical circuits and her flashlight, it was too difficult for her to make out the exact damage that was done. The floor and wall was burnt from the flow of loose currents, yet there didn’t appear to be any type of surrounding destruction as far as she could tell. Damn, guess she was being forced to call it a night after all, which wouldn’t have been so terrible if now she didn’t have to call Gregory to explain the situation and possibly also a fire department. Then again, she did say she wanted to burn this place down to the ground.
The universe was really testing her these days.
Not wanting to get caught in a potential electrical fire, Serena was quick to make her way back down the hallway towards the front entrance to leave. Or it would have been quick, had it not been for the fact she had to skirt out of the way of paper machines and rolling whiteboards and…wait. Had those always been pulled so far out from where they were normally lined against the walls? After all, that was the whole point of keeping them accessible but out of the way of everyone’s walking path. For all her shuffling in the dark, she didn’t think she had any problems with toppling over things that weren’t already affixed to the wall, aside from a few things in Gregory’s office when she chucked the box of order forms through. She considered if her sense of spatial awareness was better than she thought but, no, that side table of pamphlets was literally smack dab in the middle of the hall.
Granted, it didn’t look like anything on the table itself had been disturbed and it wouldn’t be too hard to shove it back into place up front. But that was the problem; it was meant to be up front, around the corner between reception and the entry doors. Not blocking the direct footway. She didn’t put that there, it certainly wasn’t there when she passed through earlier to water the plants or she would have had to pointedly walk around it.
So…how did it get there?
Actually, that was something she could let Gregory deal with when she called him. His files were pulled, the breaker box exploded, and also the furniture was moving on its own now – those were managerial duties, in her opinion.
Still, it was a bit cumbersome to have to maneuver around such bulky things while watching her step in limited lighting. What was the universe trying to do now: impede her route? Slow her down? Why did it feel like everything was so freaking persistent in keeping her stuck here longer than necessary? Even then, it wasn’t like these were very hard obstacles to dodge, not unless she had been running without noticing their strange rearrangement and being forced to pause.
“Sonava-!”
She had been so transfixed on the stupid side table that she completely missed where her foot was stepping, sending her sprawling on her knees when her leg slipped from under her. A shot of pain ran up her elbows from where they took the brunt of her upper body, mellowing into a dull throb seconds later. Sure, she had already fallen flat on her ass today, she may as well let her front take a bit of abuse, too.
Gripping the flashlight that had almost rolled out of reach when she landed, she shined it behind her legs to see what she could have possibly slid on. It wasn’t water, she was plenty familiar with that sensation already. It was…
Cereal bars?
A glance next to the impressive pile of whole grain snacks revealed the vending machine, powered off but missing an entire row of treats. Another look at the mound confirmed they were, indeed, the snacks that were meant to be stocked. A couple toaster pastries, quick breakfast nibbles, including the same snack she had gotten herself two of yesterday to serve as dinner. Actually, she had only gotten the ones with blueberry filling, whereas it looked like the machine was happy to spit out other four flavor options as well to add to its disposed horde.
The weird surge probably had something to do with the vending machine dispensing things at random. Tempting as it was to shove a bunch of free food in her arms and call it a successful grocery haul, there was no way Serena could get away with taking what had to be a hundred dollars worth of cheap snacks without anyone noticing. And really, right now, she wasn’t much in the mood to stick around and have a bite to eat. She wanted to go home, change her clothes, and maybe prevent WerTech Productions from being a smoldering shell by opening hours.
“What the hell is wrong with this place?,” she mumbled. She couldn’t walk fast enough out the front doors, not bothering to lock it behind her. The sigh she blew into her hands was more pained than she wanted to admit. “What the hell is wrong with me?”
She swore her car headlights against the showroom windows looked just like eyes as she drove away.
–
END OF SECOND NIGHT
–
Picture Left: [ID - CCTV still frame of Hallway 3 cluttered with moved furniture.]
Abnormality’s hunting behavior has taken unprecedented deviation from previous encounters.
Abnormality has chosen to stalk prey without engagement despite ample opportunities.
Because the power outage was confirmed to be the result of Abnormality’s abilities, continued usage of property’s CCTV camera footage was unexpected. This implies
Abnormality is aware it is being observed with its prey and allowed it OR
Abnormality is also using CCTV to track Boyd
Abnormality has also used technological interference to direct attention at Boyd.
See:
Email consisting only of Boyd’s name and hearts
Collection of food previous seen eaten by Boyd
Despite unusual occurrences, Boyd appears to remain unaware of Abnormality and reports findings as an electrical blow up. This is accepted to be fact by WerTech Production superiors.
–
AB299 Behavioral Theories
New theories regarding Abnormality’s shift in hunting practices have been noted to include the following:
Note: Ranked by likelihood
Savor Theory - Abnormality is intentionally causing psychological distress to prey as a way of toying with its food; it is beginning to take pleasure in the hunt rather than relying solely for survival means.
Courtship Theory - Abnormality is displaying interest in affection towards prey in an attempt at reciprocation; rejection of courtship will likely result in prey’s demise.
Enrichment Theory - Abnormality is not actively on a hunt; instead it is showing signs of new emotional threshold by harmless playing; prey likely to be killed once game is over.
Theories to be revised as more information is gathered from subsequent observations.
–
Third Day
–
“A break in? Are you kidding me right now?”
“Hey, okay, lower your voice, alright?.”
“No. No, you cannot just come up here and tell me you think we had a goddamn break in–”
“I mean, we don’t know for sure…”
“- when I am here alone, every night, no protection –”
“I get it, I totally get you–”
“- fighting for my freaking life–”
“Look, let’s just,” Gregory took an exaggerated breath, hoping Serena might mimic his attempt to calm down. The twitch of her eye said otherwise. “take a breather.”
“Sure, yeah, because apparently it might be my last,” she said.
Her manager had the decency to wait until the end of the day during their performance talk to drop the bomb on her that last night’s strange happenings may have been the result of an attempted robbery. This was done, naturally, when everyone else had already left to enjoy their weekend and weren’t around to hear Serena’s outrage.
When she had come in that morning, the power had been restored and everyone was abuzz with new rumors about some mysterious fire that nearly torched all of their outlets. Some jokingly lamented that they wished the system had stayed fried so they could enjoy a three-day holiday. Others were pissed that their computers had to be manually restarted and lost whatever data they had pulled up in sleep mode. None of them had asked Serena if she knew anything about what happened despite always being the last one in the building, unknowing that she was the one who had to walk Gregory through the steps of calling a fire marshal and scheduling an on-call electrician to come out before opening shift.
All she had been told by him soon after she arrived was that everything was hunky dory now besides the fact that the breaker box was severely damaged and barely fixed and one overloaded circuit might cause the whole thing to blow. But other than that, there was nothing too major to worry about.
Except now, because of the clear tampering around the busted and scorched metal, the slashed wiring, the unexplained decoration of appliances that had since been moved back to their original positions. Random electrical malfunctions were a rare but not unheard of occurrence. The signs around this one, however, seemed to be intentional.
She wondered if Alice had known about these new suspicions. The technician hadn’t mentioned anything about it while she sat next to her and wiped her computer’s internal harddrive as a precaution against the virus. All she got out of her was a side eye when Serena tried to convince her she hadn’t downloaded anything from a shady website and a tidbit that one of the call center girl’s didn’t know browsing history was logged until she had to explain a few interesting searches to IT when deleting her cookies. She should just be thankful no one was trying to point the finger at her for somehow being involved as a vindictive employee hellbent on torching her way out of here. That wasn’t an additional comment she wanted added to her weekly log.
“I’m only telling you about this so that you won’t worry,” Gregory explained.
She cupped the hollow of her cheeks in the palms of her hands. “Greg. How…is that meant to make me not worry?”
He shrugged. “Because we don’t know if it really was a burglary or not! The cameras got all screwy during the outage.”
[Note: WerTech Production archived footage was wiped after Boyd’s departure on second day. ABC’s taped live recordings were untouched in facility’s database. Abnormality is purposely hiding its tracks.]
“And if there was?” She pressed.
“Then they probably won’t be back,” he assured her. “We’ve done some stock recounts and nothing looks to be missing so far. If it was anybody, it looks like they thought it was a bust.”
“You’re killing me,” she said, cutting him off before he could try to soothe her again. “No, really, you’re killing me. You’re signing me up for a death trap.” She threw her hands up in the air, if only to keep herself from wrapping them around his neck. “Probably? Probably? Or, how about this, they come back now that they’ve cased the place and know I’m here by myself defenseless. What do you think is going to happen then, Greg? I can tell you what I think is going to happen.”
Gregory shook his head. “No, no, I hear you, I got it, trust me. I’m on your side! I know that’s gotta be pretty scary for a young girl like yourself. I can’t imagine what it must be like in your shoes.”
“...but?”
“...but, we’ve taken some extra precautions for tonight, just for you.”
She rolled her eyes and flopped back in her chair, sinking into the leather with a groan. “I’m flattered.”
“I’m serious, Serena, I really do take your safety as a priority,” he said in such an earnest tone that she softened her glare just a fraction. “We’ve got security on site the entire time you’ll be here, even to walk you to your car. Cameras are good to go again. I already had Ops lock up all the access doors so that you don’t need to check them, just lock up the front like you normally do on your way out.”
That was all…pretty reasonable. For once, the stress uncoiled from her body at Gregory’s words, a personal best in the entire three months they’ve worked together. Her visible relief must have eased his own worries, thankful she didn’t want to escalate the issue any further in a way that might involve board directors and/or legal fees. Relief may be too strong of a word; more like the same type of acceptance when dealing with the five stages of grief.
“Real easy job tonight. Just need you to print out the stock count sheets I emailed you earlier and check that they’re in the right bins out in Warehouse B. You can take Ted with you if you don’t want to be alone, or y–”
Brown eyes that had been closed in resignation flew open to look at her manager. “Ted?”
He paused. “Yeah, Ted…the security guard? You’ve had to have met him, right?”
Of course, almost every woman in the office knew Ted. They knew him because he was a weird little creep that ogled a bit too much at the monitor feeds and had the social awareness of a rock. Guys thought he was such a jokester, ladies thought he had no business telling them how great that skirt looked from the back when the cameras captured them leaning over a filing cabinet.
Would you believe me if I told you he got caught with his hand down his pants once? Alice had asked during one of their mini gossip breaks. Serena scrunched her face in disgust, asking if that was true and praying that it wasn’t, but the other woman only shrugged with a smirk.
I dunno, but you believed it, so what does that say about him? She said.
“Why Ted?” she asked instead. “Why not Allen? Or Jodie?”
Gregory frowned, the furrowing of his brow matching hers. “He was the only one available for after hours on short notice. Why, what’s wrong with Ted?”
A lot of things, even if most of it was hearsay. The fact that so many women had so many consistent stories about him was more than enough evidence for any of them. Except for HR and anyone higher up on the ladder, who apparently wanted fifty pages of proof that Ted had physically acted inappropriately to combat the dozens of complaints against him. It was an argument Serena was sure her manager had already heard plenty of times before, and tonight would not be the night he miraculously changed his tune.
Ted was all she had in the way of personal security, otherwise she was on her own. Despite it being really, really inviting to stay by herself instead of having to share any type of close quarters with him. Did she think he would try to pull anything…violent on her? No, but, she definitely couldn’t be too careful. And even if he was proven to be totally harmless, spending the evening getting leered at and given unwarranted ‘compliments’ was not her ideal way to spend a Friday night, much less in a professional work environment that was dead set on turning half her curls gray.
If nothing else, she can always sacrifice him to give herself a running start should anything start to go bump in the night.
“Nothing, he’s…fine,” she grumbled. The way she crossed her arms was reminiscent of a pouting child.
“Hey, listen, it’s only for one more night,” Gregory said. “I know you’ve gotta be excited to fly the coop and get out there in the real world. After tonight, you’ve got a whole slew of opportunities to look forward to.” He was right, almost encouraging, like a real manager. “Don’t give up while you’re in the homestretch. You can stick it out for a couple hours, right?”
“Yeah…”
“Yeah! So don’t let these kinds of things bum you out; you should be pumped! You’re done after tonight, girl, you get to party over the weekend like a real college graduate!”
God, Gregory was so painfully in his late forties. She could still appreciate his attempt at a relatable pep talk, even if it made her inwardly cringe rather than motivated her.
“One more night,” she sighed in agreement. “I can do this.”
“You can do this!”
“...okay, well, I’m going to go do it then,” Private rallying over, she bid him a goodnight while he rambled on about how proud he was of her, how much he was going to miss having a free spirit like her in the office, to keep in touch, that he’ll get her final hours submitted to her professor over the weekend, not to hesitate to reach out if she needed a job reference or even a formal interview to become salaried at WerTech –
For all his airheadedness as a manager, Gregory really wasn’t too bad of a guy. She most definitely was not going to take him up on his offer to stay in contact, though.
It felt weird in some way, knowing this was the last time she’d be plopping down in her dingy swivel chair at a desk in a department she had no business being in, turning on a computer that had already had most of her work expunged aside from her login. She couldn’t say that she’d miss this place, certainly not after these last few nights of pandemonium, but…it wasn’t all bad. Mostly bad, but not always, and usually not outright terrible. She really was on her way to become a bonafide computer engineer if she had lowered the bar this far down when ranking what a decent job was like.
Just as she was reaching for her mouse to pull up the email she needed to print, her hand bumped against something that hadn’t been there previously. A blueberry whole grain cereal bar, courtesy of the vending machine outside the office. It wasn’t hers; she hadn’t bought anything today, which meant someone must have left it on her desk between the time it took to finalize an EOD request and have her enlightening chat with Gregory.
Ted. It had to be Ted. There was literally no one else it could be because he was the only person accounted for staying late besides her. He’s probably seen her eating the same snack as a shoddy meal substitute more times then she’d care to admit. What was this meant to be – a peace offering, an attempt at flirting? If it were anyone but the security guard, she might have been a touch peeved that such a simple act stole her heart. To know that someone paid attention to the little details about her and rather than judging her pisspoor diet, offered her a bonus treat to make sure she ate.
But, it came from Ted, and Ted could choke for all she cared.
The churning in her stomach insisted that it didn’t matter who it was from so long as she stuffed it down her throat posthaste. She was hungry, having skipped lunch in favor of an iced coffee to secure that hour towards her final count. This had to be some endeavor to butter her up, maybe to act like he had treated her to dinner so that he could insist she owed him a favor in return.
Fuck it. Serena was starving and this dry cereal bar she was only a little bit sick of was the best thing she had seen all day. If Ted tried to pull anything funny with her over it, she could shove the two dollars and fifty cents in his face for an equal exchange. Stale whole grain and artificial blueberry preservatives had never –
[Note: Following Courtship Theory - Subject’s approval for Abnormality’s offering believed to be taken as agreement towards advances, becoming the catalyst for later events.]
– tasted so good.
She was halfway done with the snack by the time the printer had finished spitting out her count sheets. Warm paper held to her chest, a pen tucked behind her ear, she crammed the last two bites into her mouth and crumpled up the wrapper to throw it away on her way to the warehouse. Just as she was about to turn the corner for the double doors, she saw the familiar black security jacket slink out of the breakroom to follow after her. She wondered if he could feel the displeasure rolling off her the mere moment he existed within her bubble. He was probably used to that.
“Hey, Sierra!” he called to her, quickening his pace to catch up with her determined speed walk.
“It’s Serena.”
“Right, right, sorry,” he laughed. “We haven’t really spent a lot of time together, is all.”
And she would have liked to have kept it that way.
Her lack of a response did not deter him from having a one sided conversation. “So, Greg told me today was your last day?”
“Hopefully.”
“That’s crazy, it feels like you just got here.”
“Feels like it’s been ten weeks to me.”
“Did they throw you a party?”
“No.”
“Did they get you a card or something?”
“No.”
“Well hell, did they do anything for you?”
No. Really, she was fine with that. She was sure a majority of the people here would miss her the same amount as she would miss them, which was next to nothing. She was only an intern after all, not even stationed in the correct department or working alongside anyone that could be considered a mentor. There was no reason to mourn her scheduled departure. Frankly, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stomach the fake smiles and overly saddened coworkers crowding around her in the breakroom had they decided to host a farewell luncheon in her honor anyways.
Although, she wouldn’t have turned down a free cake.
“You know, I could always take you out somewhere,” Ted shrugged, trying to play it like a nonchalant offer. “It’s not right to have no one celebrate you on your last day.”
She rolled her eyes and entered the door code. “I can celebrate by myself at home, thanks.”
The guard gave her a cocky grin, an attempt to pull some sort of boyish charm he was too old to use. “C’mon, let me treat you to a couple drinks after this.”
With a strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes, Serena shoved the wadded up wrapper from her cereal bar at Ted’s chest, who caught it in surprise. Or maybe he was just shocked by a woman’s touch.
“You already treated me to dinner, that’s about as much as I can take,” she said.
He blinked as she pulled open the door to Warehouse B and slipped inside. “Huh? What do you – I didn’t…”
His voice trailed away from her ears when the door shut between them, muffling whatever backup plan he was surely going to try on her next. Faintly, she could hear his muffled see you on the cameras, then as she walked off down to the shelving racks she needed to check off. She couldn’t help the roll of disgust in her stomach that didn’t settle well with her pathetic dinner, though she didn’t think it would have mattered if she was full or not. The idea alone of Ted watching her every move through the CCTV at the direct order of her manager made her skin crawl. But at least he was several rooms away with many doors between them, allowing him to keep his skeezy thoughts to himself on the other end of the video feed.
The inventory she was asked to count wasn’t too difficult to handle. The guys and gals out here kept the bins organized to perfection under their shockingly competent warehouse manager. Everything was in its assigned place, clearly labeled, marked with daily quantities at the end of each shift to keep track of so many moving parts. Again, Gregory, a filing system is not that hard to maintain. Checking off if pallets were stacked in the correct location and how many GPUs were in each shipping box was the easiest task she’d done all week. Hell, being this close to actual manufacturing parts was the closest she’d gotten to doing what her degree was intended for the entirety of her internship.
As quickly as she was breezing through these stock sheets, she was glad she gave up her lunch hour to go towards her weekly log. She wasn’t sure this would take her any more than forty-five minutes to finish. Of course, because she’s such a thorough and dedicated employee that should be hired anywhere she applies, she could always go back and double check her counts. For absolute accuracy, certainly not to stretch out an easy hour and a half. She wouldn’t want to miss a single solid-state drive and throw off their supplies.
She was counting a box of coolant jugs for the third time when her hand froze mid pen stroke. All at once, it was as if her body drenched in dread, an icy shock dumped over her head like a bucket of water. Her back stiffened, forcing her to square her shoulders and stand at full height.
Someone was watching her.
No shit someone was watching her, that was the whole point of Ted being on duty with her. However, the ick he normally gave her was nothing compared to the way her heart started to rabbit out of the blue. Her pulse was roaring in her ears, drowning out her thoughts in favor of panic for no discernable reason. Every labored breath was forced through her nose to prevent herself from hyperventilating. Her feet refused to move to turn her around and see what might be the instinctual cause for her bout of anxiety this time. Never before had she considered herself someone with a panic disorder, but the constant flare ups this week were starting to become alarming.
Chances are, Ted was glued to watching her backside from the security cameras positioned around the warehouse aisles. If there really was someone or any reason that she would be in immediate danger, he would have alerted her by now. He was a creep and a weirdo, but he was still a qualified security guard. She was sure he’d love nothing more than to burst in and play the role of a macho hero who more than earned an evening with the fair maiden he rescued.
“You’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine,” she whispered, balling her hand into a fist to help direct her tension somewhere she could control. “No one here but you. You and the terminal casings.”
An overhead light popped behind her. The sound of crackling acrylic jolted her from her rigid posture to whirl around for the source. Further down the deep row of the rack aisle, one of the ceiling lights flickered before dying from a voltage overload. She stared up at the fixture in puzzlement, vaguely wondering what could have caused it to blow out so unexpectedly. Right, Gregory had told her that the breaker box had been fixed as best it could for the time being, but it was treading a fine line between operational and shorting out. A random current was probably redirected through the wiring and overloaded the fluorescent tubes.
Then the lights next to it sputtered and blew out, casting a deep shadow at the end of the aisle. Another fixture fritzed, then another, and suddenly the darkness was rapidly approaching her down the row ready to swallow her in pitch black.
She couldn’t focus on anything but turning on her heel to dash away from the encroaching shadow. The lights burned bright until they burst into sparks in quick succession, trailing behind her sprinting form at an alarming pace. Almost as if it was determined to close the distance that had previously been between them, to pull her in just as it had fully encompassed her last night despite its suffocating grip. Could Ted see her fleeing for her life from the pursuing shadows, or had the cameras in the warehouse already gone offline in tandem with the localized blackout? Should she bother trying to scream for help? What good would that do besides embarrass her once she could see past her irrational fear? Or worse, what if help –
[Note: Though Subject is fleeing in distress, she makes no acknowledgement of Abnormality’s hand reaching for her.]
– came too late?
Serena slammed her shoulder into the access door, dropping her papers to scatter on the floor and frantically wiggle the handle in a desperate attempt to get through. She had forgotten that Ops already locked up the outside doors for the night in what was meant to be a gesture to make her feel safer in the building. But she didn’t want to be in the building, she wanted to be out out get out go get OUT–
“Open, open, please,” she panted. Fumbling fingers swiped her keycard against the reader over and over until the magnetic strip made enough contact. The beeping lock was lost in the static that rumbled between her ears, only focusing on twisting down the knob and flinging open the door before the last light of the aisle could plunge her into darkness.
The door swung shut behind her with a heavy bang, sealing the shadows within. Her hands shakily gripped the railing along the ramp. Cool metal against her palms felt wonderfully grounding, giving her fingers something to squeeze until her nails dug into her skin. It was cold and it stung, but it wasn’t enough to fully shake the despair that clung to her heart. Each exhale was a ragged pant, gradually smoothing into a deeper breath as she calmed down. The outside was also dark, arguably darker than Warehouse B who had only lost one row of lighting, but it was just…safer. The security floodlights, the neon signs, the stars, the openness – it soothed her frantic thoughts in a way she couldn’t describe.
Just what the hell was any of that? One minute she was fooling around with pallets, the next she was acting like a doomed gazelle in a nature documentary. Why, because of a fuse blowout? None of this kind of stuff ever bothered her before, yet now it was as if she needed a nightlight and security blanket just to make it through an overtime shift. Anxiety was a fickle thing, rearing its ugly head at the most inopportune times for little to no reason, much less for any reason that made sense. It was like Gregory and Ted had told her, she should be ecstatic to finish the last night of her internship, one step closer to having full certification in a field she enjoyed. So, why was she sinking deeper into disquietude as the final week stretched on? Did her brain no longer understand the difference between terror and excitement?
She blinked away the wetness in her eyes, rubbing the heels of her palms against them to staunch any pitiful tears before they could begin. With a sniffle, she took a final, stuttering inhale and slowly blew it out. That was better, she was better now. Her arms still shook and her nerves tingled under her skin, but she didn’t feel on the verge of going into cardiac arrest anymore. Now, she just wanted to throw up what meager food she had in her system. Not only that, but she wanted to go home. She wanted to drink something strong. She wanted to lay down in bed for thirty-seven hours. She wanted…
…she wanted to close that goddamn motherfucking gate.
Unbelievable, un-freaking-believable. Well, not that unbelievable, but still. How in the hell was her manager going to sit there and try to placate her worries that there might have been a break in, that someone might have been tampering with things around the building, when nobody could be bothered to close the propertyline gate for the past three days minimum. Yeah, no wonder someone felt like they had free access to WerTech Production Headquarters; the employees there routinely left the locked doors wide open for anyone to wander in! If there were any late night thieves, they had half their heist planned for them when it came to securing an entry point and getaway.
Fear muddled into misplaced anger, heating her veins enough to thaw the chill that previously ran down her spine. Stupid gate, stupid stupid stupid gate, the bane of her existence for the last three nights. If she had never seen that it was open while throwing out the trash, she never would have inadvertently sent herself spiraling down the rabbit hole of what-ifs relating to her mysteriously violent demise. Such a strange thing to fixate on, yet one undoubtedly about to be on the receiving end of her frustration as she marched through the backlot towards it. She didn’t know why it was open, if it served some vital purpose that may or may not cause issues for her former coworkers come Monday morning. She didn’t care. This place wasn’t her problem anymore at the stroke of eight o’clock.
The closer she got to the fence, the more of its shape she could make out against the inky backdrop of evening. Twists of steel wires and towering poles became defined with each step, the opening in its chain links giving the illusion that it was gaping wider and wider as her perspective shifted from the distance. And as she raised her arm to grab hold of the accursed gate, ready to slam it shut with all the might she could muster to help ease a fraction of her vexation, she came to the startling conclusion that it was more open than she had anticipated. Not just opened – completely peeled backwards like a tin lid off of a can. The metal was mangled back and upwards as if it had been carelessly pulled from the ground. Support bars meant to take the impact of a wayward vehicle with only a few dents were bent at a multitude of angles.
This kind of damage shouldn’t be possible, not unless it was a big rig plowing through at top speed. Even then, the fence wasn’t smashed or bulging like it had been hit by something going out, rather it was deliberately torn open by something wanting to come in. But there were no signs of tire tracks or skid marks, no abrasion to any of the shipping containers that would have been hit in its path, no mention around the office about any kind of big machinery accident on site. That led to the conclusion that either this destruction of property was old news long before Serena’s employment…
Or it happened too recently for anyone to take notice, simplifying assuming the gate was cracked open when looking from the bay doors.
“What…the fuck,” Seriously. For every instance she explained away, three more appeared in its place like a hydra.
She couldn’t begin to fathom what kind of incident was able to do this much damage, yet so little at the same time, kept only to a small corner of the fencing. How long ago had it happened, how deliberately was it done?
Ted might know, loathe as she was to give him props for anything. Being one of the four rotational security guards, he of all people would either have been present or informed of any type of vandalism on company grounds. In fact, he could probably pull up the archived footage of when it happened to give her a definitive answer. Was it truly worth the mental strength she’d need to expend to willingly ask Ted for a favor? It would be so much simpler to let the issue go and finish up the last half hour of her overtime hiding in the bathroom. She could forget it, be done with it, let WerTech handle themselves as they pleased.
But dammit did she need to know if her gut instinct had been right since Wednesday.
The walk of shame back towards the side entry made her wonder if she should have gone ahead and left through the tear in the fence. Embrace her new life in the small, woodland strip between textile businesses, content to never look at a computer screen or human being for the rest of her days. Instead, she got to enjoy the feeling of a stone dropping into her stomach every inch she came closer to the building until she was worried she might be weighed down through the asphalt. The building itself wasn’t the monster she was afraid of, it was what it hid in its darkened halls and empty rooms that made her squirm. And some of the people. And the abysmal pay, or lack thereof for interns working overtime.
Forgoing the door back into Warehouse B, Serena opted to use the side entrance that dropped her between the security office and conference room. Raising her hand to knock on the door made her feel braver than any American soldier deployed into battle.
“Ted?” she asked. “You there?”
“Sure am,” a voice called back and a moment later the door was opened. He smiled, gesturing for her to come into a small, enclosed space with him in private. She stubbornly stayed hovering in the doorframe. “Ready to wrap it up?”
“Yeah, almost, um…do you know anything about the busted gate out back? That’s all, like,” she jumbled her hands in explanation.
Ted raised an eyebrow. “Busted gate?”
Oh, that wasn’t reassuring at all. “Yeah, past the dumpster and the trailers. It looked like something just…plowed through it? I didn’t know if maybe there had been an accident or…?”
“First I’m hearing about it,” he shrugged. “Could have had something to do with the fire truck here this morning if I had to guess. Maybe they backed up too far. Pretty shitty if they didn’t say anything to anyone before they left, though.”
A fire truck was big, but not big enough to rip up metal fencing unless it was being hurled through it. “Could you…check? Like, the cameras?”
“Now?”
“...yeah.”
“I mean, we don’t even know what day or time it happened, that’s hours of footage.”
“Right, but, you should check, shouldn’t you? Isn’t the whole point of being a security guard to actually guard the building?”
His mild confusion morphed into a smirk that was a little too patronizing for her taste. “Ah, I getcha, you’re freaked out about that break-in possibility, aren’t you?”
Caught red handed. The way she averted her eyes to the floor and ducked her burning face made Ted snort.
“No, hey, don’t worry about it, I get where you’re coming from,” he leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach. “I think Greg’s full of crap. No one breaks in, moves a couple desks to the left, and leaves.”
“What about the breaker box? He said it looked like it had been mauled,” she pressed.
“Yeah, it was smoldering for hours, of course it’s gonna get fucked up.”
“And the gate…?”
“Like I said – fire truck. Or one of the vendor semis when they picked up a load. Some dumbass in a big truck, either way.”
She chewed her lower lip while she absorbed his harmless explanations. Ted said everything so calmly, so effortlessly, with zero hesitation because he truly believed there was nothing to worry about no matter who said what. She wished she was able to take in and hold on to those nonchalant vibes, but her paranoia refused to believe anything had that simple of an answer. Nothing was a coincidence, nothing was just the wind, nothing had a logical reason; nothing made sense!
“Serena? Hey,” she hadn’t realized she was trembling until Ted wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side. When had he gotten up? When had her nose begun to burn with the threat of tears? “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“No,” she choked out. “No, I’m not fucking okay.”
Before the security guard could ask her what was the matter, all of her anxiety was spilling from her mouth in a watery ramble that she couldn’t stop. “I feel like I’m losing my mind here, like, literally going insane. I keep, I keep thinking I see things to the point I run out the damn door so that I don’t have to be in the dark, like there’s actually a-a boogeyman after me.” She took a gulp of air and let it out in a humorless laugh. “And I’m twenty-six, I’m twenty-six goddamn years old and I’m worried about monsters in the closets but it’s not in the closets it’s everywhere in this fucking building when I’m alone.”
Her breathing was becoming shallower with every cluster of words she forced out in a single breath. “And I don’t know where this came from! It just, it started so suddenly and I don’t know why but it makes me feel like my heart is about to explode and that I’m being watched and I’m scared, Ted, I’m so fucking scared for no reason, but I don’t know what to do, I can’t, I can’t tell anyone because I know nothing is wrong but something is wrong and I just, I-I…”
“Hey, hey,” he interrupted her, squeezing his arm tighter around her shaking frame to break her out of her rant. She should shrug him off, worry about how she would need to scrub her skin raw in the shower tonight to get rid of his touch. At this point in time, she couldn’t care less where her comfort came from, so long as it was someone who believed her.
“I’m sorry,” she sniveled, burying her face in her hands to hide her humiliated tears. “I don’t, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. I mean, a lot’s wrong with you, but, like, not in a way that’s your fault, you get what I mean?”
Strangely enough, she did, so she gave a weak little nod.
“Sounds like you’re having your first burn out,” he rubbed his hand down her arm. “College girl, shitty internship, apparently thinks those gross fruit bars taste good…I’m surprised you hadn’t snapped sooner.”
She pulled away from his hug and scrubbed her face, ignoring how his hand lingered on her back. Give a man an inch and he’ll take a mile, as they say. “I think this place is cursed.”
Ted sniggered. “Oh, yeah, definitely, like, twenty people brutally died here in the eighties.”
“What.”
“I’m kidding! No, this place sucks for a lot of reasons, but I promise we don’t hire shadow walkers or whatever.”
“You’re sure?”
“Pretty sure. Weirdest thing I’ve ever seen on the cameras was when Tiarra’s bra broke during a board meeting and everything just went fwomp.” He made sure to pantomime with his hands how her breasts sagged exaggeratedly to her midriff.
Yep, there was classic Ted. His decency towards women was nice while it lasted. At least the distaste Serena felt blocked out her overwhelming nervousness. Just being able to vent her frustration and cry it out had eased a considerable weight from her chest with some significance. Ted would have much more luck wooing the girls in the office if he could pull his head out of his ass more often and listen instead of drooling.
She was saved by the bell when in the distance a landline rang from one of the offices. They both shared a look, unsure of who could possibly be calling at this hour. Serena peeked down the hall to get a better listen, only coming to the assumption that it must be one of the desk phones ringing in the finance office. What a strange time to want to call and ask for a rebate program.
“Just let them leave a voicemail,” Ted said. “and I’ll tell you what – how about you and I take a walk around the building, check out the gate and the lights and whatever you want, and then we grab dinner together?”
The first half sounded okay, but the second half of his offer made her wince. “I don’t know about that…”
“It’s just to show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he reassured her, assuming her apprehension was because she was still too shaken up to want to venture into dark corners and not because the idea of going on a date with him repulsed her. “And if there is anything out there, I promise that I’ll hit it really, really hard with my nightstick for you.”
“I…” The phone continued to ring, its shrill tone echoing down the hall. It should have cut off by now, unless the caller redialed again. Persistent, weren’t they? That must mean it was either vitally important or the most asinine thing anyone had to ask. She sighed. “I should go get that. It might be Gregory.”
“I doubt it.”
She shrugged, inching her way out the door for her grand escape from this awkward conversation. “Better safe than sorry. You can be my human meat shield after.”
Thankfully, Ted didn’t try to trail after her. Probably sulking or plotting how to get Serena to agree for a little late night rendezvous. Hell no. She was going to answer the phone, send her last email ever to mark her time, and get the hell out of here. Even if Ted had been the handsome charmer he thought himself to be, she didn’t have the energy to be in someone else’s presence for any remainder of the night. At this rate, it would be a miracle she didn’t just flop on her couch and stay comatosed until Tuesday.
As she guessed, the phone was ringing from her office enclosure. More than that, it was her deskphone that was flashing red. Definitely Gregory, then, if not some insistent spam caller that was only getting through because she was the sole representative online in the system. Still, she didn’t want to assume in case it was someone who wasn’t her manager but had equal importance. She was courteous and professional, after all, as her supervisor comments better damn well say.
–
[Phone Call Transcript]
Note: This is not a real call. Abnormality is using its technological interference to lure Subject away.
[0:00:05] Boyd: Thank you for calling WerTech Productions, this is Serena, how may I help you?
[0:00:27] Unknown Caller: …
[0:00:43] Boyd: Hello?
[0:00:46] Unknown Caller: …
[0:00:51] Boyd: Hello? Are you there?
Note: Building experiences a second total blackout at this time, however the phone line remains connected. CCTV cameras remain functional as well.
[0:00:57] - Call Terminated by Unknown Caller
–
“Crap, again!?”
The dial tone hung in the air as she tossed the receiver onto her desk, not bothering to hang it up. Having one operating phone line on the grid must have been the breaker’s final straw if the lights in Warehouse B were anything to go by. Of course it would be another system failure right when she was about to leave despite running smoothly enough when everyone was bustling about during the day. Her only good fortune was that she stashed the flashlight she used yesterday in one of her drawers. She had to knock it against the edge of the cubicle divider to help the dying batteries hold on for a little longer before it was ready to lead the way out of this hellhole for a second time.
Swinging the beam into the hallway, she couldn’t detect any of the furniture having jumped out of place like before, which was already an improvement.
“Ted?” she called out. “Ted? Hey, let’s just forget it and go home. I’m sick of this place.”
He didn’t answer her. Maybe the office door was closed and he couldn’t hear her, or maybe he’d gone to check the breaker himself. Regardless, she still needed him to walk out of the building with her so she could call Gregory about the grand sucky finale of her night without being accused of abandoning him and creating a hostile work environment. With a huff, she walked towards the security room, wrinkling her nose at how quickly the air turned stale.
“C’mon, I’m done. I’ll tell Greg this place is about to burn down again when we leave.”
Nothing. Not even the squeak of a rolling chair or shuffling behind the door. He must not be in the office. Great, because going on a wild goose chase for a guy she could barely stand in a dark, stuffy building was the one thing she had always wanted to do. It wasn’t like she hadn’t just had a miniature crisis about this damn place giving her the heebie jeebies.
“Ted, I’m leaving,” she tried again. To hell with it, she’ll just write him a message on a sticky note and let him figure out the rest.
The thickness in the air swirled into a bitter aroma, enough that it coated the back of her throat with something unpleasantly tangy. Gross, had something started leaking, maybe spoiling? She hadn’t smelt anything unusual during last night’s power outage; something internal must have gotten fried during round two. Be it melting wall insulation or a busted gas main, she wasn’t inclined to breathe in slightly noxious, possible toxic fumes longer than need be. If the security guard wanted to go gallivanting through the halls until the whole place exploded from sparks and vapor, he could be her gu-
“Oh…oh my god. Oh my god.”
It wasn’t until her flashlight reflected off the floor in front of the security office did she understand where the source of the stench was coming from. In the dark, the thick liquid had blended in with the abstract pattern of the hall tiles. Now that she was closer, however, a puddle was clearly spreading from the doorway, the bright red color glaringly obvious once the light was on it. Splatters and droplets sprayed around the main pool all the way from the threshold to the corridor wall. What was worse was that it wasn’t just wetness, but gooey chunks darkening certain spots to almost appear black.
Thank god she didn’t have a bigger meal in her stomach or Serena would be adding a second mixture of bodily fluids to the floor.
A hand flew to her mouth, muffling a scream, holding back a gag, unable to tear her eyes away from what was undoubtedly a fatal amount of blood seeping into the grout.
“Ted!? Ted, this isn’t funny!” It has to be a joke. It had to be a sick, cruel prank that he was playing on her after she had just gushed about the ominous feeling WerTech gave her lately. Gregory was probably in on it, too, maybe the whole office as well. A carefully orchestrated trick they had spaced out over seventy-two hours to make Serena feel like she was going crazy.
Certainly not because something bad had actually happened.
“Please, please, Ted, just…just fucking answer me!” she cried, her voice catching in her throat at the tailend of her sentence. “We’ll go home, we’ll go on that stupid date, please, just come out!”
The flashlight shook violently in her hand no matter how hard she squeezed the yellow plastic. Its beam may as well have been better suited on a rave dance floor with how frantically it moved from the floors to the walls to the doors. Past the initial pool of gore, it illuminated a trail of blood that streaked down the rest of the hallway in a shape roughly the same width of Ted. He’d been dragged off, mortally wounded if not already a goner. Every part of Serena screamed at her to run, smash her way out of the front windows if she had to, but she couldn’t. Not without Ted. She couldn’t…fuck, she couldn’t leave him to die, not if there was a chance to save him. He was a sleaze, but he was still a person.
And even if he was a lost cause, he should still have his baton and service weapon on his utility belt. She didn’t know where their assailant was, so she needed all the help she could find to be prepared. It wouldn’t do her any good to make it to an exit just for someone with a hatchet to be blocking the way. Could a hatchet even do this kind of lethal damage? Definitely not in one blow; Ted would have had to have been hacked consecutively to – no, no, no, she was not going to think about that she was not going to envision that.
Each exhale came out as a whimper, a clear struggle that she was barely keeping herself from breaking down into sobs. What was she going to find, what was going to find her? She had to push forward, despite the squeal in her throat when she had to step over the sticky red puddle and hope to god none of it stuck to her shoes. She kept her back angled towards the wall as she shuffled along the trail, hoping to protect herself from any unseen attack while keeping as much distance as she could from the blood trail mere inches from her steps. It smeared to the left at the hallway’s junction, heading towards the storage wing before disappearing through the open door of Storage One.
Just from the doorway, she could see the sparks flickering from the breaker box, though not nearly as fervently as it did before. Enough to light up a corner of the room with a flash every few seconds, but nothing else.
“Ted…?” she whispered. “Ted, are you…are you there? Are you…h-hurt?”
Obviously he was hurt. Obviously he was dead if that much blood was outside of his body. But what if it wasn’t his blood? What if he was alright, the true savior of the day that had already dispatched the convicts who tried to get the jump on him as part of their three-day master plan?
Any kind of stupid hope her mind tried to supply to block out the mounting trauma was dashed when she shone her flashlight through the door. She could see his legs on the floor, pants torn and soaked with his own blood, and when she fully stepped into the storage room to look at the rest of him, she wailed.
He was desecrated beyond recognition, resembling pulp more than a man. The entire right side of his body had been ravaged to the point Serena couldn’t tell if it was missing or simply turned to mush and smeared along the floor. Bones were broken and jutting through the skin, skewering organs that spilled out from the absent side. They, too, were tangled between themselves and hunks of muscles that were torn from the bone. His head…his head was the worst, by far. The skull was caved in at his forehead until it was practically flattened, causing graymatter to splatter like a rotten grape. Bloodied eyes popped out of their sockets to forever stare at nothing while his jaw was misaligned around a swollen tongue.
Every orifice oozed with red, the flow having already slowed to a trickle from his nose and ears given that there wasn’t much left to drain from his remains. Any scream Serena wanted to let out was trapped as a silent sob in her chest, unable to process the sight in front of her. Ted hadn’t just been killed, he had been slaughtered. Whoever did this had done so with an ungodly amount of rage and strength, unless it had been carried out by a depraved group of individuals lost in the bloodlust. She didn’t know what was worse: to be outnumbered, or to go against the brutality of a single attacker.
“Oh god…oh god…”
God was not going to save her.
She allowed herself two mournful sobs before she forced herself to back away from the sight on wobbling legs. It wasn’t safe here, she couldn’t stick around to grieve unless she wanted to rest ending up the same way. She needed to get out of here, drive as far and as fast as she could, and call every police department in the tristate area for help. And she needed to do it now before she was caught next.
She turned around and she screamed.
There was no way she could have possibly missed that…that thing in the corner staring down at her with those awful eyes. Wide and yellow, glowing against the backdrop of black, with ringlets of red that were evocative to a bullseye at a carnival game booth. But no, that wasn’t it; it was the fact that the eyes towered so, so high above her all the way to the fifteen foot ceiling. Its frame was swallowed up by the darkness of the room courtesy of the blackout, only faint outlines of what she assumed were its arms and neck visible from the pinprick beam of her flashlight ghosting over its massive form. It was like the shadows blended into its skin as the perfect camouflage to the point its own body could hardly be made out when flush against itself.
And somehow, that still wasn’t what sent Serena over the edge. Not this giant fucking monstrosity looming over her, not her coworker’s mangled corpse behind her, not that fact that such a creature should be impossible to exist in the first place, not the realization that it was somehow able to squeeze into the room with no visible damage to the doorways that were meant to accommodate a ten foot height at most, not the fact that her intuition about something being so terrible wrong the last couple days was right.
But because Ted’s arm, from his broken fingers to the intact joint of his shoulder, was hanging out of its mouth.
The contrast of gore on skin and charcoal color of the jacket’s sleeve was the only way she could make out the line of its top lip. White fangs poked out from the corners of its mouth due to being slightly parted by the limb snatched in its teeth, likely held fast by smaller but equally sharp dentition. If it weren’t for the fact something was between its lips, she wouldn’t have even realized there were any features on its face besides its dizzying eyes, the shapes also obscured by its inky coloring. If it even had any in the same arrangement that a human would.
It tilted its head to the side, unperturbed by her sharp cry at its appearance. The movement caused blood to dribble from the stump of Ted’s arm and patter on the ground like rain, splashing at her ankles. Instinctively, she stumbled back to create a sense of distance between the viscera and the monster who had created it. Unfortunately, there was still the matter of Ted’s near inside-out body directly behind her. Too focused on the terrifying sight in front of her, she didn’t watch where she stepped and squished the remnants of a liver (or maybe the kidneys? Could be the stomach.) under her heel. Her foot slipped out from under her in a way that was reminiscent of the way she fell after dropping the pitcher of water in the lobby.
Like before, its eyes watched her unblinkingly. Like before, she cried out at the feeling of liquid seeping into her clothing. The difference this time was that the creature didn’t disappear without a trace and she was far more distressed at the sticky warmth that stuck to her body from her lower back to her thighs. She tried to scramble out of the meaty pile, but her hands kept slipping in the blood and the sensation of guts squelching between her fingers made her recoil. All she could do was mewl such weak little sobs until her shaking limbs found enough purchase to pull her against the wall. She could move no further back, gain no extra footage between herself and the monster.
It knew that just as well as Serena.
“No, no,” she croaked, watching as the creature slunk out of the deepest shadows that concealed it so well towards her. The flashlight wasn’t close to being powerful enough to unveil its entire body structure, but despite nearly slipping out of her shaky hold from the blood, she could see a few details that were missed in the darkness.
For one, it wasn’t just as tall as the ceiling. It was even larger with what looked like legs bent into a crouch to help it fit within the confined space. The hands that inched closer to where Serena was huddled had wicked points at the end of long fingertips, scratching along the concrete. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around how such an enormous being was able to hide itself in a compact storage room when there was no conceivable way it could have fit through either of the doors. Unless, somehow, it had made its own opening with such skill that there wasn’t a trace of demolition.
A rumbling noise made Serena shrink back into the false safety of her corner. It was deep and throaty, something between a growl and a purr. Not inherently hostile, but not remotely comforting in the slightest. From what she could tell, it hadn’t yet entirely extended itself forward and already the creature had invaded her personal space as a testament to its full height.
“Please,” she whined, her tearful brown eyes pleading with its two-toned stare. “Please…”
Please don’t kill me. Please let me go. Please make it quick and painless. Please please please–
It opened its mouth just enough to drop the severed arm at her feet. It would have landed in her lap had her knees not been drawn to her chest in a vain attempt to shield herself should the creature strike.
She gagged hard enough that her whole body flinched, bile burning in her throat but swallowed back down. She pressed harder into the wall and willed herself the sudden ability to phase through solid objects with no luck. Was it better or worse to know that while Ted had been horrifically mauled, it didn’t seem like much of him was eaten as it was pulverized. Was it a more dignified death to be reduced to monster food or a sludge of innards? At least in the case of the second option, their families would have something to bury, even if it could all be scooped in a shoebox.
Again, it made a noise at her. Softer, like a croon of encouragement, perhaps for her to accept the shared meal of her coworker as her last.
To think, not even an hour ago, that was the same arm that Ted wrapped around her in comfort. It was the same arm that held her close to his body while it was still warm and, for just a moment, made her feel protected from the horrors lurking around the corner. There was nothing it could defend her from now.
Serena bit her lip to stifle a moan of anguish. “S-stop, stop, please, get…g-get that away from me.” When the monster didn’t comply with her request, she kicked her leg out from her arm to shove the appendage back. “Get away!”
It tilted its head and rumbled in response to her. She shuddered, unsure what it was trying to ask of her, if it was capable of conversation to begin with. All animals had some sort of intelligence, but that didn’t always equate to morality, much less the complexity of human ethics. Not to mention, this creature was like no animal she had ever seen. She hadn’t known something like this could have ever existed, except maybe a million feet below sea level where the fish were all the more ghastly and colossal. This thing was just…unnatural. Nothing about it fit into a single category enough to be plausible. Like it didn’t belong in this world.
If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back and wow was that feeling more literal than Serena previously imagined. The eyes that wanted to swallow her up were like floodlights in contrast to the void that was the rest of the monster. It was like it was the personification of a blackhole, pulling the darkness around itself as a cloak and uncaring what was demolished in its hunger. Slowly, it bowed its arms to lower itself in front of her, eyes never leaving her once. She couldn’t look away, her mind was memorized by the glow of colors. It was almost too late when she noticed movement out of the corner of her eye and saw Its hand cocked and reaching, so close to brushing against her side
Adrenaline pumped through her as if it had been shot directly into her heart. Without a second thought, she twisted away from the clawed fingers before they were able to dig into her flesh, scrambling to pull herself up. Her back hit a hard metal and she didn’t hesitate to grab it off the wall. Small and cylindrical; a fire extinguisher. It was dubious to think a little bit of suppression foam would be the single weakness for a beast of unknown forces, but she didn’t need a total knock out; merely a distraction.
Pin pulled, hose aimed, trigger squeezed – all before the creature had a chance to cage her in. Dense, white mist sprayed into the air, thickening into a light froth that shot directly at its face. It reared back, more out of shock than pain, she imagined, and snarled. If it weren’t for the fact her nerves were already shifted into overdrive to get her moving, she may have frozen with the way the reverb rocked her bones. The monster squeezed its eyes shut to avoid the blast of foam that splattered its face white in a continuous hiss. Now being powdered with the color contrast of its inky hue, she was able to pick out more of its face that she could see previously. Creased eyelids and a pinched brow, tufts of fur that covered from its forehead to its cheekbones like a head of hair, the bridge of a nose, lips curled back to reveal horrifically sharp daggers.
Almost human.
But the wrong kind of human.
Human in the way some fish had two rows of flat teeth that looked like a grin, or how a monkey could stand and walk upright while dragging limbs that were too long, or when an animal’s muzzle deformed to give the appearance of a drooped nose and protruding chin. Things that belonged at the rock bottom of the uncanny valley, that had no business existing as features on anything but a human being. Whatever this thing was, it was too far removed to be a recognizable person, no matter what kind of mask it wore.
While it was vigorously shaking its head to dislodge the foam blinding its eyes, Serena hurled the empty extinguisher to the side in hopes its resounding impact could be mistaken as her. She didn’t bother to wait and see if her bid for a few extra seconds was successful, using her head start to fly out the double doors to her right that led into Warehouse A. Her hand all but punched the emergency fire alarm –
[Note: All emergency calls and alerts have been deactivated by wireless jammers. Requests are transferred to ABC’s mock services and responded with trained personnel.]
– as she sprinted down one of the middle aisles towards the main entrance back into the offices. A piercing siren rang in every room of the building, strobes of red flashing in time to the beat. The echo in the warehouse only made the noise all the more ear bleeding, but she worry too much with how it made her head throb. A migraine was nothing in comparison to being eviscerated by a very nightmarish, very pissed off being from hell that now had a personal vendetta against her. Around her, the surroundings were briefly illuminated in red as the fire alarm screamed for evacuation, only to plunge into total darkness a second later, repeating the cycle. Being able to see, if only for a few moments at a time, was already a godsend.
But when the world blinked away with each pause of the alarm’s wail, her heart skipped a beat, knowing that was all the creature needed to be virtually invisible to her. Despite the stretch she ran at a speed that would make track stars envious, it didn’t take long for the monster to be hot on her heels. Maybe it was because the alarm was so harsh, or because she could only hear breathing in her ears, or something in the middle of the spectrum, but she hadn’t caught the slightest sound that could have been it thrashing its way out of the storage room to give chase. There was no way it should have been able to wriggle through the warehouse doors, even if it crawled on its stomach, without tearing half the wall out as well.
Had it just…materialized? Poofed out of thin air into the next room over?
There wasn’t much time to dwell on the schematics of the monster chasing her. She could make up all the hypotheses she wanted after she had gotten to safety. If she made it to safety.
For something so large, it was incredibly light on its feet, barely a tremor on the ground as it pursued behind. Hell, the only reason Serena had realized it was catching up with her was because its shadow was revealed in a flash of red along the racks of shipping crates. She yelped at the proximity and dodged into the open shelving under one of the aisle racks, shoving over a cart of loose hardware fasteners in her haste. Being over in the next row didn’t deter the monster in the slightest. Its arm swiped through the third tier of the rack, sending heavy boxes wrapped in plastic film to rain down on her. She yelped, her arms bracing over her head as she continued to pump her legs faster to avoid being struck.
Metal groaned under a weight it was not designed to hold. In a flurry of movement, more pallets stored on the upper shelves came crashing to the ground behind her. She could feel the shrapnel of scattering components and splintered wood smack the back of her legs, a near miss from dropping on top of her and shattering her spine on impact. Whether it was stupid or not, she risked throwing a glance behind her to see what the creature was plotting with its makeshift avalanche. To her horror, it had climbed up the shelves to perch almost thirty feet above, making the steel buckle and shake to support its large stature.
It leapt from the rack on her left to the one on her right, causing even more inventory to go sailing to the ground with a crash. The shelves barely held together from the landing and Serena feared it may go falling in a domino effect on top of her with the way it swayed and screeched. Regardless, the monster didn’t break its stride to pounce forward down the row and purposely send industrial coils of wire careening over the edge. Because it had gained a few feet of lead, something it could have done when she was well within its reach on the floor, she was able to skid to a halt as supplies rained down right in front of her. The forced stop was exactly as it intended, blocking her front and back path along the aisle with smashed stock.
She thought herself so clever when she squeezed between the gap of shelving units to be back down her original route. The door was straight ahead, just a few more paces, and there were no more racks on either side of her to potentially block her in with debris. Unfortunately, slipping through lower openings was a trick the monster already picked up on mere moments ago. If her lungs didn’t burn like every inhale was ablaze, she might have had the air to scream when it sprung down to land between her and the door. Most of the white powder had dissipated from its face, leaving only its eyes as the key feature to look at.
Whether washed out in a red light or hidden in the void of black, the only thing Serena could consistently see was its goddamn eyes.
Her body moved on its own accord before her brain could think of firing off an order. She thought maybe, since she was so small and it was so close, she could juke the creature by running around it to circle back towards the door. There was no time to formulate a plan B when her only options were fight or flight. And ‘fight’ might as well be renamed to ‘instant suicide’. What she hadn’t accounted for in her brilliant scheme for survival was a long, thick appendage to strike against her whole body when she veered from its crouched legs. The collision sent her flying backwards, all of the air being knocked from her lungs and leaving her breathless. In that moment, her shock overtook her brain in a daze, making her forget she was currently being flung off by some type of crime against nature in favor of noting a few new observations.
A tail…it had a freaking tail, one that tapered off like a reptile.
The texture under her hands was smooth but with a slight give, like velvet. Was this what covered the rest of the creature’s exterior?
It had arms like a human – hands and elbows and shoulders that connected to a torso. But its limbs from the waist down were wrong. Its legs looked to bend at an extra angel, each length of bone too long to match human proportions. It was more akin to the hindleg of a dog, which made it easier to move while crouched.
Human, reptile, dog. What the hell kind of amalgamation was its physique, and how was such a fusion pos–
Her back crashed into the side of a shelving unit with a thud, snapping away her ponderings that only existed for the four seconds she was airborne. She felt her teeth crack together when her head hit a metal crossbeam while the taste of blood filled her mouth from an unknown source. Some sort of choked grunt escaped her lips on impact, but when she crumpled to the floor she could hardly muster a wheeze. No matter how desperately she tried to suck in air, her lungs refused to work, worsening the burn of suffocation in her throat. Stars blotted around the edge of her vision and what she could see kept splitting into blurry doubles. Blinking only made it worse.
It was a good thing she was curled on her stomach as she turned her head and retched. Hardly anything but yellow bile and spit was thrown up, the spasming of her diaphragm making her ribs stab with agony. She made the most miserable sound of pain that could be forced out of her. Everything hurt so fucking much. Her head was swimming, her legs throbbed from exertion, her back ached with the onset of a wicked bruise darkening the skin from her shoulders to her tailbone. Breathing was like inhaling glass. Crying was like setting a firecracker off behind her eyes. In the back of her mind, some basic health class she had taken as an elective course unhelpfully reminded her that pain was good. It meant nothing was numb from blood loss or nerve damage or just completely ripped from her body. It meant she was alive.
She wasn’t so sure she wanted to be alive right now.
How much pain did Ted endure before he succumbed to his wounds? Had it been quick, or was this merely a fraction of the torture he was put through. This alone was pushing Serena past her limits of what she thought she could handle. There was no way she’d be able to stomach anything more brutal than a flick of the monster’s tail.
She coughed wetly once her lungs had regained the function to breathe, even if it was only shallow gasps. Through her fringe of curls that had fallen over her face, she dared to look at the creature. It looked right back at her. With shame, she could only imagine how downright pitiful she looked from its point of view. Her hair was mussed, her cheeks were wet with tears and runny mascara, blood was smeared from a busted lip onto her chin when she wiped away the dribbles of vomit from her mouth. She was half curled in a fetal position while every inch of her trembled in various amounts of pain. By all accounts, she had clearly conceded to being captured by a predator.
And if the monster was pleased by that, Serena had no way of knowing, because all she had to go off of were unblinking eyes that stared at her with unbridled fascination. Was it impressed by her will to live, or was it simply salivating after working up an appetite?
“Wh-what…” she rasped. “Wh-what do you want…f-from me…?”
That got the creature’s attention. Really, its attention had always been locked solely on her, but her attempt to provoke a conversation had garnered a quick reaction. It crooned, a stark contrast to the growl it had made when she sprayed extinguisher foam in its face. She couldn’t tell if it was trying to mimic comfort or condescension, either way the low rumble made her break out into goosebumps. It inched closer in that same slow, deliberate way it had tried in the storage room, its body low to the floor as if there was any chance of them being on the same non-threatening eye level.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a tremble in her voice. “What do you want?”
It didn’t answer. It might not even understand. The only response it offered was another, quieter croon when its face was less than a foot from her. To her absolute horror, the creature parted its lips enough for slivers of white to show, only for those, too, to open further and a long, black tongue to slither out.
She paled, eyes wide in terror. “N-no…no, no, please, god, no!”
Her cries for mercy fell on deaf ears as the creature leaned down.
“No, no, don’t, please, I don’t want, ple - AH! NO!”
Warmth spread along her back and dripped down her collarbone. Thicker than water, thicker than blood; she felt like glue was being poured along the length of her spine and allowed to leak in the crooks of her arm and neck. The weight of the creature’s tongue squished against her thighs and stroked up to her hair, drenching her more with each pass. A shiver of disgust ran through her bones at the sensation of saliva slicking her curls to the nape of her neck. She cried out to make her extreme displeasure known, trying to turn her head enough that spit wouldn’t dribble down her face, but it was of little consequence to the monster.
In fact, the continuous reverb that echoed in its chest indicated it was quite pleased with this development. It must enjoy the taste of sweat and misery because she couldn’t imagine she had anything else to offer its palette. If it weren’t for the fact she was being licked by a ravenous monster that had already shredded one person and had her next on the menu, the soft pressure and heat trailing over her would have felt wonderful for her aching muscles. Instead, it only made her tense and squirm, putting more strain on her body that begged for a moment to recover. When she managed to wriggle half a foot away, the creature paused its lapping to grab hold of her soaked blouse with its teeth and drag her back to her original spot.
The feeling of teeth pressing into her lower back, only for a second, was enough to kick start her adrenal gland into high gear once more. She could already envision them clamping down through her flesh for the first bite now that it had had its fill of savoring her. A phantom pain blossomed along her shoulder blade from the imagery of meat being scraped from the bone. No, no, no, she didn’t want to die. She didn’t want to go out like that. In the short distance she had dragged herself on her arms, she threw out a hand and grabbed hold of a jagged two by four that split from a pallet when it shattered thirty feet below. Splinters from the raw wood dug into her fingers, but the sting was ignored as she pulled it close to her chest.
Endorphins dulled the pain radiating through her enough that she felt a renewed surge of strength tingle in her muscles. Not wanting to give the creature a chance to resume its tasting, Serena twisted around and swung the wooden shard like a bat. Its mouth was still hovered over her in the transition of nipping and licking, taking the full whack to its lips and teeth. Even if the hit didn’t do too much damage, the slivers of rough wood would surely stab into its gums as little splinters it would have to claw out. The board cracked against one of its fangs, causing it to bark at the unexpected pain shooting down its jaw.
Its head snapped to the side following the motion. The tongue that had been happily gliding over Serena now prodded at the tooth she hit, swiping around the gum to feel for swelling or bleeding. She would have loved to relish in her minor victory of causing any miniscule amount of discomfort to a monster she thought was indomitable, but that celebration would have to hold off. As soon as its attention was diverted by the shock of being struck, she rolled out from under its looming form and clambered onto her feet in a mad dash for the office doors. It growled sharply at her retreating figure once it saw where she had fled, though that didn’t stop her from disappearing into the main building and smashing the automatic lock button on the keypad.
Would a flimsy internal mechanism keep out a forty-some foot tall being from clawing through a single door? No. Especially not if it really didn’t need to use human entrances to go from one room to another. Still, it provided a tiny bit of security that her mind needed to cling to to stay sane a little while longer. She turned to make a break for it down the hall, only to slam her knees on the edge of a copy machine from the customer service department.
The furniture had been moved again, pulled from walls and offices to create a maze of obstacles that couldn’t be solved with a straight line.
When the hell had it managed this!? It was clearly a set up meant to delay her escape long enough that the monster could catch up to her. Which meant last night, when it had done the same thing, it had been pursuing her all the way out the front door without her even knowing. Well, no, she knew something was lurking around, but the new knowledge that it could have sprung on her at any given time and chose not to made her chest seize. Unlike then, however, the current total blackout was interrupted by a flashing fire alarm that lit up the hallway in timed bursts to guide her through. She bobbed and weaved between desks and machinery, vaulted over toppled chairs and sidestepped waste bins and boxes that tried to snag her foot.
Somewhere in the distance, she could hear the screech of metal followed by a cacophony of crashes muffled only by the siren still ringing throughout the building. Wherever the monster had manifested itself, it was soon to be closing in on its target as it barreled through the traps it laid for her. She knew there wouldn’t be enough time for her to make it to the main entry. It was bigger than her, faster, and as soon as it whipped around the corner and had her in its unsettling sight it would be game over. Her only hope was to hide and pray it couldn’t scent track. If she could just hold out long enough, maybe the fire department would be here soon to respond to the pulled alarm. And then, while the firefighters tried to keep the creature at bay with the water spray of their hose before being mauled, she might have a long enough diversion to slip out a back door.
Where the fuck was the fire department?
Up ahead, the open door to the finance office inspired a new idea in her rattled brain. Her phone line was still active, the caller didn’t hang up until after the power was cut. If she could find somewhere to stay out of view with the phone, she could call for a myriad of help. Police weren’t good for much, but they knew how to pack an artillery when the chance arose to use it.
Serena shut the door behind her and rushed to her desk, grabbing the phone, receiver and all, and tucked herself under a neighboring cubicle. This might be Janice’s desk. Or was it Jessica? It didn’t matter, it was going to serve as her impromptu shelter during a deadly game of hide and seek. She balled up her fist and bit her finger until she could even out her breathing into something less hysterical. As urgent as she wanted her call to come across, it still needed to be quiet and coherent for the dispatcher. When she was able to swallow down the lump in her throat, she used the same teeth indented finger to dial 911.
Outside, a watercooler shattered. The monster was clearing a path down the hall.
–
[Phone Call Transcript]
[0:00:03] ABC Operative: 911, what’s your emergency?
[0:00:06] Boyd: Please, I, I-I need help! I’m trapped, I can’t get out, there’s, th-there’s, it’s in the building with me!
[0:00:13] ABC Operative: Yes ma’am, but I’m going to need you to remain calm so we can send help. What’s your location?
[0:00:21] Boyd: I’m at WerTech Productions, [RETACTED], n-near the entrance, please, just get someone here!
[0:00:28] ABC Operative: We have officers in route. You’re saying there’s an intruder on the property?
[0:00:35] Boyd: Yes, yes, it’s been here! It’s been after me for days and it’s, oh fuck, oh my god…
[0:00:42] ABC Operative: Ma’am –
[0:00:43] Boyd: It killed the security guard. T-Ted Milton. It ripped him apart!
[0:00:49] ABC Operative: Medical will be dispatched. The intruder has a weapon, then?
[0:00:54] Boyd: No! N-no, no, it is the weapon, it’s…it’s not human! I-I don’t, I don’t know what it is but, please, please, you need to send more people! I can’t, I –
[0:01:08] ABC Operative: Ma’am, I need you to calm down. You are aware that you’ve called 911, correct?
[0:01:17] Boyd: Wh- yes! Yes, I need help, I’m going to die!
[0:01:23] ABC Operative: Are you on any substances or prescribed medications that may cause hallucinations as a side effect?
[0:01:30] Boyd: No!
[0:01:32] ABC: Are you possibly suffering from extreme mental distress?
[0:01:38] Boyd: Of fucking course I am! Something is hunting me down and you’re not listening to me! I’m serious, there’s something out there, i-it killed Ted! Fucking send someone before it finds me!
[0:01:51] ABC Operative: Are you currently in a secure location?
[0:01:56] Boyd: I-I’m hiding in one of the offices, but I can hear it nearby. I, I don’t think it knows where I am…
[0:02:03] ABC Operative: That’s good, try to remain in place until officers arrive on the scene.
[0:02:10] ABC Operative: [Off Screen] Now?
[0:02:14] - The National Emergency Alert System Signal is remotely played through the phone line and out of Subject’s earpiece speaker at 120 dBA
[0:02:16] Boyd: What? What is that?
[0:02:20] Boyd: Wh-, s-stop, stop, turn that off! It’s too loud, it’s going to hear you!
[0:02:26] Boyd: Please, please, stop!
[0:02:31] Boyd: Stop, hang up! Fucking–
–
“- hang up!”
No matter how frantically she slammed the handset down on the switch hook, she couldn’t get the sound to stop blaring from the speaker. In her desperation, she was more so trying to break the phone against its own base to cut off the awful noise. It was just as loud as the fire siren, all the more easier to hear over the shrieking white noise that had been deafening her for too long. Her eardrums throbbed, worsening the pressure behind her eyes from the headache she hadn’t been able to shake yet. She grabbed at the cord that trailed back to the telephone jack by her desk and yanked as hard as she could with a petulant whine.
The cable went taunt, but didn’t pop from the socket it was clipped into. She couldn’t get the leverage she needed for a strong enough pull. In a last ditch effort, she threw the phone system across the room to at least get it the fuck away from her as to not be so close of a pinpoint to her exact location. It didn’t go too far as it was still tethered by the phone jacket and clattered in a heap near the metal cabinets against the wall, continuing to scream. Serena wanted –
[Note: Because Subject was unable to end the call on her end, ABC Operators are still able to hear and record the final interaction via the wiretap as well.]
–to scream, too. So, she did. She threaded her fingers through her hair that was still damp with saliva and dug her nails into her roots and sobbed.
“Shut up, shut up!” she cried at the phone. “Please, stop!”
She cut off her miserable wailing with a stifled whimper, clasping her hands over her mouth like she was holding back even a single exhale from escaping. Right outside the door, she heard the creature make a low, pleased chitter. It found her. Maybe it always would have found her eventually, but in this case she knew her fate had been sealed by a dispatcher with clumsy fingers. Regardless of how many officers and EMTs and firefighters were sent, they’d never make it in time to save her before the monster had its way with her. If anyone was sent at all for anything but a wellness check on a delusional woman. She squeezed her eyes shut, though tears still found a way down her cheeks.
No one was coming for her.
Between the alert blaring from the phone speaker and the fire alarm playing in surround sound, it was impossible for her to strain her hearing for the creature. It was loud when it wanted to be, as demonstrated by its vocals and disregard for office equipment that was in its way, yet it could be whisper quiet in the same breath when it was on the prowl. How many times had it trailed behind her when she was none the wiser? Always out of sight, but always within reach. She held her breath until her lungs burned, just in case a sniffle gave her away. Who knows what other unfair advantages the thing may have over her.
For a moment, there was nothing, only two alarms whooping in tandem in an empty office. In that period, Serena felt she was hyperware of everything but the monster. She could feel how her ruined blouse stuck to her back with spit that had significantly cooled, she could smell Ted’s blood that still flaked off the hands around her mouth, she could hear every swallow crackle in her ears while trying to silence any stray sob. Time stretched from seconds to minutes, just as when she had been thrown into the side of a rack.
Then time resumed when black fingers curled over the edge of the desk she took refuge under, its claws digging into the laminate material like butter. In a flick of the wrist, the desk was pulled up and tossed aside to hit the ceiling behind the creature, landing on the cubicles below in a flurry of paper and broken dividers. Serena shrieked, pitching back until her elbows caught her from fully hitting the floor. She hadn’t heard it come in or disturb any of the other desks to accommodate its size while it made its way to her hiding spot. How was it getting into places without a peep only to run through it like a tornado a moment later!?
“Get away from me!” She crawled backwards, her hand pawing for anything useful that might give her her third head start. “Please, please, leave me alone!”
Another sob tore from her throat when she was naturally forced into a staring contest with its eyes. Usually, they were wide like a child in wonderment, fully engrossed by Serena and wanting to commit every second to memory. Now, however, the lids were slightly narrowed down at her. Not entirely a glare, but enough to convey the feeling of irritation that was directed at her and her alone. This was the second time she’d thrown something of mild annoyance at its face and scurried off; the game was already getting stale if the creature wasn’t the one winning. But it was the winner because it always found her minutes after fleeing, it just didn’t like the fact she was the one resetting the chase instead of staying captured.
It stalked towards her with a low rumble. When it looked like she might try to get up, the monster darted forward to slam its hands on either side of her. The sudden lunge was enough to startle her flat on her back with a squeal, wincing when the tender spot on her head bumped against the floor. She tried to scramble and roll over on her side to get up, or at least get out of the way, but the creature was too fast for that from where it hovered overhead. It bared its fangs with a short growl and when that only heightened her struggles, it leaned down to snap its teeth an inch from her stomach. The fear of having a bite taken out of her abdomen paralyzed her. She laid immobilized, arms shielding her tear stricken face and legs trembling worse than a newborn fawn.
Seeing that she had finally ceased her fruitless fight, the next croon it made lacked the temper it had before, accompanied with a soft nip to her chest that inadvertently shredded the green ruffle along the placket. Better it be her shirt that was torn by teeth rather than the quivering skin underneath, she supposed. Still, that didn’t stop the strangled keen stuck in her throat. It added insult to injury by flicking the tip of its tongue from her neck up her cheek in misguided praise for her submission, coating the flushed skin with a sheen of salvia. She grit her teeth, shaking her head to signify her dismay.
“Let me go,” she tried to beg. “Please, I, I-I don’t know what you want. Just let me go.”
It chirped a reply, the vibration making her bones turn to jelly from such close contact. The creature buried its nose into the crook of her neck and purred, the tremors nearly making her body go numb. She cried out, wanting so badly to shimmy from underneath where it kept her pinned, but the mouth that was pressed into her abdomen as it nuzzled stilled any attempt of a struggle. One wrong twitch and it might take that as an invitation to carve out her intestines for not heeding its earlier warning.
Though she couldn’t move, Serena had little control over the mewls of terror it elicited from her. “S-stop, please, get off, get off,” her weepy pleas were dangerously close to becoming hysterical. “Don’t hurt me, please, god…”
The monster gave pause in its touching with a curious grumble, the purrs fading from its chest as it pulled back to look down on her. With some relief, its eyes no longer regarded her with annoyance for her behavior, though that didn’t mean it was any more of a comfort to stare into them head on. She shrunk in on herself, unable to gauge its change in mood. Had she offended it with her babbling? Was it done playing with its food now that she had been properly put in her place? Was it being intentionally cruel in the way it tormented her, or was it simply natural behavior in the way a cat toys with an injured mouse for fun?
A hand lifted from its perch beside her and extended a single finger. With bated breath, she did her absolute damnedest to stay where she was lest she tick the monster off for a third, and likely final, time. She winced at the feeling of its claw brushing her tangled fringe out of her face, the tip nicking her temple and drawing a stinging bead of blood. That didn’t dissuade its tracing from her jawline down to her neck, slowing its descent for a moment to admire the way her throat bobbed with a nervous gulp, so close to being slit wide open if it wasn’t more mindful with its claws. The pad of its finger rubbed against her collarbone and continued down to the curve of her chest before stopping.
Even at their difference in size, Serena knew it had to be able to feel how her heart was hammering under the sternum it was prodding. With a grumbling hum, it pushed down a fraction, earning a squealing gasp from the poor girl like a squeaky toy. Thankfully, the creature didn’t try to poke any harder or she thought its finger might penetrate straight through to her spine.
Satisfied with…whatever it was hoping to accomplish, it let its finger slide off of her and sat further back on its haunches to observe its prey. It stared at her. She stared at it. It tilted its head with a croon and she nervously darted her eyes around the office for something. Its tail languidly thumped against a cubicle partition. Her chest started to heave with short, quick breaths of unbridled panic. It did nothing. She snapped.
Damn it all to hell.
The overwhelming urge to survive until her last gasp was ripped from her lungs refused to let her lay there until the creature made the first move to slaughter it at its leisure. Miserable as it was, the reality of her situation was that Serena could either die now, or she could die later at an unknown time. Regardless, she wouldn’t be making it out of the front door alive. As much as she would have liked her demise to be relatively painless, the uncertainty of when her gory death was to occur was almost half the agony. Waiting for the brutal inevitable was far worse than getting it over with so she could be relieved of this nightmare sooner.
She knew it wouldn’t like her turning over and clambering on a rolling chair to heave herself up after it had just gotten her to yield. She really couldn’t give two fucks about what it thought, much less when already thought she was a catch that needed to be reprimanded before the end. If it was going to kill her, she may as well go out with the knowledge that at least she died swinging. Even if it was quite the unfair fight. It wouldn’t be the coward’s way out.
Of course, she would have liked it if the creature granted her a little more dignity to stand tall before it pounced. Her hands had barely found purchase on the armrests of the chair to help her sit up when it decided she was already moving too far away. A scream rivaling the decibels of the fire alarm made her throat burn, almost animalistic in the way it ripped from her diaphragm. Her body was encased in a damp warmth, pinpricks digging into her back and stomach that welled up with blood if she twisted too hard against them. A familiar tongue pressed to her arm and side, instantly coating half of her in a sticky wetness. One hand was able to flail and claw and grab hold of whatever she could for leverage, scratching across velvety skin. The other could only knock against hard pillars and spit-slick flesh, blinding pushing away the prodding muscle and smacking the roof of the humid cavern she was partly ensnared in.
This is it, Serena thought. Tears of pain and frustration clumped her lashes but refused to fall out of spite. Though her mind naturally screamed at her to struggle with all the strength she had to dislodge herself, the movements only caused her to be cut deeper by teeth. What did that matter, anyways? She had already been snatched up in the creature’s fucking mouth, held in place by fangs that only needed a nibble to tear into fat. One bite and she would be gone. A single chomp would sever forty percent of her body from itself. Assuming it wouldn’t just toss its head back and swallow her whole like a pelican. Assuming it wouldn’t take enjoyment chewing on every non vital part of her anatomy to prolong the experience and savor the adrenaline seasoned meat.
The creature didn’t clamp down. Despite her clumsy wiggling and grunts of pain caused by her own doing, it didn’t apply any additional pressure beyond what was needed to keep her securely in its mouth with minimal discomfort. She was almost waiting for it to violently throw her about like a dog with a rabbit’s neck locked its jaws, but what it did instead was far worse.
It shifted itself to be upright on its hands and hind feet and walked away from the debris field it made, Serena partially dangling from its mouth with no say in being carried off.
“What, wh-what are you doing!?” she called to it, only able to see the creature’s hands as it batted a few desks out of its way towards the door. “Put me down! Let go, put me down! Stop!”
One second, they were approaching the office wall directly facing the hallway, its door comically small for the monster to try and squeeze through. The world around Serena flashed from red, to black, to red, as the fire alarm tirelessly called for emergency. In the next moment, just when everything had disappeared into the blackout, her surroundings showed to now be the main hallway washed in red light. The creature continued down the hall without breaking stride, returning in the direction of Warehouse A with Serena held fast. She couldn’t begin to comprehend the transition that led her outside of the office in the blink of an eye without a wall being knocked down. Whatever the monster had done, it made her feel lightheaded, like she had just stepped off a whirlwind ride at the fair after having been on it seventeen times in a row.
Everything was so dizzying and spacey all of a sudden. Her limbs drooped from where they had tried to shove against the creature’s mouth, her head lolling with a whimper of confusion. Was that how it was able to seamlessly travel between rooms – through some usage of the dark? No wonder it unsettled her so much recently; she was potentially surrounded by an open door any time the lights were shut off. The travel between shadows was not made for human bodies to fare well in.
“Please…stop…”
[Note: While following Abnormality down Hallway 3 and Hallway 5, CCTV cameras lost contact and cut off shortly after. Power was not restored until 4:37 A.M.]
–
END OF THIRD NIGHT
–
Picture Left [ID - CCTV still frame of Boyd in Abnormality’s mouth.]
Though not captured on footage or phone call, Boyd is presumed to have been killed by Abnormality for the end of its hunt.
ABC cleanup services were deployed to WerTech Production Headquarters the following morning to dispose of evidence:
The body of Ted Milton was collected and destroyed
Ted Milton’s and Serena Boyd’s cars were removed and shredded
Hidden cameras and bugs were removed
CCTV footage was wiped back until 7:30 P.M. the following night
An electrical fire was staged to have effected - Storage One, Finance Office Two, Warehouse A, & Hallway 5
Note: Boyd’s remains were not recovered during this sweep. It is believed she may have been killed off property.
Surveillance of the building permitted to continue through WerTech’s internal security systems until Abnormality is located and returned to ABC’s facility.
–
AB299 Behavioral Theories - Updated
Previous theories for Abnormality’s change in behavior have been revised in light of the events pertaining to the third day of observation.
Savor Theory - Due to the prolonged nature of its hunt, it is likely Abnormality was taking pleasure rather than acting solely on hunger. This theory is to be refined and added to Intelligence Capability file.
Courtship Theory - While some behaviors may be similar to socialization displayed in the animal kingdom, it must be kept in mind Abnormality is not part of that. This theory has been scrapped.
Enrichment Theory - Because Abnormality has confirmed to have killed at least one person, it can be concluded this was an active hunt. This theory has been scrapped in favor of ‘Savor Theory’.
–
Sixth Day
[Two (2) days since Abnormality last spotted]
–
MORNING OVERVIEW
No activity has been noted at WerTech Production Headquarters over the weekend aside from authorized clean up by ABC personnel. Business proceeded as usual for scheduled operating hours.
Artificial rumors were circulated through employees to cover up remaining evidence of Abnormality and Boyd’s interactions:
Areas staged with electrical fire damage were tarped off for repair; displaced employees were placed in temporary offices
An email was sent from Ted Milton’s address to announce his immediate resignation; no questions were asked
An email was sent from Serena Boyd’s address to confirm her hours were approved for graduation; she was not expected to return
Abnormality has not been found on property or around the local area at this time. While it is unusual for it to return to the same location after a successful hunt, the possibility cannot be ruled out due to behavioral changes.
–
Picture Left [ID - CCTV still frame of Boyd exiting custodial closet in Hallway 1. She is surrounded by three (3) employees who offer assistance.]
SERENA BOYD’S RETURN
Unexpectedly, Boyd reappeared at WerTech Production Headquarters at 5:49 P.M. in which she enters from a closet. There is no archived footage showing her entering or exiting the closet prior to this reveal. It is unknown if she had been in there since Abnormality’s disappearance.
Seven (7) WerTech employees were in the building when Boyd stumbled into the hallway and collapsed. An intercepted call to 911 was made by an employee that was answered by ABC’s mock service.
Three (3) ABC personnel with Level 4 clearance were dispatched to the scene as two (2) officers and a paramedic.
Witnesses stated that Boyd appeared out of nowhere and was extremely unfocused. They were unable to get her to speak or walk without support.
Note: All employees were required to wait in the break room under the supervision of an ABC agent until Boyd was assessed.
–
Medical Assessment: Serena Boyd
Clouded eyes; unable to follow penlight movement
Vision improvements thirty minutes after recovery
No reaction to auditory stimuli; delayed nerve reaction to physical stimuli
Motor improvements forty-two minutes after recovery
Slurred speech; unable to support head when sitting up and continually slouching to the side
Balance improvements thirty-six minutes after recovery
Speech improvements twenty minutes after recovery
Full body tremors
Low body temperature - 95.8 F
Temperature increased to 99.3 F fifteen minutes after recovery
Ashened complex
Gaps in short term memory
Bruising along abdomen and mid back; scabbed lacerations on posterior and anterior
Dizziness; nausea
No signs of sleep deprivation or malnutrition despite having been missing for sixty-six hours
–
Picture Left [ID - CCTV still frame of Boyd and two (2) ABC personnel seated at a table in a manager's office. She is slouched in a chair with a shock blanket draped over her.]
The Interview Incident
ABC personnel privately interviewed Boyd on her experience when she was coherent enough to participate over an hour later. It is not believed she suspects them of being undercover operatives.
During the interview, Abnormality has returned to the property.
–
Her eyes remained glued to the glass of water she had been offered earlier at the medic’s insistence for hydration, transfixed on the droplets of condensation that slid down the sides into a growing puddle at the base. That would leave a ring stain on the desk’s finish; she should get a coaster. She should also probably drink the water that was almost room temperature by now, but she didn’t want it. She wasn’t thirsty, just a slight headache, and she worried the shake of her fingers might cause the glass to slip and spill should she try to hold it.
“-to an extremely traumatic event,” the officer continued. His words faded in and out of her ears in little fragmented sentences. They’d been talking to her for a length of time but made little progress in cracking her case. She couldn’t even remember their names. “I know it might be hard, but we need you to try to remember anything about what happened.”
“What happ’nd?” she repeated, her tongue feeling heavy in her mouth. It sounded more like Serena was the one asking them for clarification about what took place rather than the other way around.
He nodded at her patiently. “You’ve been missing for two days, Ms. Boyd. Can you tell us what happened the night you disappeared?”
“Two…days?” Her brow scrunched in confusion. Days didn’t sound right. If it had been days, she would be hungry and grimey, wouldn’t she? The only thing she felt now was exhaustion in the way that everything ached and nothing worked as a remedy.
“Did it not feel like days to you?” He asked.
She shook her head and immediately regretted the action with a wince.
“How long do you think you were gone for?”
“Gone? Where…where’d I go?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” the medic said with a sympathetic smile. Weird that she was also present for a police interview, but maybe it was in case Serena collapsed face first on the desk.
The officer pushed a tape player across the desk so that it could be in the middle of them. “Let’s start from the beginning, try and jog your memory a bit.” He pressed the red play button, her own voice playing from the staticky speakers in clear distress with a 911 dispatcher. “Do you remember making this call?”
Immediately, she curled in on herself and whimpered. Her shaking worsened, breathing quickening to shallow pants as she listened to herself beg for someone to help her from a gigantic monster prowling in the halls.
“It killed the security guard. T-Ted Milton. It ripped him apart!” her past self sobbed.
Ted. Oh god, Ted. Gone and bloody and broken and pulverized and shredded and dead dead dead dead –
In an act of mercy, the medic reached over to stop the tape. “Deep breaths, Serena, or your blood pressure might crash again.”
She gulped, screwing up her face in a bid not to cry as the memory of Ted’s eviscerated corpse washed over her before fading into obscurity, safely repressed once more. “N…no one came…”
“We did,” he said softly. “but you were already gone when we arrived on the scene.”
“Can you tell us about what you were running from? What you think killed your friend?” the medic encouraged.
The monster. The void that had shaped itself into an unnatural form with fangs and claws and horrible, horrible eyes. Bent legs and a tail, a face too human for comfort, throaty grumbles and a slick tongue. Any time she closed her eyes, glanced at a shadow, she swore she could see it lurking somewhere in the depths of darkness. Inescapable.
“I don’t…I dunno,” she squeezed out.
“You do know,” the officer said. It wasn’t accusatory, but it was firm, like a teacher wanting a student to solve a problem on their own. “It’s somewhere in there, but you have to work with us so we can get it out.”
She buried her face in her hands and groaned. “‘m trying…”
“I know, and we need you to try a little harder. What were you running from, Ms. Boyd?”
Her hands dropped to her lap in exasperation, already feeling dizzy again with this constant runaround of being asked the same questions with the same answers. The things she did know didn’t make sense, and the things she didn’t know refused to come out of hiding in the recesses of her trauma. Was it that she didn’t want to relive those memories, or were they, in fact, moments in time she was beyond comprehending?
“Wh’does it matter, you won’t believe me,” she snapped. “No one believed me. You’ll jus’ think I’m crazy, or, or, tell me I’m having an episode and that I…”
She cut off her own thoughts with a sickening realization. Of course these two wouldn’t believe her story about a monster in the dark, just as no one took her seriously about her growing anxiety prior or when she tried to call for help. Outside of her own head, she could recognize how absurd the claim was and how it would hardly stand as evidence about the real culprit of Ted’s slaying. They were trying to evaluate how much of the monster was truly all within her head as a manifestation of stress, looking for the trigger that may have caused a psychotic breakdown that resulted in her brutalizing her coworker before fleeing the scene in a daze.
“You…you think I did it, don’t you? Y-you think I killed Ted, a-and, and I’m making this all up.”
“Serena, no,” the medic reached her hand across the desk again to place it over Serena’s trembling one. She gave her fingers a warm squeeze. “I think we’re the only ones who do believe you. And you know what else I think? I really think you saw something that night that shouldn’t exist, and I think it had something to do with your disappearance.”
The kind reassurance that she wasn’t being interrogated as a delusional murder suspect made her want to cry. Not that she did have any hand in Ted’s death, to her knowledge. She bit her lip, pulling the shock blanket tighter around her shoulders to conceal the way she shook in the chair. Was it too late to ask for a lawyer? She hadn’t been read any Miranda rights yet, had she? There was a vague recollection of the officer telling her that she wasn’t in trouble, this was simply to gather what information they could to help her, not convict her.
The medic rubbed her thumb on the back of Serena’s hand, looking at her with those kind, green eyes. “Where did you go, Serena?”
She couldn’t help the sob that slipped out, stifling the rest of it with a sniffle. “I..I don’t…I don’t know…”
Before either of the responders could start again with their circular questions, she pushed on to wring what she could from her muddled mind. “I dunno what it was. It…I try…it’s so fuzzy in my head when I think about it. And, and I don’t know if maybe…that has something to do with it. Like…like it’s…” she grit her teeth at the pounding behind her eyes. “It gives me a headache.”
“What was it like? Can you tell us anything about how it looked?” The officer asked.
She swallowed. “No, everything in my mind is just…dark. And when I think I remember something it…there’s…I can’t describe it. I see it but I just, I can’t, it’s not…it’s like I’m trying to make something that isn’t real.”
The medic nodded at her with some type of understanding. “You were somewhere your psyche couldn’t handle.”
“Hm…?”
“It’s like…for us, we can see things in two- and three-dimensions. That’s normal, we can process those things. But when we try to picture something in a fourth- or fifth-dimension, it’s impossible,” she explained. “But those planes of existence are still out there, allegedly.”
She blinked slowly at the other woman. “You think I…slipped between dimensions?”
“That’s what we’re trying to find out,” she said.
Her eyes looked between the officer and the medic, almost like she had fallen back into her half comatose state. “That’s…”
“I know,” the officer sighed. “But so is being chased around by a shadow monster, Ms. Boyd.”
“I’m not lying about that!”
“I know,” he repeated. “So we can’t rule out anything that happened to you afterwards yet. Not until you can tell us exactly what occurred.”
“I…I told you, I can’t remember,” she winced again at the sharp stab in her skull, pressing the heel of her hand against her temple to alleviate the pain. “I was here and then I wasn’t and there were…it was dark but there were these, like, just…”
“These what?”
“...colors. Things were in colors but…colors I’ve never seen before, ever. And I try to look at ‘em but I can’t see them, but it was so…blinding, I think, I don’t know. It hurt my eyes.”
The medic rested her chin on her propped up fist. “That must be why your memories are blacked out. You’re trying to remember them in color shades that don’t exist, so you can’t picture anything.”
That made a fair bit of sense if Serena was to believe she had really been kidnapped to an alternate dimension by a shadow hopping creature for one reason or another. Just thinking that made her want to check herself into the looney bin for an extended vacation, apparently with the two responders as well who were only feeding into her hysteria.
“Let’s talk a little more about your attacker,” the officer redirected. “Do you remember your encounters with it before you went missing?”
It was hard to think about, but she nodded.
“Do you remember what it looked like? How it acted?”
She nodded again.
“Tell us what you can about it.”
The shock blanket crinkled as she dug her fingers into the outside material, a sense of dread washing over her immediately from just having to relive being in its presence. “Big. It had fangs and claws and it…it was like this demon-man-dog thing, I don’t know. And, and it was all black with yellow and red eyes, but, but you could only see the eyes.” She gave a shuddering sigh. “It…hurt me a little, but…but nothing like it did to Ted. I don’t, I don’t think it was trying to…”
“How often was it with you in the two days you were gone?”
“Not…I don’t think all the time. I felt like I was running nowhere a lot, but, but not for two days.”
The medic hummed. “Did it feel longer or shorter?”
“Both. Like, like when you’re having a nightmare.”
“And how did you get out of your nightmare?” she asked.
Their impossible, neverending questions were starting to make Serena feel faint again. Her migraine was worsening with each instance she needed to recall from a reality that didn’t exist. She felt like she was going to throw up if the stress caused her stomach to tie itself into one more knot in her jumbled guts. No amount of deep breathing could slow the beat of her heart that banged furiously within her ribcage, further aggravating the purple bruises that mottled her skin. There was a right answer for everything the responders asked, so tantalizingly close in her mind, yet stubbornly guarded by an annoying little disorder called PTSD that refused to let her open Pandora’s box.
What was the worst that could happen; she goes completely mad like the protagonist of a Lovecraft novel who tried to understand a concept outside of human knowledge? Hey, if she became a raving lunatic, at least they’d be able to string together better answers from her ramblings than her repeatedly mumbled ‘I don’t know’s.
“I just…did,” she said with a strain in her voice. “I couldn’t see where I was going and…and I ran into something. And I felt around, and I found the knob and…I was here.”
She slumped deeper in the chair, avoiding either of the responder’s gaze so as to hide the tears burning in her eyes. “I don’t wanna be here. I, I don’t want to go back there anymore. I wanna go home…”
To her credit, the medic looked extremely consoling to Serena’s plight, but the tight smile she offered was that classic you’re-not-going-to-like-this-but-we-need-to-do-it-anyways look all medical professions gave their patients who felt the remedy was worse than their sickness. “I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”
“Why not?” she whined, like a goddamn child.
“Your condition needs to be monitored. Even under normal circumstances, you’re still in shock. It wouldn’t be safe to leave you alone,” she explained. “But we can make sure you have the treatment if you’d be willing to be admitted to a private hospital.”
She paled. “A psych ward?”
“No, Ms. Boyd, it’s not a state sponsored institution,” the officer said. “It’s a very respectable facility that has numerous therapies to help. Therapies that can pull those memories out and help with the pain.”
“You do think I’m crazy.”
“We think you need help processing your trauma, not because we think you’re imagining it.”
“It’s to keep an eye on your physical well-being, too,” the medic added. “You were in a pretty rough state a couple hours ago.”
The officer nodded once. “ABC can take good care of you. We can take you to their facility for an overnight stay, just to ease your mind, and have you discharged in the morning.”
“Well…provided you pass the examinations, of course. We can’t have you discharged if you’re still in clear medical distress, but after those though, yes.”
Something niggled in the back of Serena’s mind, almost missed by the severity of the headache that was making her brain throb. It was a tiny little prickle; the same feeling that made her spine tingle and her hands clench, the same feeling she had felt when walking through dark spots in the building less than a week before. Intuition. The sense of dread that something was very, very wrong even if anything had yet to happen. It had been right so far, despite hindsight reminding her that she hadn't taken the warnings as seriously as she should have.
don’t go don’t go don’t go don’t trust don’t go don’t go don’t trust don’t trust don’t go
But why not? They were the only ones who believed a word she said. A few internet forums might also believe her wild claims about giant monsters and worlds beyond their own, but these were two people that were legit. An officer of the law, sworn to serve and protect, and a medical technician dedicated to save lives – who better to guarantee her protection? In fact, these were the last two people she would have ever thought would agree that not only that she had been stalked and kidnapped by an otherworldly being, but that her coworker had been slaughtered by it as well with no suspicion pointing to her at all. Cops and EMTs were always the one having to talk down the crazed druggies going on about how they had to kill their spouse to prevent an alien apocalypse, after all.
Even if it was odd that the offices at WerTech were still open despite being what should be an active crime scene. Even if the officer didn’t wear a name badge. Even if the medic was present and asking questions unrelated to her health. Even if neither of them were taking notes the entire interview with no camera or voice recorder in sight besides the tape player containing her paused 911 call. Even if they cared more about where she disappeared to rather than what took place prior that resulted in a man’s death, as if they had already figured that part out without her input. Even if she had never heard of a place called ABC that specialized in hospice.
If her brain hadn’t been so clouded with such a thick fog, she may have picked up on these inconsistencies throughout the interview process. But the fact of the matter was that she was lucky if she could hold on to a thought for longer than a second before it disappeared into static. Her past was a blur and her present was already getting fuzzy at the edges in real time. All she could rely on was that instinctive pull that was trying to steer her away from a threat she couldn’t understand. The last time, that threat had been a rampaging creature. It was most certainly in her best interest to listen again, despite the desire to be around the experts of her situation.
“I don’t think…my insurance would cover that,” she said as a pitiful excuse. “Can I–”
The lights flickered. Serena froze. They then went out for one, two, three seconds before blinking back to undisturbed brightness. The officer and medic glanced at each other in a way that told her they were thinking the exact thing she was, though they were far more calm about it. However, the lights had never turned back on after an unexpected blackout before, and she was waiting for one of them to dash her worries by saying something about a shoddy generator or broken breaker box to explain the weak electricity. They didn’t.
“Call for C Team,” the medic ordered. Her partner nodded and, rather than using the radio clipped to his shoulder as Serena had seen most officers do, he pulled out some kind of sleek, flat device from his pocket.
“Requesting immediate dispatch; C Team to WerTech. AB299 possibly on premise,” he spoke into it.
A voice crackled from the other end. “C Team inbound. Status on subject?”
“Conscious and in custody.”
What the hell did that mean? Was she the subject? And what was C Team, and who the hell were any of these people!?
“What’s, wh-what’s going on?” she asked, only to be promptly ignored by both responders, whom she had a sneaking suspicion weren’t real responders at all. No, actually, they were technically responders, just not for any emergency service the general public could call.
The ‘medic’ hefted her black bag onto the desk and rummaged through the contents within. “Check with Jack that we have the building on lockdown and all seven witnesses accounted for. If any of them get out, it’ll be Atlanta all over again.”
“Don’t remind me,” he grimaced. He pressed another button on his strange walkie-talkie, presumably to switch the channel. “Jack, what’s your status?”
Staticky dead air responded. The ‘officer’ waited a beat before trying again. “Jack, are you there? What’s the status update?”
This time, the silence was broken in a series of snaps and sizzles of various volumes, occasionally cut in by what could only be described as electronic shrieking. Or was it real shrieking? It was too distorted to tell, but someone was clearly trying to signal back with little success.
“-ere-”
“Jack, you’re breaking up.”
“-abn – in buil – trapped – eed bac – need! –”
The speaker was blown out by white noise, then cut off entirely.
“Shit,” the ‘officer’ muttered, switching back to his other line. “AB299 confirmed on premise. Sounds like it just took out Jack.”
“C Team is seven minutes out,” the other voice said.
The ‘medic’ pulled out what looked to be something similar to a zip tie, made of a thick white material and with two loops at the bottom of the clasp instead of one. “Go check and make sure we have the location secured. Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. They should have all been in the break room at the other end of he buildingl.”
“What about her?” he asked with a gesture to Serena, who seemed to have been forgotten during this exchange. She couldn’t even dignify that with a response, let alone think of anything that wasn’t ‘what the absolute fuck are you guys talking about?’.
“I’ll take care of her,” the ‘medic’ replied. Those ties in her hand were suddenly much more threatening with the looming promise to ‘take care of’ a girl who had seen more than she bargained for. “If AB299 gets a hold of her, it might try to take her back and we’ll have to start from scratch.”
“Who the hell are you people!?” Serena finally cried, slamming her hands on the desk as she forced herself to stand despite the black spots that made her head spin. Her outburst had almost no reaction on either of them, only regarding her with cool indifference.
The ‘medic’ jerked her head at her partner. “Take care of the witnesses while you’re at it.”
“Understood,” was all he said before leaving the office.
That just left Serena and the other impersonator alone in the enclosed room, one of the women being at a slightly higher advantage when it came to mental clarity and reflexes at the moment. Unfortunately for Serena, she was also the one with the weird zip ties that were either meant for her wrists or her throat. Both did not sound like very great options. The ‘medic’s eyes lost the warm hospitality that had lulled her in during the interview, replaced now with an icy professionalism that gave way she didn’t care one way or another if a supposed patient was lost on her watch. Especially if it involved seven of them being coworkers who were only trying to help.
“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, Serena,” she started, taking a step forward as Serena took a wobbly one back.
“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed. To that, the other woman blinked. “You’re…you have something to do with that thing, don’t you? You, you created, or something, or –”
“The only thing I am associated with is the Abnormality Breach & Containment organization. I have nothing to do with AB299’s attachment towards you,” she explained. Ah, so that’s what ABC meant. That cleared absolutely nothing up.
Serena pinched brows. “What’s AB299?”
“An abnormality. Something that’s not meant to exist, but does. That’s its classification serial number.”
Great. Still made fuckall sense.
“I know you’re confused. Honestly, we’re a little confused, too. AB299 has never acted this way before when it would break out to hunt,” She took another step closer. “We’re not sure yet if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.”
“What are you…talking about?”
The ‘medic’ huffed. “Come on, Serena. Whatever AB299 is, it’s a predator. And you, well, we thought you were prey at first. We never expected you to make it the three days that you did. We never expected you to show up when we thought for sure you were dead.”
She felt her heart hit the floor at such a casual reveal of information. The horror had to be clear on her face as she grappled with so many new layers added to what she was forced to experience for a voyeuristic secret service. Not only had they presumed her dead, not only had they never intervened to save her, but they had known the entire goddamn time she was being hunted and allowed it.
“You…y-you let it go after me.”
“It chose to go after you. We just didn’t stop it,” she clarified. Another step. Serena was backed into a corner. “We needed the research; you have to understand that observing its behavior is how we can learn to keep it better contained.”
“You were going to let me die.”
The other woman didn’t say anything, only leveling her with a heavy gaze. The sacrifice of one to save many, except it wasn’t just one that was passively offered as bait in the name of scientific discovery. How many others had died while ABC looked on and scribbled on their notepads? Was it enough to counter the lives they claimed to have saved as a result? By the sounds of it, AB299 was a routine jailbreaker, so they must not be making too many strides in their confinement regulations.
From her pocket, something beeped sharply. The ‘medic’ paused her advancement to fish for a similar device to what the ‘officer’ had, holding down one of the buttons on the side to answer the channel’s request.
“Building secure, AB299 is definitely around here somewhere, though.”
“What about Jack and the witnesses?”
There was a pause. “Break room’s a fucking bloodbath. Anything that’s left is minced meat. Doesn’t look like anyone made it past the exit sign…Jack included.”
“God damn it,” she growled. “AB299 probably blocked his call…”
“That’s just the job, Alesha. I’ll put in a request for a clean up crew and head back. C Team is four minutes out.”
“I know what the job is. Just, be careful, Adam. It’s in a frenzy and it left the lights on, it doesn’t care about being seen.”
“Understood.”
The radio silenced its sizzling overlay and the ‘medic’, Alesha, pocketed it with a sigh. Her lips were pressed into a tight line when she looked back at Serena, straightening her posture. “You’re not the only person who gets lost during research sometimes. Certain things need to be done, and someone is always going to be the bad guy.”
The conversation was still ringing in Serena’s ears, blocking out whatever moral bullshit Alesha was trying to justify. Bloodbath. Minced meat. That’s all that seven people were given the decency to be referred to after so graciously trying to make sure she was okay when she collapsed in front of them from a closet by calling what they thought was an emergency service number. Seven people who had families and friends and lives, who came to work today like any other, who tried to keep Serena conscious and comfortable until help came, who agreed to stay two hours past their shift at the request of faux police with little complaint under the guise it was in case she had a medical episode.
And these ABC people let them be fodder for a monster that was predicted to kill her before it deviated from that goal. No, not just that, ‘officer’ Adam had gone there with the exact purpose to get rid of them himself under Alesha’s orders. They might not have even seen anything at that point, had no idea what was going on, and would have died regardless for being a potential liability. Because they knew Serena was alive when she wasn’t supposed to be and had been found in a very odd way in a very odd state. Doomed by proxy out of the goodness of their hearts. All of them could have been spared had they been sent home after their own questioning wrapped up thirty minutes into her examination.
AB299 wasn’t the only predator in this building with her.
“Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be,” Alesha said, holding up the ties. “We’re going to get you out of here and take you somewhere secured. You don’t have to be in any danger.”
“What, are you going to experiment on me, too?” Serena asked incredulously. “You just…you let all of those people die and now you want to dangle me in front of your monster until it, until it fucking does something? Is that it?”
“You cause some very…let’s say, interesting, reactions in AB299’s behavior. There’s something unique about you, Serena, something that might actually work to keep it contained.” Alesha’s tone was losing its evenness, becoming sharper with each argument Serena threw back at her to prolong the inevitable. She was quite good at keeping monsters at bay, it seemed. “Think about what this could mean. Do you know how many people you could save? We can figure this out toge–”
She was also quite good at tricking monsters with a sneak attack to the face.
The shock blanket was whipped from her shoulders like a magician’s cape and flung at Alesha, blinding her with silver material that tangled around her head and arms as she tried to push it away. While the blanket itself might not be a heavy hitter, Serena’s elbow sure was when she cracked it against the general area that the other woman’s face should have been underneath the fabric. She wasn’t sure what she hit, but it was hard, and it struck her funny bone with enough force to make her fingers go numb. More importantly, it sent Alesha stumbling backwards with a bloodied face and further wrapped up by the very shock blanket she had given to her earlier.
In a flash, she was out the door that Adam really should have locked. Alesha was definitely yelling something, or perhaps just cursing in pain, but her voice faded quickly by the time Serena had sprinted down the hall. It took a moment for her to get her bearings and realize where she was in the building. Somewhere on the west side, near the manufacturing end and distribution offices. It also didn’t help that her vision would swirl every few inhales, unable to keep up with the exertion she was trying to use. Her stomach clenched in pain from the ugly bruise on her abdomen that was aggravated by her heaving diaphragm, her head wasn’t faring much better with her migraine. She just wanted to curl up in a ball and suffer in peace until she felt human again.
That wasn’t an option right now. Somehow, some way, she had been handed an open can of worms and promptly spilled the whole damn thing on herself. What kind of person finds themself mixed up in a world of mystery agents and reality shifting creatures and lives to tell the tale? Maybe lives, she hadn’t made it out of here yet. It wasn’t like she asked to be stalked by a monster who liked to escape ‘secret jail’, much less turn into some sort of special interest for it, which in turn made her a special interest to a lot of other people she had no desire to associate with.
If she was going to be thrown into the plot of a summer blockbuster, why couldn’t it have been a cheesy romcom instead of an epic sci fi horror? If that was the case, then she’s said it before and she’ll say it again: she wasn’t a token death, she was a motherfucking final girl.
There was the slight issue of running down a hallway of training rooms that Adam was also walking up. He seemed startled to see her and the feeling was mutual. As far as he was concerned, she was meant to be in the office with Alesha monitoring her, bound at the wrists, sitting pretty with the understanding that she was under ABC surveillance for the foreseeable future. Instead, she was none of those things. They both paused in their tracks to silently appraise each other in confusion, which gave enough time for Alesha to catch up a bit from behind.
“Adam, stop her!” she yelled.
That was all the command he needed to snap out of his confusion. He moved towards her, drawing his gun from his holster, probably the only real thing on his police uniform besides the fact it was an amoral douche wearing it. The gun was aimed at her with steady hands and even at the distance, she had no doubt he was a sharp shooter. But she was supposed to be so important to their scheme, wasn’t she? They wouldn’t gun her down, she’d be no use in their stupid mind games to domestic monstrosities then. If he shot her, it would certainly be in one of her limbs to slow her down without the problematic aspect of death. A bullet lodged in her humerus was not something she wanted to deal with on top of everything else that was beating the hell out of her.
She turned heel and ran back up the way she came, ducking into an intersection where some of the hallways converged to make a loop for the front entrance. The side doors required her keycard and, even if she still had it on her, it would have been deactivated this morning per the scheduled end of her internship. Her best bet would be the entry doors, regardless if they were locked up like Adam had declared. There were plenty of plant pots to hurl at the full length windows around them for a messy escape.
Adam had to be hot on her trail, but her dulled senses only allowed her to hyperfocus on her own body. How her heart sounded, how her legs burned, how her sight was tunnel visioned. One thing she did have going for her though was that she was more knowledgeable in the layout of this building than either of the two agents. They may have done their homework, maybe even gotten a full blueprints for WerTech to plan for some cool secret spy getaways, but none of them knew how to find a secret spot to hide for prolonged periods of time like an intern who was wasting thousands of dollars on a degree that wasn’t even being utilized at a job that barely paid.
There was an alcove where…something used to be some years ago, probably obsolete in this decade now. But within that alcove, there was a closet that couldn’t be seen from around the walls, hidden by the bulk of a drink machine that had been shoved into the open space. She had to grip onto the wall’s trim to help swing her into the nook, concealed from sight in the nick of time. Two pairs of shoes were jogging towards the intersection, Alesha telling Adam to check down this hallway while she went ahead to try and cut her off elsewhere, splitting the sound off to just his patrol boots stomping past her hiding spot.
She took a moment to collect herself. She knew if she slumped down, she wouldn’t have the strength to get back up in her exhausted, disoriented state. With a few deep inhales to fill her lungs, she pushed off the wall and dipped back into the hallway. New plan: retrace her steps back to where she started while the other two were trying to intersect her at the front of the building. And then…she…would come up with part two of that ploy when she got there.
Actually, no she wouldn’t. Because at the end of the hall where all of them had just come from was the creature. AB299, in all its glory.
What a stupid name, she caught herself thinking as if she wasn’t a hen in the foxhouse at the moment, is that supposed to mean there’s, like, two hundred and ninety-eight other monsters being stored at ABC? It didn’t roll off the tongue very nicely.
To see it under the glow of slightly yellow fluorescent lights was unsettling in a way she didn’t think was possible. In the void of darkness, it blended in as another seamless shadow, only identifiable by its eyes following the movements of its prey. In the full light, though, its shape was clearly defined in crisp lines, ruining the illusion of omnipotence. That didn’t overlook the fact that AB299 was still massive, still crouched on all fours to fit in the building, and still as terrifying as ever with its narrowed eyes and thumping tail.
She was grateful the deep coloring of black helped to hide the blood she was sure its mouth and claws were drenched in. Her heart wouldn’t be able to stand the sight otherwise.
“Son of a bitch…”
It grumbled something unhappy, probably asking why she had left the lovely little plane of unreality it had hidden her to have a mental overload in. Such the unseemly habit of running away from the creature she had. Serena could only stand there, knowing any move she made would send the monster barreling towards her before she could slip its grasp again. The gears were turning in her head for something, anything, but all she was rewarded with was smoke and a wicked throb between her temples.
On one end, she had an ‘abnormality’ with a strange fixation on her and a penchant for blood, of which hers may or may not be spilt next if she kept testing its patience. On the other end, she had two agents circling nearby, at least one of them with a gun. She wished she could say it was clear who was the lesser of two evils, but at least AB299 was acting on primal instincts as an excuse. Those two were just sociopaths with a warped hero complex.
…and really, if they got to play god over which lives were saved and which ones were bait, then why couldn’t she?
This was stupid. Really, really stupid. Suicidal, even, and definitely unethical enough to get her a first class seat to hell. Arguably, she was already in hell, so she couldn’t imagine anything worse than what she was prepared for. She raised her hands, trying to still the trembles enough that it didn’t look like she was erratically waving.
“H-hey…” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry and wishing she had drank that water on the desk when she had the chance.
AB299 responded with another growl, a little less irked, and tilted its head.
She gulped. Too late to back down now. “C…come here,” she gestured her open hands towards herself. “Come follow me.”
She took two steps back. The monster lunged.
Automatically, she stumbled a few more feet back with a frightened squeal. It took every ounce of her self control to plant her feet firmly on the ground to avoid the flight or fight instinct screaming at her to run. Her arms were raised again, as if she would physically be able to stop the creature that filled the space previously between them in two pounces.
“Stop, stop! Not chase!” she shrieked and by some miracle, AB299 heeded her cry before it closed in on the last five feet before her. “Not chase. Follow. Okay? Can you follow? Can you…do you know what I’m saying?”
It rumbled, eyes hooded in apprehension of what she was asking it to do, but at least no longer glaring. Taking that to be some kind of affirmation, Serena started to walk backwards again with her arms still up to signal the need for distance. Much to her surprise, despite the fact that was the intended goal, AB299 obediently crawled at what had to be an agonizingly slow pace in order to stay her requested distance as she walked. She had no idea how long she’d be able to keep this up for, hopefully long enough that she’d have a new exit strategy in mind should the creature grow bored of this game of Simon Says.
Alesha was right; it behaved strangely around her. If she had to guess, it was only listening to her now because it thrived under the positive reinforcement of her company. If it stayed and heeled as she asked, she wouldn’t go running off, and then there would be a mutual exchange where she also wouldn’t go running off the next time it spirited her away. Which was a term in their agreement she did not concur, by the way.
“Little more,” she said, just to ensure she still had its interest. It crooned softly. “That’s a good, uh…well, just…good.”
She could hear the squeak of rubber soles on linoleum drawing closer to her from the hallway’s left opening. Her bet was Adam, given that he would have been closer to rush back once he heard Serena making her commotion. She wondered if AB299 heard him approaching as well, if that was a prowess it possessed, or if it was simply too consumed with admiring her to pay it much mind. Her throat tightened at the thought of what she was orchestrating, knowing it was the only way out she’d make it out somewhat in one piece. Cruel violence didn’t solve cruel violence, but she tried to trick her conscious that this was merely karma in play. It’s not like she was directly ordering the creature to maim, she just…happened to lure it into a scenario that it would make that decision itself.
“You’re…you’re going to keep me safe, right?” she asked. It felt akin to a little girl asking her teddy bear for reassurance that it would chase away her bad dreams, except this teddy bear was one of the boogeymen from her closet. There was no telling what the creature ultimately wanted with her, whether it meant her harm in the long run or not. For the time being, she had to trust that its possessiveness equated to wanting her alive and mostly unscathed.
The consequences of baiting a monster with an unhealthy attachment could be dealt with at a later time that was more convenient, such as never.
Adam rounded the corner with his gun raised in preparation to threaten her into surrendering, if not to go ahead and take the shot to save everyone the trouble of her getting loose again. Really, if she had a quarter for every time she was being chased around WerTech by someone who was pissed she wouldn’t stop running away from an obligation she had no say in accepting, she’d have a worrying amount of quarters since that number should be zero for most people. She turned to see him realize his mistake too late. He froze, finger on the trigger but knowing it would be useless against the creature. AB299 snarled at the brandished weapon putting its prized prey in danger, practically making the hallway vibrate from its intensity.
Serena dropped to the floor as the creature sprung over her to slam itself on the new threat. The agent cried out, but he wasn’t able to form any words that would be his last, all of the air squeezed out of him when claws dug into his chest. There wasn’t time to waste in being awed and sickened by the ferocity AB299 was capable of. The aftermath of its maulings were horrific enough, she didn’t need a full viewing to learn how it was made. With the creature distracted and one ABC agent permanently handled, she scrambled back up before her legs turned to jelly and disappeared down the opening on the right. She could hear the crunch of bone, the wet splatter of meat striking a solid surface, the groans and gurgles of a dying man. She didn’t look back.
Following down this hall, she would be able to cut across the rotunda and loop back to the main hallway that offered a straight shot to the entrance. She begged her legs to push harder, ignoring how even at half-speed they were threatening to go numb if she forced them another step further. Who knew how long the creature would busy itself with devouring a man as an affectionate sign of protection. Once it had its fill in flinging the remains around, or perhaps noticed her missing first, the hunt would be back on. Would it be angered by the betrayal of her leaving after she tricked it into thinking they’d reached a mutual agreement? Would it think this was all part of the game and eager to continue? She’d rather not find out. She'd rather go home and sit in her shower for four and a half days.
On her way down the familiar hall, she made note of the few areas that were sealed away under blue tarps and yellow caution tape. Black scorch marks around the edges of the room indicated fire damage, but she already knew that wasn’t the case. The storage room, the finance office – these were areas she had the most interactions with AB299 last week, areas that had been torn up by said creature in its chase. Pyrotechnic powers didn’t sound accurate, which meant these fires had been intentionally started to hide any unexplained damage. To hide the fact that Serena was missing, taken alive but presumed dead. They covered up her death and made sure no one would ask questions to mourn her.
She hoped every last scumbag at ABC choked.
Being able to run down the main hallway without being impeded by scattered furniture felt like a luxury. She hadn’t realized what she took for granted in moving along a straight path during a life or death situation. Even though she was counting on this being the last time she would ever have to flee in this damn building. The only thing she needed to be mindful of was the bunches of tarp that poked a little ways out on the floor from where they draped over windows to block a room’s interior. Up ahead, she could see more fire burnings on the floor from where a flame had licked quite far from the doorway, though it didn’t like the room it trailed back to was sectioned off for remodeling.
That was because, as she got closer, it wasn’t scorch marks. It was blood, already darkening to a deep rusty color and smeared much like Ted’s had been when his corpse was dragged off. Except this streak only went a couple feet out before stopping with a single handprint showing that the person had been pulled back into the very room they were escaping. The break room, more precisely. The room her former coworkers had been corralled into and guarded by another fake officer named Jack to keep them from leaving, where they were trapped on all sides when AB299 came to attack.
She shouldn’t have looked, she knows she shouldn’t look, but her eyes followed the trail of red before she could stop herself in shock. Adam had been right when he said it was a bloodbath; the inside looked as if a blender full of meat had gone off without a lid. The floor, the walls, the ceiling – every square inch was covered in a thick splattering of viscera that still dripped into puddles below. The tables and chairs were overturned as the monster wrecked havoc and people tried to get out of its path with no success. There weren’t even any bodies in the sea of gore, not like how a good portion of Ted had been left. All she could see were bits of flesh, a few clumps of hair, a single finger or heel of a shoe that still had a partial foot inside.
There was virtually nothing left of these people, nothing but blood that mixed together and coated the room in bitter smelling scarlet. She had no idea which of her seven coworkers had been present to begin with, leaving her with no way of knowing who she should feel sorrow for. It was likely that no one else would know either as there was barely anything in the gore to identify one chunk of yellow fat from another. How long did the massacre last, how long did they have to watch each other be torn apart by a creature that only existed in nightmares, all because they happened to still be in the building when Serena magically appeared? She wasn’t sure what was making her more nauseous right now, the crime scene or the guilt.
Whether it was because she was disturbingly growing desensitized to copious amounts of carnage done in her wake or because her mind had already blocked the memory as a trauma response, her only reaction was to stumble back with a pained whimper. No tears were shed, not yet. She couldn’t afford to fall to her knees and wail in horror when she was so close to walking out the front doors. Or through a broken window, it didn’t matter to her. Then she could run and scream and sob to her heart’s content as she found a place to hunker down away from secret agents and giant monsters. She sniffled, clenching her first to her mouth in case she needed to bite down and muffle a cry, but the wave of anguish passed over her to be safely compartmentalized and never touched upon again if she had any say in it.
She’d only made it a few steps forward when a body ran into her back, nearly toppling both of them to the ground. Her surprise mixed with the lingering shock she was still experiencing, allowing her attacker to get the upper hand and wrap their arms around her to pin her to them. After a second, her brain caught up to her motor functions and ordered her to flail her limbs to break free of the hold, but it was too late. Something pinched the skin at the junction of her collar and shoulder, turning into a slight burning sensation as it plunged down into the muscle. She gasped, a warm feeling suddenly spreading through her veins that made her body involuntarily relax. Her arms dropped down from where she had tried to claw at the person’s face despite her protest, her legs finally making good on their threat to be as useful as rubber noodles.
Interestingly, her head finally cleared of throbbing colors that flashed in her vision and she sighed in relief. What an unexpectedly blissful feeling that was coursing through her, almost as if she took a double dose of muscle relaxers and then dove into a hot tub. But as wonderful as her body felt, her brain was screaming at her this was wrong, so wrong, loud enough that she could still hear its warnings through the fuzzy euphoria of no longer wanting to split her head open. She groaned out some kind of noise, her throat and tongue refusing to work together, not that she was too sure what she had actually been trying to say.
She lazily followed the forearm braced across her chest with her eyes and saw at the end that a fist was holding a syringe, the needle still stabbed into her skin and all of its contents already pumped into her. She’d been drugged; poisoned or sedated she didn’t know, but it wasn’t good either way. There was hardly any coordination left in her to slap her hands around or jerk her shoulders to dislodge whoever was keeping her in place.
“We could have done this the easy way, Serena,” a voice hissed in her ear. Alesha. That bitch.
“Fff…f’ck ‘ou…” she slurred.
“I told them we should have taken you in when we first got here, you wouldn’t have put up such a fight then,” Alesha continued, more so talking to herself as the girl in her arms couldn’t formulate the most coherent replies at the moment. “And speak of the devil…”
She turned to face down the hall, Serena forced to move with her, to look at the creature poised at the other end. It growled lowly, its back arched in preparation to charge, only held back by the fact its prey was entangled with each other. Instead, it stalked forward, claws digging into the floor as it did while its tail whipped back and forth in displeasure, striking the walls each time with a resounding crack of plaster. All the while, it snarled and glowered at Alesha in warning to release what it had claimed as its own, but she held firm. The closer it got, the more clearly Serena could see the body hanging from its bared fangs, if it could still even be called that. Once it deemed itself close enough, it flicked its eyes to Serena and dropped the remains, a sickening squish when they landed before her. She could make out half of an intact spinal cord, flesh and fat looking like it had been used as chewing gum, but what part of human anatomy that was meant to formerly be was anyone’s best guess.
Behind her, she could make out Alesha muttering something about Adam being a poor bastard. She desperately wanted to thrash and kick up as violent of a fuss as she could, anything to wriggle out of her arms and maybe throw another elbow in her face. If she could play up her antics, she might have been able to goad AB299 into attacking the other agent as soon as she slipped from her grasp, but there was no way she had the functionality to do that. She also just wanted to cry and have the fit of crisis she was damn well entitled to by now. It wasn’t fair. She didn’t want to be absconded by a man eating monster. She didn’t want to be taken away for studies and experimentations for the man eating monster.
But she’d lost. She hadn’t escaped in time, and now she wouldn’t be escaping at all. Whatever happened to her next was out of her control seeing that she couldn’t even lift her arm all the way up to smack against Alesha’s. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fucking fair! She’d worked so hard all her life to get to where she was today, busted her ass in school and at this stupid job, defied all the odds of survival against an unknown creature, and for what? For nothing. The life she built for herself was taken from her before she could even fully enjoy the fruits of her labor, all by someone else’s decision.
“I’ll be sure C Team grabs your gift for you,” Alesha said with disdain, crinkling her broken nose in disgust of what became of her colleague.
Serena felt herself be dragged backwards as Alesha took slow, deliberate steps towards the very entrance she’d been so close to reaching, the agent careful to readjust her grip and avoid showing her back to AB299. She mentioned that it was time for all of them to go, giving faux praise to the monster as it followed without attacking, promising that sweet little Serena would be coming with it so there was no need to get too hostile. Her words sounded muffled despite being held to the agent’s body, like she was talking underwater, which made sense since she herself felt like she was floating. She whimpered again, never taking her eyes off the creature that trailed after her like a puppy. Her pathetic noise made it croon.
The entry doors opened with the chattering and footfalls of a dozen people, but Serena was too focused on the feeling of cold air on her cheeks.
–
END OF SIXTH NIGHT
–
Conclusion
Both Abnormality and Boyd were successfully captured and returned to ABC for containment.
The scene of the breakroom rampage was altered and ascribed to Ted Milton, a disgruntled employee, who returned to commit a mass casualty in retaliation and took his own life afterwards.
Victims’ families were given a large insurance payout and fully covered funerals to avoid private autopsies
News of the event was not circulated into media outside of county newspapers
–
BEHAVIOR OBSERVATION RESULTS
The following information has been updated in AB299’s file:
Management Capability: Mid-Low
Intelligence Capability: High
Dimensional planes confirmed to be how Abnormality travels between spaces and possibly where it originated from.
Abnormality can only conjure these doorways in spaces of total darkness. If possible, it will trigger a blackout to achieve this.
Abnormality is not weakened by natural or artificial light.
As of now, Boyd is the only recorded human to have access to this space
Note: Electronic devices, such as cameras or recorders, do not work when taken between planes; researchers must find a way to observe inner reality
Per Boyd’s testimonial regarding the planes, it can be concluded that –
Time in nonlinear
Colors beyond human receptors are present
Humans possess the ability to open doors back into reality from Abnormality’s dimension [Ability to be reverse engineered in future testing]
The Courtship Theory has been reopened and is currently being revised in light of Boyd’s survival.
–
Picture Left [ID - Picture of Serena Boyd taken after her arrival and assessment at ABC facility. She has been allowed to groom and change her clothes. She is not smiling.]
Utilization of Serena Boyd
Abnormality continues to show fascination for Boyd without causing harm. As such, Boyd is required to be kept in good health and in frequent contact with Abnormality.
If Abnormality believes she is being observed too much by researchers, it will hide her in dimensional planes. Boyd is typically found within the facility two to four days later.
Boyd is to be interviewed immediately after being recovered and watched until her vitals are stable for best results of understanding Abnormality’s dimension.
Boyd is to go no longer than four days without interaction with Abnormality. Failure to do so may result in a facility breach. DO NOT ALLOW HER TO DECLINE, USE SEDATION IF NECESSARY.
Do not forcibly remove Boyd from Abnormality’s containment; Abnormality will attack.
Do not use physical violence with Boyd in Abnormality’s presence; Abnormality will attack.
Do not engage inappropriate contact with Boyd in Abnormality’s presence; Abnormality will attack.
Do not inform Boyd of Abnormality’s response behaviors to her distress, this may be used against ABC personnel.
Do not allow Boyd outside of Sector 17 to minimize risk of escape.
Abnormality has shown to continue breaching containment to hunt, however it is now returning on its own accord if Boyd is left in its containment cell.
- Additional funding may be required to discover how the usage of Boyd could prevent hunting breaches entirely
–
FINAL NOTES
Full experiment results and research can be found on archived tapes relating to AB299 and Boyd. Research between the two will continue until Abnormality’s potential has been unlocked for ABC control, or Boyd is killed.
Access and travel through dimensional planes is of top priority.
THE GENERAL PUBLIC IS NOT TO BE INFORMED OF THESE ONGOING INVESTIGATIONS AND FINDINGS. ANY THREAT TO ABC’S SECURITY IN OPERATIVE RESEARCH WILL BE DEALT WITH AT THE HIGHEST LEVEL. THIS INCLUDES AIDING AND ABETTING THE DECAMP OF RESEARCH DETAINEES.
DO NOT ALLOW SERENA BOYD INTO POPULACE UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.
–
End of tape.
Please continue with CS# 1789-64 at supervisor’s instruction.
#g/t#giant/tiny#macro/micro#gianttiny#g/t ocs#size difference#g/t fluff#g/t angst#g/t scenario#g/t community#handheld#g/t fearplay#fearplay#whump#tiny whump#g/t whump#my writing#oc serena#oc ab299#SCP rip off#g/t writing#g/t story#this was like 4 days of backbreaking labor by which i mean my shoulders are very stiff from hunching over my keyboard owie#monsterboy#tiny whumpee#idk what other tags to use its been a hot minute#anyways what if i told you i only finished this so fast bc i wanted to draw art of them whoops#and also draw art for their sequel which has a lil dude and minigiant monstergirl (:#dont ask me when that story will be written okay let me not think of brainwords for a minute
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Burn The Ships (1/5)
THIS IS/WILL BE MATURE.
NOW WITH BEAUTIFUL COVER ART BY @snowbellewells
AO3 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |
Summary: Pan and his pack of gruesome werewolves torment and put an end to individuals who find themselves unlucky enough to be a guest of Neverland. After being betrayed by her ex, Emma finds herself the game in this month’s hunt.
Captain Hook has never found the sport particularly alluring, preferring to spend his change far from Pan’s cruel crew. When he catches the scent of his mate, he is forced to join in the hunt to find her before the others can.
Saving her will mean betraying Pan and no one betrays Peter Pan and lives to tell about it.
@anmylica, @deckerstarblanche, @elfiola, @goforlaunchcee, @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @pirateswhore, @stahlopp, @teamhook, @tiganasummertreee, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert
Author Note: This little fic is a birthday gift for the always encouraging and absolutely wonderful @kmomof4. I was initially drawn to Moonlight Sonata because it is also one of my favourites and the story behind the song felt like Killian meeting Emma for the first time. (I also love Für Elise but it doesn’t make me think of CS as much as Snowing and I cannot really explain that.) Then, I thought “oooh, CS PHANTOM OF THE OPERA?!” for about thirty seconds before realising that maybe I did not want to take that on while I was trying to finish up Witchy Woman and plotting the CS Miraculous Fic and that one Bridgerton-based CS Fic.
But, then, I listened to Burn the Ships and read about the inspiration behind those lyrics and absolutely knew that was the one. What is more Captain Swain than battling demons (internal and external) and enduring together?
Anywhoosies, HAPPY BIRTHDAY (this month)!! Thank you so much for all the flails, the sanity checking, the gifs, the cheerleading, and for just generally being one of the brightest lights in all of our lives. (Edit: atge birthday is on the 15th, I know. This whole thing happened where this was a two-parter and now it is a whole long thing and the posting schedule SHOULD work out so the whole thing is done by the 15th.)
Emma woke to the harsh sunlight infiltrating the discoloured curtains hanging limply over the large window her lumpy mattress had been pushed against. This was the worst part of her day - these moments in which the lie of her dreams, even the worst of them, gave way to the nightmarish truth of her reality. She fought against the dread seeping into her heart and tried to hold on to the last remnants of her dream, but it faded away as the scarred wardrobe came into clearer focus before her.
Despair, however, was less easily shaken. That endless emptiness accompanied her as she started toward the water basin to splash cold water on her face. Her gaze lifted to meet the empty emerald eyes she knew would stare back at her. She had watched helplessly as the hope drained from them, over the last several months, taking with it the anger and defiance that once glimmered behind them.
Fantasies, like hope, were for those with people or a pack, who cared. Lone wolves, orphaned at birth and betrayed to the monster who ruled this island by their shitty ex-fiancées, weren’t missed. And without any to notice your absence, who would know to rescue you?
“Cheer up,” a cheerful boyish voice chirped from behind her. She jumped and spun around - having your back to the demon was never a good idea. Pan was there, in the middle of the dreary room, looking at her with a dark sort of crazed humour dancing behind his eyes. That look meant he had a new twisted game to play. Her stomach fell and icy fear gripped her heart - losing came at a high price in Neverland and she always lost.
“As you doubtlessly know, the moon will be full tonight.” Pan paused and waited for her to respond. As if any wolf would be oblivious to the phases of the moon, she buried her annoyance at the patronising question and nodded for him to continue. “Tonight, I am letting you out of the garden. You’ll get to run the length of the island.”
Emma knew there was a catch, but after spending several transformations pacing the tiny gated garden, the prospect of running had her heart racing with excitement.
“As you lead us in tonight’s hunt.”
Her blood turned to ice in her veins. She was going to die tonight.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§
“OOOHHHH, CAPTAIN!” A sing-song voice called from somewhere high on the main mast.
“Pan, to what do we owe this unexpected visit?” Hook called back genially. He swept his arms out wide, in a welcoming gesture, discretely sliding the small vial into a hidden pocket of his coat.
Pan flew lower, hovering just above head height, forcing Killian to look up at him. A sweet scent filled the air between, something soft and warm. Killian couldn’t hear Pan's next words as the wolf within tried to locate the source of the scent. With the change coming so soon, Killian knew he would struggle to fight the impulses of the wolf. He had to get away from this enchanting distraction before Pan noticed his attention was elsewhere.
“Let’s discuss whatever business you have away from listening ears.” Hook gestured toward the ladder leading to his quarters, hoping the breeze would not penetrate the boards.
“As you well know, the hunt will be tonight. I do hope you and your crew will attend.” Pan started, as Killian filled a glass with rum in an effort to steady himself. The room around him was saturated with the warm - Vanilla? No, not quite. What is the point of being a bloody wolf if I can’t determine a bleeding smell? - scent. Could a scent be alluring and inviting? Because Killian felt an inexplicable sense of contentedness, something cosy he was drawn to like the heat of a fire, that seemed directly related to the sudden arrival of the scent. Was this possibly a new torture device derived from this cruel realm?
"What do you say, Captain?" Pan sneered, the last word sounding as an insult rather than a well-earned title.
"I'll not be joining your pack of savage, cruel beasts as they set out to torment an innocent you have captured for a barbaric ritual of bloodlust and cruelty."
"We're all wolves, Hook," Pan responded. "You can keep to your ridiculous code, acting as though you are a gentleman despite the tasks you perform in your service to me. But, you cannot deny that the same blood-thirsty animal lives under your skin. One day, you'll relish letting the darkness play alongside my pack. We're the same at the heart of it."
"I am nothi…"
"Ah, ah, Captain, you wouldn't want to say anything regretful, now, would you?" Pan smiled his cruelest smile and Killian swallowed down his annoyance. The last time Killian had crossed Pan still hurt as fresh as the night Pan’s pack had stolen Milah’s pup from his ship. Killian heard Bae’s weak howls from the depths of the Mermaid Lagoon and raced toward his ship as quickly as possible in the dense jungle. When his paws landed with heavy thuds on the wooden gangway, the overly sweet, coppery smell of blood filled the air - air that was notably barren of any of the sounds or scents that had made the Jolly Roger home. Without even a single survivor to share the burden of grief and burial, laying his sailors to rest had taken days - purging the Jolly of all evidence of the massacre had taken much longer.
“Aye,” Killian growled out.
“Good, lad.” Pan evaporated, leaving him alone in his cabin. The sweet scent that had entranced him moments before faded away. Realisation dawning, Killian swore but did nothing to soothe the sudden rage burning hot through him.
The bloody demon had his mate.
#a gift for kmomof4#Emma x Killian#Emma Swan#Killian Jones#Captain Swan#killian x emma#ouat captain hook#cs fanfic#ouat#ouat fanfic#cs ff#fic by Jas#inspired by songs#inspired by Burn the Ships#werewolves#some horror elements#some hurt/comfort
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