#he's still in the okay ish zone maybe but he better not move a muscle

[an-annyeoing-writer]

vulnerability. – chap. 3.

Story info:

Pair: Byun Baekhyun x Reader

Rating: +18 for mentions of s*x and violence (future chapters)

Genre: angst, smut

Chapter info:

Release date: 29th July 2021

Word count: 4 219

Warnings: none

Vulnerability Masterlist || Fanfiction Masterlist || Ko-Fi

Taglist:

@shesdreaminginoverdose @mybiasdashboard @marimsun @byuns-asscheeks @multi–kpop–fanfics @vunv @making-me-blush @skittlez-area512 @bloopbloopkai @byuns-asscheeks @baekyeonoreo @devotedexolnhottest @mingxia-nikki04 @velvetjongin @ssssssul (won't let me tag you T_T) @nemi-mei @buttercupbbh

Please, always comment on the newest chapter if you wish to be added to/removed from the taglist. I will be also checking the tags, so if you’re shy – feel free to leave a note this way.

Previous (Chap. 2.)

Chap. 3.

The tension that appeared the moment you received the phone call from Baekhyun did not dissolve with time. In fact, the opposite happened – it grew as the time passed, and as Saturday came closer and closer. Finally, once your Friday to Saturday night shift came to an end and you stumbled into your flat around 4 in the morning, you knew that you wouldn’t be able to fall asleep easily. Yet, you forced a whole cup of green tea into yourself in an attempt to soothe your nerves before sleep. Your alarm was set for noon, and you were supposed to meet at 3 PM.

You woke up feeling energized, but you knew this pattern all too well already – the tiredness would come and hit you with its whole power the day after, and you’d spend Sunday sluggish and drained. But that was okay, because Sunday didn’t matter half as much as Saturday did.

You felt a small urge to dress up; even more, actually, you felt a need to pay attention to details rather than looking fine at the first glance. Some common sense hyped up by years of watching other people and reading stories – a thorough shower, shaving, paying attention to not only what you wore outside, but also your undergarments. You lacked things that could be considered “sexy”, but – let’s face it – you didn’t think it mattered much; not after what you’d found out so far. Yet, it would be a shame if your panties had a hole in them. Wearing something neutral, but fresh was your best bet. Every few minutes, you kept reminding yourself – you don’t even know what will happen, you don’t even know if anything will happen at all. There was no reason to think that he’ll want you to undress in the first place, you said it yourself that you’re not ready for sex.

But then, it still helped you gather confidence that you definitely needed at a moment like that. Details allowed one less thing to worry about, and a better ability to focus on others, and so, you made sure the details were worked out well, and that you didn’t overdress, either; a beige shirt and jeans, all wrapped up with sneakers and another knitted cardigan of yours – neutral and polite, maybe a bit school-ish, but these were the things you mostly wore on daily basis, and you felt that going in the other direction – of tight pants, mini-skirts and see-through shirts – would not be appreciated. Your hair was pulled up into a loose bun, nothing like the ones you admired in YT tutorials, but the best you could do on your own. Maybe it was the age difference that made you feel obliged to show respect rather than expose yourself. You trusted your instinct on that, and so far, nothing happened yet to prove it wrong. The weather was starting to get warmer; these days were particularly sunny and dry, so you felt at ease without an extra jacket. It couldn’t get that bad in the evening, and you put faith in your cardigan.

Baekhyun must have thought similarly.

You stood in the bar’s entry, looking up at him for a moment; he leaned back into his usual couch, not aware of your presence just yet. He was wearing a black button-up and jeans as well, something he still looked pretty well put-together in, but not too formal – similar to your own thought process, noticeably.

You inhaled deeply, and took your time to exhale the air – until you felt ready to walk up to him.

“Hi there” he spoke as you approached his couch; as expected, he was there alone today.

“Hi there” you replied with a slight nod and a smile; your voice was quiet, as quiet as it could be without trembling in anticipation.

“You want to drink something before we go?”

You considered it for a second, and then nodded again. Baekhyun moved a bit to the side, encouraging you to join him on the couch, and you took the offer with gratitude.

“Beer? I don’t want to get you drunk, but we may sit here for a bit just to relax.”

“You can tell I need it?”

“Yes. I can tell. Your shoulders are very tense. May I?”

His hand reached to your shoulder and you nodded slightly, a bit unsure what you agreed to just yet.

He suddenly squeezed your muscle, and you whimpered. He kneaded it, and you found the tension dissolving gradually as he went on. Even with only one hand and unfavorable position, he managed to find some of the spots that required touch; that touch was welcome, slight pain coming along with it was desired for the best outcome. You didn’t notice when Baekhyun must have given the bartender some sort of a sign, but the man soon came with a beer and water that he put on the nearby table. That was when Baekhyun’s movement slowly ceased, cautiously letting go of your shoulders. You felt as if you were in a different body, the tension in your body almost gone, just as the one in your mind – the moments of physical interaction were enough to chase some of your worries away.

“You don’t drink?” You reached towards the table – it was closer to you than to him – and took the two glasses, handing him the water and keeping the beer for yourself.

“Not before,” he explained curtly, which you accepted without further questioning.

“So… what are we gonna do?” you asked carefully, sipping the beer through a metal straw, trying to give off a casual vibe despite focusing deeply on what you were about to hear.

“Depends. On how much will you allow me to do.” Baekhyun focused his gaze on something in the crowd; you felt as though it was his habit to avoid a direct gaze in an attempt to sound collected. “I had the idea of showing you some things. Just so you feel it out a little. It’s not final, but it may help the both of us figure out how we feel about it. Like a free trial, you see my point?” You nodded, but didn’t say anything, so after a moment he continued. “I won’t introduce you to everything, and it won’t last as long as usual sessions, either. I’ll talk to you a bit beforehand so we figure out some basic things. It shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. I won’t be trying anything beyond your comfort zone.”

“So, no deals a’la Fifty shades?” you felt silly the moment these words left your mouth. Baekhyun laughed awkwardly.

“No, it won’t be necessary. If you want to draw a comparison to that, I definitely won’t be dumping the whole scheme on you when you don’t even know what it’s like.”

And you won’t fuck me first thing in the plot, you added in your thoughts.

“There are a few things that I may ask you here, so that we have those out of the way,” he spoke; his tone lowered a little. “I need you to tell me if you have any illnesses or old injures that could influence your physical capacity.”

You thought for a bit; the answer was important, but you couldn’t recall much.

“I don’t think there’s anything important.”

“Is there anything unimportant?” His gaze pierced through you as he caught on your wording.

“Uh… I’m taking pills for my thyroid, but it’s nothing very dramatic” you explained. “Nothing else that I know of.”

Baekhyun nodded slowly.

“Fair. Next question, is there anything you’re particularly scared of? Phobias, or things you’re scared of in general, anything overly triggering that you want to avoid at all costs?” You already revealed some of these during your first conversation. But now you felt more at ease, and you thought you could be more detailed without sounding overwhelming.

“I’m… scared of fire. And hate my hair being pulled. I don’t know, why. I can’t explain it. It’s just…”

“It’s alright. You don’t need to explain yourself to me” Baekhyun looked at you with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “You sound like it would stress you out to share. You don’t need to be afraid of that. You don’t owe me anything, keep that in mind. It’s not supposed to feel like an obligation.”

“I-I know.”

“I’m scared of heights, by the way.” You stared at him in confusion. “Hm? Just thought it’s fair to share if you did.”

“Oh.”

“Chill out.” He nudged your glass with his hand to urge you to drink some more of the beer you managed to forget about by then. It was halfway through – you didn’t want to leave the glass with some of it still inside, although it managed to make you feel just a bit sick already.

His own drink was at around the same level too, and as you finished yours, he drank the remaining water in one go as well.

You weren’t the best at handling alcohol, and even the small amounts made you a bit weak in the knees. But you felt sober enough as the two of you finally got up; Baekhyun paid for your drinks and you left the bar.

The weather was nice, as expected. Going out into the sunlight again startled you, somehow; you felt as though a lot of time had already passed. But no, it was still the same afternoon.

It was true that Baekhyun lived nearby. His apartment was in a different direction than your place, though, and you estimated it would take around twenty minutes to get from one place to the other. You knew this area, although not too well – there were only some tenement houses, but no stores or academic buildings that could gain your attention or regular presence. It was on the more expensive side, although not a place a well off office worker wouldn’t afford; just maybe not suitable for a student. The tenement houses were old, but well-kept, and you knew that the apartments were way bigger than in a place like yours.

Opening the door for you, Baekhyun invited you into the dark hallway of his apartment. There were no lights, as every wall had doors to other rooms: two to the left, one at the end of the corridor, and two more to the right, perfectly symmetric.

“Kitchen, my office, bathroom, my bedroom, and the living room,” the man told you, starting from the left. One glance into the living room on the right made you realize just how big the rooms were; enormous, in your honest opinion, with the area of something around a classroom at school, but with ceilings that reached far up, almost twice higher than in your own place. Heavy curtains hung from the top of the tall windows like limp branches of a willow tree, giving the most dramatic effect, and – likely – gathering tons of dust throughout their lifetime. Wooden, carved furniture added to the effect, and you, in all your sincerity, would not dare to ask how much such a set cost, although it would be a lie to say that you weren’t curious. Wooden panels on the floor were already worn and grey, giving you a thought that the interiors were kept in this particular shape for long years before Baekhyun began to reside in there.

“That’s huge,” you only uttered. Your eyes rested on a painting in the middle of a wall on the left side of the room, above an eclectic-green, velvet couch, in front of which was a wooden coffee table, and which gave a perfect sight into an old TV on the side of the room, as it was one of the old-styled, small models that would be hard to look at from the distance between one wall and the other. The painting looked old, but you wondered from the distance, whether it was not just printed in good quality, with all the details of lights, people and nature making it look like a piece of national heritage rather than a small private property. It portrayed a battle scene coming to an end, warriors in shining armor stained with blood resting upon trees and a small pond of pinkish water, at either sunset or sunrise – you weren’t sure.

“You like it?” He caught your stare and followed it, giving himself a few seconds to adore the painting as well, as though he hadn’t looked at it enough despite living here.

“It’s too violent,” you decided after a moment. “But it’s nice to look at.”

“It’s not that violent in itself, I think. But it does conjure the thought of it.”

He left the living room with you still in the doorframe, staying to look at the painting just for a few more seconds. When you turned around, he was entering the kitchen – this room also looked old, but less well kept; it was cleaned up perfectly, however the furniture was shabby, with the surfaces often partly rubbed off and grey; this room simply screamed for renovation. But you felt way more at ease with the fact that it looked similar to yours – the one that was over twenty years old when you moved with and you had no way of changing it without getting in trouble with the landlord. And not like you’d want to do it at all, since you’d move out right after your studies anyway. The only difference was that you tried to make your apartment look a bit warmer with colorful lights and other cheap ornaments here and there, while Baekhyun’s kitchen was just left as it was, as though he gave up on it the moment he moved in.

“Hungry?”

“Not much.” You were still full of the freshly consumed beer.

Out of the fridge, Baekhyun took a bag of half-eaten potato chips. You stared at him with your eyebrow raised as he ate a few of these, and then extended the bag towards you, to which you only shook your head and he put the bag back in the fridge. He caught your look.

“Food moths,” he explained. You slowly nodded in understanding. That’d be a useful tip if you ever got those. The summer was slowly coming; soon, your small apartment would also be filled with bugs, and fruit flies, mosquitos, and sciarids because you kept a few plants in (discovering that sciarids and fruit flies were not the same thing was an important step in achieving perfect harmony in your adulthood).

You sat awkwardly by the table, observing him as he reached for the bag he must have left on the counter before he went to pick you up, and took out leftovers – probably from work – putting them back in the fridge.

“You worked today?” you asked.

“Yeah, just an average thing, a strategic meeting with co-workers. My working hours are not regular, so I didn’t really know I was gonna be out today.”

Once he was done, he sat by the table as well, and you leaned a bit forward, resting your chin on top of your hand.

“You could have postponed it with me, you must be tired,” you said.

“Don’t worry, I’d rather have a chance to relax with you.”

That didn’t sound as innocent as he probably tried to make it, and he looked over his shoulder to make sure he didn’t scare you with the choice of words. You only laughed awkwardly.

“Anyway. Since, as I said, I don’t want to intimidate you, I think we’ll stay in the living room since you seemed content with that,” he spoke casually.

“So, no playroom?” you uttered. Baekhyun choked on the chip in his mouth.

“I don’t own such a place. I just usually use the bedroom. Or the bathroom,” he explained.

“Or the office?” you felt bold enough to suggest, giving him a small smirk.

“No, I assure you the office is for what offices usually are.”

You smiled innocently as Baekhyun stared at you, probably trying to mask sudden shyness.

“Either way,” he cleared his throat. “I told you some about what I want to do, but you haven’t told me if there’s anything you’re interested in trying out. I assume you did see some things, so… Is there anything that you’ve been particularly interested in?”

The harmless way in which he phrased the question absolutely didn’t change the fact that he was, basically, asking what kind of porn you watch.

“I uh… I like watching different things, just out of curiosity, but I’m not really sure if there’s anything I like particularly more than other things… I suppose bondage is the biggest basic.” You tried, you really tried to sound neutral, but your voice trembled a little. “But I’m not really sure, to be honest. I’m quite open-minded, I suppose…” You felt silly; how could you not be able to answer the most basic question – what do you like? But Baekhyun seemed to understand that very well, as he only nodded slowly.

“What about, let’s say, pet play?” You blushed slightly. “You know what I’m talking about? I feel like a lot of young women start from there.” It took you a moment to realize that you, too, were a young woman. “Behavioral training. Humiliation. Regression. A bit of pain, if suitable. Trying out a few things to see how you respond. What do you think?”

“I think it may be fun” you said slowly. “Does it have something to do with the…?” you motioned your neck, hoping he’ll get the cue. You remembered the collars the other people wore – they were the main reason you got interested in the first place, after all. Baekhyun smiled, catching on your observation.

“Sometimes, but not necessarily. It’s just a thing I like. Do you?”

“…I may,” you answered carefully.

“Gotcha. We may try it out. You know, everyone is different. The collars are different too. I usually order them after I’m sure the person’s gonna stay, and when I know what type will be the most suitable for them. I can’t do that for you yet, but I have some spare items.”

“Do you have the ones of people who you’re not with anymore?” you asked, out of pure curiosity.

Baekhyun was silent for a moment.

“I do. But I’d rather not use them. They’re there for memory, not for use.”

“Gotcha. I was just curious,” you quickly explained.

“Do you have a safe-word?” Baekhyun’s gaze rested on you.

“…Not really. Never needed one,” you uttered sheepishly.

“You have anything on your mind?”

“Um, the… thing with lights? The red light, yellow and green?” you proposed carefully.

“That’s a good one. Tell me how you understand them.”

“So, the green one means everything’s alright, the yellow is when we need to slow down, and the red stops the scene,” you recited, as if you were reading from a book.

“That’s right. It’s easy to remember, so we can go with that.” You bit on your lips to prevent yourself from getting too excited with the apparent praise; it wasn’t anything big, of course – but you felt as though it was a praise in itself, being acknowledged for saying something right. “Another thing is that I need you to know a few rules, before we start.” You were all ears. “First, I don’t want you to be reluctant for the fun of it. Whether you want to be a brat later or not, today we’re just trying things out and I don’t want to mistake your attitude with actual discomfort, do you understand?” You nodded slowly, memorizing the words and waiting for him to continue. “Second. No pain that I will impose on you will be a matter of punishment, unless I specify so. If you don’t enjoy it, you need to tell me so. It doesn’t mean I’ll stop right away, unless – of course – you use the safe-word. However, I still expect honesty. During, as well as after the scene, when we review it. Do you understand?” The breaks in between the points gave you enough time to acknowledge the information and encode it in your memory. You nodded once again. “And for the last. Do you trust me?”

The tone made you look up at him, finally focusing on his person rather than the words alone.

“I do,” you finally decided; knowing very well what this answer would lead to.

Baekhyun’s eyes sparkled as he smiled at you warmly.

“Well then, shall we start?”

* * *

You stand in the middle of the room, the cardigan and shoes are off, your feet feel cold against the floor despite socks wrapped around them comfortingly.

Don’t move a finger, you’ve been told, and so, you stare at the painting before you, the warrior in the front staring at you back with contempt you haven’t noticed before.

Your breath trembles in anticipation as you try to hear sounds from other rooms – you do hear some shuffling, but nothing that you can figure out for sure. He must be in his bedroom, you think. What is he preparing? Which tools out of many that you’ve seen on the screen of your phone all these nights that, despite spending perfect eight hours in bed, did not end in getting perfect eight hours of sleep?

Your arm itches, but you fight the urge to scratch it; be obedient, he said.

Steps echo in the corridor and you hold your breath. Your head snaps to the side the moment you hear him enter the room again.

“Eyes down,” he commands without sparing you a glance; you haven’t had enough time to see what he brought, but you instantly obey his words. “Don’t look at me unless I allow you to.” His voice is stern, and it makes your stomach clench nervously. But it’s not a bad sensation, not at all – you grow excited. “Down. On your knees.”

You try to comply, but he still scoffs at your apparent sluggishness. You almost fall over as you let your knees bend and you finally kneel down as well as you can, eyes facing down as well, although you feel awkward as you do so.

“On your toes,” Baekhyun commands; something small but hard hits your heels, startling you, and your head whips around to see a wooden pointing stick. You swallow the gasp of surprise at the sight.

You fix your posture, your toes instantly begin to cramp; that’s uncomfortable, and your toes aren’t too flexible, it seems.

“Straighten your back. You’re slouching.”

The task turns out almost impossible to do, the whole weight lands on your toes and you frown in discomfort.

“Is it necessary…?”

“Look at me.” It feels unnatural to do so now, but you oblige, turning your head to the side where he stands. “What’s wrong?”

“My toes hurt,” you admit quietly. Baekhyun watches you for a moment.

“Straighten them. Kneel as you did before.” You bite your lips and nod, uttering a small thank you that you find suitable enough as the position gets a bit more comfortable. “Back. Straighten.”

You automatically snap back into the position. But it does feel a bit silly – like something your teachers would say, don’t slouch! A laughter comes out at the comparison, but you attempt to stifle it.

Apparently, not well enough.

The pointer hits the nape of your neck; not too hard, but the message gets through.

Baekhyun stands in front of you and, most likely, stares you down – you can’t tell; your gaze is fixated on his lacquered shoes. The shoes then move, kicking the middle of your thighs.

“Spread.”

You feel a bit awkward as you oblige this command; you only glance down to make sure your pants aren’t ripped – you never know. To your relief, they’re not. Then you try to glance forward – but, what’s in front of you, makes you more shy than anything, so you just fix your gaze on his knees instead.

“You’re slouching again.”

“Pets often do,” you note before you manage to bite your tongue; you do remember your conversation from before – wasn’t it what he was aiming for? You thought so at first. But the words were not thought through at all; you just felt a need to say something, anything, just like you’d talk back to a teacher when they became too annoying in their remarks.

You hold your breath as Baekhyun crouches down to your level.

You feel his eyes on you, and you unwittingly tremble under his gaze, forcing yourself to look even lower, not daring to break the rule. The seconds seem to last hours as he doesn’t speak a word – and he doesn’t have to. You feel intimidated.

“You want to be a pet?”

He stands up; he’s right in front of you, if you so much as leaned forward a little bit, your forehead would touch his thigh. You slightly crave the touch; but not enough to move, not when you grow petrified. The question is rhetorical. You wait for him to finish the thought.

“Then I’ll treat you like one.”

Without waiting for your reaction, he steps behind you. You hear shuffling in what had to be a box placed behind your back; you see nothing.

But you hear the harsh, recognizable clink of metal and your stomach drops.

* * *

Please, reblog if you enjoyed, it'll help me a bunch!

Author's note: Hello, have you missed me??? I'm sorry it took so long to upload, it's hard to find time among exams I had in June, and now my (first) new job! The next chapter is already being written, so hopefully, won't take that long. Remember to reblog if you liked, and I'll be really happy to hear what you have to say about this so far. Stay safe!

Next (Chapter 4.)

[xumos-hoe]

Hello!! First of all, I really really love your headcanons about the mlqc bois. May I request a hc about MC asking the bois to join her in doing skin care routine (like them wearing face mask). English is not my first language sorry huhu :

AHH TY BABE❤️ honestly, I don’t have much a skincare routine😔🤚

Hope you enjoy babe❤️

MLQC crew join MC in doing her skin care routine

~~~~~~~~

Victor

For someone with hella deep pockets and skin so smooth, you could’ve mistaken it for marble—

Vic doesn’t have much of a skincare routine.

He barks at Goldman to put him down for a facial with his aesthetician every other week—and when it’s simply getting ready for bed or for work, he doesn’t do much other than a simple cleansing wash and MAYBE a couple serums and creams to make up for the eye bags and wrinkles that comes with being the CEO of an entire financial empire.

he just got the good genetics😔

He’s more than a little intrigued when you first move in and unpack your e n t i r e skincare collection—which must’ve amounted to fifty different creams, cleaners, serums, toners, and masks of all different ingredients and usages.

You daily routine involved a different combination of each item and was much more elaborate than he could’ve ever imagined.

In fact, you hog up the bathroom for so long, he’s resorted to using the guest bathroom multiple times

So one night, you finally catch a glimpse Victor Li’s skincare routine—and to say you’re shocked is a severe understatement...

because how can his skin look so good with so little ROUTINE?????

Because he criticized you for applying so much to your face, you force him to sit down and allow you to use your products on him.

AT FIRST, he has a big problem with this because he’s not sure what all the chemicals in your products are gonna do to his own precious skin, but after your constant badgering and pleading, he finally sighs and relents.

“Don’t overdo it. Or else you’ll never have the chance to do this again.”

Your enthusiasm wins him over, eventually putting him at ease after he’s sat by the sink and watched you prepare everything with a big smile

Vic ALMOST abandoned the entire idea when you tried to put those big, fuzzy headbands to block his hair from getting in the way—but luckily, you managed to persuade him to keep it since it was necessary for the best results.

And we know how the CEO feels about achieving the ‘best results’...

If it weren’t for the tacky headband, seeing Victor with his hair pushed back, dressed in nothing but an expensive robe, and expression unguarded, is probably the most attractive you’ve ever seen him.

You stop a few times to study the soft expression on his face, causing you to blush a little. Even Victor himself flushes at the sensation of your face so close to his—loving fingertips brushing past the contours of his cheekbones and jawline so softly, it almost feels intimate.

“If only you were as focused on your work as you are with simple routines like this...”

That’s earns him a huff on your part, to which he quietly laughs at before feeling something cold cover his face.

“What did y—”

“I just applied a sheet mask to help with your dryness!”

He doesn’t even WANT to look at himself, but the words “sheet mask” set off an alarm in his mind before he jerks away to stare in the mirror.

ok sooooo... part of the plan was really because of his dryness! But most of you just wanted to see Victor in a sheet mask, and well...

He’s stunned silent for the first few moments—but it’s not like he’s never seen you use them, so the surprise in his features melts away into annoyance.

“How long do I need to keep this ridiculous thing on?”

The undeniable irritation in his tone catches you off guard, so you scramble to read the packaging.

“Only for...um...20-ish minutes...?”

The heavy sigh that he responds with is a much better reaction than you imagined, so while he sits back down—something akin of impatience flickering in his gaze—you go through your own routine.

He sits through the entire wait time scrolling through his emails and responding to business-related calls. You snicker a couple times while looking at him through the mirror because, oh if only the executives on the opposite line knew exactly how the powerful CEO of LFG looked in that moment...

Every so often, you find him scrutinizing his own appearance in the mirror with a curious expression; sometimes smoothing down the edges of the mask so it pressed against his skin just right.

Turns out he had set a timer on his phone to let him know when the 20 minutes were finally up. He sits down before you even realize it and gestures to his face.

“Alright, now, get this thing off of me.”

The moment you finally peel away the mask, you can visibly see Victor’s facial muscles relax and his previous annoyance fade.

He’s quick to glance at his reflection and raise an eyebrow at the shininess of his skin.

“There! All done! Just don’t touch your face for the rest of the night!”

He’s silent for a couple moments before rising from his seat.

“Waste of my time. I can’t hardly feel a different, let alone, see one.”

But you catch a small smile on his lips before he leaves, which makes you think contrary to his words—and the following morning, when he asks to borrow your cleanser, you think he must’ve enjoyed it much more than he would’ve cared to admit.

Lucien

The professor probably doesn’t have much of a skin routine either...

gifted with that good skin😤

You discover this one night when you sleep over at his apartment and he eyes your cosmetics bag curiously.

He’s aware of the market for skincare and how important it is to most people—but never cared much for it nor invested in products for himself. It was unnecessary if you had skin as naturally clear as Lucien’s

You’re almost jealous when you discover he uses a basic face wash and moisturizer and never has a single blemish on his skin, while you could cycle through hundreds of different products and still break out time to time...

After he makes a funny comment after seeing you lay out everything like ingredients for dinner, and you have an idea:

“Lucien, can I use some products on you? I promise it’ll be just for tonight!”

There’s evident hesitation in his gaze, but after a few moments, he smiles fondly and ruffles your hair.

“You can. But I’ll have to warn you that my skin is a bit sensitive.”

Suddenly, you’re too scared of fucking up his face before he laughs and urges you himself.

But with his warning in mind, you opt for the most lightweight of your products.

You dive right into the routine, all the while, Lucien studies the concentration in your features with a fond smile.

He remains as still as a statue the entire time, sometimes commenting on the fragerence of the product or asking to review the ingredients himself before you apply anything.

It feels much more flustering and embarrassing for you to be touching him, than for him to be touched by you. Though you try not to look into his eyes too much, you can feel his muscles curve into a smile and the discreet tilt of his head as he nuzzles into your touch.

Lucien is most intrigued by the jade roller you pull out and generously apply serum to before guiding it over his T-zone

He’s familiar with the item and mentions some of it’s historical usages, but never had used it prior to this occasion.

Finally, after a few touch of eye cream and Vitamin C (cus we know lulu works hard and might get wrinkles) you pull away with a wide smile—

“Ta~da! You’re all set!”

Lucien peeks at his reflection, visibly content with your hard work before returning to your side to show his appreciation with a sound kiss on your forehead.

“I suppose I should practice more so I can have the honor of doing the same for you.”

Kiro

oKAY, the only other person with a skincare routine as elaborate as your own is the superstar himself

It’s necessary for him to prioritize cosmetic routines such as skin care when his appearance is the most crucial point of his career.

In fact, he may be even more invested in it than you—with an even larger collection of expensive products and a more elaborate routine that keeps his skin smoother than milk.

The only thing that Kiro keeps “organized” in his life is his skin care collection AND I MEAN: he has them alphabetized, kept in those makeup organizers, and probably owns those mini fridges for keeping your products cool.

He’s ecstatic to be with someone that’s just as invested in skin care as he is, and that little thing in common has made for MANY conversations and debates about which product is superior

Although the two of you tend to do your respective routines individually, you decide you wanna try them out at the same time

So for the night—the two of you do each other’s routines for the other person!

Kiro is the most hesitant to do this in case somethjng goes wrong because he has an 8 a.m interview tomorrow morning—so he can’t risk screwing his face up.

But besides that, he’s fully confident in your routine.

Every so often, he’ll bitch about the way you applied a certain thing—“Ms. Chips, I already told you! You apply it thissss way!”

So, in turn, you do the same until he gets frustrated (cus it’s cute seeing him get pouty for once)

Certain products require a certain wait-time, especially the clay masks and cleansers—so you already know the two of you turned his bathroom into a make-shift karaoke room.

You’re in there for nearly two hours until the routines have finally finished (although, karaoke might’ve slowed the process down jusssttt a little)

Luckily, joint skin-care routines work miracles on each other’s skin and allows you both to discover products you never wouldn’t realized you needed.

In fact, after this occasion—its nearly impossible to avoid doing routines without them being side-by-side.

Gavin

PLEASee—Gavin is the kind of guy to wash his face with Irish Spring soap and call it a day

me, having used Irish Spring and breaking out like crazy: 👁👄👁

He has absolutely no knowledge of skin care and cosmetic routines, and almost used your CeraVe bottle like it was hand soap.

All he knows is that skin care keeps you productive and happy, and your skin supple and refreshed—but never considered doing it himself.

Gav is a “man-on-the-go” type of guy so his morning routine is shower->brush teeth->get dressed->fly out the window

By the time he’s reached ‘fly out the window’, you’re still laying eveyrthing out to get started.

It takes one day-off for him to finally discover the magic that is “skin-care” and how badly he’s been missing out on it.

You never approached him about the subject beforehand, but when he slips out of the bathroom after throwing water on his face and patting it dry—you’re almost ashamed of yourself for not helping him earlier.

SO, you pull birdcop back in and force him to sit through skin care. And obviously he’ll do it just because you asked him too, but he’s just not sure what to expect when you being laying out so many different bottles and tools

His only problem would be that they smell too feminine, but not that you’re practically scrubbing his skin raw with how intensely you’re exfoliating because holy shit, this man has dry ass skin.

Birdcop is probably too busy gazing into your eyes to pay attention to whatever you putting on him—he finds the peaceful expression on your face so darn cute, especially when you start humming to yourself and concentrate extra hard on getting the perfect amount of product onto his skin.

He gets a little restless towards the end, “How long do we need to wait for this?...Another cleanser? Just how many drops are you going to apply?”

Intense restraint against the flush in his face when you get extraaa close and lightly brush against all the edges in his skin that he’s only ever dreamt of you touching.

also can I just say: phenomenal facial structure wow

10/10

The first thing he comments on afterwards is how soft his skin feels and the refreshing of sensation after patting it all dry

I bet Irish Spring can’t do that😌🤚

“Gav! I told you to stop touching your skin or you might break out!”

It’d be nice to do this everyday, but on his schedule—he can only manage this once a week, if he’s even willing to sit still for that long.

But for the most part, he does it because your entire face lights up when you do and he’s just. so. smitten. by. it.

Shaw

hear me out...why do I feel Shaw would be low-key invested in skincare??

Obviously, he doesn’t do anything super fancy—it’s honestly a lil basic, but the products are more than effective for him.

You discover this the morning proceeding some rough sex the night before when Shaw went to the bathroom to freshen up

Skincare is such an important part of his daily routine and it just felt so weird to go without it.

Until you walked in, half-asleep, asking what he was freaking out over.

At first, he didn’t want to admit it because saying “babe I forgot my facial cleanser” sounded a little strange

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly before shaking his head.

“Forget it, I’ll use soap or something.”

“Soap...? What for?”

He makes an awkward gesture of splashing water on his face—you stand still for a moment before realization hits you, and you laugh.

“Pbfttt! Washing your face? Why didn’t you just say so?”

He’s stunned into silence the moment you stalk past him and open a nearby cabinet to reveal the holy grail of skin-care collections

The only other time Shaw had seen so many cosmetic products in one place was the fucking store.

On the other hand—you’re unsure what to lend him or if he’d be comfortable using any of your personal items...

Thankfully, your dilemma is short-lived the minute you hear a low whistle and Shaw himself is walking up to the retrieve the products like it’s his own collection.

“...We’re definitely fucking at your place next time.”

He seems to know exactly what to grab and what-goes-with-what, which is a pleasant surprise because who knew your boyfriend had such excellent taste?

But you should’ve known that his flawless complexion spoke for itself.

In the blink of an eye, he’s already standing by your sink, generously applying an oil-based cleanser. He peeks at you through the mirror and gestures to everything laid out:

“Aren’t you gonna wash up as well?”

Shaw’s sudden actions had you frozen in place for quite a while, watching him with wide eyes.

When you blinked back to reality, earning a chuckle from the man already moving onto the next step of his routine, you walked over to his side with your own products already laid out.

He seemed so focused on everything, you’d hate to break that concentration—and ended up doing your own routine wordlessly.

Every once in a while, one of you would reach over to the other’s side to borrow a product, or face each other to check if you had missed a spot somewhere.

Time passed relatively slowly and peacefully, juxtaposing the high-thrill and fast-paced nature of most of your activities together.

Even so, a calm morning called for an equally calming activity such as this one and you were happy to be with someone who appreciated it just as much as you did.

[voidcat]

– the sea and to see

characters: oikawa tooru/gn!reader

wc & genre: 1.6k - comfort :-)

a/n: another finals week where i write an oiks comfort<3 society if i didnt begin oikawa comfort fics everytime i felt down bc i have so many wips.. 

i dont rmr where i wanted this to go but i can’t find any other way to finish so ye,, also!! mentions of drinking, similar vibes to stardust on reader’s state of mind

One step, another and another.

Without looking around, you know where you are, wishing you didn’t. (but there’s nothing to be done about that now.)

Looking left and right, checking in case any familiar face is around, you sink to the ground, regret already filling your ears. A voice whispers and it’s right. This is a bad idea, one of your most stupid ones but then again, you’ve been making a bit too many of these lately.

It’s late but not too late. You weight the option to knock the door and decide against it. You need to get your thoughts straight and make up a plan, and hopefully convince yourself to get up and leave. But it never comes as your head between your hands, you doze off far far away and forget you’re ever there, lost somewhere in space.

You snap back with a shake, or a nudge on your shoulder. It feels different, a shadow over your vision, weather a bit colder now.

The shadow moves and you realize. 

Note to self to never zone out again to avoid further falling asleep out in the open public. And as this passes by your eyes, he shuffles on his feet, possibly waiting for an explanation or at least a little bit of your attention on you. So you look up and he scrunches his nose in reply, the same stern look, cold eyes and disapproving face you see all too often.

A minute passes. Or maybe it’s a second or five, you’re not sure. You haven’t been good with time, not before and certainly not now. Letting out a breath, hands hanging from both sides you slowly begin to get up.

Once your mouth open, your words sound quieter than you’d like, and slower too. You must’ve slept for a while.

“Look, if you’re wondering why I’m sitting by your door, at god knows what o’clock, never mind it, just forge-“

“All I care about is you moving your ass right now.” He says (rudely interrupts your sentence) and you want to roll your eyes at him, so you do.

He only looks more annoyed now.

“You’re blocking the door.”

Oh, right…

The keys clink to one another, dance in the air for a while and do not struggle in the hole, get in and turn without a trouble, get out without a break. Even his door opens as smoothly as him.

This, only makes it worse.

“Yes, ‘oh’, so if you have nothing else to say, I’d like to rest.” Oikawa says as he steps in, and you cannot help but worry, again, even though it’s stupid and there’s no logical reason for you to get upset over his rudeness, because really… Isn’t this how the two of you go back and forth almost daily? Isn’t it given? The norm?

Except for some nights, comes that whisper again, and you want to argue back: ‘Weren’t you the one who told me this was a bad idea from the start?’

The jingling noise of the keys snap you out of your head again and you find Oikawa still standing at the edge of the door, waiting. For you to say something, you realize and you shake your head. Because this was a stupid idea from the very start.

But your brain disagrees; as Oikawa can tell from a single look at you that you’ve been doing it again, arguing with yourself and as you make a turn to leave, you feel your muscles move and speak: Can I come in?

But his body acts before you do and already makes way, not a comfortable enough space, for you.

This is, albeit, not the first time you’ve seen Oikawa in a different light but the moments are few and rare, it doesn’t take more than one hand to count them all.

The first time is in an awfully shitty, dim and almost orange-ish light. Maybe it’s yellow, you don’t recall well but the plaster on the walls make it seem like those pumpkins. It’s a mundane night, not one to stand out, the nearest liquor shop further away than the nearest bar and god, you really need that drink and it’s late at night.

And the first thing you have see upon stepping in, has to be a badly disguised Oikawa. Body language enough can tell he’s trying his very good to blend in, sitting in the far back but as always, he somehow radiates. The looks of many on his crunched shadowed figure, looking so strange to the man he often is in the day time.

And you make no noise as you enter. No bell on the door, no bartender to greet you as you get inside, everyone too busy dwelling in their self to even glance your way yet as if in script, like you’ve practiced this many times before, he looks up, his face unclear of emotion.

You sit by the bar and opt to ignore him.

The second time, doesn’t quite go like this. Not the third, the fourth and the nth…

Next thing you know, Oikawa Tooru provides to be an amazing drinking buddy.

He doesn’t participate in the drinking bit that often but he’s respectful of your resigned silence and you of his. There lays mutual respect for whatever it is you’re both in.

Those nights don’t start off bad so often but you never know, not really. But the endings start to get… calmer, neutral, you can feel yourself numbing to the feeling but your burden lightened.

It’s those nights that you forget how Oikawa is like in the day time, how the two of you are like. You decide, you like this Oikawa more, he feels different, his silence comes different. Even the way he still has everyone in the room’s atention on him, many at bay to be at his feet on a single command, mesmerized by his sole presence and still it’s not like how it is when the sun is up. The self stuck up behavior you’re so used to seeing is gone, no cocky smiles, no pride in his eyes, the glint is his eyes now empty.

It feels alien.

Yet you feel closer to this version of him, even if it doesn’t exist often.

Hearing the keys jiggling against one another, you’re back again. No doubt you dozed off, not even for just a minute this time.

More like time paused and a film going through your eyes as if you’re watching a show, seeing a flashback scene to clear things out.

Oh how you wish that’s how it was; easy.

But reality is cruel and things are barely clear. So you have to blindly swim in the dirty water or like a fish writhe in a poodle, desperate for some water.

Standing at the entrance, you wait.

He comes back soon after, clothes changed, a glass of water in his hand, head slightly titled and walks to the couch.

So you follow.

It doesn’t feel as foreign to be alone with him under proper lights, on a nice couch that smells nice. But considering how they are both places strangers to you, it’s no surprise.

Water left untouched, Oikawa’s gaze is on you but neither makes a move. Not a single car passes by, no sound can be heard from outside, it’s too quiet, compared to the places you’ve been at the same as him. It feels eerie.

Making your own noise sounds better in your head, so you focus on your breathing, on his, the tapping of your fingers against your leg, the shuffling of his shirt at his every move…

“Listen…” you take a breath. “I didn’t mean to, you know, barge in.” Breathe out. “I don’t… don’t even know how I got here frankly and-“

“You don’t have to apologize.” Jerk, you think, who said anything about an apology?

“I had to come here wth you once, I guess you weren’t as black out as I assumed that night.”

What you meant to say long forgotten, you find yourself on alert. “How come?”

“I drove you to your place?” It sounds more like a question, to check if you remember.

“Why would you do that?” your words, your voice sound foreign to you, a tone you haven’t heard in too long.

He just shrugs in a “why wouldn’t I?” way.

Your fingers intervened, eyes somewhere on the edge of the glass, you go back to the silence moments ago. It doesn’t feel as quiet now, as sound filled the air once, as your thoughts start to get loud in unspeakable manner, words in a language that never existed.

He seems as lost, not as deep in as you maybe, but still lost, just better at concealing with a smile.

“So what brings you here?”

You hear but do not grasp, it sounds too far away. Ears and throat filled, lungs numb and limbs cold, every sound is behind a veil, except for the beating of your hear echoing in your ears, in a last attempt, the pressure driving you mad.

“Hey.” He reaches again, this time placing a hand on your shoulder, barely touching but enough to pull you out. Just like feeling the sun on your skin for the first time in a long while, eyes sting and your skin itches, the wind feels too cold and a shiver goes down. But your body relaxes, lungs still intact, the pressure disappearing with each beat.

“Are you okay?”

Head shaking and arms around you, you don’t register. It always felt like this, it always feels like this, drowning and gasping for air, desperate to hold on to something but everything slips away and in a final attempt, limbs grow tired, your body exhausted.

“I didn’t want to be alone tonight.” You don’t hear yourself say.

The weight on the couch shifts. “Do you want some water?” you barely hear him say.

There’s no taste of salt to dry your insides, feeling refreshed for the first time in a while, you can open your eyes without a much trouble.

tags: @celosiiaa​ @ywanfen​

[ayellowcurtain]

my request is top Robbe. nothing less nothing more.

-

My lovely anon, you asked for top Robbe, but you didn’t ask for smut, so...

But you got a little bit of both, I guess hahaha This is a warning, there are some food involved and - hints - of smut, so if that’s not your thing, I suggest you not to read it 

Robbe is insecure, he planned everything, but now that’s about to happen, he’s starting to doubt himself, to think Sander will think this is weird or too much or just be completely turned off by it.

His mom never leaves the house, especially not for a whole weekend and so he might never have a chance again, he had to give it a try. The tone of the conversation with Sander has been different since Robbe decided to ask him not to plan anything for this weekend. They’re generally flirty with each other, but it feels more real now, on the edge of constantly dirty talking.

Even his trip to the grocery store felt like he was committing a crime or something.

Honey, strawberries, whipped cream, champagne, lime, salt, tequila, scented candles, bath bombs, condoms…  

That was everything Robbe could think to buy for his plan, but they would have to eat real food at some point and so Robbe shoved all the special groceries to the back of his cart and he covered everything with the mundane things. Bread, cheese, ketchup, frozen lasagna, soda, beers. Thankfully, Robbe didn’t run into anyone at the grocery store, he managed to pay and put everything away as fast as it was possible.

Even though his secret plan was safe, Robbe couldn’t stop thinking that someone was managing to see through his bag and see all that he had bought. As he was walking past a pharmacy, he remembered the most important detail that he had completely forgotten.

Robbe holds the strap of his backpack tighter, closing his eyes. So fucking dumb!

He turns himself on his heels, walking shamefully inside the pharmacy and the old lady behind the balcony is already looking at him, ready to help and Robbe wishes he wasn’t this dumb.

“How can I help you, sweetie?”

“Hm, I’m looking for a sleeping mask, a very good one. I-I have problems sleeping and my doctor suggested a sleeping mask.” The lady was nodding her head in the middle, but Robbe decided to give her a full lie just in case she didn’t believe him.

-

“Okay, I’m here. What now?” Robbe can hear Sander’s excited smile on his voice and he tries to use it to ease his nerves a little.

“Come up, knock on the door, and wait for me to give you instructions.”

Sander laughs on the other side of the line and Robbe prays he’s not losing Sander’s interest by not giving him any details. “Not sketchy at all…”

“Don’t you trust me?” Robbe stops, biting his nails, looking at everything he organized, thinking it really depends on how much Sander trusts him.

“Of course I do. I’m on my way. I love you.”

“I love you!” Robbe laughs as he hangs up, looking at his phone again, making sure just one more time that his mom is only coming back on Monday afternoon.

He rushes inside his bedroom, everything is where it’s supposed to be, nothing in the way to his bed. Robbe runs through his plan inside his head again and Sander knocks on the door, one time.

Robbe walks back and stops at the door, shaking his head. You’re not doing anything wrong. Stop it!

“I can see your feet under the door, Robbe…” Sander laughs and Robbe unlocks the door, holding the sleeping mask tighter, biting his lip as their eyes finally meet through the small gap Robbe opened “Hello, cutie!”

He notices how Sander looks at him and then at every little thing he can see from inside, trying to piece some hints together. “Hello, you. I have one last request.”

Sander is taken aback, raising his eyebrows, clearly amused and he nods his head slowly. Robbe holds the sleeping mask behind him, making sure that there’s no weird feeling in Sander’s face. Slowly, he shows Sander what he was hiding behind him.

“You need to put this on. You’re not going to take it off for a while, so make sure it’s comfortable.”

If Sander was in shock before, he’s pleasantly surprised now, needing a second to react, grabbing the sleeping mask carefully, analyzing it as he holds it with both hands.

“A sleeping mask…”

“Yeah. You trust me, right?”

“Yes, Robin. Blindly.” The joke was there to be taken, but Sander says it so seriously, like his mouth is suddenly dry and his voice is lower and Robbe knows his boyfriend will like his plans for the weekend. Or for tonight, at least.

Sander puts the mask on one time, takes it off, adjusts the strap, and then puts it back on, adjusting the height and making sure it is sitting comfortably, snuggling around his eyes. He smiles and opens his arms.

“All yours, cutie.”

Robbe takes a deep breath in, trying to fill himself with all the courage and self-confidence available in the air. He loves to climb all over Sander and let him lead, but this sounded like a good time inside his head.

He steps closer, gently holding Sander’s hand, pulling him inside, leading him to his bedroom door.

“You want something to drink?”

“Do I have options?”

“Yeah, of course, yeah. Champagne, your favorite beer, soda, tequila, water…” Robbe tries to look at all the drinks on display on his nightstand, but he knows what Sander is going to ask as soon as he mentions it. Sander raised his eyebrows and Robbe has to look back at him.

“Tequila, please.”

Robbe nods his head like Sander could see it and he pours a shot for his boyfriend, watching as he blindly takes his jacket off, leaving the leather jacket fall heavy on the floor. Robbe holds his hand again and helps him take his shot.

“And you? Aren’t you going to drink?”

“Yes, if you could only wait a second.” Robbe teases as he pours a shot for himself in the glass Sander just used. As to show Sander he’s doing it, Robbe holds his hand and puts it on his face as he looks up, taking the shot. Sander smiles and holds his face, pulling him closer for a quick kiss.

“You’re so fucking hot, Robbe.” He whispers against his lips and Robbe smiles, making sure to look at Sander’s face as he commands.

“Clothes off, every piece of it, and then I’ll take you to bed.”

Robbe really tries to keep his voice cold, but mostly fails at it, he can hear how rough and anxious he sounded, but it seems to work just fine because Sander takes a deep breath in and nods his head quietly, starting to take his clothes off, careful not to take his blindfold out of place.

While he waits, Robbe can’t look at him doing it. Somehow, even with a blindfold, Sander can be so sexy while taking his clothes off. So he focuses on bringing his other nightstand closer to the other side of his bed, letting everything close enough so he can reach while in bed. 

Honey, whipped cream, strawberries, condoms.

“What now?” Sander asks and Robbe comes back to what’s really important, he looks at Sander and loses focus for a second. Sander, completely naked, at his mercy, standing right next to his bed, still wearing his sleeping mask, trusting Robbe to do whatever he wants with him.

-

Sander wakes up suddenly, opening his eyes, seeing black still. He smiles to himself as his brain paints him the perfect picture of what happened last night. It wasn’t a dream, good. Sander feels heavy and light at the same time, he feels like he might combust and turn into stardust, his limbs are heavy, tingling and he moves to lie on his back to fix that, pulling his dead arm from underneath him. 

With the functioning arm, he pushes the blindfold up to his forehead, struggling to see anything when the real world is so bright. He closes his eyes again, needing a minute to readjust his eyes to the sun, shining bright outside Robbe’s bedroom. Once he feels a little more aware of the light, he tries to open his eyes again, feeling his lips dry, a little sticky. He licks it and tastes the strawberries and whipped cream still. Maybe something else too, the best taste ever.

He moves his head to the opposite side of the window and finds him. The causer of all of this, the taste, the stardust, the heavy limbs, the sore muscles.

Robbe is still asleep, lying very close to Sander and on his stomach, his lips are puffy and Sander remembers a second of last night more clearly. He pushed the blindfold up and found Robbe on his lap, Sander scratching his back, a dirty kiss and he lost it, he needed to see more, to taste better, to know what Robbe was doing, but it only lasted a second.

Robbe is great at multitasking, not stopping his circular movements with his hips and the dirty kiss as he pulled the blindfold to cover Sander’s eyes again.

Sander feels like he was falling from the highest mountain after that, lying back on the bed, feeling Robbe’s hands on his ribs, keeping him in place, still moving on top of him.

It feels like he was the highest he’s ever been. He could hear and feel everything much more intensely, it’ll probably take days for him to recover from what happened last night. All thanks to the boy lying right next to him, always so adventurous, ready to try anything.

They definitely need a shower, a bath would be easier to clean all the dry things in their bodies right now, but Sander is in no rush. They definitely need some rest after last night.

Sander wants to go again, but Robbe is sleeping so peacefully, it would be mean to wake him up. So he gets up before he can find an excuse to wake Robbe. 

The bedroom is surprisingly clean. From what Sander heard, he thought it would be a war zone and it is, but there’s no more food around them, no drinks, just his pile of clothes right next to the door where he undressed last night and Robbe’s clothes around the bed, Sander remembers helping him get rid of some items. 

The sheets are dirty, maybe stained, with tones of brown-ish yellow, bright red, but Sander thinks it looks like a masterpiece, especially with Robbe on top of it all, looking so perfect and sleepy.

He finds what’s left of the strawberries inside the fridge, right next to the whipped cream. He grabs both of them and puts it on the counter, thinking about waffles with strawberry jam and whipped cream. They need some fat to regain their energies.

Once he’s almost done, he grabs the whipped cream can and shakes it, it’s almost empty, he has to work hard to cover the waffle pile.

He remembers eating some of it, but mostly was Robbe, some whipped cream is still sticking to his skin in odd places to have whipped cream on, but thinking about it does sound like a good idea. Robbe is a genius.

[storytimewithtara-blog]

Cracked Case

Sydney pulled up on Rodger Kit's ATV to see a cracked-dog, something that would have looked like a German Shepard if not for the bulging muscle growth that had broken skin in patches. This one had a crack all the way down the spine, the bones tinged red from constant bleeding at the fringed edges of the wound. The thing wasn't even dead, just snagged by a flap of skin on the belly and trying to free itself because of the irritation from the Salvage metal. Much longer and she assumed the thing would rip out its own stomach. She picked out a small stem of lilac from her box attached to the ATV and tucked it behind her ear. A light brown shoulder holster held the handgun Mrs. Carver loaned her. The woman had not explained why she had a small assortment of guns in the first place, but Sydney was thankful for it anyway.

The wind was to her back, the cracked-dog had smelled the lilac when she'd opened the box. The barbed wire fence swayed with the pulling from the creature. Sydney heard a rip of flesh and she whined right along with the animal. She aimed her gun, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger. Shooting cans off the dock had paid off, she hit the thing between the ears and there was no more frantic struggle.

From the ATV's box she pulled out a hazmat suit and slipped it over her clothes. All reports so far suggested that only a bite would induce the brain killing fever that was followed by death, but Sydney didn't enjoy touching these creatures at all. Shorts and a t-shirt didn't do much for coverage. Her burgundy hair went into a bun and under the hood of the suit, the lilac stem poking out. Before she got messy she called Rodger's son, Mark, to ride out with stuff to burn the body. The guy was only sixteen, but eager to help her and her brother, Jack, when he could. He was punctual too and pulled up before she had the whole body off the fence. Once the body and her suit were burning, she left him to take care of the fire and tighten up the wire. She had to reassure the Miller's their fence was secure, and she still had the other half of perimeter fencing to cover.

Sydney, lilac stem still tucked in, made her way along the fence that surrounded her little riverside town. There were motion cameras to check in on and wires to tighten. A lot of the houses she past were empty, it hadn't warmed up enough yet for the summer families to be out here, but the ones that had permanent residencies was where she focused more on security. Faces poked out of windows, doubtless they had already heard about the cracked-dog at the Miller's and were checked that they were safe. That was the first cracked-creature in two weeks, not bad if you believed the news and their talk of attacks tripling in the last month. She was so mentally distracted when the first town gate came up, she had driven twenty feet past it before stopping. Hopping off the ATV, Sydney started back towards the gate and noticed Mac waiting nearby.

“Figured I'd catch you here. You almost kept going,” Mac said. He was leaning against a gate post with arms across his chest and pulling his shirt tight against dark skin, a view Sydney didn't mind.

Mac wasn't one of the normal community. He and four others had come into their area rather abruptly by crashing into their east gate. Initial tensions had been high between his group and her first responders, but their need for help won out. Mac had had two badly injured and a vehicle in bad shape. The two weren't bitten, but some sort of accident had taken place with the SUV before they had crashed into town. Sydney set them up in one of the unoccupied houses as his people healed and a new vehicle was figured out.

“I was sort of zoned out, sorry. What's up?”

His casual smile shifted to a more concerned look. “I heard a gunshot earlier. Was that you?”

“Yeah, a cracked-dog. Thing was big.”

Mac pushed off the post and took a few steps towards her. “You okay?”

She shrugged. “I've done it before. Not that I like it, but no way around it.” “You could always ask for help. Get some more people to take shifts on patrol.”

“Dad wants to keep things as normal as possible, for as long as we can. That means only the necessary numbers watching the fences. We might add more if summer vacation people come back this year. Or if more cracked-creatures turn up. But for now it's just Jack, me, and a few others.”

“Lot of stress.”

“Not too bad. The shooting and burning is kind of therapeutic in itself. I get free drinks at the bar. It all works out. This whole set up is just until this cracked-creature thing blows over anyway.”

“You think that's possible?” He didn't look so convinced.

“Someone is going to find out where they are coming from. Then they'll get rid of them for good.”

Mac opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again. He seemed to be debating about whatever was about to come out of his mouth next.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, digging it out showed that Jack was calling. She held up a finger to Mac so he didn't start in on whatever was so important. “Hey, whatcha need?”

“There is a camera down just inside the treeline on the west side. Last few shots show a deer running out and smashing into the tree, knocked the camera out,” Jack said.

“Told you to put it in a bigger tree.”

“Told you to meh meh meh blah blah,” he replied. “You're not far from, care to fix it?”

“No problem. I'll put it in a much better place this time.”

“I'd put it up your ass,” Jack said before hanging up.

Sydney shoved her phone back in to her pocket. “Have to go fix a camera.”

“What happened?” Mac asked.

“Just a deer, knocked it out. Jack didn't put it in a great spot.” Sydney popped the right side of the gate, swung it wide open.

“You need backup.”

“It's just a little run out and back.”

Mac moved toward the ATV. He seemed set on coming along. Sydney wasn't completely against the idea of company, but wasn't about to let him take over the job.

She got between him and the ATV. “If you come, I drive the ATV. You stay behind me when we get out there.”

There hadn't been a lot of chatting in the two weeks Mac and his group and been here, not with Sydney directly anyway. She'd heard bits from other families who had the group over for dinner, but they were still a bundle of mystery. Maybe she could make this even more worth her while and get some answers out of him on the way.

He stiffened at the 'stay behind me' part, seemed to be struggling with it. She watched him internally fight with himself again. Sydney stepped on the ATV and swung a leg over. “Train is leaving.”

Mac climbed on behind her, his hands gripping the bars on the sides for balance.

She was a bit miffed he hadn't opted to hold on to her, but maybe that was asking too much of the big man to do. Sydney turned the engine on and they turned around to go through the gate. When she slowed Mac hopped off, closed the gate, and was climbing on again in just seconds. Along the way she gave the wire and posts a look over, but mostly just glances as they headed for the corner of woods that cut in to their town.

Mac was looking past the fence, to the houses sprawled out before the river. He spoke up over the wind, “I don't think I've told you how nice of a town you have here.”

“Thanks! We're working hard to keep it that way.”

“I've been meaning to ask. What came first? Shepherd the family, Shepherd the store, or Shepherd  the town?”

“The family. My great-grandfather built the first house on this stretch of river. Others followed. Then the store. Another guy built it, but gave up and sold it to my grandfather, who renamed it for the family. He expanded with the town. For awhile all that was here besides houses was the store. So people used it as a landmark of where they were going. When there were enough people permanently here to call it a town, they just used what people were already calling it.”

“That's very...”

“Quaint. You can say quaint, I won't be offended or anything.”

They fell into a couple minutes of silence. Mac watching the homes go by. Sydney forcing herself to focus on driving and not the man behind her. She didn't want this to become an awkward silence though.

“Are, or were, you military of some sort?” she asked.

“Marines. Why do you ask? Or what gave it away?”

“The way you walk.”

“Really?”

“Totally.” That was a lie. Sydney wasn't about to admit that four days ago she'd spied him working out with his shirt off in the park and caught sight of a tattoo on his shoulder that looked military-ish.

They were nearing the treeline. Sydney came to a stop close by the fence. She pointed into the trees, “The camera is only a bit inside there.”

Mac reached out and ran a finger along the thin, ragged scar across the back of her arm. “When did you get this?”

The contact surprised her and resulted in an embarrassing jump. She tried to recover by making it look like one big move off the ATV, but her cheeks heated up and Sydney knew it was useless. “My first run in with a cracked-creature. Another dog thing, that's what we get mostly out here. This was before the fence and gates went up. Why the fence and gates went up actually.

“Was about ten at night. Everyone was in for the night. The thing got into town without seeing anyone, thankfully. You know how they sort of just jump at anything that moves. The first thing it saw was Mrs. Carver's dog, she always let George out to do his business and let him in a few minutes later.  The creature jumped the fence and tore into the dog. She heard the fighting and came out with a gun. The thing took a run at her, but she lined up a shot somehow and caught him dead straight between the eyes.”

Mac climbed off the ATV and moved to the box at the back, inside was another gun. He checked the magazine and put one bullet in the chamber. Hers remained in the holster, but Mac was already posed with it out before him. Sydney got in to the box next, grabbing out the bag of assorted zip-ties from the bottom. She tucked those into her back pocket.

“Be extra nice to Mrs. Carver,” she continued,  “no one knows what she did before coming here to be so good with a gun. That woman has been here ten years and never did anything more than make cookies for anyone who wanted them. Real sweet. Never a bad word towards anyone. But the look she had when I got to her house that night, terrifying.

“A few more people showed up. Everyone knew burning was the best way to get rid of them, so some people started on that. I went to look at the damage to George. One back leg was near torn off. Throat was in shreds. Mrs. Carver came up behind me saying she wanted him buried out front. I was going to move him for her and start on that.”

“Infected animals are just as dangerous,” Mac said as they passed into the treeline.

“We thought they had to be living for that to apply. Bitten, but still moving. He'd bled out over half the backyard from the cracked-dog throwing him around. Her dog was dead. Until I tried to pick him up. Thing jumped, scratched the hell out of my arm. Tried to snap at me, but having one bum leg threw him off. Mrs. Carver put a shot through her own dog's head. Then we had to burn him with the other creature. Spent a week in the hospital, they watched my arm in case it became infected.”

“Nothing like the monsters showing up in your backyard.”

“And eating your dog.” Sydney pushed a low branch out of the way, held it for Mac to pass. “What was your first encounter?”

“I was in New York City before this. Infected strays are becoming a real problem in the city. One night a cracked-cat, some domestic type but real big, was tearing into some bum it had cornered in an alley. Took care of that one.”

“Cat. Good lord. What happened to the world to make these cracked-creatures?”

Mac kicked a lump of dead wood. “These things are man made. Grown and bred in a lab.”

“If that's true, someone would have tracked down where they escaped from. Someone would have reported a breakout.”

“Not unless they were let out. Strategically. Left in the wild to reproduce on their own and then run rampant.”

Sydney had a small sigh of relief when she saw the tree spray painted with a black X, the camera had been posted there. This was an easy change of topic. “The camera should be close by.”

They took small steps in opposite directions around the tree.

Mac lifted a hunk of bark. “You do know those creatures didn't just appear one day out of nothing.”

So a not so easy change of topic, it seems. “Yes, I know that. Who would make cracked-creatures though?”

“Who's making money out of all this?”

“No one is making money off this.”

“Who made your gates, barbed fences, the knife I see you tuck in your belt, the door stoppers, sealants, doors, bullets, and probably fills half your home now?”

“Salvage Company.” Sydney's stomach dropped. Her mysterious and attractive road traveler was slipping into crazed conspiracy theorist.

“Seems strange that those creatures are allergic, burn at the touch, to their patent protected secret alloy.”

“They were around before all this. My mom bought me a whole bunch of Salvage kitchen stuff when I left for college. People only caught on to the reaction when one guy got on the news after he held off a cracked-rat with just a spatula from them. And they went right to making anything people could need for defending against the cracked-creatures.” Sydney spotted the camera a couple feet from the base of the tree, the camo cover seemed to be intact. She squatted down and popped the lid to check the camera equipment inside.

“Short of telling anyone else what their alloy is so that other manufacturers can reproduce it,” he said coming up to her side. “These things have been public for only a year and Salvage Company has grown to ten times the size it was before.”

“They're were just a housewares company a year ago. How would they know how to make monsters like that?”

“It's another group. Not officially connected to Salvage for protection reasons.”

“Who?” Sydney snapped the cover shut; a couple switches were jostled, but nothing serious. She turned to look at the trees nearby, they needed one sturdier than the one Jack picked. On top of that, she hoped it would make it obvious she was trying not to pay too much attention to this conversation.

“I don't know who.” He seemed upset by that answer. “But I'm working on it. Me and the others.”

Oh good, Sydney thought, I let a whole pack of nutjobs into my town. Dad is not going to skin me at all for this. She'd also left town with the guy, telling no one that she was with him. Jack at least knew where she was though. “Well, good luck with that.”

“We tracked down the spatula guy in Boston,” he said.

“He's kind of a celebrity,” she said. “Must have been hard.” Sydney spotted a good candidate. Lots of branches, higher than the last tree, to secure the camera to and was nearly the same angle they had before into the woods.

“He lives in a penthouse now.”

“Must not have to fight off cracked-rats with a spatula there.” Sydney handed the camera to Mac. She grabbed at the lowest branch possible and tried to pull herself up. That didn't work, so she attempted to swing a leg up to latch on. When her foot came falling back and hit the trunk of the tree, Sydney realized she'd been through this before. The difficulty of this tree was why Jack settled on the other tree.

Mac watched her hang in defeat on the branch. “Guy was living on food stamps and checks from his mom before all that. How'd he make it all the way to a penthouse?”

“Someone auto-tuned his interview. Someone else made a couple t-shirts. That stuff adds up.” She dropped to the ground.

“The guy was paid off. Then shacked up in a suite with enough security to keep him in check. We had to go through ten guys to get to him.” Mac handed her the camera and stepped up to the branch.

“What do you mean by 'go through' exactly?” She watched him do a short hop to get a grip and then lift his body straight up on to the tree limb.

He reached down to her for the camera. “You want it right here or higher?”

“There is good. Point it into the trees.” She handed him the bag of zip-ties.

“How do you think he managed to get the attention of anyone at a news station?” Mac wasn't done with this conversation. She'd hoped the camera would distract him.

“The anchor was paid off too,” she sighed.

Mac was nodding as he pulled a zip-tie through a loop on the camera. She'd guessed right apparently. “A good sum of money was left with a note suggesting they listen to the guy.”

“You have the note?”

“I've been told of the note.”

“Spatula Guy and an anchorwoman from Boston's Channel Eight news are in cahoots with the shadowy evil laboratory that is cranking out monsters to help raise profits for the company that solely sold housewares before this. What was their motive to start this? Not selling enough mixing bowls?”

“It's all about profit. Manufacturer a disaster that only you can fix.”

“You want money, they've made enough in this past year to last another six lifetimes. And the creatures are only getting worse. Why keep going?”

Mac was quiet as he pulled a tie tight against the bark. He didn't seem to have an answer and she was okay with that. Sydney remembered the lilac in her hair, she pulled it out and twirled it around in her fingers. She didn't look up again until Mac called out.

“That should do it. The angle okay?”

“Let me call Jack, make sure it's all running right.” She pulled out her phone and quick dialed him.

He picked up after two rings. “Hey, so you have a friend out there with you?”

“I'm guessing that means the camera is working?”

“Yep. Any chance I could get it a smidgen more to the right?”

She pulled the phone away from her face, “Jack wants to know if you can move it a little to the right? There is a ridge I'd like to see over.”

“No problem,” Mac said. He nudged the camera an inch or two, breaking the bark to do so. “Better?”

“How's that look?” she asked, but got no answer. “Hey, Jack, does it look better?”

“Get out of there,” Jack replied.

“Calm down, we're leaving as soon as you're clear on the camera.”

“The camera is fucking clear and I'm telling you to get out of there now.”

Mac stood up on the branch. “Everything okay?”

“He's freaking out about something,” she called up to him.

Mac looked out the direction of the camera. “I think I see the deer that hit the tree. I think it's...”

He didn't finish because the branch he was leaning on snapped. After another look over the ridge and he jumped out of the tree, hitting the ground hard and rolling back around to his feet. Mac grabbed her lilac filled hand and ran for the treeline.

Jack was yelling in her ear, “There's a god damn bear over there. I don't know if it's cracked or not. Just go!”

“There's a bear?” she asked both men.

“Big, black, cracked-bear,” Mac answered. “Chewing on deer parts. Looked right at me.”

A growl came over the ridge. Sydney looked back and saw the cracked-bear for the first time. A rip ran from the snout to the top of its head. Another up the left leg and wrapped around to the stomach. There was deer hide still hanging from one corner of blood stained teeth.

Sydney picked up speed, better matching Mac now. They reached the ATV before the cracked-bear broke the treeline. Mac went for the seat, but Sydney opened the box.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“That thing is just going to follow us to town.” She pulled the bundle of lilac out, threw pieces around them.

“Just get the fuck over the fence,” she heard Jack from the phone. Sydney ended the call, not needing another panicking voice right now.

The cracked-bear galloped out of the trees. Mac took one shot from the ATV seat and clipped a shoulder, but the thing kept coming. About ten feet from the ring of lilac, the creature slammed to a halt. Growling at the ground, it began pacing back and forth.

“What is happening?” Mac asked.

“They don't like the smell of lilac.” They had put the fact out to the public as soon as they'd discovered it, but there were so many people online shouting theories that information was lost fast.

“How did you figure that out?”

“Can we take care of this first?” Sydney pulled her gun and lined up a shot, trying to match the pace the cracked-bear had. She sent one shot through its jaw, but it stayed up.

Mac's second hit was between the eyes. They watched the creature stumble a few more steps away from the lilac before falling. Both were still for a moment, in case it tried to get up.

“So, the lilac thing,” Mac finally broke the silence.

Sydney tucked the gun away with a shaking hand, but went in to the story. “We were in the process of getting a fence up around the town, but there were open patches. Mrs. Miller came out her back sliding door with headphones in and a bunch of lilacs in her hand. They were for her patio table, she was having a nice lunch with her kids. Standing at the end of her patio was a cracked-dog. She panicked and threw what she had in her hand.

“The thing backed away from the lilacs. Stared it down. Mrs. Miller got back inside and told her kids to call someone to come take care of it. She pulled out her phone and filmed as the cracked-dog stood ten feet away from the bundle, growling. A couple times it moved around, trying to escape the smell and still get to her, but ran out of time before my brother got there.

“We're thinking to start trying to encourage people to try growing some inside their homes, a couple types work in those conditions. That way everyone might have some in case of an extreme emergency. For now we just order a large amount through a florist in town. Anytime I go out to the fences I have a bit with me.”

“That's pretty incredible.” He was staring at the carcass.

Sydney pulled her phone out again, Jack was already calling again. She answered, “We're fine. We got it.”

“Was it cracked?”

“Yep. Never heard of a cracked-bear before.”

“Jesus.”

“Come on out with a couple guys, bring lots of kindling. This is going to be a big fire.” She ended the call.

Mac squatted down to pick up a stem of lilac. “What's with these flowers?”

“We couldn't believe it without the video. It's on YouTube, you can see it. Unless you think Mrs. Miller was paid off by the lilac industry to raise profits.”

“No, I believe you. There was something that woman said. I'm trying to remember.”

“What woman?”

“The girlfriend of the head of Salvage Company. Met her at his house. She smelled like lilacs.”

“He let you in his house?”

“Wasn't invited really. Crashed a party he was throwing. What did she say? We'd been talking about the creatures. Someone pulled up pictures of some dead ones. She looked upset by the images. Somebody had asked what God might have meant by making these things. Other people were trying to be philosophical. She just said, 'God is bored with the world. God needed some of that old school wrath and bloodshed. Wanted to watch the world reshape itself to her new plan.'

“Yeah! She'd said 'her'. I thought she was a morbid chick. Maybe traumatized by what she knew her boyfriend done. I'd thought to lean on her if I got close, but my cover was blown and I had to leave quick. Damn it, I need to find out who she is.”

“I shouldn't have told you the lilac thing. You realize how sketchy your entire story sounds, yeah?”

“We were getting close to some answers over in Richmond. There was a guy who'd owned a pound that sold it for crazy money to some private buyer eight months ago. That's about how long ago cracked-creatures started showing up around this area right?”

“Jesus, now this pound guy is a culprit?”

Mac stood and came back toward her and the ATV. “No! Just unknowingly sold them the space to grow a batch of these things and let them loose as they get old enough. We came in a little louder than I intended and had a pretty quick exit. They had us going for-”

“No, no. Stop. I'm done. I can't go along with this story anymore.”

Her head couldn't handle any more of his story. Sydney's day was filled with constant dread of finding one of those creatures on the fences, which she'd done today. Or worse yet, breaking into her town at a weak spot, which that cracked-bear could have done. Jack and herself put in near endless hours of work to keep this town moving smoothly. They wanted to give people a safe place to live a near normal life and forget as often as they could that the world was falling prey to some ungodly creatures. They made this town work, but her efforts couldn't go past those gates. Not like they had today.

Mac leaned against the side of the ATV. “I told you all this because I thought you'd believe me. Or at least see some of the sense of it. You're smart Sydney, I know that from watching how you run this place. I do admit it sounds a bit crazy at first, but I do have some proof. If you come back to the house, I can show you.”

“No, thank you. I have this to take care of.” She waved to the dead cracked-bear. “That's enough for me.”

“Tonight then. Come over. Or I'll bring it to your place.”

“No, no you will not. My dad hears your talking like that you'll be thrown out of this town faster than you all drove in.”

“He can't be that ignorant of what's going on out there. How bad it's getting.”

“We're not out fighting some conspiracy war. We're not hunting for the root of all evil. We are just trying to survive this shit show. Make it out with our little town in as much of one piece as we can.”

“And if we stop them from making more, we can stop all of this. Just like you said earlier.”

Sydney caught sight of the gate swinging open again. Two ATVs and a truck with a bed full of kindling pulled out and turned their way. “I need to make sure my home is secure first. Then, just maybe, I'll come listen to you.”

Mac looked pleased. “We've got these doc-”

“Mac, no. Stop for now, please. I don't want anyone else hearing this theory of yours. Not till you convince me to believe it.”

“What if you don't?”

She frowned at him. “Then you're going to have to leave my town. I'm sorry, it's a bitchy move, but I have to look after my people first. If you just seem like a crackpot, I need you gone. You and your people.”

“We don't have a car yet.”

Sydney watched the vehicles get closer. “I'll make one happen.”

“Kevin is pretty banged up still.”

“Then you best be damn convincing later.”

Rodger, driving the truck, slowed down before the ATVs, giving himself room to turn around and back up closer to the cracked-bear. Jack pulled his ATV up right next to her and Mark was right behind him. No one bothered with a hazmat suit this time. They threw the small branches on top of the creature and poured gasoline over it all. Sydney wanted to watch it all burn, but the smell was too strong for her and she still had the rest of the fence to check over. Mac almost insisted to come along, but let her go saying he'd catch a ride with Rodger back into town. No doubt he was eager for her decision and, honestly, so was she.