#i want something that lasts long and can run good graphics and load quickly for years and years

[wp100]

"playing wow without an ssd in 2022 is just trolling"

okay but consider this: not everyone has a gaming computer, or a desktop computer, and not everyone can afford good specs. some people are like "if it's working then im okay with it" even if the graphics are "bad" or it "loads slowly" like who cares

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Valentine’s Day Treat - Jake Jensen x Reader

Summary: Jake surprises you after telling you he was away for Valentine’s Day

Word Count: 3.1k (a lot of that is just smut, but it is Valentine’s day after all!)

Warnings: Little bit of angst, a good amount of fluff, and a load of SMUT! 18+ ONLY,  MINORS DNI! Language!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics​

Masterlist

It had been a very long day at work. All you wanted to do was curl up into a ball underneath a blanket, stick on a movie and drink a bottle of wine.

After climbing too many flights of stairs you rounded the corner spotting Jake stood outside your apartment door, holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

“Jake… what? What are you doing here?” You ask confused as you walk over.

“I wanted to see you, do I need a reason?” He grins kissing your cheek.

“No, but you don’t usually bring flowers, usually it’s a video game or something” you point out making him chuckle.

“I brought that too” he grins shrugging his shoulders.

He then smiles dipping his head slightly as he looked down at you “but I thought I’d treat my girl because she deserves it” he smiles passing you the bouquet.

You give him a tired smile as you take the flowers, your fingers running gently over the petals. When you look back up at Jake you see his brows furrowed in concern.

“Everything okay? I would have expected a bruising kiss by now” Jake says was an awkward and nervous chuckle, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“Yeah… I’m just tired” you sigh shaking your head, forcing a small smile “been a long day”

Jake nods stuffing his hands in his pockets as he kicks the floor “right… um well I know this probably isn’t gonna help that situation, if anything it might make it worse, but I’d rather be honest” Jake ramble scratching the back of his neck.

You feel your heart rate pick up as you scan his face trying to work out what he was going to say. Your mind only telling you the absolute worst possible options.

“Jake are you-?” You ask your voice wavering slightly.

Jake’s eyes widen and he quickly steps forward putting his hands on your shoulders “No, no, no! God no! Never! Sweetheart I love you don’t worry about that” Jake smiles shaking his head.

“Its just that The Losers are being called out… and I don’t think we’ll be back before Valentine’s Day” Jake sighs sadly.

You sigh dropping your shoulders and head in disappointment. You were seriously thinking you were cursed when it came to valentine’s day. At no point in your life had you been able to celebrate it with someone. All your relationships either ended before the day or started after and only lasted a couple months.

“I’m so sorry sweetheart” Jake sighs wrapping his arm around you and pulling you towards him.

“It’s okay, you can’t control it, just sucks you know, I was really looking forward to it, when do you leave?” you say looking back up at him.

“Tomorrow morning, so I thought we could either celebrate tonight or when I get back?” Jake suggests running his hand up and down your back.

“I’d love to but I’m so tired” you sigh sadly.

“That’s okay we can celebrate when I get back, and tonight we’ll just chill out, I’ll order some Chinese, we’ll stick on a movie and just chill, maybe play some Mariokart if you’re up to it” Jake suggest making your snort with laughter at the last part.

“You’re just annoyed that I beat you last time” you smile knowingly.

“That was a fluke, and I can prove it” Jake states making you laugh.

“Okay deal, thank you Jakey” you smile reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“Anything for you sweetheart” Jake smiles turning his head and leaning down to kiss you.

You spent the rest of the evening curled up into Jake’s side, resting your head on his chest as his arm lay down your back. His fingers running absentmindedly up and down your side in a soothing manner. It wasn’t long until you fell asleep curled up with him.

You tried your hardest to still enjoy Valentine’s Day, reminding yourself that Jake said he would try and call you this evening if he could. But God it was hard when everyone around you was determined to flaunt their loved ones and their love every goddamn second of the day.

Your office had been decorated top to bottom with anything related to love. You had been regularly offered heart shape cookies, which were annoyingly delicious. You could only really focus on your work once everyone had left, staying late to finish your work.

However, you were regretting that decision when you walked home. Passing all the couple who were out on their dates. You were grateful when you finally got home, slumping against your door once it was shut. Taking a deep breath closing your eyes.

It was when you opened your eyes that you noticed the rose petals on the floor. You look to see the petal forming a path through your apartment towards your bedroom. Dropping your bag and coat by the door you follow the petals through your apartment.

Your jaw hit the floor as you opened the door to find Jensen lying on your bed in nothing but a pair of love heart boxer briefs on. He grins proudly as he sees you.

“Surprise sweetheart” he grins as you struggle to find words.

“Jake… what… how…” you stutter shaking your head in shock as you walk over.

“Well I know how much you were looking forward to today and how disappointed you were so I worked my ass off to get back in time” Jake smiles taking you hand and pulling you closer.

“So you broke into my apartment, and stripped down to some love heart boxers, and posed like Rose from Titanic” you smirk nodding down to him.

“1) I used my spare key so no breaking happened and 2) we both know you love it” he smirks resting his hand on his hip.

You bite your lower lip holding back a laugh as you smiled down at him. His tone chest and muscle on full display was probably one of your favourite views and god did you miss him.

“Now c’mere and let me show you how much I missed you” Jake grins grabbing your wrist and pulling you onto the bed.

The squeal of surprise soon turns into quiet sighs as he rolls you onto your back, kissing you deeply. He cups your jaw, his tongue running over your lower lip before delving inside. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, hand running up into his hair, tugging gently on the short strands.

His lips travel across your jawline and neck, nipping at your skin, no doubt leaving marks. He made quick work unbuttoning your blouse, throwing it across the room soon followed by your bra.

Once he had access he pressed kisses down your chest, hand cupping and massaging your breast. You moan arching your back up until his hand as his thumb ran over your sensitive peak.

Jake smirked against your skin “you like that sweetheart?” He asked his lips moving closer to your sensitive peak.

You just hum, nodding your head, unable to form words already. You pull on his hair trying to guide him to where you want him, but he resists.

“Patience sweetheart” Jake smirks kissing your cheek.

“I’ve been waiting five days already” you remind him.

“And I want to make every moment count” Jake says kissing your deeply.

“We have got all night remember” he adds, kissing your neck.

Your nail dig into his skin as his lips finally wrap around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. A breathy gasp escaping your lips. Your skin pebbles with anticipation as his lips moved slowly south, his eyes met yours as he glanced up, smirking at the blissed look on your face you already wore.

He sits back as he wraps his long fingers around the top of your skirt. He tugs it off, licking his lips when he lay eyes on your soaked cotton panties. He lets out a low groan as he runs his fingers over you clothed core, feeling your arousal through the fabric.

“Fuck Jake” you gasp quivering beneath him.

Jake smirked as his fingertips ran over your clothe core. His touch barely there, sending jolts of electricity through your body, all centring at your core. His fingers finally hook around the waist band, a kiss being pressed below your navel as he pulled them off.

His lips travel downwards, your breath hitching when they wrap around your clit, sucking it. You hand flies to his head, gripping the bleached tips as he licked a long stripe up your slit. Your hips grinding against him as he dives in, tongue delving inside you.

You writhed against him, moans and gasps falling repeatedly falling from your lips as he lapped at your entrance. Jolts of electricity coursing through your body whenever his nose nudged your clit, or goatee scraped against your skin.

With every movement Jake pulled your closer and closer to the edge, until you were teetering dangerously.

“Jakey- I’m-“ you gasp throwing your head back, the sentence left unfinished as your orgasm crashed over you.

Your body shook as you cried out, feeling the vibrations of Jake’s moans as he lapped up your juices as they flooded his mouth. He took everything you gave him, only letting up once your body stopped shaking, your limbs went limp, and your breathing returned to somewhat normal.

You blinked a couple times, your vision clearing as Jake’s smirking face came into view. You smiled blissfully up at him, cupping his cheek and bringing his lips down to yours. A moan escaping your lips as you taste yourself on his lips.

He cupped your jaw as he kissed deeply. Your hands running down his back, fingers trailing along the waistband of his boxers. Your hand dipping down to palm his erection through his boxers, making him groan quietly dropping his head into the crook of his neck.

“You have no idea how much I missed you” Jake mutters pressing kisses to your shoulder.

You smirk slipping your hand under the waistband of his boxers, wrapping your fingers around his member giving it a couple slow pumps.

“I have a pretty good idea” you smirk, running your thumb over his slit spreading the beads of precum over his swollen head.

“Fuck” he groans pressing his forehead against yours.

“You forgot the word me” you smirk tilting your head, nudging your nose against him until your lips captured his.

Jake grins into the kiss but soon begins to moan as you start pumping his erection in your hand. His hips bucking when you gave a twist of your wrist.

“I can’t take anymore, I need you now” Jake groans as he presses wet kisses to your neck.

“You have me” you hum biting your lower lip.

You feel Jake’s lopsided grin against your skin as he pushes down his boxers, kicking them away across the room. His hand then meets yours, guiding it to his shoulder, replacing your hand with his own around his pleasantly painful erection.

“you like the angle of the dangle” he smirks when he catches you watching his every movement.

He runs himself through your folds, covering himself with your slick before lining himself up at your entrance. You bite down on your lower lip, pathetically failing to hold back a moan, throwing your head back as he pushes inside you. Slowly working himself into you until he was fully buried to the hilt inside you. Both your chests heaving at the sensation of him filling you up so perfectly.

“I love you” Jake mutters, forehead pressed against yours as his lips peck yours in between each word.

“I love you too” you blissfully sigh, cupping his cheek as he kissed you deeply.

Just as you were getting lost in the kiss, he began to slowly thrust inside you, swallowing your moans as he continued to kiss you. Your leg hooks over his hips, your own moving up to meet his with everything thrust.

You feel the pleasure travelling straight to your core, the coil inside you beginning to tighten. As much as you loved Jake’s slow and gentle love making, right now you needed more.

“Harder Jakey” you moan, the grip on his bicep tightening.

You feel Jake smirk, lifting his head away as he looked down at you “are you sure sweetheart? Cause there’s no going back” he smirks, tongue poking out to wet his lips.

“Yes, please Jakey” you whine rolling your hips against his more forcefully.

“Good girl” Jake smirks before thrusting into you at a much harder and faster pace.

You cry out at the sudden jolt, clinging onto his back and shoulders, nails digging into his skin. The room fills with the sounds of your gasps and moans, curses falling from each other lips and the sound of skin slapping together.

You feel the coil within you tightening impossible tight. Your body teetering on the edge of another orgasm. When Jake’s lips found your neck, nipping and sucking on your pulse point, stars exploded in your eyes as your orgasm hit.

Jake groaned loudly barely holding himself back as your walls pulsated and clenched around him. He worked your through your orgasm, drawing it out making it all the more intense. It was only when he felt you finally come down from your high that he let himself let go. Painting your walls with his spend as he unloaded himself.

He then collapsed, rolling the both of you so that you lay on top of him, your head resting on his chest. Both your chests heaved as you caught your breaths. You lifted your head looking down at him smiling when you saw him already grinning at you. His hand moving to run across your cheekbone, tucking some hair behind your ear. Fingers trailing along your jaw before he gently gripping your chin bringing your lips down to his.

“Happy Valentine’s Day sweetheart” his mutters quietly.

“Happy Valentine’s Day Jakey” you grin pecking his lips once more.

A couple hours later you and Jake were relaxing together on the couch, empty Chinese takeout containers spread across the coffee table. The both of you completely filled up, energy levels replenish. You were wearing one of many graphic tee’s you had stolen from him.

You were curled up in Jake’s side, resting your head on his chest. His arm wrapped securely around your side, his long fingers running up and down your arm.

“Can I give you your Valentine’s Day present now?” You ask lifting your head from his chest.

He grins nodding his head “of course sweetheart, can I give you yours?” He asks, you nodding your head biting your lower lip in excitement.

You hop up from the couch grabbing the gift bag that contained his present and card. Sitting back down next to him crossing your legs as you passed it over. Jake grins like an excited child as he pulls out the presents laughing when he unfold it, revealing a graphic tee of a Big foot, Nessie and Aliens with the tagline ‘don’t stop believin’”.

Jake quickly pulls off the plain white tee he wore, making you smirk when you got a quick glimpse of his abs. He then slides on his new tee smiling down at it.

“I love it, thank you so much sweetheart” Jake grins leaning over to kiss you.

“I’m glad you like it, now open your card” you press excitedly.

Jake grins as he grabs the envelope out of the bag. He quickly rips it open, grabbing his chest, falling back against the couch laughing when he reads the front. Seeing the cartoon of two T-Rex’s having sex, one asking the others to pull its hair. He wipes away the tears of laughter shaking his head as he took a large breath before laughing some more.

“Pheeww! god I fucking love that” he chuckles shaking his head, smiling over at you.

“I’m glad you like it” you smile chuckling along with him, kissing his cheek.

“Right” Jake says slapping his knees as he stood up, walking over to his pack to grab something holding it behind his back.

“I’m sorry it’s not wrapped but I hope you like it” Jake apologises as he walks back over.

He pauses in front of you, grinning down at you before moving his hands back in front of him, holding your present. You smile when you instantly recognise what it was.

Ever since you started dating Jake, just under a year ago, whenever he went away on a mission he’d bring you back a post card from whatever country he’d been in. He’d also include a bank note of whatever currency they used. You’d already acquired a decent collection that you’d started organising into a little scrapbook.

You take the postcard from him, smiling as you looked at the drawing of a golden monument from Laos. Turning it over you read the small message he’d written on the back.

‘Not even this monument shines as bright as your smile x’

Your smile grows as you look back up at him, seeing him grinning down at you.

“Yep, definitely brighter” he grins.

You grab his hand pulling him down and kissing him “thank you so much Jakey, I love it” you smile.

He moves to sit back down besides you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. He pulls you closer hugging you tightly as he kisses the top of your head.

“I know you’re not going there for fun, but god do you get to go to some amazing places” you say shaking your head as you look over at him.

“Well, I was thinking, I’ve got a good amount of vacation days banked so how about we go away together somewhere for a couple weeks?” Jake suggests making your face instantly light up.

“Really?” You ask excitedly.

“Yeah, you can pick wherever you want to go, use your scrapbook or throw a date, it’s your pick” Jake smiles taking your hand in his.

You squeal with excitement wrapping your arms around his neck hugging him tightly. There was no doubt that Jake was the not only the best boyfriend but also the best human on the planet.

“Thank you so so much I can’t wait!! Oh, I have so many options to pick from its going to be impossible!” You exclaim, palm pressed to your forehead as your shook your head.

“Well maybe we can make a list and start making our way through it, because I have no intention of you getting away from me” he smirks kissing your cheek.

You shake your head in disbelief as you look back at him “I love you so so much” you mutter grabbing his cheeks and crashing your lips to him.

“I love you too sweetheart” Jake chuckles before kissing you again.

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Masterlist

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Survival of the Fittest. 

Pairing: Yandere!Bakugo/Reader/Yandere!Kirishima (BNHA).

Word Count: 3.6k.

TW: Apocalypse/No Quirks AU, Unhealthy Codependency, Non-Consensual Touching, Mentions of Death/injury, Non-Graphic Violence, Imprisonment.

You were lucky Kirishima had been the one to find you.

‘Find’ might’ve been the wrong word. It implied that he was looking, that he wanted to discover you, bleeding and battered and bruised, cowering in a grimy corner of what used to be a grocery store. It must’ve looked pathetic, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be embarrassed by your torn clothes, your matted hair, the way you’d whimpered as he first approached, all wide eyes and open arms. Survivors were few and far between, and it’d been weeks since you saw another living, breathing person. Kirishima hadn’t seemed like a god-send, not in the moment, but he was a miracle. You’d been too shocked to thank him properly, as he pulled you to your feet and practically carried you out of the city, but you should. You wanted to. You owed him that, if nothing else.

You were lucky it’d been him, rather than Bakugo. You were grateful it hadn’t been Bakugo.

You’d probably still be rotting in that corner, if it had been.

He didn’t seem to like you very much, even if he had begrudgingly moved aside when Kirishima asked if he could bring you inside. It was a bunker, judging by the sparse furniture littered around the common area, plain cement walls only adorned with the occasional hunting knife or bat left to lean against them. The bench Kirishima had left you on was wooden, too stiff to ever be comfortable, but it was a practical choice. Fabric was a luxury to be stowed away and treasured, saved for things more important than a stranger’s comfort. You’d do the same thing, if you’d been in his shoes.

That didn’t stop Bakugo from glaring, though, perching himself on the edge of a nearby crate and refusing to take his eyes off of you, as if you’d already earned and lost his trust. “There’s no fucking advantage,” He started, but he wasn’t talking to you. You weren't worth his time, just yet, not while you were still just a stray Kirishima was too much of a saint to turn away. “We’re not a damn food bank. It’s not out responsibility to babysit every dumbass on the verge of death.”

“Don’t listen to him.” At least Kirishima was kind enough to address you as he slipped back into the common room, taking his place at your side and handing you something – a mug, cremated and unchipped and filled to the brim with something watery, steam still rising off the top. Your first sip was hesitant, but you couldn’t stop yourself from draining the cup once you recognized the taste. Coffee. Cheap, bitter, heavenly coffee, the kind you didn’t have enough clean water to risk trying to make. You could’ve kissed him. You might’ve, if the calm levity in his voice hadn’t snapped you out of it. “Katsuki’s just a little defensive, when it comes to guests. We’ve got plenty of supplies to go ‘round, and…” He trailed off, glancing over you. To the bruises circling your wrist, the stained bandages peaking out from underneath your shirt. To the spot where your ankle twisted just a little too far to the left for the angle to be natural, the evidence of a fall you tried and failed to break with something besides your own body. “I don’t think we can kick someone out in good faith with those kinda injuries. Not with all the crawler activity, lately.”

You flinched at the name alone. Crawler, creatures, the things that used to be people and weren’t, not now, not anymore. You used to think of them as zombies, but that wasn’t right. Calling them zombies would be an injustice, even if they did tend to rot if left to their own devices. Zombies weren’t that fast. Zombies weren’t that distorted. You’d encountered three or four, but you tried to avoid attracting them, when you could. It was easier, when you were on your own.

Bakugo groaned, bringing you out of your thoughts. You tried to stop your hands from shaking, as he spoke. “You’ve got a group to run back to, right? Nobody survives that long without one.”

You tried not to sound as small as you felt. Judging from the way Kirishima glanced away, it was a futile effort. “Nobody survives that long with one, either.”

Kirishima’s hand came to rest on your shoulder, and Bakugo crossed his arms, a sign that must’ve meant submission, judging by Kirishima’s optimistic response. “Just until your ankle’s healed up,” He promised, a compromise you hadn’t asked him to make. “You’ll stay until then, right? ‘d be a shame if we had to lose another person because of Katsuki’s bad attitude.”

There was a sharp ‘hey’, a barely stifled laugh, and slowly, you forced yourself to nod, immediately receiving a bright grin from Kirishima by way of reward. It was a practical choice, honestly – they had food, they had shelter, they didn’t seem to be grasping at threads just to get by. Even if Kirishima was a little too friendly and Bakugo wasn’t nearly friendly enough, you could life with that, you could get by. Once you’d worn out your welcome, you’d leave. As soon as you were fixed up.

You didn’t want to wait for things to go bad, this time.

~

Despite his reluctance, Bakugo didn’t take long to warm up to you.

Kirishima was still the approachable one, obviously. He was who you went to when you needed to find something, when you had a question about their ration system or weaponry or the parts of the bunker you weren’t allowed to go in, rooms with steel doors and deadbolts on the handle and a raw, metallic smell emanating from the other side, but Bakugo always seemed to be lingering just behind him, ready to scoff and roll his eyes before he took you by the wrist and explained that, if you expected to reap the benefits of their hospitality, you had to at least try to pull your weight. He was helpful, like that, his help less patronizing than Kirishima’s, albeit twice as easily frustrated. Still, he didn’t hate you. If anything, he seemed to—

“If you slow down one more time, I’ll feed ya to the damn bears myself.”

You sped up, reflexively. He didn’t hate you, but it wasn’t too late for him to start.

It’d been Kirishima’s idea for you to go hunting. You were still in a splint, the majority of your calf an abstract blend of medical tape and cloth padding, but you bit back the pain as you followed Katsuki down the rough, unpaved trail, gritting your teeth past the ache forming under your skin. It wasn’t a raid. If anything, you were only getting further from the city, working your way up the mountain their bunker was carved into the base of. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been concerned about the crossbow in Katsuki’s hands, the weapon already loaded and poised, but the hunting knife strapped to your thigh eased your nerves, as did his disinterest in doing anything but trudging forward. If he didn’t take the time to call back to you every few minutes, you might’ve thought he’d forgotten you were there entirely.

But, silence never suited you never well. Not with a near-stranger, at least. “You’re not afraid of crawlers?”

“This far out? Fuck no.” It was an immediate answer, quick and shameless. Like an amputation, if an amputation left you nursing a bruised ego rather than bleeding out. “There’s enough fresh meat in the city to keep ‘em occupied. Only the runts ever bother coming out here to look for scraps.”

“I would’ve been that meat,” You mumbled, absent-mindedly. It was an idle thought, more of an admission than an accusation, but judging by the way his posture slackened, how quickly his attention shifted to the foliage, he wouldn’t have cared either way. “If Kirishima hadn’t found me, I mean. God knows I look like an easy target.”

“You are an easy target. Just be glad he’s got a weak spot for charity cases.”

You opened your mouth, ready to ask what he meant, you lost your footing before you got the chance, slipping on the damp leaf litter as a spike of something agonizing ran from your heel to your knee. Bakugo didn’t flinch, letting you catch yourself on his shoulder as he raised his crossbow, barely taking a moment to aim before firing. You could feel the kick-back, a jolting reverberation that only seemed to make the wet thunk that followed a little worse, the sound of an arrow piercing skin and flesh.

You expected that. You were ready for it. But, you hadn’t been prepared for the deafening scream that came afterwards, heart-piercing and human. You moved to rush toward its source, but Bakugo only caught your arm, shaking his head. Like he’d missed, like he’d only killed a deer. Like there wasn’t a person thrashing in the underbrush, still crying out as he spoke over them. “Looters,” He explained, like that was an excuse. “We’ve been dealin’ with them for a while, now. ’s just a scout, but he would’ve been back with reinforcements if we let him run off untouched.”

Bile rose in the back of your throat. For your own sake, you chose to believe him. “So? We can’t just—”

“Yes, we can.” It wasn’t a question. He didn’t need your permission, and he didn’t want your compliance. He didn’t even bother to justify himself before he turned away, starting back on the trail as you stood, still too shocked to move. “C’mon, we’ve already lost enough sunlight, and I’m not wasting arrows on scum. The fucker can drag himself back to his hideout, for all I care.”

You could’ve argued. Bakugo didn’t seem to think the blow was fatal, but you could’ve checked, made sure, offer what might’ve been a dying man a few last seconds of company before he bit the bullet. You could’ve, part of you wanted to, but…

But then, Bakugo tossed a glare over his shoulder, and your attention was brought back to the crossbow in his hands, to the machete strapped to his belt, to how pitifully small your knife was, in comparison. You didn’t want to lose the trust you hadn’t really gained, just yet. You didn’t want to take that kind of chance, not when Kirishima wasn’t around to give you the benefit of the doubt.

So, you shut your eyes, took a deep breath, and tried to ignore the quiet sobbing in the background as you followed in his tracks.

~

Surprisingly, Kirishima was the first one to slip into your bed.

You told yourself it was a mistake, when he let himself into your room in the middle of the night, closer to sunrise than it was to sunset. None of the doors locked, thin plywood serving as more of a source of comfort than an actual barrier, and beyond your small collection of personal possessions and the bedside table you’d commandeered from storage, your room was identical to any of the eerily unoccupied barracks on the lower layers of the bunker. Still, you expected him to turn around, to see your sleeping form curled up in a corner of your cot and realize he had the wrong room. It was late, and he made a mistake. It didn’t have to be anything more.

But it wasn’t that late, and Kirishima never really made mistakes. He was too careful for anything like that.

At least he was being careful now, too, as far as you could tell with your eyes clenched shut, your breathing restricted to slow, shallow inhales that left your lungs feeling just a little too tight. He was gentle, if nothing else, wrapping a strong arm around your waist, pulling you against his chest and burying his face in the nape of your neck. You didn’t squirm, you didn’t push yourself away, but you must’ve been too stiff, too still, too rigid. He didn’t seem to buy the act, however desperate it was.

“’suki’s real proud of you.” His voice was tired, weighted down by exhaustion. Clearly, he wouldn’t be leaving. “He told me about yesterday. Says you were good, cooperative and all. He likes that kind of thing.”

You didn’t respond, digging your nails into the sterile, medical sheets. Your ankle throbbed, and you tried to focus on that, to justify it. To remember why you could still convince yourself to stay.

“He’s a big softie, though. We both are, but I don’t try to hide it.” There was a light squeeze to your side, the ghost of his lips over the crook of your neck. His breath was warm, compared to the bucker’s constant chill, and you tried to think of his smothering body heat as a small silver lining. “I think it’s sweet. Gets lonely ‘round here, y’know? You’re a good fit.” There was a pause, a chuckle. For a moment, you thought he might push a little further, hold you a tighter, but Kirishima only shook his head, going on with that same careless, tired lilt. “I knew you would be, when I first saw you. A fragile little thing like you could never survive out here, not all alone.”

He was half-asleep. He didn’t know what he was saying. He’d probably apologize tomorrow, if he even remembered. “I’m not going to stay for much longer. I’ll be on my own again, in another month.”

“We’ll see.” The cot’s barred frame creaked as he shifted, his weight coming to rest against your back – a constant, oppressive reminder of his presence. A memory flickered to life in the back of your mind, a familiar intimacy that’d been earned and asked for, but you pushed it away quickly. You didn’t want to think about things like that, not here, not when this was so one-sided, in comparison. “Get some rest. You haven’t been getting enough sleep, lately.”

You’d leave when it was safe to. When you healed. When you’d worn out your welcome and become more of a burden than a benefit.

You wouldn’t stick around long enough for things to get suffocating, this time.

~

It was a mutual decision, when Bakugo and Kirishima stopped you from leaving the bunker.

They didn’t ask. That was the part that stung, really, the thorn that started working itself under your skin the moment you caught them standing in the threshold, an empty duffle bag slung over Kirishima’s shoulder and a baseball bat tucked under his arm. Bakugo had his crossbow, a pistol you’d never seen before holstered at his hip, but that bothered you less than the way they were muttering, keeping their voices purposefully low. Like they knew how you’d feel, if you saw them. Like they wanted to avoid the tension.

You’d never been very good at picking up hints, though. Much less those you were desperately trying to ignore.

“You’re going out?” You called, approaching them before you could stop yourself, suppressing a yawn as you made a show of rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It was early, and you didn’t want Kirishima to know you’d already been up for hours. If he thought you were tired, he’d assume you were losing sleep, and if he thought you were losing sleep, he’d take it as an excuse to visit you at night, again. You… you didn’t like it, when he did. “Let me grab my stuff, it’ll only take a minute. If I knew you two were planning a raid today, I would’ve—”

Bakugo was the first to shut you down. “Sit this one out, alright?” It was a question, this time, but barely, his usual bluntness wrapped in a layer of kindness so thin, you could practically see through it. “’s just a quick supply run. We’ll be out and back before you notice we’re gone.”

“We’ve done this a thousand times,” Kirishima added, offering a small smile. At least he was trying to be nice about it, in his own, patronizing way. “It’s starting to get boring, honestly. It‘d be a shame to ruin all the progress you’ve made for something so minor.”

Right, your ankle. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d complained about it, the last time you’d been in enough pain to limp, even if Bakugo still insisted on tending to your ‘injury’ once a day, at least. The truth was glaringly obvious, even if they still made a half-hearted attempt to hide it, to let you avert your eyes and pretend you believed them.

You didn’t bother trying to hide your disappointment, your expression dropping as your nails bit into the meat of your palm. “You don’t think I can keep myself safe.”

In their defense, neither tried to deny it. Bakugo only looked away, and Kirishima smiled apologetically, his hand already pushing against the bunker’s metallic door. “We don’t want to risk it,” He explained, like you were a liability. Like you hadn’t survived out there for months without their help, injured or uninjured. “If something happened to you, if someone got to you, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. We both care about you, even if Katsuki doesn’t want to admit it.”

“It’s practical.” Bakugo didn’t look at you. It was a small mercy, really. At least he was self-aware enough to be ashamed. “You need more time. You fucked yourself up bad before Eijiro found you – all that doesn’t go away overnight.”

Expect, it hadn’t been a night. It hadn’t been a day, or a week, and you were starting to question if it’d even been only two months. It was hard to keep track of time, but the weather was already turning, every scrape and bruise Bakugo could’ve concerned himself with was already healed, and you’d already let yourself get comfortable. You’d stayed too long. You’d let them get attached, and you’d failed to make it clear that you weren’t.

You had to get out. Now.

~

Or, you could try to get out, at least.

You’d waited too long for Bakugo and Kirishima to just sit back and let you walk away.

They were stronger than you’d assumed. It was easy to forget what the human body was capable of, when you were so used to be exhausted and half-starved, but it wasn’t difficult to remember, not with Bakugo’s hands wrapped around your wrists, one of Kirishima’s arms splayed over your knees, stopping you from thrashing as they shoved you against a bed, a real bed, the frame wooden and the mattress more than just sponge and stuffing. It was one of theirs obviously, and if you’d stumbled onto it at any other time, you might’ve felt insulted, left out.

Right now, the only thing you could feel was terrified.

“Fucking bitch.” It was a grunt, a growl, followed by something close to a snarl as your elbow connected with his check. He was the one who’s caught you gathering up what little you had to take with you, a canteen already filled and strung across your back. It was on the floor, now, the metal dented and the contents spilling out, but if either of them minded wasting clean water, you couldn’t tell. They were busy, now, too busy dealing with you to worry about something so minor. Too angry to care, leaving you as the center of their rage. “We tried to be nice. We tried to give you a choice. You just couldn’t take the fucking hint, could you?”

“Let me go.” You couldn’t bring yourself to raise your voice, but you tried to come across as frantic, desperate, as betrayed and as disgusted as you really felt. “You’re both fucking crazy. I don’t want to—”

Kirishima didn’t let you finish, he’d never really bothered to. He was already shifting, leaning on one of your calves while grabbing at the other, calloused fingertips pressing into your newly-healed ankle, the remaining bruises still raw and tender. You cried out, more out of instinct than agony, but Kirishima only grit his teeth, rubbing circles into your skin, like that would be enough to soothe you. “We’re just taking care of you, alright? We’re just doing what’s best.” It was pointless to say, but the didn’t stop him from going on, rambling like he was going to convince anyone, including himself. “It’s dangerous, out there. You just need a little more time to realize that. You just need to see that ‘suki and I are your best option.”

They weren’t. They weren’t your best anything, but you didn’t have a chance to retort before Bakugo cursed under his breath, gathering your wrists up with one hand and forcing the other over your mouth, cutting you off before you could protest further. “Just do it,” He spat, all-but ignoring you as he spoke to Kirishima. “There’s no point in trying to explain this to someone so irrational. Let’s just get it over with before we have to do something worse.”

For a moment, you went still, a series of worst-case scenarios flashing before your eyes before you could rationalize them, before you could tell yourself to stay calm. For a moment, there was panic – pure, unadulterated, brutal panic.

And then, something cracked under Kirishima’s hand, and you forgot how to think of anything at all.

You let out a stilted, faltering sob, something akin to liquid fire running from your thigh to your calf to the point where everything stopped – everything below your ankle numb, disconnected, dead meat that still managed to hurt. The rest of your body went limp, your survival instincts gone and replaced with the unbearable desire to curl into yourself and cry, but Bakugo was still holding you, his arms strung around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest as Kirishima slotted himself against your back, cooing soft nothings as you fought not to break down completely. They were talking again, both of them, but you couldn’t seem to listen. It didn’t matter.

Your ankle was broken. Not sprained, this time, not bruised, but broken. Shattered. Dislocated. Forced into a position that meant you’d be forced to stay, voluntarily or otherwise. Whether or not you could still stomach looking at Bakugo and Kirishima, let alone living with them.

You couldn’t leave, and you were beginning to think they were never going to let you.

[princehrry-writings]

Angel with a Shotgun

here we go. this popped into my head after i watched a tiktok about angel shots. if you go on a date and don't feel safe for any reason, please please please find a safe way to remove yourself!! asking for an angel shot is a great way to do that!!

WARNING: tw mentions of implied SA, stalking, harassment, police, EMT's, hospitals, alcohol, being drugged, swearing,

please don't read this if any of this stuff makes you uncomfortable. i don't get graphic with anything but still, put yourself first and be safe!! i love you <3

wordcount: 1907

Harry Styles x Reader

masterlist

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It started off as a normal night. Y/n had met this guy in class and he’d asked her out for drinks. She didn’t get any bad vibes from him, none of her friends had heard anything bad about him, so she deemed him a suitable guy to go have a fun night with.

She’d met him at a bar just off campus and was having a really great night! The pair were dancing and talking and laughing, genuinely enjoying herself for the first time in a long time on a first date.

In Y/n’s experience, usually guys were creeps and girls never decided she was what they were looking for, so she had a hard time in the dating world. This guy, Jack his name is, seemed ok. Keyword being seemed.

She should have known. When he asked to meet her at a bar all the way across town, she should have put it together that he wasn’t what she was looking for. He didn’t put up too big of a fight when she insisted they meet at the bar closer to campus, that way she would know people there and be in a familiar place if she needed to get away from him quickly.

When he started making comments that were off putting to her, things she doesn’t really want to repeat in fear of actually vomiting all over the table, she starts looking for a way out. He keeps trying to play footsie with her under the table and is getting visibly frustrated at her lack of participation, so she tells him she’s going to get them another round of drinks after finishing the one that was already on the table and quickly exits the booth before he can protest.

Harry had been watching from across the room at the bar, seeing this couple who looked like they were on a first date. He watched as they laughed and talked, getting to know each other. But as the night went on, it seemed the woman was getting more and more uncomfortable.

He had told his coworkers to keep an eye out for the two in case anything was to go down, and when he sees her get up and make her way over to his bar, he has a feeling he knows where this is going.

“What can I get for you, love?” He asks her, leaning over the counter to hear her better. She sniffles a little, and takes a deep breath. Leans in before timidly asking.

“Can I get an angel shot?”

Harry’s senses are quickly kicked into gear and he nods, gesturing to his coworker that he’s gonna get this taken care of before meeting her on the other side of the bar. What neither of them had realized was that 1. Jack was walking up to them and 2. he had slipped something into her drink apparently because suddenly she could barely hold her own body weight. Harry caught her before she hit the ground and Jack rushed over, playing the part of concerned boyfriend but the bartender saw right through it.

“Sir, I’m gonna have to ask you to back up.” He tells the man, authority very present in his voice. Jack doesn’t take well to this, eyebrows furrowing and voice lowering in defense.

“S’cuse me mate, but I’m gonna take my girl home. She’s had a few too many, f’you know what I mean.” He chuckles and goes to scoop her up. Harry stops him, putting a hand on the guy's chest, stepping between the girl and this guy.

“You'll do no such thing. This girl has obviously been roofied and it’s you she was running away from. The only thing you’ll be doing tonight is talking to the police, who are making their way in right now to do with you what they will.” Harry says, watching the color drain from this bloke's face. He turned around, ready to make a full run for it but was stopped by not only the police but also a crowd of other guys who heard what was going down and were ready to step in if assistance was needed.

“I didn’t do anything wrong here! She was trying to take advantage of me!” He cries as he’s put in handcuffs and taken away.

“Yeah, it’s obvious the one who’s passed out cold because she was drugged was trying to take advantage of you.” Harry yells after him before turning around and scooping the girl into his arms. Due to the commotion and the presence of not only police but also paramedics, the premises was cleared and the bar was shut down for the night. Harry held the passed out girl close to his body, having had his coworker fetch his jacket from the break room to keep her warm now that the club wasn’t filled with body heat, and waited for the paramedics to come in for her.

When they come in and place her on the gurney, she starts to stir. Little whines and groans escape from her and the EMT’s check her vitals, deeming her stable and letting Harry know she’s going to be ok. He decided to follow to the hospital just so she has a familiar face when she wakes up and has someone to explain her situation that isn’t a scary doctor.

. *

.

It’s a few hours of unrestful sleep at her bedside and his co-worker showing up with a change of clothes for him when she finally starts to come to.

Groaning and reaching up to hold her head but realizing her arms are too heavy to move, she rasps out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital,” Harry explains, wanting to reach out and hold her hand but not wanting to startle her, “You’re ok but the doctors wanted to keep you overnight for observation.”

“You’re the bartender I asked for the angel shot aren’t you?” She questions after a pregnant pause. He hums a confirmation and she looks over his face a few times, before tears well in her eyes.

“What happened?” A few tears fall from her eyes. She can’t remember much after leaving the table, just the sight of green eyes and curly brown hair nodding at her when she asked for the shot. The rest is pretty much a blur, just random flashes of scenes she can’t quite make out in her head.

“You came over and asked me for the shot and then a few minutes later you passed out. The bloke you were with slipped something in your drink. And unless something happened at the table that I didn’t see, then nothing else happened. Do you remember anything happening at the table?” He explains, hoping her answer is no.

He’d learned her name from the EMT’s who checked your ID once you were loaded into the ambulance but he didn’t know the name of the man she was with. He realizes she doesn’t know his name either.

“No, was just being a sleazy dick. I don’t know how he could have slipped me something, I didn’t get up before I went to you. Must’ve turned my head for a bit too long. God, I should’ve known this was gonna happen!” She groans but he shakes his head.

“You can’t blame yourself for this, darling! He’s a sleazeball, a no good lowlife. S’not your fault.”

“What’s your name?” She voices, peering into his pretty green eyes.

“M’Harry,” he smiles, timidly reaching for her hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly across the soft skin.

“Thank you for staying with me Harry! For helping me…” Y/n says quietly. He shakes his head with a small smile.

“No need to thank me, pet. Would do it over and over again.”

Her smile, while tired and defeated, was enough to show him her gratitude. She feels a weight lift off her chest, hearing that nothing bad happened after she got to him.

She knows it’s probably just nightingale syndrome, but Y/n thinks Harry is terribly adorable. With his messy brown curls and tired green eyes that make it look like he hasn’t slept in ages. She thinks she could see herself going out with him, which is an odd thought considering what happened last night. You’d think that would be enough to turn her off to men for good, but there's just something about him. But now isn’t the time to bring any of that up.

“I’ll call a nurse, tell em’ you’re awake.” He voiced, making his way to the door after gently placing her hand back on the bed.

. * .

“Ms. I’m just calling to let you know the restraining order has gone through. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Y/n felt a weight lift off her chest. After months of being harassed and stalked, she would finally be left alone. Harry leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, stroking the loose hair out of her face.

“S’ finally over, lovie. It’s all over!.” He whispered in her ear, pulling her closer to him, rubbing up and down her thighs. She felt tears spring to her eyes, tears of relief, tears of joy, but also tears of sadness because the last few months had been some of the hardest of her life. She was ready to move on and be done with this nightmare.

When Jack had found out Y/n and Harry got together after that night, it’s like it activated something inside him. Like he thought she was just playing hard to get and he had to literally stalk her to get her attention. He seemed to think she was playing a game. Somewhere in his twisted little mind he had the audacity to think she actually wanted him.

He’d sit right next to her every single class period and would get up and move next to her when she tried to get away with him. He’d show up at her house, sitting across the street just watching her front door, he’d call her phone and text her, he’d wait outside her other classes and follow her around campus. She complained to her university, told them what was going on and they didn’t really do anything. She went to campus security and they brushed it off because “She wasn’t in any danger. He just wants to get to know you.”

So she finally was forced to file a restraining order. Her case was still open, from when he got arrested that night at the bar. They're charging him with second degree assault and criminal harassment because apparently she’s not the only girl he’s done this to. Many other women had spoken up since news of that night had spread around campus. Yet still, the university did nothing.

Harry stood by you every step of the way, picking up the shattered pieces on hard days. He wanted to beat the shit out of this guy and he would if it wouldn’t interfere with the case. He knew you needed him and he didn’t want to chance anything.

There was a pregnant silence between the two lovers. Just letting the silence wash over them, letting themselves breath freely without this weight suffocating them, they basked in it.

It wasn’t completely over, because there was still a trial, but he wouldn’t be coming around without getting arrested again.

That was enough for Y/n to breathe easy.

[revenant-dumpster-fire]

Flower (Revenant x Reader)

[For AO3 archive, click here.]

Theme: Loneliness and depression are a painful but wicked combination after you have to talk about your past when you don’t want to. No matter how optimistic your friends might be, it doesn’t really fix anything.

Warnings: Graphic content, references to sex, references to past assault, references to noncon, male dominance, threats of violence, descriptions of violence, sharp objects, pain, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, depression, mania, fluff.

Reader's Notes: Revenant (Apex Legends) x Reader, reader is female.

Writing Notes: What the fuck is a plot?

Navigation:

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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You wake up to the sun fully over the skylight window, shining brightly into your eyes. You groan as you realize what time it must be. Closing your eyes only reminds you how thin your eyelids are, as the only color you see is a fleshy red rather than the lovely darkness you wish you could experience. You pull your arm over your eyes and experience the darkness again, if only for a few precious moments.

As you come to, you remember what you did last night and feel a weird sense of concern overcome you. That wasn't a dream, was it? You are lying here without clothes on, after all, and you don't exactly feel clean either. It definitely happened. You panic a little and jolt up in bed, holding the blanket to cover you as you scan the room. You're alone, and there's no sign of where Revenant could be.

You review the events of yesterday to yourself. You remember Revenant taking apart his old chassis and saving some of the parts from it. You remember teasing him until he tied you to a chair using his scarf, although you remember kinda deserving that. You snicker to yourself, remembering how he called you a "bully" to Sherry. Yes, you definitely bullied the giant, metal simulacrum built to kill. You remember Revenant left you pizza that was good enough that a blatant murder couldn't distract people from it, and then you remember chasing it down with too much vodka. You remember Revenant covered in blood at some point after that, then Pathfinder showing up, then falling asleep alone...? That last bit doesn't make much sense, but there was probably a decent reason for all those things happening together. Then you remember waking up in the middle of the night and definitely remember Revenant gently loving on you to the fullest extent.

You've never actually thought you'd be open to sex at all. Especially considering all you've been through, it's amazing you trusted Revenant enough to let him do that to you. You take a deep breath to yourself. It's too easy to be anxious about experiences like this, especially when they tread such a close line to your past traumas. In reality, you don't regret anything, you've just surprised yourself. The main concern now is why would Revenant run off immediately after a night like that?

Maybe you'll feel better after a shower and cleaning stuff up a bit. After all, you've learned that dwelling on discomfort only leads to more confusion and generally a breakdown. That's the last thing you need right now. No need to ruin something that should be a positive experience with an anxiety-riddled spiral into depression. Imagine losing your mind all because Revenant had some errand to run today. That would be silly.

You get out of bed and scurry to the bathroom, finding some used towels hanging to dry. You're not sure if they're the ones you used or the ones he used, but it doesn't really matter. He's made of metals, plastics, silicones, and PVCs. It's not like his towels are going to have anything gross on them. You grab the closest one and quickly change your mind when you notice the red streaks across it. That's blood, and it's not like it could possibly be his. You throw it to the corner of the tile floor to remind yourself to wash it later. The other towel must have been yours, because there's no blood on it and it's considerably drier than the other.

You turn the shower knobs and wait patiently for the water to warm up, taking a moment to brush your teeth while you wait. Ever since he went on a long tangent about shaving, you can't help but eye his razor case when you see it. You wouldn't dare touch it since you know how much it means to him, but you'd like to see it at some point. The steam starts to fog up the mirror, so you quickly finish with your teeth and jump in the shower. You rapidly clean yourself with as much soap as you can manage to lather into your hair and skin.

You nab the clean towel and dry yourself off, spending an excessive amount of time trying to dry your hair as much as possible. You made the right call, a hot shower helps a lot with anxiety. You leave the bathroom and rummage through your bag for the most comfortable pair of shorts and shirt you own. You notice you're a bit shaky and sore from the night before, but it's nothing you can't handle. As soon as you're dressed and your hair is brushed enough to be detangled, you consider yourself put together enough. Nothing wrong with a lax day for laundry and lounging about.

You grab the towels from the bathroom; the sheets, blanket, and pillowcases off the bed; your clothes you found in the corner of the room; a bloody old towel from the kitchenette; and a small pile of your dirty clothing from the past couple days and wrap them together in the comforter, dragging the giant makeshift bag of dirty laundry down the quiet hall into the laundry room. It seems like the trios match was as violent throughout as the ending was--there is not a soul in the hallway, meaning the infirmary must still be quite full. The only Legends you know are back from the match are the winners--Revenant, Wattson, and Wraith--as well as Pathfinder. That makes sense, after all Pathfinder just needs some repairs to be good as new since he's a MRVN, which can be performed hours after any match.

The laundry room has only one dryer running, echoing a mundane hum in the large room with the uncanny beat of the contents turning over repeatedly. You find a few washing machines in the far corner of the room and start separating the delicate items from the colors from the bleach-worthy whites. Thankfully, all the blood-soaked towels were once white, so they get a washing machine all their own along with the sheets. You pull the detergents and bleach out of the cabinet and start over-soaping all the loads, setting the timers to start each machine as they fill with hot water. Steam starts pouring into the room: commercial-quality washing machines are able to use tons of near-boiling water to sanitize anything inside of them. The room's vent fans kick in to try to keep the room's humidity low, but the fans will definitely struggle to keep up.

The door to the laundry room opens and Sherry shuffles in, bags under her eyes and likely hungover from a night of celebrating Wattson's victory. She's too foggy to notice you, so you shuffle over to her.

"Hey, Sherry! Drink too much last night?" You chime, Sherry weakly holding her head.

"Ugh, yes. And that stupid pizza didn't help. It was so perfectly greasy that I couldn't feel how drunk I was getting." She moans, making her way over to the only running dryer.

"So, this is all Revenant's fault then?"

"Absolutely, you and your stupid metal man always conspire to make me worry or drink myself into a stupor because of good pizza." She manages to put just a little sarcastic tone to her voice, but is clearly struggling through her headache. "So, why aren't you hungover? After what I saw yesterday, I was sure you'd bully Revenant into a drinking contest until he tied you to the ceiling vent."

You chuckle, it sounds almost too wild to be accurate, but you've learned that testing Revenant's limits always leads to the unexpected. Sherry continues, a sudden glint showing in her eye.

"So, since you didn't drink to celebrate, then you obviously must have--" 

"Sherry--!" You try to shout over her, knowing exactly where she's going with this.

A devilish look creeps across Sherry's face, almost wiping out her hungover grimace. She dashes away from you and towards the running washing machines, leaving you stunned just long enough that you can never hope to catch her. She throws the lids open of all three, pouring steam into the room and all over her face, but she doesn't wince at all. The hot steam almost seems to invigorate her more.

"Sheets! I fucking knew it!" She laughs maniacally, her face red and moist from shoving her face in the billowing plume of vapor. She slams the lids shut, letting them clang loudly as the agitators begin to whir back to life after being interrupted. "You did it! You finally did it!" She scurries back to you with the energy and erratic movements of a cockroach, finally reaching you to shove her finger against the tip of your nose. Her wicked grin is now in full form, only enhanced by the deep purple hues under her eyes.

"Sherry, it's not that big of a--" You start, trying to be honest but not let her go where she's definitely going.

"Ohohoho, yes it is! This is proof that you can move past your assault! It's huge! It means you're working past your traumas!" Her excitement makes her sound much louder than she actually is. "And it makes me feel so much better about this whole fling you're having, since Revenant was understanding of it all." She twirls away with her arms outstretched, as if to praise some unseen angels.

"Sherry, he doesn't know." You mumble half-heartedly, hoping she might ignore you. She whips her head back in a fury, which must hurt with her hangover.

"You didn't tell him anything?!" Now she's loud. "What were you thinking?! I get that you don't need to tell just anyone, but don't you think you should have told him so he'd know to take it slow?!" She grabs you by your cheeks and pivots your head to meet her eyeline. "What if he did something that caused a breakdown?! He wouldn't have had any clue why, and he wouldn't have been able to help you!"

"Sherry, it's oka--"

"No it isn't! That's not fair to either of you! You can't just let someone go waltzing through a minefield because you're not sure how to tell them that you had some fucked up shit happen to you!" She pulls you into a massive hug, shoving your face into her chest per usual, since it naturally lands there due to your height difference.

"I'm sorry, I don't want to yell at you, but you seriously need to be careful." She softens, sighing as she realizes you're shivering a little. "Look, if you don't know how to tell him, I will do it for you."

"Thanks, but I think I have to do it." You sigh, recognizing she's right. "Honestly though, the only thing I remember is the rag and then waking up in the hospital." You pull away from her, ensuring she can hear you clearly.

"I know you may not think it's a big deal since you can't remember much, but what happened to you is absolutely traumatizing." Sherry wipes away a tear you didn't even feel escape your eyes. "Seriously, if you really like Revenant, you should tell him what you remember and what you know, even if it's hard." Now you feel the emotional hurt, and you hate this. Everything was fine, but now it isn't, and you're struggling to keep your composure.

"I wish I didn't have to. I don't like talking about it. I didn't even do anything wrong, I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Why do I have to confess it like it's some crime I committed? It's not fair!" Now you start to cry, and Sherry hugs you again, drying your tears with her shirt. She pets your head and hair, trying to comfort you in any way she can.

"Like I said, I'll do it if you need me to." She sighs while holding you tight. You don't intend to pull away until you've calmed yourself anyway. "I guess you don't really have to tell him, but I really think you should..." She trails off, trying to undo any harshness from before. You feel her face bury into your hair as she holds you closer.

You manage to pull yourself together, the despair slowly releasing its hold on you, even if the sense of doom does not. You have no idea how you're going to tell Revenant anything. How do you even start such a conversation? What if he thinks you should have told him before, like Sherry does? Will he feel betrayed? Or will he understand? The knot in your gut stiffens more.

Sherry holds you until you naturally pull away, rubbing your eyes and now looking worse than the hungover woman in front of you. Sherry looks at you with very concerned eyes that betray her wary smile, clearly trying to cheer your spirits despite her honest concerns.

"I'm sure it will be okay. After all, you managed to open up to him already in a way." Sherry sheepishly encourages you, placing her hand on your shoulder. She takes a deep breath, clearly feeling her aches again, but continues to try to bring you back from the brink of despair. "I bet you opened up real nice for him last night, didn't you?" Her teasing is missing its usual edge, but you can't help but appreciate her effort. You chuckle a little at how hard she tries.

"Didn't have to when he can do it for me." You banter back, taking pity on her weakened state.

"Your little rendezvous must have made quite the mess to have to wash the whole bed, huh?" You shouldn't have given her the inch, she fully plans to take a mile.

"Sherry, why must you do this to me?" You ask, rolling your eyes, turning away to help her with her laundry in the dryer. She could use the help, there's no way she feels well.

"Did he pull out? Is that why you needed to wash the whole bed?" She pauses as you actively try to ignore her, pulling her miscellaneous clothing from the dryer and placing it on top of the machine. Sherry doesn't quit. "Wait, if he's mechanical, can he even cu--"

"Sherry! That's gross!" You interrupt her.

"The pursuit of knowledge isn't gross!" Her energy is back now that she's found a foxhole she plans to dig into. "Anyways, you're the one who holds this forbidden knowledge! Now spill it!" She pauses, "Literally, if you must."

"For fuck's sake Sherry, why are you like this?!" You yell at her through a genuine laugh. No matter how gross that statement is, it is also really funny. You feel a little better, but the knot in your stomach remains.

She grabs a shirt out of the clumped up pile and folds it with zero care or grace. It might as well be a glorified knot. She puts it down and grabs for another, not caring at all to fold anything well. You help her fold, but actually do it correctly.

"So? Spill it!" She insists after making a few knotted clothes. You sigh, frustrated but unwilling to fight her.

"Yeah, I guess he had something in him. Probably the same slick stuff those synthetic refills are made of that you can get for prosthetics. Not that I could really tell anyway, it felt like any other liquid would in there." You mumble quietly.

"Heheheheh, gross." She giggles.

You throw the warm pair of pajama pants you're holding square in her face for that one.

• • • •

You're sitting on the bench in the laundry room, a pile of Sherry's properly folded clothes off to the side and Sherry herself snoring against your shoulder. She promised to stay with you while you wait for your laundry to finish, but you're not sure how helpful it is for her to snore in your ear and drool on your shoulder. She didn't manage to stay awake for long after she sat down with you, but this was inevitable with how hungover she is. Sometimes it really is best to sleep it off whenever possible, although you worry about her hydration. You'll wake her up if you really need to move, and then you'll get her a sports drink or something when you do.

At this point you've moved your laundry into a dryer. The commercial grade washing machines are insanely fast, but drying can only work so quickly. You might be here for a bit, whether you like it or not. Properly folding all of Sherry's clothes kept you occupied for a little while, but now all you have left to keep you company are your thoughts and the sounds of Sherry's snores.

You wonder to yourself why you're so worried over talking about your past with Revenant. You've been dismissive of it this whole time, but to be fair he has never pressed you on it either. You've told him you were homeless and used to date one of the other women in the shelter, but you didn't tell him that she eventually found a way out of poverty. You had to break up with her so she could move on. You didn't fully explain that your past relationship was so you could always stick together and watch out for each other. You definitely didn't tell him how you ended up homeless in the first place, and certainly not what happened to you after the breakup. In truth, you don't want to talk about it. You don't like being a victim of circumstance, modern societal failures, and a criminal underbelly that intentionally preys on people like you. Everyone who's unfortunate enough to be born into this cybernetic hellscape has a story or two that could curdle blood, and you're no different. Heck, you're sure Revenant has plenty too.

The fact of the matter is, you're alive and able to tell the tales of your past, which is better than the slew of victims, predators, and petty criminals alike that are missing or buried in shallow graves. It almost feels disrespectful to the slew of dead and abandoned individuals to complain since you've survived and gotten somewhere better. There's no way you can deny that you've won the jackpot by getting to work for the Apex Games, let alone getting hired and getting so close to one of the Legends themselves. Who are you to complain? You know that feeling shame for getting out of your situation isn't how you should feel--after all, everyone should have a right to talk about their past and experiences--but you can't shake the feeling of survivor's guilt that ebbs away at you.

You put your arm around Sherry and rub her opposite shoulder, but she doesn't wake up. She's really the reason you're out of the trenches of modern society at all. She secured you this job which gave you everything you could need, rent free. The tips from the Legends have let you save up money to escape when this opportunity falls through. Even moreso, Sherry didn't drop the offer for the job when you were hospitalized; in fact, she doubled down on making sure you got the position. You have no idea how much harder she had to work to get you here while you recovered for months, and you've always been afraid to ask. You almost don't want to know the debt you owe her, since you'd spend your whole life trying to pay her back. Sherry probably wouldn't want you to do that either; she's just so happy to have someone she can treat like a sister again.

The door to the laundry room opens again, snapping you out of you pondering.

"Skinsuit! There you are! I've been looking for you." Revenant swiftly makes his way over to you. He's holding a plastic bag, clearly with something inside. He towers over you, looking down at you and the drooling sloth latched to your side.

"Oh, sorry, I was just doing laundry." You mumble, caught in his bright, LED eyes.

"Skinsuit." He pauses, likely seeing your blank stare. You take a moment to come out of your adoring trance, shaking your head a little to clear your thoughts.

"Sorry, what's wrong?"

"We need to talk." The knot in your stomach falls deeper and yanks your gut down with it. Those are the worst words in the world, and the catastrophic thoughts in your head immediately start to wind up. Before you can even finish processing your thoughts, Revenant has picked Sherry up and off of you, laying her down on the bench. She doesn't even stir, she just snores louder now that she's lying flat. Revenant grabs your wrist and hoists you to your feet. "Come, now." His voice is so foreboding.

"Wait, the laundry isn't done yet." You pull back, resisting his grasp on you. You don't want to confront whatever he's upset about. It could be anything, and you just don't want to hear whatever words will inevitably hurt you.

Revenant doesn't release your wrist, but he grips it harder, forcing you forward and closer to him.

"I'm not asking." His eyes are terrifying points, the most intense look he can give, and he's staring straight at you. "Come. Now."

He doesn't give you time to even step forward before he starts dragging you. You trip over your feet as you try to regain your balance. He takes you out of the room and down the long hallways.

You panic. What the hell did you do? Does he regret last night? Did you accidentally hurt or insult him? What on earth does he want to talk to you about? Is he going to fire you and treat you like a nobody again? How could you possibly still work here if he cuts ties? You'll be traumatized every time you see him. What the hell did you do?

He drags you into his room. You could throw up you're so stressed. He drags you to the bare mattress and flings you down onto it. You try to fall into a sitting position, but fail and roll onto your back. He's standing over you, the intense look still hardened on his visage. He throws the bag to the side, its contents smacking the side table hard.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to upset you!" You practically cry, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. You hold your hands in front of you instinctively. He's breathing so rapidly, he must be livid. What the hell did you do?

"Skinsuit." His voice isn't angry, his heavy and rapid breathing isn't rage. He's clearly upset, but not enraged at you. He almost sounds sad. "Who tried to kill you?"

You hold your breath, staring at him. Time passes, but you don't know how to answer. Finally, Revenant hunches forward to get closer to you, slipping a claw under your shirt and against your abdomen.

"This isn't a surgical scar. This is a stab wound from a kitchen knife." He sounds calm again, but you're still too locked up to answer him. "I wasn't sure until I saw the other four scars."

His hands glide to another place on your abdomen on the opposite side, then to an area of your lower rib cage, a second under your breast, and one near your clavicle. He brushes each one carefully before pulling you up into a sitting position to meet his eyes.

"What happened?" His face is right in front of you. You didn't realize this is how you were going to have to tell him, let alone that the scars are what he'd latch on to. He sighs, not getting a word out of you yet.

He stands up and sits down next to you on the side of the bed. He's so damn heavy that he creates a pit in the mattress that sucks you towards him. You land against his arm, which wraps around your back and holds you close.

"Don't panic, I just want to know what happened." He states, keeping as monotone as possible. You can sense that he's actually quite upset still, but is likely trying to make sure you don't feel like the target of his ire.

You're still having trouble reigning in all the anxiety, catastrophic thoughts, depressed ideations, and traumatized fear to yourself. If you speak now, nothing is going to make sense and you might start to cry instead. His hold is reassuring, but it's not enough to stop your brain from running on all threads against your will. You feel yourself shaking against his metal frame, trying to come up with an extra bit of bandwidth to talk, but unable to muster any.

You hear him sigh as he notices you struggling. He pulls you further into the gravity sink he's created in the mattress edge and leans into you, intentionally rattling his artificial lung pumps in your ear. He gives you a few minutes to try to gather yourself before he decides to intercede.

He holds your chin and forces you to face him. His LED eyes are bright and much more relaxed than before, and the sight of him calms you down quite a bit. You almost forget what you are even thinking about; only a single, lucid line of thought still runs in your head. Your shuddering stops, and you feel clear enough to speak again. You take a deep breath, and you let yourself speak.

"Right after my ex and I went our separate ways and I met Sherry, I would walk between here and the homeless shelter so I could keep on top of getting this job." You lower your head to look away, so Revenant withdraws his hand from your chin. "I guess some gang was watching me and saw an opening one night. I got grabbed from behind and they put a rag on my face, but when I went to scream I woke up in the ICU instead." You pause. "I don't remember anything, but they told me I had been--"

"You don't have to say it." Revenant interrupts before your voice cracks from the thought. You sigh, grateful for the reprieve.

"I guess they decided to kill me and dump me in a ditch out in the Dust, probably hoping a pack of prowlers would destroy the evidence." Your voice tremolos as you struggle to put together experiences you don't remember. "They nearly succeeded. I almost bled out in the ditch, but a Hammond employee found me on his way home from a late night at the office and got me to a hospital." You feel numb, but your voice betrays you. "They destroyed one of my lungs, managed to slit open my digestive tract in a few places, barely missed both my jugular and subclavian veins at once, and hit me directly in the liver and popped one of my kidneys. I should have died."

You sit there for a moment, gathering your thoughts. Revenant respects the silence and waits for you to continue.

"The Hammond employee who found me donated a bunch of their prototyped synthetic organs to replace mine. One of my lungs, one of my kidneys, and my liver are Hammond prototypes of the ones currently on the market. I also have some of their experimental silicone meshes holding together the digestive tract in the multiple places it was sliced open. I don't think I would have recovered without them."

"How are they holding up?" Revenant asks, carefully pushing his hand against your chest on the side with the artificial lung.

"I haven't noticed any problems, not to say that I know what that would feel like." You place your hand over his, gently touching the Hammond Robotics logo etched into the plate on the back of his hand. It has giant gashes in it, as if he's tried to scratch it off at some point. If this is a new chassis, he must have scratched it out very recently.

"So they used you as a guinea pig for their prototypes?" Revenant growls. "Typical."

"I never thought about it like that. It's not like I could afford synthetics anyway, let alone real ones. It felt like a blessing." You run your fingers over each jagged metal scratch on his metal plates carefully. "I would have died if Hammond hadn't donated them."

"Not to scare you, but be careful with the deals you make with those devils." Revenant's hand pushes harder into your chest.

"I didn't make any deals, I wasn't even asked. They just put them in and sewed me up." You mumble, concerned by his apparent disgust for his own manufacturer.

"Of course they didn't even ask. Silly me." His voice is low and dripping with hatred. You start to pull away from him in fear, but he notices and pulls you back gently. He wraps his arms around you completely and his chin rests on your head. You're not going anywhere at this point. "I'm not angry with you. You're a victim in all this." His voice is softer, but it's a ruse. His lungs are labored with rage and you can feel the tension in his body. You let the silence fall for a moment.

"Revenant, are you okay?" You whimper from under his grasp, unsure of yourself. You feel his fingers turn to points and grip you, but carefully angled not to puncture you.

"I have a lot of work to do." His voice is low and hateful again, his words equally as ominous. His voice jumps back to something softer to address you. "Do you remember anything about the men who chloroformed you? Or when it happened?"

"I'm sorry, it's all really fuzzy." You shake your head a little, in case he can't hear your quiet whisper. He growls, clearly caught up in his thoughts, determined to find a way to narrow down his search. "Does it really matter?" You ask, unsure of what he plans to do.

"Yes, it's important." He huffs for a moment, gathering his thoughts. "I'm going to give you the entrails of every punk who violated you as a gift, and I'm going to pry Hammond's claws off of you before it's too late."

"Wait, you don't have to--"

"You used up your pardon, skinsuit. Now, I am the sole judge, jury, and executioner in this case." He sounds so livid, you can't help but shrink under him and hope none of his wrath is aimed in your direction.

The silence falls again, spare for his blood curdling huffs of rage. He slowly calms himself, likely with some kind of plan on what to do.

"Skinsuit, did they kit you when you were at the hospital?"

"Of course, but there's not a universal DNA database of criminals in the Outlands, assuming it was even entered into one at all. As a gang they might have connections. Either way, it didn't amount to anything. Plus, there was a lot of different DNA..." You trail off, shuddering at your own words and trying not to vomit up the pit in your stomach. Revenant grips you tightly in response to your quivering.

"Skinsuit, I need you to listen to me. I will handle this. I don't want you to worry about it anymore." His voice is determined and steadfast.

"I wasn't worried about it before, I just didn't know how I was going to tell you any of this." You manage to get out as you choke back stressful tears. "I was worried you'd be upset that I didn't tell you earlier."

He locks eyes with you from above, but you avert yours. His LEDs are bright enough that you know he's staring at you, trying to gauge your emotional state. Sure, maybe you are upset by the whole ordeal. Maybe it is why you struggle so much with despair. Maybe it is the event that broke you emotionally. But you don't want to dredge it up any more than you have to. It's hard enough telling him this, why does he need to make it into a mission?

"Your heart rate is spiking." You hear him dryly state. You cower deeper into his frame. "Don't be so nervous, like I said, I'll handle it from here."

Something in your head pops and you feel the unmistakable taste and heat of anger overtake you. Mania shows up for a mere few moments, in an attempt to bring righteous indignation to the fray.

"Handle what?! It's not like you can just undo what happened! What's the point? Just pretend like I didn't say anything!" You pull away from him and stand up, but he holds onto your wrist, only allowing you to get arm's length from him. "You can't just assassinate every problem into oblivion! It doesn't work like that!" You're staring down a simulacrum that has single handedly spilt more blood than in all the people you've met in your lifetime, but for this rage induced moment, you don't care. "Heck, if you really want to erase the problem, kill me! Because then nobody has to deal with it! That's what was supposed to happen! But I just had to get lucky at the worst time imaginable!" Your lungs empty out from yelling.

He reels back in shock, releasing your wrist. You have nowhere to go, so you just hover there, staring him down. In this fleeting moment, you have bested the Revenant. You are in charge, but only for a mere moment in time. The anger peters out and sadness overwhelms you in its place. Tears start flowing before you even start to vocalize your pain. The moment has ended. You hurriedly collapse to your knees on the floor and bury your face in your hands, trying to hide yourself as you cry. You hate it when this happens. Immediately after you get angry enough to snap, you regret everything and collapse into a sobbing mess. Every time. You just openly confessed you wish you had died instead. You asked Revenant to kill you instead. On top of it all, now you're crying on the floor like you didn't just say something heinous to him.

You gasp for air between your desperate attempts to suppress your cries, which leak out as sorrowful whimpers instead. You feel his palm on your head, but you can't bear to look up at him. He gives you a moment, possibly hoping you will collect yourself, but he gives up quickly. He kneels down beside you and you hear the clangs of his scarf straps coming loose. You feel his scarf wrap around your face like a hood, absorbing the wayward tears and helping hide your face. He bunches up the extra scarf around your shoulders and loosely ties the buckled straps to hold it to you. He reaches into the hood and holds your hands that are pressed against your face, intentionally fluttering his fingers around yours to wipe away tears. He withdraws, wraps his arms underneath you, and lifts you in his arms. He doesn't even struggle to lift you, remaining completely unwavering.

You feel him carry you out of the room and down the hallway, back towards the laundry room. You pull his scarf completely over your face, trying to calm your cries to be as quiet as possible. Your labored breathing is the only audible indicator of your tears now. You feel his arms push up against the swinging door to the laundry room before feeling the humidity difference wash over you as he enters. You hear the sound of Sherry still snoring on the bench. Revenant carries you towards the back of the room and gently places you on one of the still-warm dryers. You feel him open the front-loading door on the dryer and pull out the load of laundry, doing the same to the second dryer next to you. As the door clicks shut, you hear Sherry stir and wake up, moaning a little in protest.

"Oh, hey, is she okay?" She sleepily addresses Revenant.

"She needs time." A fairly honest dodge, but not really an answer to her question.

"I guess she told you while I was out, huh?" Sherry sighs, yawning afterwards. Revenant stops moving next to you for a moment.

"You knew?" He doesn't sound mad, simply intrigued.

"Of course, I lied and told them I was her biological sister so I could get into the hospital and stay with her." Sherry sounds sad, reflecting on it. "I had no idea she walked alone between here and the shelter. Had I known, I would have called a cab or just done the interviews over the phone..." She trails off, regaining her composure. "After that, I fudged everything to get her this job so she could escape that life."

"Do you remember any details of that night?" Revenant asks with piqued intrigue.

"Of course, I couldn't forget even if I wanted to." You rarely hear Sherry sound so deep in self-shame. You wish she would accept that it wasn't her fault, but you also know that's easier said than done.

"I'll speak to you about it later, then." You jump a little as his hand caresses your arm. You're too withdrawn in his scarf to see anything, so you have no warning when he touches you. Your startled wince doesn't seem to bother him, as he locks his arm around yours, allowing him to continue working with his hands. He must be folding some of the laundry, or at least trying. You can't imagine he's well-versed in the practice.

"You're going to try to find those guys?" Some hope returns to Sherry's voice.

"I will." He doesn't hesitate and he has no doubts. As an assassin he must have some sleuthing skills. He's more than proven himself to be clever, at the least. You still don't want him to bother, though. It doesn't fix what happened, but maybe it could save someone else, at the least.

"Hey! What the hell?" You hear Revenant shout as he withdraws his arm from you and staggers backwards. You pull your face out of the scarf to see Sherry hugging a very confused Revenant.

"Eviscerate them and hang them by their fucking entrails." Sherry mumbles before letting go, and turning to you. "I hope you don't mind, he earned it." She smiles through her exhausted expression, giving you a quick hug too. She pulls away and shuffles to her folded stack of laundry, picking it up and making her way out of the room. Revenant watches her exit with concentrated attention before turning to you.

"Never thought I'd have a second idiot asking me for a favor." He huffs, stepping back over to you. He reaches into the scarf and holds your cheek for a moment, locking eyes with you. "No worries though, you're my first and favorite idiot." His intense determination has melted back down to a teasing vitriol. You let your head tilt into his palm approvingly, letting some wayward tears drip onto him.

He pulls his hand back slowly, intentionally tugging the scarf back to cover your face so you can't see. You're startled when you feel a pile of warm, clean laundry land in your lap.

"Hold this." You hear him instruct as you feel him pick you back up. You wrap your arms around the pile of sheets, clothes, and towels, doing your best to prevent any from falling out of your grip. He carries you, buried in a pile of warm laundry, all the way back to the room before lightly dropping you onto the bare mattress. You let the laundry bury you, enjoying the warmth.

"Why did I even try to fold anything...?" You hear Revenant mumble as he reaches in and pulls you upright, undoing his scarf from you. You let him pull it off of you, but don't bother to watch him put it back on himself. You prefer to bury yourself back in the warm pile of clothing, messing them up further. You hear his buckles lock down on his chassis as he walks away. "I have some leads to follow up on, stay there until I find you a babysitter." The door slams before you can sit up and ask him what he means. He's already gone. He can disappear as quickly as he can appear, climbing walls and collapsing himself into vents and nooks. Even though he used the door this time, it never ceases to scare you a little.

You wish he would just stay around and not leave. Considering how hard it was to even explain what exactly happened to you when you were attacked, you had hoped he would realize being left alone is the worst possible thing. Although, maybe he does realize this, and is getting Sherry to stay with you. Still, you'd rather it be him. It feels like a cop out for him to just leave you with her, but maybe he's also dealing with some emotions too. Unfortunately, you're worried he thinks he can somehow undo everything that happened to you with a bloodbath of vengeance.

You sigh, getting up and looking at the disheveled pile of laundry. You begin to toss your wads of clothing into your duffel bag. No point in folding any of it, it's not like you own anything nice. As you pick through, some appear to be partially folded but his claws had poked some holes in them. Well, at least it's all cheap and replaceable. You toss them into the bag anyway, right now you don't have time to get new ones. You fold the towels and place them in the bathroom, nicely folded and ready to be used again. You take the one odd rag to the kitchenette, finding the drawer full of its siblings and placing it nicely.

Finally, you make the bed. It's an annoying and cumbersome process when you're working alone--the beds here are so big you have to do laps around it to get all the sheets and blanket right. However, you refuse to cut corners, and get it done pretty quickly. The majority of your past few years here have been focused on housekeeping, so you consider yourself quite adept and efficient at it. After throwing on the pillowcases and making a small mound of plush pillows to jump on later, you consider it done.

With nothing left to do, you decide to jump on the pillow mound early, burying yourself in it.

Almost as soon as you get comfortable, the door swings back open.

"Skinsuit! Meet your friend for the day!" Revenant sounds oddly sadistic, but why?

You turn around to meet eyes with a single, red, optical bulb.

"Hello, new friend! I'm Pathfinder, and I am a MRVN!" He waves at you as if you're not a mere few yards away. You actually already know Pathfinder, but he tends to forget who you are regularly. Maybe it's from getting damaged in the Apex Games? Or perhaps it's since he's only ever met you in passing before. After all, there's never been a good reason for him to remember you until now. "Very nice to meet you, Skinsuit!"

Revenant fights back a chortle as Pathfinder gets your name so morbidly wrong. You have no reason to correct him, though, after all you never had parents to give you a real name. You've been trying on different names for decades. 'Skinsuit' just seems to fit this stage of your life, weirdly enough.

"After our misunderstanding yesterday, I decided to make it up to him by introducing you two." Revenant explains to you, his hands gesturing sarcastically. Misunderstanding is one way to put it. "He's going to make sure you don't hurt, maim, kill, or otherwise damage yourself while I'm gone."

"Yes! I don't let friends do any of those things!" Pathfinder pipes up excitedly, probably not even realizing the subtext of what Revenant is implying.

Revenant must be holding on to your self-destructive rant from earlier. That explains why he's keeping some distance. You wish you could take it back, but words don't work like that. You still can't ignore it and let it stand, though.

"Rev, I'm sorry." You blurt out, not caring what Pathfinder might think. Revenant locks eyes with you for a moment, looking slightly less on-edge than before, but still quite tense. His pause doesn't last long, as his manipulative performance must go on for Pathfinder.

"There's nothing to apologize for. " He shrugs with heavy exaggeration, even though he clearly knows what you're referring to. "Just don't be a liability." He turns to Pathfinder, who has been listening intently. "Try to keep her safe, you wouldn't want to get me in trouble if she gets hurt, would you?"

"Absolutely not, brother!" He salutes, seemingly aloof to the tension in the air.

With that, Revenant disappears behind the closing door and is gone again.

Cool, more metal friends you didn't ask for. Well, the first one went well, maybe this won't be so bad.

"You said the right thing." Pathfinder suddenly sounds more serious, even if it still has an unmistakable twinge of optimism. "He seemed upset. I think you made him feel better."

"Wait, you saw through that?" You're dumbfounded, what is with all the perceptive robots in this place?

"He always acts like that for me, but I don't mind. He only does it for me, so we must be like brothers!" Okay, maybe he's not working with a perfectly clear perspective, but still. "And he wouldn't try to get me to watch you if he didn't value you, so I will do this as a favor to him." The screen on his chest emotes a heart-eyed smiling face. "He was very upset when he thought I had figured out his secret, so you must be a very good friend to be a secret friend!"

"Wait, you saw me yesterday?" Is this MRVN a genius and pretending to be unassuming, or somehow a perfectly naïve clairvoyant? He's able to hide his power of perception from Revenant, so he can't be stupid.

"Of course! I have sensors that pick up on heat and vital signs. But you were clearly hiding, so I did not want to ruin your fun."

Fun? Oh, he's so perfectly naïve, or you're falling for a perfectly executed feign. Whichever it is, Pathfinder is a little scary in the exact opposite manner that Revenant is. Revenant may be a homicidal simulacrum with deeply human roots, but his intentions are fairly obvious and any malice he has is clear cut and concise. Pathfinder is much more confusing, clearly more intelligent than he lets on, but so perfectly optimistic that he comes off as non-threatening. Despite that impression, you've seen Pathfinder take down some of the scariest Legends over the years, often with a near-condescending air of playful joy while doing so. When Revenant kills, the bloodlust is sensible, but playfulness? It's somehow scarier.

"Are you okay, friend? You seem nervous. Did I say something bad?" His emote shows a distressed face.

"Sorry, I just get caught up in thought sometimes. What did you want to do for fun?" You figure he won't hurt you, even if you can't completely figure him out.

"Well, what do you and Revenant usually do for fun?" His emote brightens into a smile again as you grimace internally. He's either wholly unaware or viscously teasing you.

"How about we do something else? Let's..." You think, what would be nice to do? You're a bit hard pressed to come up with anything fun.

"We could bring flowers to people in the infirmary!" He pipes up happily. It's not a bad idea, really.

"Sure! I actually wanted to visit the second place Legends, if that's okay. Fuse is so nice and so is Bloodhound. Caustic... probably won't mind." You've never really met Caustic, but you know he has a reputation for being grumpy.

• • • •

You walk out into the hidden atrium behind Pathfinder's room. You knew this was here, but nobody ever comes out here to your knowledge. The doors lock if you're not careful to keep them open, so the risk of being locked outside tends to lead most to avoid the area entirely, even though it connects two wings more efficiently than the hallways.

It's full of flowers of all types, sizes, and colors. The arrangement is chaotic and seemingly random, but the lusciousness of the plants more than makes up for it. The ground flowers are blooming and have various bee species hovering around, seemingly at peace with one another. There are a few small trees reaching around eight or nine feet high and giving a little shade. One has flowers, another has berries, and yet another has some kind of unripe fruit. It's truly breathtaking, and completely undisturbed after years of being left alone by the other Legends.

"You did all this?" You ask aloud, completely in awe of the secret oasis.

"Yes! Do you like it? We can pick some flowers from here!" Pathfinder seems especially happy to be sharing this with someone.

"It's beautiful." You mutter, still captivated by how mythical this little cut of land feels.

"Thank you! I have been meaning to show Revenant, but he will never chase me this far." Pathfinder shuffles over to an area and pulls up Revenant's abandoned bovine skull from the last match with a giant chipped gash in the forehead. He's filled in the bottom and red rose buds have been replanted in the eye holes. A large snail is making its way around the gash with its mossy shell, making for an artistic arrangement. "I am really proud of this one. I felt bad his new suit was destroyed, so I wanted to keep a part of it for him. Once the roses grow, it will look really nice!"

You're impressed. Revenant seems to have some kind of distaste for Pathfinder, and you're beginning to understand why. Pathfinder is scary. He's terrifyingly kind. If your guard isn't up at all times, he will reach a deep part of you and break down your defenses in an instant. When the entirety of the Outlands treats people as disposable assets and teaches everyone to trust as few people as possible, this MRVN will treat anyone like they truly matter, like they are truly cared for, and like they are capable of great things. It's dangerous to believe those things in this universe. That's how you get victimized, abandoned, and let down. Yet, this MRVN manages to hold on to these beliefs about himself and others, and he isn't broken, dead, or an abandoned shell.

Revenant, like you, can't adhere to those beliefs. The universe has spoken, and it says otherwise. Yet, it feels nice to indulge in the feeling of mattering, even if only for a few hours. Is that why he chose Pathfinder? Of course, Pathfinder is the living opposite of a suicidal ideation, after all. Maybe Revenant knew that.

"Stupid, clever jerk." You mumble out loud.

"Me?" Pathfinder has a confused emote as he points to himself.

"Oh, sorry, no, I meant someone else." You pause, switching subjects. "It's really nice of you to reuse his favorite chassis like this. I think it's really pretty, even if he never sees it."

"Thank you, friend!" His happy emote is back, and he waves you over to another area. "Have you seen this chassis? It's my favorite!"

You walk over and follow him to see a rounded red, purple, and white chestplate that has been cracked and shattered, but loosely put back together. It has the word "Thunder" and the number "81" written on it, as well as a unique mask attached to it. This mask doesn't look like any skull you've seen before, human or otherwise, but still has a bony texture. It appears to have hooks near the chin, perhaps where it was attached to the exoskeleton, as well as unusual leather bags under the eyes. It looks perpetually tired and angry, but you definitely can't say you've seen him wear this before. The chestplate is closed over an old wood stump and beautiful mushrooms have sprung to life in the darkness and reached beyond the chassis to meet the light. His mask has a particularly colorful fungus growing on it, happily latching onto the porous material more easily than the chestplate. It's gorgeous, but you wish you could see this chassis on him too.

"No, I've never seen this one before... I haven't seen him wear it in the games either. What is it?" You ask, curious why he would have such an odd chassis in his repertoire.

"He uses it when we spar! I don't think he uses it much otherwise."

"You two spar?" You're surprised. Maybe Revenant also finds excuses to dabble in the feeling of mattering sometimes.

"Yes! Not too often, I think he gets frustrated that I am an excellent boxer. I have tried to let him win, but he doesn't like that." Your eyes widen. Pathfinder can outclass Revenant in a sparring match? This guy really is scary. "You should come sometime!"

You look back at the busted chassis. Was Revenant knocked out of this one with a blow from Pathfinder? You knew all MRVN are particularly sturdy and powerful, but you never really felt it until now. You're a helpless ragdoll full of easily exploitable and fatal flaws to Revenant, but you never even considered that perspective when around Pathfinder. Now you do.

"You can really beat Revenant?" You mumble aloud, not intending it as a real question.

"When we only use our fists, yes! I don't think I could beat him if he was allowed to use his stabbing hands. He is getting better though!" He doesn't acknowledge your apparent fear, simply giving a chipper answer. "Whiplash to the neck is a weak point in his design. He is learning that he can't let me land an uppercut. You should come watch sometime! I bet he would fight harder with you there!"

The thought of Pathfinder knocking out Revenant with an uppercut is unbelievable to you. You almost want to know if it's really possible.

"I will, if you're both okay with it." You look up at Pathfinder, who immediately makes a happy clapping motion.

"Yes! I look forward to it!"

"Do you have any more insider information on his other suits?" You ask, curious how many he has seen.

"He's told me about some, but I haven't seen them yet. Only some special colored versions of his normal one." He looks upwards as if to think, the emote on his screen changing to match. You've seen some of the other colors in past games, but never in person. You hope he has a lot of different suits, especially since they tend to alter his personality a little. You wonder what his sparring suit does to him.

"We are here to visit Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic!" Pathfinder chirps, flashing his ID badge. You place yours on the counter as well, as the receptionist scans them both. You know the receptionist, Carol's been here a long time, and she's used to seeing volunteers come through to visit the Legends.

"Let's pick some flowers for the others, then maybe we can talk some more." You want to make sure you get to see the second place team, knowing the extent of their injuries is well beyond simple gunshots wounds. Revenant had run Caustic and Fuse through completely, and probably broke many of Bloodhound's bones. You're a little worried for all of them.

• • • •

You and Pathfinder approach the receptionist in the infirmary wing, holding three unique bunches of flowers. You couldn't find vases, so they're propped up in glass soda bottles filled with water. It may be a cheap alternative to a proper vase, but the flower quality makes up for it.

She starts to laugh after scanning your badge.

"Little Skinsuit? Is that what you're going by now?" She prods. "Also, I didn't know Revenant liked anyone enough to have a direct hire. I guess all that dedication to the grump-machine paid off, huh? Congrats!" She's very nice, and doesn't pry further than that.

"I'm not going to tell Revenant what not to call me, that would be asking for trouble. But thank you! It only took four seasons and figuring out his favorite liquor." You take your ID back.

"Ha! Leave it to you to make your way up in the world through the craziest means possible. Revenant still scares the heck out of me. Today was the first time I've ever seen him visit anyone, though. Maybe he's softening up." She spins a little in her chair thinking about it. "Anyway, tell Sherry I said 'hi' when you see her next!"

"Will do! Thanks Carol!" You chime back, walking past the desk with your arms full of bouquets, Pathfinder following behind. Why would Revenant have come by here earlier? That's very odd.

As you turn the corner, you see the names of the currently admitted Legends on each of the doorways. There are not many left, it seems like most were discharged this afternoon. Fuse, Bloodhound, and Caustic are all still here though.

Caustic's room is the closest, but you'd rather wait to deal with him last. You haven't met him, and those who have aren't usually treated well apparently. He almost has as bad of a reputation as Revenant, but Sherry has always been able to interact with him reasonably. She told you it had something to do with being close to Wattson, but that doesn't make much sense to you.

"Let's see Fuse first." You say, carefully making your way to Fuse's door. You knock lightly before you hear his booming voice welcome you.

"Door's unlocked, mate!" He barely sounds injured. As you open the door, you see Fuse grinning widely and sitting upright in bed. He's in a hospital gown, chest exposed to reveal a massive but sewed up and sealed wound. "Oy, you brought me flowers! How kind of ya." He's absolutely beaming for someone with a massive hole in his chest.

"Sorry we came so late in the afternoon, I just wanted to visit and make sure you were okay." You fumble over your words, not sure how else to admit you were worried about him and the others. Let alone that it's partially an apology for Revenant absolutely skewering him.

"Not a problem, I see you brought a different metal fellow with ya t'day." He motions to a table beside him, where you place the flowers.

"Good to see you again Fuse, I am glad to see you are recovering well." Pathfinder chirps, forever positive.

"So, sheila, how is the angry feller?" Right, he knows about you and Revenant.

"He's, uh, under some stress, but nothing he can't handle, I'm sure." You're not sure how else to answer. Saying he's fine is too obvious of a lie, but you don't want to be too specific either.

"Really? Who knew? The red rage actually has problems like the rest of us." He chuckles. Normally you wouldn't think much of his statement, but Fuse is the type to try to get anyone to warm up to him, Revenant being no exception. Perhaps you've said too much.

"Yes! Which is why I'm taking care of his secret friend for him! She's not allowed to be a liability!" Pathfinder gently pats your shoulder. Why did he have to say that? Fuse catches sight of your dejected look and laughs harder, gripping his chest to steady the pain. Pathfinder takes his laughter as some kind of endorsement, while you hang your head in embarrassment. Fuse catches his breath finally.

"No worries sheila, I won't tell a soul. You may have to keep that a bit more under wraps though, Pathy." Fuse says through labored breaths. That laugh must have hurt. Pathfinder cocks his head in confusion. "I think the point of having a 'secret friend' is to keep them a secret, not to tell everyone!"

"Oh no! I'm sorry!" Pathfinder realizes his mistake, a blue sad face appearing on his screen.

"It's okay, Pathfinder, Fuse actually already knew." You pat him on the arm in reassurance.

"Yeah, no worries mate. Just be a little more careful." His smile erases any embarrassment you feel. "Well, I'll let ya make your other rounds, I'm gonna turn in for the night." Fuse waves goodbye to you both as you excuse yourselves.

You make your way across the hall to the room labelled for Bloodhound. You lightly knock, and a nurse opens the door carefully for you. You slip in quietly and see Bloodhound lying on their back, their head facing your direction. You see their eyes dart in your direction, no longer buried under their usual goggles. Their head is well-wrapped in gauze, and their breathing mask is replaced with a hospital oxygen mask. You can finally see their eyes, which are filled with a softness you don't usually see.

Artur is on a large perch in the corner of the room, surprisingly. Bloodhound likely had to fight to get Artur into the infirmary at some point, since the perch almost looks to be a permanent installment now. Artur coos, watching the room carefully.

"Ah, the apprentice and Pathfinder." They address you both, but don't sit up. They likely aren't able to in this state.

You look to the nurse and offer her the flowers, not sure if you can approach Bloodhound at all. She takes the vase and puts it on a table a short ways from them, but well within their eyesight. Bloodhound seems enamored by the flowers, but also confused by their presence for a few moments.

"Ah, right, flowers are a common gift to the injured." They say to themself before turning to you both. "Your well wishes are accepted graciously. May the Allfather bless you in return."

You bow instinctively, not wanting to speak too loudly in the quiet room. Pathfinder notices and attempts to do the same, but starts to lose his balance and barely recovers. Once you right yourself, you break the silence for a mere moment.

"Get well soon, Bloodhound. Please don't..." You trail off, not sure where you were going. Die? Unlikely. Hurt? They're already hurt. Hate Revenant? They're not the type. "... don't be a stranger." You recover a little, but you're sure you're coming off awkwardly.

Bloodhound smiles with their eyes, and you feel much better, quietly slipping back out the door. Pathfinder follows, waiting for the door to close before speaking.

"I kept the secret!" He pumps his fists a little. You chuckle.

"By not talking at all. I guess it works." You pat him on the arm again. "One left, but I don't know anything about Caustic. I hope he's not as bad as they say."

Pathfinder takes the last bouquet from you and leads the way this time, apparently willing to handle the interaction himself. He knocks on the door and opens it, revealing a growling Caustic on the other side, sitting upright in bed and writing in a notebook. His usual mask is switched for an oxygen mask, and he's in a hospital garb that is far too large for him.

"Greetings, doctor! I brought you flowers!" Pathfinder chirps happily, ignoring Caustic's scowl.

"I don't want flowers. I already had to answer the simulacrum's idiotic questions, why are you bothering me now?" Caustic asks angrily, averting his attention back to his notebook.

"I intentionally got you chamomile flowers, they're Wattson's favorite for tea!" Pathfinder chirps, holding the white and yellow-centered flowers up. Caustic suddenly looks up from his notebook with a softer expression, before sighing and relenting.

"Fine, put them down on the table." His voice and expression have softened, but you're not sure why. Pathfinder must know something you don't.

As Pathfinder moves to put the flowers on his table, you lose your body to hide behind. Caustic notices you, and suddenly smiles a little wickedly.

"Ah, the simulacrum's personal lapdog reveals herself." He sneers. How did he know about you? Did Revenant say something? "You have quite the science project at your beck and call. How did a little thing like you manage that?"

You're not sure how to answer, and you know your discomfort is visible on your face. Pathfinder seems to notice as well.

"You seem to be a kindred spirit, flirting with death. Makes you feel more alive, doesn't it?" He coughs a little, interrupting his train of thought. His voice returns in a much more serious tone. "I'm afraid I can't do anything more for either of you, but I'll keep you in mind if I need to get under the simulacrum's skin."

Pathfinder doesn't speak, but starts walking towards the door, gently herding you in that direction. You leave, unsure of what else to say after that. The door gently closes behind you both.

"Are you okay, friend?" Pathfinder asks.

Now late in the evening, you finally make it back to Revenant's room, bidding Pathfinder goodbye before opening the door. You're holding a single flower you picked out for Revenant, despite Pathfinder's insistence that Revenant doesn't like or accept flowers. He's tested it thoroughly, or so he claims. You're certain this one is different, though. You picked this one for him, and you picked it for a reason. As you slip through the door, Revenant stands up from the computer desk to meet you.

"Yeah, just disturbed, I guess. Let's go, it's getting late. Let me grab dinner and let's go back to your garden." You answer, not sure what Caustic meant. You'd rather spend the rest of the evening chatting about Revenant's different chassis with Pathfinder than dwelling on Caustic's cryptic words.

• • • •

"You must have had fun. You've been gone all day." He notices the flower. "Pathfinder managed to pawn one of his flowers off on you?" He scoffs, rolling his optics.

"Actually, I picked this one for you." You correct him, unsurprised by his initial rejection. He seems to tense at the realization it's a gift from you, not Pathfinder, and that he has already judged it so openly. "It's a datura flower, I thought it was fitting."

"Datura? Like the drug?" He asks, trying to ignore his previous judgement on the flower.

"Yeah, it's called the Devil's Trumpet. It's poisonous if ingested, and causes psychedelic delusions. It's legendary for giving some of the most hellish waking nightmares. Isn't that something you've said about yourself? A nightmare flower for the nightmare Apex Predator!" You finish your short speech, and he carefully takes the flower from you, staring silently at its alluring but deceptive beauty for a few moments in silence.

"Thank you." He finally says, carefully placing the makeshift vase and flower down on the computer desk. "I wanted to talk to you about something while we're at it."

"Is this about what I said earlier? I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't thinking, and--"

"You wanted to die. It's okay. I understand that feeling." He takes your hand and sits you down on the bed as he takes the office chair opposite to you. "I don't want you to die, even though I am certain I will live to see the day anyway." He pauses, gathering the words he wants to say. "If you really find you cannot handle living any longer, I want you to die painlessly in my arms."

You sit there, unable to fully process what he means, or perhaps you're refusing to process it. It's hard to swallow, if your suspicion is right. He lets the pause hang before finally specifying.

"If you truly must die, I want to be the one to take your life." His head hangs, and he refuses to make further eye contact. "It will be painless, you won't be alone, and I can hold you one last time." His pain is apparent.

As soon as the words register in your head, you throw yourself to the floor and kneel under his hunched over body, trying to meet his gaze. He is unmistakably despaired, so you stand into him, hugging him as you do.

"I'm so sorry Revenant, I promise it won't come to that." You're pleading with him to trust you, but you're not sure how to convince him. "I love you, I just want to spend as much time with you as I can. I won't let it come to that."

You're pretty sure you sound desperate, but you're not sure how he'll interpret that. You are desperate to get him back from wherever his mind is. He stays limp in your arms for a few moments--long enough to concern you. His optics are still on, so he's not rebooting. He's just pondering, and somehow that's more worrying than anything.

Finally, Revenant hugs you back, standing up and lifting you off the ground. He brings you to the bed, carefully lying down in it and dragging you into an enveloping hold. He holds you tightly, but with an intensity you haven't felt before. He doesn't speak, just holds you, refusing to let go.

You lay there, unable to move and unwilling to abandon him for what feels like hours, until your consciousness starts to fade. You drift off quickly, unable to deny your exhaustion any further.

[a-detraque-barista]

Zombie Killer

Yandere Zombie Namjoon x Reader

Genre: yandere, gore, zombie, character deaths (but not graphic yet)

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: i love this man and i'm so glad i finally finished something with him in it. i hope this wasn't too rushed because i did write the majority of it back in 2019 but i hope you all enjoy nonetheless <3

It's been two years since the zombie apocalypse began. You've been on your own for exactly one year, seven months, and forty-nine days now. Wandering the world as you tried to find a safe haven that wasn't infected with undead cannibals. You don't hide behind doors very often anymore, you've learned it only makes you want to stay inside and rot while trembling in fear. You hated the way fear makes you so vulnerable. Adapting to the outside world was your only option before going insane. Carrying multiple weapons with you made you able to survive much longer than hiding in buildings.

People call you crazy and barbaric because you chose to survive by any means necessary. That's what your best friend had told you before getting bitten. And so, your survival of the fittest instinct kicked in once you shot your best friend in the face. Twice. Ever since then you've been wandering the streets of different cities. If you see a group of zombies then you stay clear. You were a badass zombie killing machine, but you knew when to pick your fights.

You had just sneaked off the ship you stowed away on for the past week. Immediately, you identified the native language here as Korean. Before the outbreak happened you had tried to learn the Korean language. You had only gotten so far in the lessons but you can still make sentences.

Sticking to the shadows you kept your guard up just in case anything tried to attack you. Overall, these streets were deserted and you didn't see or hear any sign of life or even the undead. You spotted a convenience store with the glass of the sliding doors broken. You had to at least look for food, so you headed inside after checking with your shotgun was loaded. You only had two more shells left so you needed to get rid of it now that its weight was holding you back. Stepping silently and diligently, you made your way to the dry food section. The shelves were almost completely bare. There were ramyeon packs left which you quickly put in your bag. You also found chips in another one of the aisles on the floor. You didn't bother looking for water, already knowing that it was long gone. What you did look for was tea. Not everyone knows that it's the second-best thing to drink when there's no water. And as you expected, there were tons of different flavored teas. Grabbing the peach, strawberry, green, and watermelon you made your way out of the store to see a group of masked people walking by.

They spotted you almost immediately as you froze and waited to see what they would do. Your thick black mask covered your face as much as theirs but they had hoods and hats covering their foreheads. No matter if you were a zombie or not most people tried to kill you. You had no idea why maybe it was just their need to be the last and the strongest kicking in.

Then all of a sudden there were five guns pointed at your head. See? All you did was stand there and apparently that's a threat. Pointing your gun at them would only make things worse given that you're outnumbered so you ran. Turning the corner once their guns began to fire, you ended up sprinting through the alleys. Always making sure you turned a corner every chance you got so you couldn't get shot.

You stopped to take a breath as you crouched down while panting. You had to leave your motorcycle behind so it had been a while since you’ve run that far. Hearing a crash further down the alley, you held your shotgun up trying to see what had made the sound. Nothing moved for a while so you slowly backed away and turned around quickly to run but all you found was one of the masked men from earlier.

“We need to go,” you spoke to the man quietly before another crash sounded from behind you. Trying to run past the man, he stopped you and pushed you back toward the alley. Holding his gun aimed at your head.

“Drop it,” you dropped your shotgun. “Walk,” he hissed and you turned back around to see a pair of ivory eyes staring at you.

How did you not notice them before? They stood out so vividly against the dark shadows of the alley. No doubt a zombie, but it wasn’t attacking. You felt the gun in the middle of your back push you towards the flesh-eating monster in front of you. In the blink of an eye, the ivory irises were no longer in front of you and the man behind you was screaming before having his jaw detached from his skull.

This zombie was like no other, it was quick, intelligent, and strong. Hearing the other men approaching, the zombie took your hand into its own and hurried deeper into the alley. Its skin was ice and calloused and bloody from tearing the man’s jaw out. It didn’t necessarily bother you as you were no stranger to blood now. But why was this zombie saving you? It’s not like you could ask, you didn’t know if it still understood speech. It never lets go of your hand until it finally leads you to an abandoned building hidden in plain sight. Leading you to the top floor, you saw a mattress on the ground with a pillow and blanket, a tv, empty plates, a mini-fridge, and even a microwave. It really was intelligent.

It took your arm to have you sit on the mattress as you got a better look at its face. It was...handsome. Even with grayish skin and a few holes. He was stunning. He chuckled after noticing your shell-shocked gaze at his appearance. You’ve never heard a zombie fucking chuckle.

He walked away to the mini-fridge and came back with a bottle of water for you. Now you really had some questions, but you didn’t want to seem rude about asking if he understood what you were saying.

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions,” he smiled as he opened the water for you since you took too long. Pushing the bottle closer to you making you accept the water and taking a sip. “You probably haven’t had any water in while. Drink up.”

So you did. You chugged the whole bottle in under a minute as he watched you do so fondly. “What are you?” Okay, so maybe that was a little straightforward and harsh but you couldn’t help but wonder.

“A zombie, obviously. You probably mean why haven’t I eaten you. I can’t really answer that because I don’t know myself. It’s always been this way, ever since I got bitten I mean,” he explained as he stood up and made his way over to the tv to turn it on. “And if you’re wondering why I saved you, it’s because I know those guys can be dicks. They’ve been trying to kill me for months. Ever since they started that little murder group.”

“How did you know I needed help? Were you just passing through that alley?” you questioned while watching him sit back down next to you.

“I’ve been following you this whole time. I’m surprised you didn’t notice. I saw you get off the boat and followed you since then,” he explained like it was no big deal. “But it was a good thing I was there when I was. Otherwise, you’d probably be dead, or turned into a zombie.”

He was right. If it weren’t for him, you would either be eaten or left dead on the ground. Was that really an excuse for stalking you this whole time though?

“There’s no need to overthink it, just get some rest.”

Why was he so damn convincing? He was really nice though. “What’s your name?” you couldn’t stop the question from leaving your mouth in time.

“Namjoon. What’s yours?”

“Y/n.”

“What a wonderful name,” his smile caused his dimples to show making you look at the television.

The soft lull of the show made you tired and you could feel your eyelids getting heavier. Namjoon took note of it but said nothing as he wanted you to completely fall asleep. Seeing your head bob a few times he helped lay you down and covered you with the blanket. He set your bag on the floor along with all of your weapons from off your body.

“Sweet dreams, my little zombie killer,” Namjoon whispered as his attention turned back to the show on the screen.

You had woken up to the sound of a thud from outside of the door. You recognized the growling and screeching of a goddamn zombie. Patting your body down, you couldn’t feel any weapons. You looked around to find them next to you on the floor. You quickly picked up your pistol and stood by the door. Waiting for it to come through, once the door opened you shot it. The body fell to the floor only for you to realize it was Namjoon. The actual zombie laid torn apart on the floor behind him. There was no guarantee Namjoon would survive that but usually, you have to shoot them twice.

He didn't move for a while so you crouched down and poked his shoulder. You heard him groan before he propped himself up with his arms. His tainted, dark blood was pooling on the ground under him. He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath.

"Are-are you okay, Namjoon?" you stuttered as you placed your hand on his shoulder.

The next moment you were on your back with him laying on you. You froze, not knowing what he would do. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist, "My name sounds nice when you say it."

You let a shaky breath you were holding before resting your free hand on his back. Feeling the blood seeping through your clothes, you tapped him to have him lift his head. Sure enough, your whole stomach was now covered in his almost black blood.

Namjoon lifted your shirt over your head and stood up to toss it into the corner. You quickly cross your arms over your chest to hide your embarrassing worn-out bra but Namjoon tried his best to pretend like he didn’t see anything. Helping you to stand, he brought you over to a large bucket of water and took a rag from it. He was on his knees as he wiped away all of his blood from your skin. He looked up to your cheeks that were a dark red hue and grinned.

“I didn’t expect you to shoot me in the head,” he was only teasing but he wanted to see your reaction.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and you allowed him to clean your stomach off longer than necessary.

“What was that?” Namjoon was having fun giving you a hard time while he finished cleaning up the blood before he gently wiped his face so he wouldn’t tear his dead skin, then he went to get you a clean shirt from the bag he had in the corner.

“You heard what I said,” you grumbled as you snatched the shirt away from him.

You weren’t really good at interacting with people. Through the whole zombie apocalypse thing, you had kind of thrown all of your social skills out the window. You didn’t mean to come off as rude to the one person helping you, but you couldn’t help but get flustered. It’s not like you were going to stay here for long anyway. You needed to get back on the road by tomorrow.

You then began to wonder how long he's been here. But you were also too afraid to ask. That would be being nosy right? You have no idea what he's been through and it might set him off, so you kept your thoughts to yourself.

You didn't have time to think about the handsome zombie in front of you. You needed to think about where to go next. Speaking of which, Namjoon had been watching your expressions, wondering what you were thinking about.

His partly deteriorated brain began to wander with questions about you. How long have you been alone? Where were you from? He knew you spoke English but that was no indicator of where you were from. Just look at him, he knew a few languages himself so he couldn’t exactly pinpoint where you would be from. Where were you going next? What were you looking for? Who were you looking for? Could it be a lover of yours?

He stopped. Why would he care if you had a significant other? He didn't. Right? Cause it doesn’t matter.

"So, I suppose I should get going," you walked over to your pile of weapons before strapping them and tucking them in their designated places. Since you had a little time to think now, it was decided that you should leave as soon as possible. Just thinking of spending another night in the same four walls terrified you.

“What if the group of masked killers is still around? You’ll need someone to show you the back routes,” Namjoon spoke quickly. He couldn’t understand why he needed to spend more time with you, but he just knew he feared you leaving him. Namjoon did his part in making sure you got somewhere safe off of the boat yesterday. He told himself he would have nothing else to do with you after that, humans never last long anymore.

“I mean...if you want to,” you weren’t going to force someone to venture with you out in the world during the apocalypse. Then again, he was a zombie and couldn’t be killed easily. He could prove to be useful on your trip for whatever distance he’s willing to go. It doesn’t seem like there’s much happening in this abandoned room of his.

All Namjoon did was nod and walk across the room to pack a bag. He decided that there was no way in hell he was going to let you wander around on your own. He doesn’t care how well you can take care of yourself. You needed protecting and that was exactly what he was going to do. He was able to take a shotgun to the head, he will risk his undead life for you.

Namjoon realized where his thoughts were going. Maybe this whole being undead thing was truly affecting his decision-making. He just met you yesterday and he’s willing to die for you? However, all those thoughts disappeared once he turned around and his eyes were set on you once again. As they always should be.

He will keep you safe.

Walking out of the building that Namjoon had been living in for over a year was easier than he thought would be. He heard the peaceful silence of the streets while walking beside you and realized he never took the time to breathe. Figuratively of course. Namjoon wasn’t used to the quiet as he would normally be chased or even in his room he would always have the television on as background noise. Something he felt was needed so he wouldn’t lose his sanity. He began to prefer the quiet more than a constant noise.

You did prefer the quiet, most of the time. There were times where you absolutely hated it. Hated it enough to want to take your knives and dig them into your eardrums so you would go deaf. That type of quiet was the type to have your ears ringing and your breathing sound like you were panting. Even making your heartbeat pound in your ears to attempt to drown out the unbearable silence.

The quiet you loved was broken when a zombie tripped over something metal. Without hesitating, you pulled out your gun and shot it in the head. Your aim has become exceptional since this all started. You slowly approached it and shot it in the head again. You’ve learned to make sure they’re done for by shooting them twice before they could recover.

Namjoon stood there, fascinated by how quickly you reacted. He barely had enough time to notice the zombie before you shot it. You were practically a zombie killing machine. But how many times have you had to fight off these flesh-eating corpses by yourself? God, all he wanted to do was to take all the bad from your life and leave only the good. He had been lonely and at first, scared. He could only imagine how you felt at the beginning of all of this and learning to survive through it. He truly wanted to help you. And he will.

✄ ✄ ✄

It took about an hour and a half to weave through the alleys and side streets to avoid the group that was hunting for any walking being that was and wasn’t minding their own business. Finally, the two of you were out of the city and you found an SUV in acceptable condition. You hot-wired it and waited until Namjoon climbed in to start driving down the deserted country road.

The absence of zombies had made it easy for you and Namjoon to get away. Somehow, one of the stations on the radio was working so that's what you opted to listen to for now. It was a song that sounded familiar but you couldn't remember where you had heard it. Namjoon had suddenly asked a question that caught you a little off guard.

"Do you like these guys?" his voice was even for the most part but it seemed he wanted a certain answer.

"I'm not sure who this is exactly. The song sounds familiar though," hopefully you gave the right response. If there was a way to trigger something in him to make him turn completely into a cannibalistic undead monster, you didn't want to find it.

“They’re - sorry, they were called BTS. Making their way to the top of the world,” you could hear the sadness in Namjoon’s voice that was no doubt about to crack from the strong emotion he was feeling.

“You were a part of that group, weren’t you?” you asked quietly as you kept your eyes on the road, occasionally glancing behind you in the review mirror.

Namjoon let out a small, saddened chuckle as he nodded, “Yeah, I was.”

You remembered watching them answer questions before one of the award ceremonies that your mother always insisted on watching. They seemed so close and genuinely nice even as they were asked dumb, demeaning inquiries.

“I’m sorry,” was the only thing you could say.

“It’s okay, I know that the three who were able to escape are out there somewhere,” he sniffled, how that worked, you didn’t really know but ignored it as his words sunk in.

“May...I ask what happened?” hopefully you wouldn’t regret your words.

He let out a humorless laugh once again, “Long story short, we walked right into the lion’s den without knowing it. It was when the outbreak first began. Couple dozen of ‘em, easily, surrounded us, and while the three were able to escape...the other four of us weren’t so lucky.” He took a deep breath that wasn’t able to allow him the same stabilizing feeling as it once did, before continuing, “I was the only one who was still able to function as a normal human. Even though my heart was no longer beating and my lungs were longer deflating and inflating. The rest were just like the other mindless cannibals looking to eat people.”

You could see that he had tears in his fog-like eyes. Suddenly, you had a thought, “What if we went looking for the other three of your friends?”

The idea was bizarre even to you, but you won’t take it back. If there were more people out there, why wouldn’t you try to find them? You had no problem with joining other people, as long as they had no means of harming you or your newfound friend. Even if y

“You would do that? For us?”

“...Yes. Just tell me what kind of places they would go, and I’ll help you get there. To be with your friends once again,” you couldn’t save your family and friends but maybe you can help save his.

[angelvyxen]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐲, 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲.”

In which you’re Melo’s best friend & ex he’s not over

“What do you think of this?” You asked Melo as you turned around. He was laying back on your bed, scrolling through his phone. He moved his phone to the side and peeked over at you, “It’s straight.”

“It’s straight?”

“Yea, you look good.” He nodded.

You huffed and made your way towards your closet to rework your fit for the night again.

“C’mon bruh, I said you look straight! Why you changing again?”

“Because just looking ‘straight’ isn’t good enough. I need to look... I need to look..” you trailed off, looking for a word that encompasses just how much of a bad bitch you wanted to be tonight. "I need to look like City Girl meets Megan the Stallion."

"My nigga, what?"

"Just know I need to look good, Melo. Okay? Reef is going to be there tonight and I need to make sure I have every little bit of his attention."

Melo rolled his eyes from across the room when you mentioned Shareef.

"Man, fuck that nigga." You heard him grumble which made you laugh, asking,

"What do you have against Shareef?"

"I don't have anything against dude."

"Yes, you do. You've been on him since I mentioned I like him." You stepped out of your closet and leaned against the door frame to look him in the eyes.

"He's a bitch." He shrugged before looking back at his phone.

"What do you mean?"

"What I said. He's a bitch and you don't need to be associating with someone like that."

You rolled your eyes, "Negro, please," and stepped back into the closet. “You gotta chill on him.”

“How you Shaq’s son and still ain’t made it to the league yet?”

“He had health issues Melo, you know that. Please don’t go that low just because you don’t like him for no good reason.”

Melo sucked his teeth and leaned back on your bed, focusing back on his phone. “I got numerous good reasons.” He grumbled to himself.

“What was that?” You asked, poking your head out of the closet again.

“Nothing man! Finish getting ready, we late cause of you.”

“Uh huh, whatever.”

You settled for something basic, but cute. A pair of black jeans, your favorite color way of the Jordan 1s Melo had gotten you for Christmas last year and a matching graphic tee with some jewelry to bump up the outfit.

“You look good.” Melo remarked, his eyes following you as he opened the passenger door of his jet black Rolls-Royce Cullinan for you. You were happy you got to spend today with him. Both of your schedules never seemed to align anymore since the season started for him and you started a new job.

“Thank you best friend.” You grinned as you slid into the passenger seat of his car. He shut the door and walked around the car, opening his door and sliding into his own seat.

You held out your hand and he placed his phone in it before starting the car. As he was backing out of the driveway you unlocked his phone and went to his Apple Music. You scrolled through his playlists until you came to your favorite one, ‘Vibes 🥵🤞🏼💕’. You plugged in the aux cord before hitting shuffle and set his phone down. ‘Get you’ by Daniel Caesar started to play a few moments later. Melo raised his brows before a wide smile spread across his face and he said loudly, “Oh say less! Whatchu tryna do?”

“Boy, what are you talking about?” You giggled as you looked at the goofy expression on his face.

“You playing my grown folks music playlist, you tryna start something?” He looked over at you.

“Ew,” you scrunched up your face.

“Man don’t act like you don’t want this body.”

“Boy bye. I would never.”

“Oh word, so you wouldn’t kiss me right now?” He puckered his lips at you.

You shook your head and looked in the other direction, “Nope.”

“Girl stop playing and give me them lips.” He gently gripped your chin, forcing your head to turn and started to lean in close. This wouldn’t be the first time you kissed Melo. The nature of you two’s friendship was different than most. The two of you used to date but decided after a couple months that you’d be better as friends. Since you were already comfortable with one another, doing boyfriend-girlfriend things weren’t awkward. Long hugs, cuddling, and occasional kissing weren’t anything to you when it came to him.

Before both of your lips touched the car jerked to the side which made you realize he was still driving.

“Focus on the road!” You said sharply as the car jerked back to the opposite side, making it centered in the road again. Melo was laughing the entire time and you hit him in his chest, “That wasn’t fucking funny. I’m too young to die.”

“Relax, you still alive. Aren’t you? Always overreacting.”

You rolled your eyes and faced front, crossing your arms over one another.

“Aye,” he reached over and gently flicked your cheek, “Fix your face. The shit isn’t that serious for you to be catching an attitude over.”

You pushed his hand away, keeping your eyes in front of you.

“Cmon man, don’t start this. We were just having a good time.”

You kept quiet and you heard him sigh loudly. A second later you felt a hand on your thigh, rubbing up and down.

“You wanna get some food later?” He asked, knowing that that phrase alone would get your attitude in check.

“What kind?”

“Del Taco?”

You unfolded you arms and Melo laughed, “You so fucking fat.”

“Aht, don’t fuck up nigga. I’ll catch my attitude all over again.”

He nodded, “Heard you. I take it back.”

“As you should.” You said as you picked up your phone to play some games to pass the time. You settled on temple run, tapping your nails against the screen as you waiting for the game to load.

You squealed excitedly when you saw a text from Shareef pop up at the top of your screen. Melo glanced over at you confused as you typed up a response.

“Who you talking to?” He asked, trying to see what was happening on your phone screen.

“Shareef.” You answered and almost instantly heard him suck his teeth. You ignored his clear distaste for your crush and asked, “He asked if I’m sliding through, do you think ‘Yea, can’t wait to see you’ is good or does that make me sound too eager?”

“How about you just don’t text the nigga at all or you text him no and we just don’t go to the party at all.”

“Melo,” you whined, “I really like him, can you set aside the hate you have for him, please? For me?”

“Why do you even like him so much?”

“Well he’s kind,”

“Any one can be ‘kind’. Next.”

“He makes me laugh,”

“That’s not a valid reason. Clowns can do that. Then again, he is a clown ass nigga so,” Melo shrugged his shoulders and you rolled your eyes, deciding to ignore the statement.

“He’s cute,”

“He look like a big toe.”

“Melo! No he does not!”

“Yes he do. And his teeth all crooked. He need some braces. In fact, remind me to give dude my dentist’s number.”

You rolled your eyes and continued to list your reasons,

“He listens to me,”

Melo sucked his teeth, “So I don’t listen to you?”

“Where did you even get that from? See, now you’re just pulling shit out of thin air to be mad about. What is your problem?”

“Nothing. I just think it’s wild how this nigga come into the picture and all of a sudden I’m getting wiped out of it.”

“Melo what are you talking about?”

“So we just about to act like you haven’t been texting or calling me as much? And we finna act like you don’t want to come see me no more cause you’re always with him?”

“That is not true.”

“Yes it is. Wasn’t it just last week I offered to fly you out to Houston to see my game and you said no cause you and that nigga was supposed to be hanging out all weekend?”

“Oh my God, you still mad about that? Grow up.”

“Grow up? So it’s just fuck my feelings now cause he here?”

“How am I supposed to get to know him if I’m always with you?! I can have a life outside of you LaMelo!” You raised your voice slightly as you started to get heated. You didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy for you, he was supposed to be your friend.

“Why do you even want to get to know him! Ain’t shit to know! He don’t do shit, he don’t have shit but his daddy’s money and a fucked up hairline anyways!”

“Okay, now you’re about to get me mad.”

“Oh me talking about your lil boyfriend make you mad? Man fuck him! It’s not like he’s about to wife you no how! He’s probably trying to hit it and quit it, it’s not like you hard to get at.”

You stared at him for a second, wanting to believe that he didn’t just say what he said out of spite of all things.

“Fuck you! Don’t be mad at me because you’re too attached to me to get your own girlfriend!”

“Oh, I’m too attached now? That’s what we going with?”

“Nigga that’s what’s been happening! You’re so jealous you can’t even let me be happy!”

The two of you pulled up in front of the house party and he stopped the car, leaned back in his seat and looked down at you.

“Alright shut the fuck up. You about to get me hot.”

“Now you want to be a pussy when I tell you the truth. Typical.”

“I said shut the fuck up bruh. I’m not tryna get mad at you.”

You turned towards him in your seat, “You know what your problem is? You can’t get over that lil relationship we had. You need to build a bridge and leave that shit in the past, it was never that serious.” You said. Deep down you didn’t mean it but he already took the argument too far by calling you an easy fuck.

His jaw clenched as he ground his teeth behind his closed lips and his brows furrowed ever so slightly, leaving a small crease in his forehead.

“Oh, so now you don’t got shit to say no more?” You questioned, looking up at him.

He picked up his key and phone, opened the door and got out of the car, slamming the door behind him. You watched as he was walked into the party leaving you behind. You blew out some air to calm yourself down before grabbing your things and getting out.

When you walked into the house you couldn’t spot Melo anywhere but your attention was quickly taken away from trying to find him when you felt an arm snake around your waist. You looked up at Shareef, a smile spreading across your face.

“Hey!” You greeted.

“Hey. You look good.” He replied, pulling you into a quick side hug. “Those shoes are fire.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t think you were coming still. You read my text and didn’t reply.”

“Oh! My bad I just.. I got distracted on my way here.”

“Uh huh. You came with your boy?” He asked referring to Melo.

“Yeah.”

“He just walked in here looking mad at the world. Y’all had an argument or sum in the car?”

Shareef started to walk you around the house, away from the main party.

“Something like that. We just didn’t see eye to eye on something.. can we not talk about him, I’m here with you right now, I want to focus on you.” You looked up at Shareef, smiling.

For the next couple hours you hung out with Shareef in the backyard by the fire pit. There were a couple chairs set up in a circle around it so the both of you made yourselves welcome. The two of you talked about any and everything, only leaving to go refill your drinks a few times throughout the night.

“So that’s why I decided to do indisciplinary studies instead of just majoring in one thing.”

You nodded as Shareef finished telling you about his college plans. You liked that he was so goal focused and not all of his goals in life pertained to having a career in the nba like his dad.

“So-” you were cut off by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Yo!”

Both you and Shareef turned to be met with his friend Josh Christopher who you’ve only met a handful of times, another 2 friends you didn’t know and.. Melo.. with a girl under his arm. They all had girls with them but Melo stuck out to you the most.

“Y’all mind if we sit?” Josh asked, already picking a chair and sitting down.

“Go ahead.” Reef said and you just smiled politely watching all of them sit and pull the girls they were with into their laps since there weren’t enough chairs.

You crossed your ankles, feeling uncomfortable as Melo took a seat directly across from you. You still felt tense about the argument the two of you had earlier but he didn’t seem to care much anymore as he was feeling up the girl, who wouldn’t stop giggling, in front of you.

Everyone started to talk as a group and you said a few things here and there but mainly kept to yourself.

“So, Reef,” Josh said getting everyone’s attention, “I don’t mean to be nosy or nothing.. but imma be nosy, what’s going on with you and her?” He nodded his head towards you.

“Whatchu mean?” Shareef laughed

“You know what I mean. Is that your girl? Is future Mrs. O’Neil in our presence?”

Shareef looked over at you, “You wanna be future Mrs. O’Neil?” He asked, a wide smile on his face.

You returned the smile and shrugged, “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see.” You laughed. You managed to catch Melo’s glare as you turned your head. He had completely stopped giving the girl in his lap attention and his eyes were dead set on you as he wore the same expression he did in the car before he stormed out earlier.

You ignored his dirty look and him, looking back at Shareef as the two of you got back into your own conversation.

“Did I already tell you you look good tonight?” He asked as he moved closer to you.

“I believe you did.” You grinned, also moving closer to him. You had already shut Melo out of your mind.

“Well, just to let you know, you look good tonight.” He commented and you responded with a giggle, “Nah, but for real, you look good. I like your makeup and that shiny stuff you got on your lips.”

“My lipgloss?” You questioned, cocking a brow at the fact he acted as though he didn’t know what lipgloss was.

“Mhm. It smells nice. Like strawberries.”

“It’s strawberry flavored. Fun fact.”

“Does it taste like strawberries too?” He was getting very close to your face, you could almost feel his breath against you.

You leaned in, further closing the small gap between you two and whispered, “Find out.”

You were caught of guard when instead of feeling Shareef’s lips against yours you felt yourself getting pulled back and stood up. You looked back as you were quickly being dragged away from the group and of course, Melo was the one pulling you away.

He was facing the house so you couldn’t see his face.

“Melo! Let me go!” You struggled out, trying to yank your arm out of his grip, which only made him hold on tighter.

“Aye!” You looked back at the group, seeing Shareef stand up while everyone else looked amongst themselves in confusion.

Shareef grabbed your free arm making Melo stop and look back at him.

“Whatchu doing bruh? Let her go.” Reef said as he tugged you towards him.

“Imma give you 2 seconds to let go of her before I punch you dead in your shit.”

“I don’t want to fight you. We in public bro, just chill out and let her go.”

“One.”

“I know you her friend and all but you’re overdoing this shit. I know you’re not about to hit me in front of all these-”

Before Shareef could finish his sentence, one of Melo’s fists went flying at his face. Luckily, he dodged it but that didn’t stop Melo from swinging again.

“Melo! Chill out!” You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back.

“Yo, go talk to your boy. He wildin’.” Shareef had already let you go by now.

“I will. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back.” You told him as Melo had already started pulling you away again.

“You won’t.” You heard Melo grumble as he pulled out through the back door of the house.

“Slow down!” You said as he brought you upstairs before opening a door and pushing you inside the room. The door closed and you heard a click as the door locked. He flipped on the light and you could now see he brought you into a bathroom.

You looked back at him, an angry expression on your face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He didn’t respond as he backed you up into the counter behind you. He reached behind you and picked up a small towel and then grabbed your face. “What are you-”

“Shut the fuck up. Damn! You talk to much.” He cut you off harshly before starting to roughly wipe the lipgloss off of your lips.

“You got me all the way fucked up right now.” He continued to grumble as he flipped on the tap behind you and wet the towel before bringing it back to your lips and wiping again, “Do it taste like strawberries too? Find out,” he mocked, “I can’t believe your ass.” He grumbled as he continued to wipe.

You pushed his hand away from your mouth, “What is your issue?!”

“Don’t ask me no stupid shit like that. You know exactly what my issue is.”

“No, I don’t. I don’t see why you had to come and embarrass me in front of everyone like that.” You hit his chest which made him take a step back.

“I embarrassed you?” He said shocked, as if he wasn’t the one in the wrong.

“YES!” You said louder than you had intended for it to come out. You almost felt like crying thinking back on what had just taken place. “What is your issue today?! First you basically call me an easy hoe in the car and now this?! Did you even for a second stop to think about my feelings?!”

“No.” He shrugged, “Cause you never thought about mine. And don’t act like you didn’t say some foul shit too. Our relationship ‘was never that serious’ you remember that?”

“You can’t use that against me, you’re the one that started everything. I don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for me.”

“Be happy for you?” He made a face, “How do you expect me to be happy seeing the woman I love move on and rub that shit in my face? You want me to be happy about that? I tried to tolerate it but you want me to keep a straight face and act like it doesn’t bother me when you give another nigga attention the way you use to give me?” He stepped closer to you, now only a few centimeters separated both of your bodies, “You expect me to sit up here with a straight face as you’re about to kiss someone else? I admit, I was wrong for doing that in front of all those people but can you blame me?… I thought I could keep my shit together and be just friends with you but to be honest,”

He he cut himself off and picked you up and placed you on the counter, standing in between your legs and placed both his hands on either side of you before saying, “I didn’t want to break up to begin with. I’m greedy baby. Ion wanna share you with nobody.” His soft lips brushed against yours before capturing them in a warm kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as your arms snaked around his neck.

His lips moved down to your neck, you moaned as you felt his teeth gently bite down on your skin while he kissed and sucked around the area. You already knew he’d leave a hickey. One of his hands started to creep up your shirt, gently tracing your stomach before making its way to your back and unhooked your bra. He pulled away from your neck and pulled your shirt off of you from the bottom, up and discarded it behind him before sliding each of your bra straps off your shoulders and tossing the bra on the floor like he did your shirt.

He placed his lips back on yours as his both of his hands started to fondle your breasts. He lightly squeezed the left one and pinched your right nipple with his other hand which made you squeal. He chuckled into the kiss and did it again, this time pinching both nipples harder than he had before which evoked the same sound from you.

“Be gentle, they’re sensitive.” You mumbled.

“I know,” he mumbled back, repeating the same action again, smiling as he watched you pull away from the kiss, throwing your head back slightly with your eyes shut tightly, “That’s why I like doing it.”

He brought you back into the kiss, moving his hands from your breasts (to your relief) and placed them by your sides. A moment later his hands got busy again, with his right one unzipping your jeans while the left one spread your legs further. His right hand snaked into your pants. You were dripping in anticipation, waiting to feel his fingers stroke your sensitive skin but instead he touched you from outside your panties. You felt his index finger rub your clit through the thin fabric and whimpered out needily, “Melo please,” you said breathlessly, breaking the kiss.

“Please, what?”

“Touch me.” It was torture having his finger so close but feeling so far.

Instead of doing what you asked oh so kindly for he removed his hand and went back to undressing you. He stepped back and grabbed one of your feet, untying one of your sneakers and setting it down on the ground before moving to the other one, untying the laces painfully slow. Once your sneakers were off he grabbed the waistband of your jeans and started to pull the article of clothing off of your legs. Once half your thigh was exposed he bent down and pressed a kiss on one of your thighs. “This was always my favorite part of your body.” He said quietly as he continued to pull your jeans down your legs. He pulled them off the rest of the way and let them fall to the ground after he pulled them off your ankles.

He refocused his attention back on your thighs, pressing a few, scattered, soft kisses on them as he inched back up towards your pussy. He licked your inner thigh, making you shiver before saying, “This,” he took his index finger and pressed it directly against your clit, “Is my second favorite part of you.”

Your hands grabbed the hem of your panties and tried to pull them down but he stopped you, lightly smacking away your hands and stood up straight once more.

“Melo..” you whined as you watched his lips stray farther and farther away from your pussy.

“Uh uh, no whining, you fucked up yourself.” He leaned in close, “What’s my one rule when we making love?”

“Not to touch myself.” You replied quietly, “But you were teasing.”

“That don’t matter my love.” He pecked your lips, “A rule is a rule.”

He pulled away and took off his shirt. You watched as his tanned abs and then his number 1 tattoo on his chest were exposed. He dropped his shirt on the ground and you took in his appearance for a second. His gold chains were shining under the light. You watched as he slipped off his shoes and then took a step back before waving you over and then pointing a finger down on the ground. You slid off the counter and got your knees in front of him. No words needed to be said, you knew what he wanted. You slid his slim-fit sweatpants down his legs. He made it easier for you by kicking them off his ankles.

You reached up, your hands feeling the bulge in his underwear. You looked up into his eyes, putting on your most innocent look face as your lips pressed against his tip through the fabric before you lightly drug your tongue against it. You could feel his hard on strain against the fabric as you did so. You, wanting him in your mouth already and too eager to continue teasing, pulled his underwear down his legs. His dick sprung out, almost hitting his stomach.

Your mouth hung open slightly as your eyes focused on all maybe 8 or 9 inches of his length. It throbbed slightly, some precum leaking out of the tip and down the base. Melo grabbed the base of his dick and guided it towards your lips, only needing to say “Open,” before you parted your lips and let him push each inch into your mouth.

You bobbed your head, guiding your tongue all along his length, outlining each vein, before moving it back to the tip, swirling it around. “Fuck,” he rasped out as his hands tangled in your hair, giving him a good grip on your head. He tried to push more of himself into your mouth but you stopped him, pulling back. “It can’t fit all in my mouth,” you said, using the time his dick was out of your mouth to catch your breath. “We’ll make it fit down your throat then.” He said as he pushed his shaft back into your mouth. When you felt his tip hit the back of your throat you gagged loudly to which he instructed, “Relax. Relax your throat.”

You did as he said, relaxing the best you could as you felt the tip of his dick move past the back of your throat and downward. You watched as each inch disappeared and your nose pressed against his stomach. “Good girl,” you heard him remark in a breathy moan. He pulled back again to let you breath before pushing his entire length down your throat once more. He got into rhythm, fucking your throat and guiding your head. It got sloppy quick, saliva dripping off of his dick and onto the floor and onto the both of you in the process. He thrusted down your throat one last time before cumming with a loud moan. You nearly choked as he came ropes down your throat without warning but somehow survived it without one gag. He pulled his saliva coated dick out of your mouth with a satisfied sigh and you swallowed the left over cum and saliva in your mouth.

He scooped you up and you felt yourself being set back on the counter. To your surprise he kissed you, rolling his tongue against yours as he slipped off your panties. Your juices had leaked through them and were starting to come down your legs. Something about sucking dick made you so horny. Melo’s head dipped down but you grabbed it, saying, “Just fuck me.” You didn’t even want head anymore. He did as you wanted, pressing his tip against your entrance before pushing in each inch of his dick slowly. You let out a satisfied moan, enjoying the feeling of having him back inside you after so long. He placed his head in the crook of your neck as his dick bottomed out inside you and you gripped his shoulders. You felt his lips brush against your ear before hearing, “It feels so good to be in my pussy again,” before he pulled out and thrust back in roughly, “And no other nigga better have been in it.” You let out a moan in response while shaking your head.

He fucked you like a mad man, thrusting in out of you faster and harder than you could comprehend. Your eyes started to subconsciously roll to the back of your head and your mouth hung open as a trail of endless moans left your lips. “You feel so good,” he whispered in your ear which set you off. You cleaned around his shaft, your nails gripped his back tighter and you started to cum all over his dick to which he responded with a groan saying, “You don’t know how good that feels,”

He fucked you on the counter for a few more minutes before you felt yourself getting picked up. Without missing a beat, or pulling out of you he switched your position, having you now bent over the counter. He gave your head him towards the mirror, “I want you to watch while we make love.” He leaned in close, switching the pass or his thrusts. “How does it feel?” He asked as he placed a kiss on your neck.

“I-it feels..” you struggled to get out, trying to keep your head up like he wanted.

The kisses moved from your neck to your cheek, “How it feel baby, talk to me.”

“It feels good.” You moaned out, “It feels so good daddy.”

“There you go,” he said as his thrusts picked up again. You let out another embarrassingly loud moan when you felt his fingers rub your very sensitive clit and he asked, “You love me? Hm?” Before feeling a kiss on your shoulder blade.

“Yes baby, oh my god, I love you so muchhh.”

He chuckled before using his free hand to face your face towards him. He pressed his lips against yours, trying to give you a kiss but you were moaning too much to kiss him back. He faced your head back towards the mirror, “You not letting no nigga take my place again, right?”

“Noo, never again,” you replied breathlessly before letting out another loud moan as you came everywhere once again.

“Good.” He placed a small peck on your cheek and let go of your head and moved his other hand from your pussy. He then gripped both of your arms and held them behind your back as he stood up straight and fucked you mercilessly.

——————————

I didn’t think I’d finish this today, but here I am, hours later lmao. I hope you all enjoyed. People have been asking me to do an imagine where Melo likes his best friend and they have sex for so long lmao so I hope this satisfied those anons.

Side note: imagine Melo telling you he doesn’t want to share you with nobody else but himself 😩

Please excuse any errors. I’m tired lol.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea

Star Wars, The Bad Batch Pirate!au (Hunter x Reader

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and bothered are asses.

chapter one

Chapter two: The Stowaway

It is a disgusting day on Coruscant. Hot, humid and you can’t help but feel something sinister in the air. You feel hollow, and it is only partly due to the tightness of your dress. The yellow and green material wraps around you in layers. Your face is blank but your mind is racing, if you cannot convince your father to call off the marriage, how else can you put a stop to this?

Very few people talk about the war, and so how Lord Nython made his fortune is a mystery to you. What you have gathered from whispers of those in your household it was through a lengthy siege that devastated republic and seperatist forces alike.

“And the weather today is perfect for sailing, I bet those ships at the docks will be itching to set off.” Your handmaiden Seil says to you, and you frown, since when did she have an interest in the docks. But she continues playing with your hair.

“I'll get you the most expensive jewelry in the house,” She says with a smile you’ve grown up with. Perhaps carer was a more accurate term, considering she seemed to be the only person in the world that wanted the best for you. She returns with a pouch of all kinds of gold, silver and gems.

“There is a way to the docks, it is so lovely for a stroll. Away from the busy streets and such like.” You frown at her obsession with an area crawling with pirates.

“Seil what in the name-” You start saying, turning around to slip your flats on. And you stop, in her hands are your boots, made for riding as you had done so many times before.

“I thought these would be fitting, as they are your favourite.” She’s talking about all the times you told her how much you love how sturdy they feel around your feet. And how when you would run the fields, how powerful they made your legs feel.

And then it clicks. The docks, the boots. The tears in her eyes. While you were planning on an escape from this marriage, Seil had been planning an escape from every marriage your father would force on you. She ties the boots tightly, and places a hand on your cheek as you both take shaking breaths to compose yourselves.

And with your father still passed out in bed, and the sun barely rising, you slip into the streets and into the areas less traveled, sprinting off towards the ocean.

The docks are infused with the smell of fish, and the workers barely turn a glance your way as you shift through the swarms of people. You come to a halt at a clearing in the crowd, and your brain catches up with itself. What are you going to do now? With no money, skills, or plan, you begin to second guess yourself. You have time to make it back to the household with no one being the wiser. But you remember meeting Lord Nython for the first time.

His hand latched to yours like a monster squid to its prey, you notice that unlike some men he doesn’t ask ‘may I’ before touching you, and you briefly wonder what about you invites his hand onto your own. But your fake smile remains plastered on as he looks you up and down like a farmer regards the sale of livestock.

Your gut had told you then that all he could bring you was bad news, confirmed by rumors and stories of his wartime expeditions, and when he told you about the war, and the pathetic Grand Army of the Republic he spared no detail in his murder of an entire army.

Of course it's not the same as killing someone like you or me, those kaminoans are devils, and those freaks are just the same. Like hunting the same dumb peigion over and over again. We surely must have downed hundreds of them that day, but they are rats you see, you have to kill every last one in order to rid yourself of the infestation.

Education had not taught you about the Kamino Clones, but experience had, every sepratist man who held power despised them. ‘Scum of the earth’ your father had said when you asked about them. Telling you they had their emotions removed, and blindly followed orders given by the highest bidder. And when the G.A.R had fallen, they scuttled into exile.

And now you stand on the docks of Coruscant, two paths in front of you. Surely if you left Nyhon would send someone after you, he never seemed to back away from a fight, and given his reputation for always getting what he wanted, you doubted he’d take to your absence kindly. So that left you with leaving the only home you’d ever known, and given that you cannot sail, nor pay for passage, stowing away was your only option.

You briefly wonder about the procedure of stowing away, does one pick a certain ship or choose at random?

“Can I help you miss?” A Togruta man asks you, only his blue face visible from underneath his hood and cloak, but the markings give him away, as well as the point in the fabric over his head.

“I...I…” you pause to gather yourself. “I’m fine, thank you.” and you quickly turn away from him, walking down the docks at a purposeful pace. There are so many ships all looking to either load or unload supplies, but none of them seem to be leaving shortly. You need escape now, and not later. The longer you dwell the more the bad feeling in your stomach grows. You must lose yourself again because before you know it a man is rushing past you and shouting

“Sorry miss!” as he goes, you catch the clanking of metal and a glimpse of eyeglasses as he disappears up the ramp of a large dark oak ship, the name Havoc Marauder painted in red at the back.

Perhaps you have found your escape after all.

You very quickly decide the ocean is terrifying. After having snuck up the ramp and into the depths of the ship, you found yourself in your current spot. Huddled behind stacks of crates sitting on the wooden floor and being violently rocked around as the water crashes into the side from all sides. More than once you’ve had to close your eyes in panic when something particularly bad happens, but you refuse to appear weak - even if you’re the only person to witness it.

And the footsteps, even though the men seldom come below decks but you can hear them step ferociously above you. They sound like an army and considering you didn’t get a good look at any of them, you had no idea how many people you were hiding from. They’re loud, and kept busy by the Sea, you have no idea where you’re headed, but as long as it’s far, far away from Coruscant you couldn’t care less. And there are no windows here, so you have no idea how long you’ve been traveling for.

Footsteps start to make their way to the set of stairs leading down into your hiding spot, the small nook of the ship that resides in the belly of the beast. The steps you hear aren't as heavy as others, but they seem to keep most of their weight on their toes, you never quite hear their heel make contact against the wood. And you press yourself tighter to the wall, a tall frame passes you by, lean and with ashen hair the man halls a crate away from the other end of the room, and turns to leave. Your panicked eyes can do nothing but stare back at him through the gaps in the boxes, and they watch him squint for a moment, before he turns and heads back up the stairs. Crate in hand, and your heart in your chest. He cannot have seen you, if he had, why turn away? Panic consumes you.

☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠ ☠

“Sarge,” Crosshair says, thumping the crate of bread and dried meat down in front of him. Hunter simply raises an eyebrow at his vod, and it confirms Crosshair's hypothesis. The captain is in one of his moods again, when shaking off the nightmares is impossible and the hate inside him grows and simmers at fantastical measures.

“There’s a woman on board.” He tells him, casually popping a pick into his mouth. And watching as Tech’s and Wrecker’s heads snap up.

“A woman?” Tech asks with judgement. Crosshair rolls his eyes.

“Yes a woman, you know, the things that look almost like you except for their b-”

“I know what a woman is!” Tech cuts him off before things get graphic. His brother never having the politeness nor the decency to hold his tongue.

“There’s a woman aboard the Murader?” Wrecker tries to confirm, and underneath his wide captains hat, Hunter’s eyes darken.

“Listen very carefully.” He growls, the midday sun shining its way onto an unforgiving face. “If there is a stowaway. I do not care if you have to drag her to me with her intestines hanging out. Get. Her. Off. My. Ship.”

“But…” Wrecker starts, taken aback by the aggressive imagery.

“But what?” Hunter snaps, standing up and seeming small compared to his brother, but nonetheless intimidating. “I want her found and I want her off my kriffing ship.” He demands one last time before stalking back to the captains quarters.

Below deck you hear the slamming of a heavy wooden door, the sound makes your skin jump crawl with dread. Something has gone very wrong indeed, and it is not long before you see boots standing at the top of the steps down into the hold where you thought you were hidden. It is difficult to tell how many, two for certain, the change in foot size tells you that much. None of them talk, making it even harder for you to mask your panicked breaths. But just as one foot begins to descend the stairs, a voice from afar distracts it.

“Ship off the starboard bow!” it’s enough to get the men turning away from your concealment, and towards the voice.

“What does she fly?” Another voice shouts, much closer to you.

“Looks Weequay to me!” comes the response, which causes someone else to grumble something about eyesight and crowsnest. Frankly it’s all gibberish to you, starboard could be another hyper-ocean speedway let alone a part of the ship, and while you are sure you’ve heard the term Weequay before, you can’t place where or in what context you heard it. Laughter breaks you from your thoughts.

“That’ll be Hondo’s ship then!” A loud shout settles in your bones. Not one in anger but perhaps more so simple loudness. And whoever or whatever a Hondo is, it is enough to carry the shoes away from you and rush to another, more pressing task. Which makes you think you just may owe this Hondo your life.

Taglist: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @s1st37 @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses

comment to be added!

[marvelgiggles]

Learning to Be Loved

Chapter 3

It was now becoming the end of summer, which almost time for school to start. You didn’t want to go back to the school you went to last year. You were fairly advanced when it came to your other classmates, especially in STEM related classes plus they were your favorite topics. Peter found out that you loved those types of classes, he wanted you to come to school with him.

Another thing that has happened in the past few months since living with the Avengers is that you’ve broken out of your shell. You were now the person you always hoped you could be surrounded by the family you had always dreamed of. There were still some bridges to be crossed but you were improving daily and the Avengers were very patient with you.

“Y/N you have a guest at the downstairs entrance.” JARVIS announced. You squealed and ran as fast as you could to greet Peter. “Peter!” You yelled and jumped into his arms. 

“Hey Y/N/N!” He said hugging you back just as hard and kissed your cheek. He set you down, “What’s everyone up to today?”

“Wanda, Sam, Vision, and Rhodey are on a mission. Tony and Pepper are on a business call and Steve and Bucky are out training, so I’ve been bored. Wanna build a blanket fort and watch movies?” You asked bouncing on the balls of your feet with excitement. 

When the Avengers went on missions together or in groups, you were worried the entire time they were gone. You finally had a family and didn’t want to loose any of them. There was a part of you that completely understood why they had to go on missions and you were incredibly proud of them for doing something that brave and knowing that they were helping people. You tried to keep yourself busy so you wouldn’t think about it too much. 

“That sounds amazing!” Peter said, “Race ya!” Peter suddenly took off giving him the advantage. 

“Peter, no fair!” You giggled running after him to try and beat him to the living room. The two of you were giggling as Peter would slow down to help you catch up but when you were close he would speed up again. When the two of you finally made it to the living room, Peter won by just a hair. 

“I win.” Peter sang which caused you to poke his tummy. He gasped and curled away from your finger. “Is that a game you want to start now there Y/N?” Peter started to poke your tummy in retaliation which made you giggle slightly. 

“Nohoho.” 

“You wanna grab the blankets for the fort? The more you grab the bigger it can be.” You grinned and rushed off to the closet that held all of the blankets, you grabbed as many as you could carry while still somewhat seeing where you were going. You got back to the living room Peter had moved some of the furniture around to clear a spot for the epic fort you were going to make. 

“Let’s get started.” Peter rubbed his hands together rapidly, something he did when he was excited about something. 

After an hour, you and Peter made the most epic blanket fort in the history of blanket forts. You had the TV set up on the ground, also doubling the use and making it one of the walls of the fort. You also brought some of the extra string lights from your room down and strung them along the ceiling. It was also loaded up with some of the extra blankets you didn’t use and all of the pillows that were from the couches. It also was stocked full of all the appropriate movie marathon snacks. 

“What movie should we start with?” Peter asked you. 

You shrugged. You didn’t want to accidentally pick a movie that Peter didn’t like and make him want to sit through the whole thing. “Whatever you want to watch is fine.” It also helped you were pretty easy to please when it came to movies, as long as it wasn’t a horror movie or super graphic. 

“Are the Lion King movies okay?” You nodded with a smile. You both made yourselves comfortable while also each grabbing a snack. Halfway through the movie Peter spoke up. 

“Y/N,” you turned your head to look at him letting him know he had your full attention, “do you wanna cuddle?” Your face all of a sudden got very warm and you avoided his eyes. You slightly nodded and Peter opened his arms, “Well come here then Cuddlebug.” You eagerly crawled into his arms.  

While you have broke out of your shell in the last few months, you were still struggling with asking for certain types of affection. You had no issues giving hugs to people, but you were still too nervous to ask for cuddles or kiss someone one the cheek. The Avengers gave you the nickname of Cuddlebug because cuddles were one of your favorite things on the planet.

“Thanks for keeping me company Peter.” You whispered. He drew you closer to him while giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead. 

“Of course. You’re one of my best friends Y/N, I love hanging out with you.” 

Another thing that all the Avengers have learned about you appreciated words. Growing up you were never told that someone was proud of you, that someone cared about you, or even that someone loved you. Since the Avengers knew a little background of your previous life they tried their best to always tell you what they thought of you. 

“I like hanging out with me too.” You teased, even though you had a rough past you still understood sarcasm, which was also something that came to life recently.

“Oh look, it’s miss sassy pants, guess I will have to fix that.” He rolled you onto your back and he laid on your side, crossing his over and under yours pinning you into place, and then he started to squeeze your hips. You burst into giggles trying to twist away but Peter’s legs had you stuck in place. 

“Peheheheter!” 

“Oh can miss sassy pants not take some tickles? Well that’s too bad, I have to tickle all of the sass out of you.” Peter sang now bringing his horribly quick fingers up to your armpits making you Tickle Me Elmo giggles burst out. 

“Looks like miss sassy pants has turned into Tickle Me Elmo, how cute.” Peter chuckled, “Maybe this spot will make you loose all your sass.” He then moved down to your ribs, he hit a particularly overly sensitive spot. It was at the bottom of your ribs but on the backside of your rib cage. You were so shocked at this new feeling that you didn’t even try to squirm it was like you were paralyzed with laughter. 

You were trying to tap out or do something to get him to stop, then thankfully he decided to have mercy on you.

“I’m definitely going to remember that spot.” He squeezed it quick again eliciting a squeal from you. “But it’s not as good as this one.” He jellyfished the knee closest to him and you quickly grabbed his hand and wove his fingers between yours so he didn’t get carried away and tickle you longer than you could handle. “I’m done I promise.”

“I like hanging out with you too Peter.” You told him once you finally caught your breath and the both of you got more comfortable and finished your Lion King movie marathon. 

———————

It was the first day at Peter’s new school and it would be a lie if you didn’t say you were nervous. You were about to go to school with a bunch of genius kids and a new school, but you were thankful to have Peter by your side. 

You were standing outside the building looking at the front doors, “Ready?” Peter said grabbing your hand.

You let out a breath you didn’t even know that you were holding. “Is it weird that I’m nervous?”

“No but I’m going to be with you in class all day. Mr. Stark made a call apparently.” He smiled and you felt so touched that Tony would go out of his way to make sure that you were comfortable and with Peter all day. Peter tugged your hand and you followed him into school.

You felt a lot of eyes on you making you feel really small and uncomfortable. Peter just simply squeezed your hand letting you know that he was there and walked into your first classroom. 

You were a little surprised to find a few round tables in the room instead of a bunch of desks. Peter walked over to a table with a few people and sat down, you immediately followed so you wouldn’t have to sit a table where you didn’t know anyone.

“Y/N, these are my friends Ned and MJ. Guys, this is Y/N.” Peter told you while pointing to a girl with curly black hair and the guy who couldn’t stop smiling with no hair. 

“So you’re the Y/N Peter has told us about.” You suddenly got really nervous, what had Peter said about you, good things or bad things, that fear of suddenly loose your closest and first friend made it’s way to the pit of your stomach. Peter started to notice your tense state and simply placed his hand on top of yours. 

“Hey, I’ve only told them good things. I told them that I made another best friend over the summer named Y/N and that she was super fun to hang out with.” 

You smiled appreciatively at him, “Why aren’t there desks?” Peter chuckled at your question but you didn’t feel stupid or insecure at his response. 

“It’s supposed to help with learning. We are all facing each other and the teachers have structured their teaching so we can work more in groups and go back and forth with each other, rather than just sit and listen to them talk all the time. Not all the teachers have it but it’s becoming more common throughout the school.” 

That made you nervous and a little more excited about school. You were always such a hands on learner but you didn’t really know anyone yet so you were even more thankful that you were in class with Peter and that Tony made a call to the school. 

Finally, lunch time came around and you were the first one to sit at the table Peter told you he sat at. You felt a presence sit next to you and you turned to look expecting to find Peter but instead you were looking a boy you’ve never seen before. He was wearing a letterman jacket and he was kind of handsome as well.

“Hi, I’m Brad. What’s your name?”

“Y/N.” Then all of a sudden a large group of guys in letterman jackets sat around you. 

“Well Y/N welcome to Midtown High. Where’d you move from?” He was obviously trying to get to know you for some reason and you just wanted to leave but you also didn’t want to be rude. 

“I’m just here for today to see if I like it.” You said quietly not liking the pressure you felt from all of the guys around you.

“I hope you stay because...”

“Hey Y/N, wanna join MJ, Ned and I over there.” Peter interrupted Brad, you had never been so thankful to see Peter. You eagerly nodded when all of a sudden you felt a hand on your arm, trying to get you to sit back down and you knew it wasn’t Peter. “Hey Parker, she was already sitting here.”

“I know!” Peter actually looked pretty angry at Brad, “But this is where we normally sit and you didn’t have to sit here plus Y/N is my friend and she’s clearly uncomfortable, so take your hand off of her so she can come sit with her real friends.” You had never heard Peter talk like that and you made a note to never get on his bad side. Brad thankfully did what Peter said and you stood up to follow Peter to where he was sitting. 

“I’m sorry about Brad. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Peter said as you were making your way to his table. 

You shook your head, “Thank you for saving me.” You said quietly.

Peter kissed your cheek quickly and whispered in your ear, “That’s my job Y/N.” Causing you to giggle at his cheesiness and the whisper in your ear tickled a little bit too.

After lunch time was over, you went to all the other classes with Peter and enjoyed your day at the school, but when the bell rang at the end of the day you were even more happy to go home. You were never really away from the compound for that long since you’ve lived there so you missed everyone and couldn’t wait to get back home. 

Peter told you he wouldn’t be coming back to the compound with you and he had to go somewhere with his aunt after school, so Happy would be picking you up. Peter did walk you out to the front door and you instantly spotted Happy’s car. 

“Bye Peter, have fun with May.”

“I’ll text you later, Y/N.” He pulled you into a hug before you got in the car. Happy and you made light conversation on the way back to the compound. 

“Welcome home Y/N.” JARVIS said as you walked in the front door. 

“Hi JARVIS! Is Tony in the lab?” 

“He’s currently working on a new model for his suit.” JARVIS told you and you ran to the lab wanting to tell Tony about your day. Once you got to the lab you saw a stool right next to him, you figured if you sat there he might even let you help him.

“Hey pipsqueak, how was school with the kid?” He turned from what he was working on and kissed your hair.

“It was fun.” You said simply kicking your legs back and forth on the stool watching in fascination on what Tony was working on.

“Yeah, so is that were you think you wanna go this year?” He set his tools down and stopped what he was doing to give you his full attention.

“No.” You said quietly suddenly getting nervous to tell Tony what you were thinking. You looked up a Tony quick and his head was cocked to the side and one of his eyebrows was raised. 

“I liked the school but I’d rather learn stuff from you in the lab and help you with suits and other things.” You were suddenly snatched off the stool in a big bear hug and Tony swung you around in a circle making you laugh.

“I get to have you here all the time!” Tony screamed as he continued to spin you around. When he finally stopped spinning you felt his hands squeeze between you arms and your armpits, he started to wiggle his fingers causing one of everyone’s favorite laughter from you. Your Tickle Me Elmo giggles broke out and you started to kick you legs.

“Tohohohony!” You giggled, you couldn’t help but try to get some momentum to break free of his grasp but you also didn’t mind as you loved being tickled. Tony didn’t acknowledge your protests and started to rub his beard in the crook of you neck. Your giggles got more frantic and your kicking became a little more desperate than before. Tony kept this up for a while, he’d either rub his beard around your neck, or wiggle his fingers in your armpits or even do both at the same time. 

He finally had mercy on you after a while and set you back down on your feet and he gave you a long kiss on your forehead. “I would love nothing more than to teach you everything I know. I’ve always wanted a little apprentice.”

“I’m sorry you went through all that trouble of calling the school for nothing.”

Tony waved his hand dismissively, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl. Now where should we start?”

[justimajin]

Rise of the Nation’s King ♔ Part ½

⊶ Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

⊶ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut (pt. 2)

↳ Historical AU, King AU

⊶ Words: 5.1k

⊶ Summary: Being born with nothing and yet wanting everything, Min Yoongi understands that the world will only favor those born with sliver spoons in their mouths. However, when an unseen incident breaks out at the royal palace one day, he’s forced between choosing all that he treasures for something much more. But Yoongi doesn’t know if losing you will ever keep him sane. 

⊶ Warnings: 18+ rating, graphic depictions of violence and death

The marketplace is livelier around this time of the year. 

Merchants and venders alike have surrounded themselves with goods that are chased after. From dangling strings of freshly cut red meat to heads of boars displayed in the front of their wooden stalls, the assortment brings those scrambling with coins and eyes flaked with desperation to scavenge as much as possible. 

A man dressed in a dark turquoise hanbok idles down the road with a dazed smile on his lips, too caught up in his own world to discover that the long fishing pole he reels has smacked into the back of another merchant’s head. His new stock is left flapping on the ground, covered in a layer of fine dust that has collected from the feet of others. 

His face is instantly coloured in a shade of red, “YAH! Can’t you watch where you’re going?!” 

The other man that’s received a generous layer of fish oil against his straightened hair whips his head around, donning a similar expression to him. He wears a dull green hanbok in contrast, a pale blue headband wrapped around his forehead and concealing the youthful features he radiates. 

He faintly touches the back of his head, left with an eerie smell that only reminds him of another grim-covered man he had passed by the other day.

“Shouldn’t you watch where you’re going old man?!” He scoffs, watching his opponent’s eyes increase by tenfold. 

“Old man?!” Despite the clearly visible facial hair on his chin and wrinkled lines maring his forehead, the younger fellow has struck him where it hurts most, “Why, I outta-” 

He fists his green hanbok and the man does the same to his blue one. Within moments, they’re engaged in a heated fight that relies more on swings and kicks that are clumsy and barely do any damage, provoking them to resort to the fine art of name-calling instead. Their ruckus elicits mixed reactions from neighboring stalls, all throwing them strange and annoyed looks. 

A man in the corner darkly chuckles, clad in a ragged beige jacket and a large straw hat perched on top of his black strands. There’s a rope filled with tools hanging from the seam of his hips, ranging from a hammer, a chisel and the most used, a pickaxe.

He leans against the old wall, his dusted arms crossed and drained eyes hardened as he watches the duo taunting each other. It’s fascinating to simply watch, because those who have more always seem to be heavily prone to quarreling about such non-sensible things. 

A deep sigh passes the seam of his lips, pushing his legs off the wall and taking a mere glance around before strutting through the marketplace. He walks slow, observing the man that carefully guides the horse carrying his load of loot with a rope, protecting the merchandise with all that he’s got. He also observes the woman throwing hopeful glimpses around, the fish she’s spent hours collected rapidly turning stale within the span of a mere couple of hours. 

He suddenly flinches, a wince descending through his right leg. Memories of the dark and humid caverns flash through his mind, tiring hours of gripping his pickaxe and swinging it in between layers of soot to retrieve battered pieces of stone only for greedy hands to immediately whisk it away. He’s left with a body that aches for him to stop, a bag of a few mesly coins tossed in his face and the chuckles of officials that hone down his work. 

His face contorts, fists clenching and shoulders tightened when he’s forced to step off the road with his tender leg. He leans against the wall again, breathing in harsh gasps as sweat quickly manifests underneath his straw hat. His eyes are shadowed before he flutters them close, a haze of muted fury silently spurring. 

“Yoongi!” A faint voice from afar calls, expeditiously growing louder, “Yoongi!” 

His eyes snap open, “Yoon-OOF!” 

He immediately whips around, sight landing upon your collapsed form. A cluster of coughs plague you from the mixed humid air and wafting dust in the crowded area, many merchants swiftly passing by you without another look. One in particular eyes you in irritation, your small mishap occurring right in front of his potential customer and nearly spoiling the boar head the man had been keen on selling. 

“Foolish girl! Go make a mess somewhere else!” He angrily shouts, your form instantly shrinking away. 

“S-Sorry.” You offer, a yelp escaping you when a strong hold suddenly lifts you up. You avertedly cling to Yoongi’s side as the man continues to spew out how much your recklessness could have damaged his material and ruined his clential, but the man holding you next to him isn’t having any of it. 

“She’s already apologized.” Yoongi states. 

“Instead of apologizing, maybe she should pay for the damages!” He barks, gesturing to his table, “Do you know how long it took me to find boars this fine?!”

You move forward to offer another humble apology, but Yoongi tugs you back. He grabs a small pouch from his waist, throwing the bag into the man’s face as the few coins contained inside spill out onto the ground. 

“There. Happy now?” Yoongi ignores the hungry ravenous look the man has, simply turning to leave and dragging you by hand with him. He leads you into the main road of the marketplace, taking an intrigued glance at all the things being offered inside the various stalls. 

“Yoongi.” Your grip on his hand tightens and he turns around questioningly, “Those were the coins you earned today….” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He mutters, eyes downcasted. He ignores the pinch those words bring him. “I still have enough saved up.” 

You become quiet, guilt still written all over your features. Yoongi sighs, glancing over to a stall selling bundles of meat. 

“You wanted to eat beef the other day, right?” He gestures towards it, “Go grab some.” 

Your eyes flicker, “I-I can’t let you do that Yoongi, we still have a hole in our roof to fix.” You recall both of you promising to hold back on expenditures when a certain harsh downpour had happened, the entirety of your belongings left thoroughly soaked with residue. 

“We can still buy one piece.” He smirks, a spark of playfulness in his eyes, “But you’ll have to share with me.”

You smile, heading over to the merchant once he’s finished with his last customer. Although you’re happy with being able to purchase some form of expensive meat after so long, you end picking the smallest piece to spare both you and Yoongi the troubles of paying. But it’s hard to erase the elation you have carrying it over to him, a somber question remaining on the tip of your tongue. 

“Why are you so nice to me?” You whisper out loud, the inquiry leaving a sad smile on Yoongi’s lips once you return. It’s a smile that speaks volumes, throbbing the dreadful gash that runs from his forehead to his cheek, his vision still not completely recovered as his peripheral view comes out distorted. 

Yoongi silently stares at you, an unsaid answer breezing by the light whistles of the air and the chattering among the people. 

Because you’re all that I have left now. 

***

Hugging the precious piece of meat to your chest, you walk aimlessly behind Yoongi throughout the entire marketplace. Yoongi in particular doesn’t seem so interested in purchasing anything, rather he observes the rest of the items displayed. You eventually become occupied with a woman who urges you to steal a glance at her range of slippers, the spiked up costs bearing a pout to form on your lips. 

The sound of a loud thud breaks you out of your thoughts, swiveling around to see all the townspeople flocking together. Yoongi instantly appears in the midst of them, grabbing onto your hand that’s not holding the meat and tugging you with him. 

“What is it?” You quietly ask, alarmed by the sudden increase of officials dressed in dark blue robes surrounding you. 

“The sinmungo.” Yoongi points to the large drum positioned at the edge of the road, a swirl of cool blue and warm orange decorated in the middle of it. You recall having seen it a handful of times, namely whenever there had been an issue between the authority of the law and the people of your class which needed resolving. Initially you had presumed that it worked in the form of being as a collective voice for all of you, but you had soon to discover the royal will it holds. 

“Who dares defy the King?” One official speaks up, a menacing glare in his eyes. In his grip is an unsheathed sword, pointed towards the man currently cowering on the ground beneath him. 

“I’m sorry! I-I meant no disrespect to His Majesty.” The man stutters, grasping onto any piece of mercy, “M-My wife has been sick and I-I had to sell everything for her treatment.” 

The official steps up and withdraws his sword, his gaze landing on the small palanquin hidden behind them. Your eyes are drawn to the intricate green and gold details glittered along the surface, the picture of a bright golden dragon painted in the centre.

Another official steps up, adorned in dark green robes. “This man has refused to pay the tax from running a business on His Majesty’s land. What is the verdict for such a crime?” 

A hand brushes pushes past the curtains of the laid palanquin on the ground, your eyes eager to see the unknown ruler of your land in the flesh. To your dismay, he makes a simple gesture and withdraws instantly. 

The man begins to shriek madly in horror, tears streaming down his eyes when the green official drags him by his collar and throws him in front of the one wielding a sword. He yanks it out, ignoring the man’s pleads of hysteria, before the sword descends down on his neck with a swift jerk. 

Your eyes are immediately covered, the gruesome sound of flesh tearing and blood splattering onto the ground ringing through your ears. The people surrounding you let out gasps of terror, a silence laced with fear prevailing heavy in the air. 

Yoongi twists you around from the sight, removing his hand from your face and replacing it within your hold instead. He drags you away, images of violent screams and begging sobs plaguing his mind as the sinmungo is hit once again. 

The King has made his new decree. 

You wipe away the tears streaming from your eyes with a trembling hand, something you know Yoongi can feel when his grip only tightens. Breezing by the many people cluttered together to view the sudden authority, their whispers serve to only increase the fear in you by tenfold. 

“That’s the third one in two days!” One shouts, stuck in disbelief. 

“This is absurd! An execution for not being able to pay tax??” Another one scoffs, “Is the King trying to kill off all his people?!” 

You freeze, blood running cold. A yank on Yoongi’s beige jacket makes him falter, spinning around to face your dread stricken features. 

“T-There’s been more than one. If we don’t pay on time-” A shudder runs through your body, the thought of you and Yoongi being next brings nothing short of utter despair. It’s no news that you and Yoongi are both a part of the sangmin class - the ones that are thrown with the king’s leftovers and then trampled on once your will to survive has completely fizzled and diminished. 

Yoongi lets go of you, stepping forward to cup your cheeks within his palms. 

“I won’t let anything happen to you.” He whispers, but the way his pupils shake with the impending doom speak of a different story. He releases you, grabbing onto your hand once more. 

You want to believe his words, you want to bask yourself in the strength he always manages to muster up when things head south. However, the perception of unruly bloodshed and injustice have lodged themselves too deep in the confines of your mind, the remaining hidden pieces of hope slowly breaking off bit by bit. 

You’re still shaken up by the events of the day by the time you reach home. 

Yoongi doesn’t attempt to pry into your silence, simply retrieving a handful of wood planks and tossing them into the middle of a brewing fire. He leaves once more to grab an old chair and a sheet of loose fabric, climbing up to the space where a chilling breeze has begun to enter through your roof. You’re reduced to somberly watching him from the corner of your bed, the mere satisfaction of temporarily enclosing it barely meeting his eyes. 

He claps his hands together, shaking off any remains of dust before approaching you with curious eyes. 

“How has your business been?” He settles down next to you, his gaze remaining on the occasional sparks the fire lets out. You’re at least grateful for the surge of warmth it gives off, eyes downcasting. 

“Slow.” You mumble, “I-I’m not earning much these days….” 

Your view drifts over to the tangles of thread woven through bundles of cloth, resting on the table where you presume dust is now starting to collect. The thought haunts you with more vivid images of a future line of fate you’re so close to taking a step upon, water harshly welling up in your eyes. 

“Y/N…” Yoongi shifts closer to you, interlacing his fingers with yours. “We’ll be okay.” 

“W-We can’t be sure of that.” Tears stream down your cheeks, a sharp quiver in your words. Your eyes stray over to the long incision running through his left eye, fingers reaching out to faintly trace it. Yoongi stills as you do, pain flashing through his eyes despite the wound having long been healed. 

“Even after so long…” Yoongi whispers, a sad chuckle leaving his body. “I can still hear their screams.”

Your hand falters, eyes lowering. “The King has been all losing his patience as of lately.” Yoongi hums, “We already have nothing and now he wants to take that away too.” 

No matter which direction you look at it, the sentence is absurd. You know better than to question the ways of the law, but the only word settling down for such treatment is simply cruel. 

“The King is a bloody tyrant.” Yoongi spits out, your eyes growing wide, “He sits in his golden throne all day long and executes all the people that he’s left his scraps to.” 

“Yoongi!” You harshly whisper, avertedly glancing around you. There’s a hardened look in his eyes from the gesture, voice growing louder.

“What? You know I’m right.” You tightly seal your lips, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“You are.” You take another quick glance around, “But his ruling is something that is out of our control.” 

Yoongi grows silent, annoyance still written over him. “For now, we need to find a way to earn more before-” 

You falter, the words ‘before we’re next’ not being able to leave you. 

Yoongi sighs, his tense form becoming relaxed. “You’re right. I’ll go to the officials tomorrow and see if I can join the military.” 

Astonishment sparks within you from the resolution, lucidly recalling Yoongi’s firm declaration that he wouldn’t want anything to do with the King and his empire in the future. His motive of earning on his own ended up becoming more and more solid as the days spun by, his hands and face constantly covered in an increasing amount of soot. 

“Y-You want to join the military?” It pays better, you know that. But it's something you never wanted to push onto him. 

He nods, “We need the money now more than ever.” There’s a faint smile lingering on his lips, “And besides, weren’t you saying something about needing to save up for a wedding the other day?” 

Crimson immediately flushes through your skin, swiveling around to grab a piece of fabric, “W-We don’t need to worry about that right now.” 

Yoongi glances in your direction, softly smiling when you lay down the rough sheet onto the surface of the bed and smooth it down carefully with your hands. You then move to place one on the opposite bed, settling down with a content hum and shuffling closer to the fire he’s made. 

He eventually joins you and lays his head against the rugged sheet, maneuvering himself to view your delicate features from across him. He observes the way your eyes have fluttered shut, content with the small space you have and the thinness of the blanket covering you, a single wish spurring out from the depths of his heart in that moment that quickly forms into a promise. 

He would do anything in his capacity to protect you. 

***

Despite the horrid display of power yesterday, the townspeople have fallen back into the routine of their daily duties. Yet it is still unnerving how many of them avert their gazes from the once flourishing stall, faint reminiscences of a sweating man unloading all of his chickens in anticipation that he comes home to a wife that longs to end her own suffering.

Now all that remains are broken shards of wood, marked with the edges of a familiar sword. 

Yoongi filters through all the anxious and distressed faces, hidden underneath the large conical hat he dons. He sharply eyes the official that strolls through the road without a care in the world, plucking a handful of seeds from a stall that has a woman uneasily smiling in return. The display nearly makes him scoff, but he holds it back and struts closer to the official. 

He’s dressed in light green robes and carries a stoic expression, different compared to the one that wields a sword and beckons to the King’s every word. The seeds slip from his palm at Yoongi’s sudden appearance, measly tossing them all away as the woman before him gingerly performs constructive bows. 

His voice is low, “What do you want?” 

“I wish to join the military.” Yoongi states, the words already tasting like acid. “To serve and yield to the beloved King.” 

The man smirks, an action that has Yoongi’s eyes narrowing, “Are you aware of how the military works? We only look for those that are physically fit to exclusively serve His Majesty.” 

“I work as a miner.” He clarifies, taking out his pickaxe, “I am more than capable of serving in the King’s army.” 

The man lets out a hearty chuckle, still stuck in disbelief. “It takes a lot more than that, miner. Maybe try around next year when you’re more adequate to fight for His Majesty’s sake.” 

Yoongi clenches his teeth, fists rounding. He’s made a promise to protect you and he didn’t come here to simply take no for an answer. 

“I need to join the military now.” He grabs onto the official's delicate robes in a fit of rage, only for the man to push him away. 

“Such insolence!” He spits, dusting off the parts of his hanbok that Yoongi’s managed to crease. He’s ready to unleash a storm of anger on the commoner man, but the straw hat on his head has withered onto the ground. 

The official freezes. 

The brewing anger vanishes within a flash, and he takes a handful of careful steps. 

Yoongi glares at him, tugging himself up with a scowl lined on his lips. He takes a glance at his arms, luckily not having been injured due to the man’s reckless actions. 

When Yoongi looks up and stares at him, the official staggers back. 

“I-It can’t be….” He whispers, appearing to have seen the equivalent of a ghost. Yoongi raises a brow, deciding to grab his fallen pickaxe instead and hook it onto his belt. 

The official latches onto his arm. 

It happens within the blink of an eye. One moment he’s crossed with annoyance, utter fury fueling the way the official treats him like he’s a piece of dirt and rejecting all his efforts at earning more for the two of you. Another moment, the official has slapped a hand over his mouth, dragging him to a secluded corner where Yoongi sees more of them crowded together. 

He’s thrown onto the ground harshly, a collection of gasps spiking around him. A blindfold is suddenly wrapped around his eyes, concealing his sight completely. He struggles at the layers of rope tied around his torso, desperately trying to free himself from the durable material. 

“Let me go, you bastards!” He growls, but a pricking pain is sent to the back of his head, rendering him unconscious as he crumbles down to the ground. 

***

Your brows are furrowed, the pin in your fingers delicately held. A small incision is made through the fabric, woven back to make another loop before you stretch out the thread and tighten it. You pluck the needle again, repeating your actions to create the long design. 

“Excuse me?” A voice halts your actions, a young girl standing before you with a smile, “How much is this?” 

She points to the piece you had created a couple of days ago, now sitting deflated on top of the wooden display. The incomplete fabric in your hands is instantly tossed away and you scramble to get closer to the potential customer. 

“Five won.” You immediately reply. The girl nods and reaches into the small pouch located on the string tied to her skirt, rummaging for the amount. The coins are placed delicately within the palms of your hands and she thanks you with a smile. 

Once she departs, you can only stare at the recycled pieces of metal that shine in your hands. A flood of joy overwhelms your senses, tightly fisting the coins. You can’t bring yourself not to glance around in anticipation, a smile blossoming on the corner of your lips and hastily closing your shop. 

You know it isn’t enough to buy a piece of meat, or that it would barely cut through the costs of repairing an ancient crumbling roof, but your feet assume otherwise when you rush through the crowd of civilians strolling down the marketplace. Your smile only widens once you catch sight of Yoongi’s signature hat, currently in the midst of conversing with one of the officials. 

Your curiosity grows the more you drift closer and peer in behind a shop, Yoongi’s convincing tone entering your ears. 

“I am more than capable of serving in the King’s army.” 

You tenderly smile, but a sharp laugh breaks into the air. “It takes a lot more than that, miner. Maybe try around next year when you’re more adequate to fight for His Majesty’s sake.” 

Hurt flashes across your features, your eyes immediately moving to see Yoongi’s form stiffen. The ground crunches as you falter to intervene, taken aback when Yoongi suddenly advances and takes a hold of the man’s robes. 

You flinch when Yoongi stumbles onto the ground, his hat falling off his black locks. The official sends him a look of disgust, his cheeks flushed. 

“Such insolence!” 

The official suddenly halts in his steps, eyes dazed as if he was stuck in a trance. “I-It can’t be….” 

Yoongi appears as confused as you are, the man grabbing onto his arm in an instant. The confusion completely disappears once he pulls Yoongi towards him, silencing him immediately much to your own horror. He begins to drag him away and you rush forward, swooping up his fallen hat. 

The streets are bustling with people as you chase after them, bumping into you with zero consideration. You end up stumbling, the dull beige hanbok you wear getting easily stained with grim. You pay no attention, simply scrambling back onto your feet and heading into the direction you last saw Yoongi. It turns out to be an empty ditch in between two abandoned stalls, a pang of panic running through you when you see Yoongi on the ground blindfolded and in the process of being tied up. 

“Let go of me, you bastards!” You hear Yoongi roughly shout, a man with a large wooden block coming up behind him and smacking the back of his head. Yoongi slumps down onto the ground, not long before an ear piercing scream leaves your lips. 

“YOONGI!” Tears stream down your eyes as you rush to desperately push the man dragging his limp body away. He retaliates by whirling around and hitting the side of your face with a harsh smack, your form falling onto the ground with a loud thud. You quickly glance up to see them tossing Yoongi into a cart, one with faded markings of green and gold. 

The men hurriedly head into the cart alongside him, ushering the horse attached to begin moving. You immediately get back onto your feet, your hand barely grasping onto the fabric of the cart before it’s sent soaring forward. 

“YOONGI!!” You run as fast as you can this time, tears clouding your sight. You fall down onto your knees when the cart is too far in sight, your form trembling as it vanishes into disappearance. 

“Y-Yoongi…” You sob into your hands, a simple dirtied straw hat left beside you.

When he comes to, darkness is all Yoongi can see. 

There are two people on either end of him, dragging his body against the ground. The faint chatter of voices sweep through the room, mere echoes entering his ringing ears. His breathing stills, the light air feeling different to the humid one he’s accustomed to. 

The sound of rumbling perks his ears, right before he’s sent flying across the room. The restriction of vision is pulled away from his eyes and for the first time in a while, he can actually see what is around him. 

It’s dark for being able to finally see, a shadow casted across from the silk curtains blocking out any forms of light coming from the two windows. There are four large pillars at each corner, spirals of deep green and bright gold decorated into the lavish and broad room. In front of him stands the very official he had gone to in search of work, but now he keeps his head down and gaze scattered. 

He asks the question he’s been dying for an answer to, “Where am I?” 

Among the six individuals in the room, no one speaks a word. 

“What do you want from me?!” He roars, chest heaving. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, he doesn’t know if there’s daylight or moonlight outside, he doesn’t know if you’re okay, if you’ve already reached home by now only to discover that his abrupt absence. 

The official he knows steps up, appearing scrutinized under his stare. He opens his mouth, only to close it a couple of times before spewing any words. 

“What is your name?” He calmly questions, earning a twitch from Yoongi’s eye. The man appears startled from the gesture, backing away immediately. 

Yoongi deeply exhales, “Min Yoongi.” 

The men in the room exchange strange looks, something that just leaves Yoongi puzzled. 

“And you said you are a miner?” 

“Yes.” Yoongi grits, “If you brought me here just for an interrogation, I’m assuming you’ve mistaken me for someone else.” 

Everyone in the room hesitates at that. They gather in a circle far from here, seemingly discussing something amongst themselves. 

“What do we do now?” One dressed in black robes whispers, frightened. 

“We can’t keep him in here forever.” 

“But we have to! It’s the only way.” 

Yoongi frowns, constantly tugging on the back of his hands roughly. The material of the rope is extremely steady, that’s for sure. 

They all collectively turn around, Yoongi pausing his escape momentarily from all the stares. 

The one adorned in black steps up, “We need to show you something.” 

***

He’s led into a cavern, a spiral of stairs descending down. It had taken a considerable amount of convincing on his kidnappers part for him to follow them around aimlessly whilst still tied up, but Yoongi can’t merely shake off the strange feeling he’s been getting since he’s arrived. 

The halls he’s passed by are extraordinarily decorated with rich coats of paint, gold ornaments hanging down from the ceilings and the floor polished as if it was made of fine marble. It’s not the same rustic grounds he’s walked countless times upon, something being utterly unusual of this place he’s been brought onto. 

Once the various rounds of stairs are done and a large green door is presented before him, Yoongi catches the faint glimmer in everyone’s eyes. They appear hesitant, as if they were just on their way to committing a grave sin. After the tense moment, one of them slots a golden key into the lock and the door comes creaking open. 

The very first thing Yoongi notices, is the sudden ominous atmosphere the room has taken. It’s almost borderline suffocating when one of the men tugs him in, a shining bronze crate laying in the centre of the room. He frowns at its appearance, noticing all of the men moving to stand around it in a circle. 

“What is it?” He throws out, glancing at them avertedly. One of them raises his head, distraught heavily on his features. 

“It is a tomb.” He mutters in a monotone voice, “For the late King.” 

Yoongi’s eyes dramatically widen and two of them move forward to lift the top layer covering the bronze casket. His heartbeat begins to thud against his ribcage, sweat forming at the temples of his forehead. 

“There has been an incident.” He continues, “An incident we have not let the public know of yet.” 

The casket opens with a thud and Yoongi harshly sucks in a breath. There’s a young man lying lifelessly in the coffin, dressed in royal green robes with gold embellishment. His long blonde hair has been set free, falling down delicately onto his shoulders and to the centre of his forehead. He holds an agitated expression, as if being in the afterlife had yet to bring him some peace. 

“H-He’s…” Yoongi sputters, breathing erratically. 

The official hums, glancing at the King with somber eyes. 

“Our beloved King Agust is no more….” He turns to Yoongi with a spark of hope, “but you, Sir Min Yoongi, are still alive.”

[knamjooned]

ECHOES: Team Nocturna - KNJ

pairing: ranger! namjoon x ??? reader

genre: pokemon au, fantasy au, psychic au, smut

tropes: strangers to lovers, love at first sight, amnesia

words: 10K

notes: if you don’t know anything about pokemon, i think you can read this and not be lost. if you are a fan, basically the first movie is all you need to know.

SUMMARY: While hiking, Namjoon finds a mysterious woman lost in the woods. Since she has no memories of her past, he takes it upon himself to help find them.

thanks to @blushingatyou​ & @samros95​ for reading through this, giving me lovely ideas to make it even better <3 I appreciate you taking that time for this!

TEAM: [ info graphic here ]

Virizion (FABLE) - Namjoon was found by Virizion as a young adult. A bond formed when he helped rescue several pokemon from poachers.

Calyrex (CALY) - This pokemon enjoys deep conversations with Namjoon, although it still insists it’s smarter than him by a long shot.

Exeggutor (TORI) - When visiting Alola, Namjoon mistook this pokemon as a simple tree. He tried to climb it, but fell when it shook in surprise.

Tapu Bulu (OTIS) - The pokemon was intrigued when Namjoon put himself between two pokemon fighting. It healed Namjoon after he got hurt.

Flapple (LOBO) - Namjoon tried to evolve Applin into Flapple, but the pokemon refused at the time. It did it by itself.

Celebi (SPRITZ) - Namjoon purposefully sought this pokemon as he explored Ilex Forest. He is still amazed by the fact it wasn’t to stay with him.

Namjoon took a sip of water from the container he kept attached to his backpack and wiped his brow. It was a warm day in the forest, and even with the shade it did little to cool his skin. Rolling his shoulders, Namjoon leaned against a large boulder a few feet from a beautiful, sparkling lake, surrounded by trees on all sides. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of the spring air.

“Bi bi!”

The call of one of his partners made Namjoon stand straight and open his eyes, alert. He quickly scanned his area and saw Spritz floating excitedly toward him. Relaxing his shoulders a bit, he smiled with amusement, entertained by the creature's innocent grin.

“What’d you find, my friend? Anything interesting?” He hoisted his pack back onto his body and adjusted the load to continue on his hike. Namjoon’s patrol was almost over, and his stomach started to growl with happiness. “I hope it’s food.”

“Not so much,” came a telepathic voice. Celebi used it only when it had much to speak about. Spritz fluttered in front of Namjoon, guiding the way toward whatever it had found. “Something is wrong with her.”

“That’s not good,” Namjoon replied, moving faster. He stepped with ease over the ground, used to walking among broken branches, rocks, and other scattered things that were on the forest floor. “What kind of pokemon is it?”

“Not a pokemon,” came another voice in his head. He glanced to his left and saw Fable, another pokemon that was on his team. Virizion tilted their head toward the eastern part of the area. “A... human woman.”

“Bi bi,” Spritz agreed, nodding solemnly. The mythical and legendary pokemon lead a curious Namjoon through the trees some more, coming to a tiny clearing with enough room to place a tent at the side of a brook. “Cel...” Spritz hesitated at the edge of clearing, unsure of the woman there.

“Stay at the edge of the clearing, yeah?” Namjoon murmured toward his friends. “I don’t want to scare her. You’re right, something is wrong.”

She was a young woman, dressed in generic jeans and a t-shirt, sitting on the ground cross-legged. In her arms was a small silver backpack, not made for hiking like his, held tightly to her chest. Tears silently fell from her eyes as she gazed forward. Namjoon cleared his throat, slowly approaching from the side.

“Is everything alright?” he asked as gently as he could, hands up to show he meant no harm. His voice still startled her, causing her to grasp the bag even tighter and jerk her head toward him. Her eyes were wide with confusion and fear. He stopped six feet away. “My name is Namjoon. I’m a Pokemon Ranger in this forest. Can I help with anything?”

----

The last thing you remembered was... excitement? Anticipation? For what, you couldn’t say, but something you had been wanting to do for a while. You couldn’t grasp anything else from your memories, only the emotions that had spread through your body at the time. Now, you opened your eyes to find yourself on the grass near a brook, on your back. The tree branches shaded you from the high sun, while a breeze rustled their leaves. 

Sitting up, you furrowed your brows as you looked around, taking in the peaceful scene around you. Inside, though, panic caused your chest to tighten and questions flooded your mind.

Where am I? How did I get here? What am I doing here? Who am I?

The last question repeated rapidly in your mind. Frightened, you grabbed your bag that was at your side and held it to your chest. Tears started to fall as you struggled to understand what was going on. Who am I? You couldn’t answer, and that was what frightened you the most.

You heard the sound of someone approaching, but pretended not to hear, hoping they would just leave. There was too much going on in your mind, adding a stranger to that would only make it more difficult to process. Unfortunately, he spoke and startled you, making you gasp and turn to look at him abruptly. He spoke gently, as if afraid of making you run, which was a good intuition, honestly. Taking a shaky breath, you gathered emotional strength to move past the panic.

“I... I don’t know,” you answer truthfully. You licked your dry lips, realizing you were incredibly thirsty. How long had you been out here? “May I have some water?”

“Of course! May I... come closer?” He waited for you to respond, and you did with a nod. He was being cautious, and that helped you trust his motives. Why were you so suspicious? Again, another answer you couldn’t find. “Fantastic. Here you go.” Namjoon dug a water bottle out of his pack and handed it over. You grabbed and opened it, forcing yourself to sip instead of gulping down the whole thing. It was cool and delicious, the most wonderful thing you had ever tasted at the moment.

“Thank you... Namjoon.” When you said his name, he grinned. “I.. I don’t know my name. I’m sorry, I wish I could tell you.” You grimaced, sipping some more water as you blinked back tears. You wouldn’t let the panic take over, not at the moment. That would be something to do when you were alone.

“I see,” he replied, much calmer than you expected. “My pokemon partners found you. Would you like to meet them?”

“Pokemon partners?” The excitement from right before your memory loss returned, and it made you briefly wonder if this was a clue. Before you could go any deeper into that idea, Virizion and Celebi came toward you from the edges of the clearing. Sucking in a breath, you stared, amazed. You knew these both were legendary and mythical, respectively. How had this ranger convinced such awesome pokemon to work with him?

“This is Fable and Spritz.” Namjoon pointed first to Fable and then Spritz as he introduced them. Each pokemon dipped their head in a light bow and then settled next to Namjoon, who sat in front of you. Fable laid on the ground, head held regally, gazing softly at you. You thought you saw a gentle smile. Spritz fluttered close to Namjoon, but then slowly came toward you. It had an innocent vibe, with it’s big eyes and curious gaze.

“H-hello, Fable and Spritz.” You held out a hand, palm up, and Spritz lightly tapped it with his hand-like appendage. It giggled as it fluttered back to Namjoon and sat on his lap. “How did you become partners with such... pokemon as these?”

“Well,” he chuckled, shrugging with embarrassment. “It’s kind of a long story. I wasn’t expecting to be partnered with Fable, but I guess they saw something good in me.”

“He saved a group of spinarak from poachers.” The smooth, female-like voice in your head made you jump, but when you looked toward Fable, you realized it was from them. They nodded when you locked eyes. “Namjoon is a wise and good soul, very few can be found in humans.”

Namjoon’s face reddened. He tried to look busy as he dug through his backpack, hiding his face. You chuckled as Spritz agreed by flying up a few inches and squeaking happily. When he put his pack down, Namjoon’s ears were still red.

“And Spritz?” You gestured toward Spritz, who had come to a rest next to you. It tapped your leg and looked at you with it’s big eyes. You hesitantly patted your leg in the same spot. Spritz let out a squeak and settled onto your lap.

“I admit to actively searching for them,” Namjoon replied, looking apologetically at Fable. “I wasn’t planning on having them be part of my team, I just wanted to find them. I got lucky that Spritz wanted to come back with me.”

“Fascinating,” you murmured, looking down at the creature in your lap. A thought occurred to you, and you jumped up, causing Spritz to tumble out of your lap. You gasped and crouched, patting it’s head apologetically. “Sorry, Spritz. I just... Do I have pokemon? Have I abandoned them somewhere?” You stood, heart beginning to race. You grabbed your bag and shakily unzipped it. The zipper wouldn’t work, and tears began to well up in your eyes. Namjoon quickly came over and took your hands.

“Breath. In... out... good. One more time.” You followed his directions, and the panic you felt dissipated enough for you to open the pack with ease. No pokeballs or any other items related to such creatures were found. Instead, you found a tube of lip balm, a swiss army knife, a hairbrush, elastic hair ties, a pen, and a USB drive.

“This must be something important.” You held up the USB. Namjoon nodded in agreement. 

“If you’re comfortable with it, we can go back to base camp, I have a laptop we can use to see what’s on it.”

“Is.. is there a bathroom, too?” You asked shyly.

---------------------

Thankfully, Namjoon knew where a camping area was that offered a basic bathroom with a shower to campers. While you were cleaning up, he brought out the rest of his pokemon to quietly warn them of your predicament. 

“How interesting,” Caly the Calyrex murmured, floating above the ground. Namjoon raised an eyebrow at the contemplation on its face. “I can search her mind to gather information, to see if she is a threat, or on the run.”

“Is this your ego speaking?” Fable asked flatly. Caly shot the other pokemon a glare, but it didn’t faze them. Namjoon sighed, readying himself to break up a fight of words between the two once again. Instead, Lobo the flapple and Tori the alolan exeggutor interrupted as they jumped out of their pokeballs.

“Just... be gentle, okay? She seems a bit fragile, like anything could spook her.” Namjoon looked at each of them for a long moment. They all nodded and went their own way, settling into what they had been doing before. Lobo fluttered happily next to Tori, who swayed happily in the breeze. Their heads were just above the forest canopy, and they loved to just look out to see what others couldn’t.

“Otis, you good?” Namjoon asked Tapu Bulu, who floated on the edge of the camp, examining a tree that seemed to be damaged by a human tool. It huffed and jingled it’s bell, and Namjoon took that as a positive response. Spritz giggled next to him and stayed near as you finally appeared at the edge of Namjoon’s camp.

“How are you feeling?” Namjoon asked gently, walking to meet you. He studied your face for any indication of your memories coming back, but the same shy smile and confused eyes looked back at him.

“Much better, mostly,” you replied with a shrug. You wore the same clothes, but the dirt was washed off your body and out of your hair. You peered over his shoulder at the six pokemon entertaining themselves. “Wait, more legendary pokemon? What kind of ranger are you?”

“Ah... well...” Namjoon had no answer to that, but was relieved to see some form of happiness on your face. Your eyes lit up as you gazed at each of his partners. Otis ignored you and Tori just swayed with a grin when you caught their eye, while Lobo circled you with Spritz. Caly and Fable approached you cautiously, trying to keep what Namjoon had said in mind.

“Namjoon is a very special ranger,” Caly said in your head. “Almost as intelligent as myself.” Fable snorted at that, but Caly ignored them. 

“I see you two are best friends,” you commented, eyeing Namjoon. He shrugged helplessly as Caly and Fable glared at one another. “It’s nice to meet all of you. Thank you for letting me into your camp.”

----------------

A few minutes later, you were biting your lip with anxiety as Namjoon attached the USB to his laptop. You shut your eyes tightly, unable to look at anything that would suddenly come up. You sat next to Namjoon at the picnic table with your hand on his knee. Trembling, you squeezed it.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured, covering your hand. You took a deep breath, the warmth of his touch soothing some of your panic. Slowly, you opened your eyes and saw a file folder open on the screen. There was a folder labeled “NOCTURNA”. You feel Namjoon’s eyes on your as you stare forward, brows furrowed.

What is this? What does this have to do with me?

“Shall we open it?” he asked quietly. You swallowed, your throat dry, suddenly frightened by what this may mean, how ominous it sounded. Shaking your head, you stood and walked away from the bench, turning your back to it. You found a water bottle near your bag, so you opened it quickly and took a large gulp. 

“Please, don’t open it,” you replied shakily. “I just... it feels... dark. Please,” you repeat, turning toward him once again. You forced yourself to ignore the laptop screen, the word that seemed to overwhelm your senses.

NOCTURNA.

----------

Over the next week, you focused on working in the camp and forest with Namjoon. You became close to Spritz, who had taken to fluttering around you at all times. At first, you felt guilty for taking the attention of such a pokemon from your rescuer, but he quickly assured you he had no ill feelings toward you. 

You learned you had no talent for camping, but Namjoon made no complaints as you struggled with making a fire or building a tent. He kindly offered to help, but you were determined to figure it out on your own. Otis began to come around you more, apparently finding respect in your determination. It didn’t take long for the legendary Alolan pokemon to venture away from his tasks in the trees to watch you. Another watcher of yours, Namjoon, escaped your attention.

Caly tried a few times to get you to speak about your amnesia, but you refused and bluntly told the pokemon to stop. It seemed to take this negatively, and refused to even look at you since then. You ignored Caly, not entirely bothered by the distance. Namjoon scolded the pokemon, but you didn’t notice that. Tori and Lobo were the comedians of the group, constantly doing things that made everyone laugh.

Tori enjoyed telling everyone what she saw above the canopy, which led to a few rescues of forest pokemon, including a flock of bird pokemon from traps set by poachers. Lobo brought different items it found in the woods, and became attached to a small. stuffed jigglypuff meant for a baby. When Lobo lost the item, Namjoon and you searched for three hours, finally finding it under a stack of wood Otis had cut and brought. You were so exhausted, you took a nap in the shade with Lobo. Namjoon sat beside you as you slept, blocking the sun as it moved in the sky, but was gone before you woke.

As the sun set on the 6th day of your camping journey, Fable trotted to your side and laid in the grass. You were laid on a blanket, face up, looking at the darkening sky. The stars were starting to come out. 

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you, but after what happened with the High King, I didn’t want to push it. But, it has been almost a full week, my new friend.” You quirked your lips in a smile at the sarcastic tone in their voice when Calyrex was mentioned. 

“I know,” you sighed, swallowing down the usual fear that began to crawl into your mind when your predicament was brought up. “Is there anything new you can tell me? If not, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Actually... I might.” At those words in your mind, you sat up quickly, looking over at the green pokemon. They raised their eyebrows and stared at you, patiently waiting for you to respond.

“Really?” you exclaimed. At your shout, Namjoon appeared out of nowhere, brows furrowed with concern.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, sitting next to you.

“Ah, yeah, I was just... Fable said they may have new information about me.” As you said the words, you felt excitement bubble up in your stomach. Namjoon took your hand, squeezed it with a grin, and looked back to Fable. “What is it? What information do you have?”

“And how did you get it?” Namjoon interjected as he laced his finger with yours. You didn’t seem to notice as you held onto his hand tightly.

“I’m not sure how to say it delicately, so I will be blunt.”

“That’s ominous,” Namjoon muttered, frowning. You elbowed him in the side and took a deep breath.

“You are a hybrid. Part human.... and part pokemon.”

----------

The past week had built up a lot of feelings toward you for Namjoon, and that made the bombshell Fable had just said even more powerful. You sat quietly, staring at the pokemon, and Namjoon let it sink in for you. His own head was spinning with questions, which would only mean you had so much more going on. He studied your face, like he had many times over the week, and saw the hints of shock, confusion, fear, and even a bit of excitement. 

“Can you say that again?” you finally replied. 

“Fable, how can you even know this?” Namjoon interrupted. It was so outlandish, couldn’t connect any of the dots the pokemon was throwing at them.

“To put it simply, your aura. Everyone has them, and each is just different enough to be unique. You have a unique human aura, but also a pokemon aura.”

“... that isn’t unique. You know the pokemon DNA I have inside my blood,” you state quietly. At your shuddering breath, Namjoon put his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You went willingly, your head laying close to his chest.

“Can this even be true?” he asked. Namjoon focused on clearing his mind, pulling out the more scientific knowledge he had learned over the years as a ranger. Pokemon biology quickly went through his mind, the basics taught while he was in public school. Pokemon DNA was so different from human DNA, how could it even be possible to do this?

“I only know what I know. And I know you have the DNA of Mewtwo,” Fable answered gently. Namjoon felt you pulling away, and was tempted to hold you longer, but he ignored the urge and let you put distance between the two of you. When you had sat up completely, he saw that your eyes turned blank, staring forward at something that wasn’t there. Namjoon called your name, then waved a hand in front of your face. You made no move.

“Fable, what’s happening?” Namjoon barked, finding it hard to breathe through the pain of panic gripping him. He turned to the pokemon, eyes wide. “What did you do?”

“I.. I do not know! I swear, I only spoke the truth!” The pokemon stood, obviously worried themselves about you. Still, you sat there, in your own world, staring blankly off into the distance. “Maybe when the truth was spoken... her memories came back.”

------------

As soon as the knowledge of your origins was spoken, you felt yourself fall into a trance. The forest around you faded and disappeared, and a laboratory replaced it. There were many people in lab coats working, some at tables, some looking at screens, some studying clipboards full of papers and charts. It seemed you were invisible to them because no one was reacting as you looked around the room. 

“This is where you were born.” The low, gentle male voice entered your mind. It was comforting, as if you knew it well. When a light purple pokemon appeared beside you, you weren’t startled in the least.

“Mewtwo,” you replied breathlessly. “Who am I? What am I?” The desperation of finding answers laid heavy on your chest. “Is this a memory? Or is this present time?” Questions swirled in your mind, but when Mewtwo held up his three-fingered hand, it calmed.

“I understand the chaos in your mind, very well, in fact. Do you know how I came to be?”

“Yes,” you replied automatically. Pausing, you realized it was something you had always known, which was frustrating. Why didn’t you know anything about yourself, but you knew about this pokemon? “Giovanni, the leader of team rocket, contributed his DNA to mix with Mew to create something new and powerful. You.”

“Exactly. And they took my DNA and a human female’s DNA to do the same thing, which made you. Their goal was to make a human with my powers. It seems they have achieved it.”

“Powers?” You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “I have no powers.”

“I must go.” Mewtwo looked behind him. You were sure he was looking at something that wasn’t in this memory... or vision... or whatever this was. “I will contact you soon, I promise.”

Before you could say anything else, the pokemon faded, as well as the laboratory. You came back to the real world quickly, your stomach rolling as Namjoon and his pokemon came back into view. You leaned to the side and vomited all over the grass. As you empty your stomach, you realized the sun was down and the stars were fully out.

---------------

Namjoon held back panic as you suddenly blinked and started to retch. The pokemon stepped back, giving you space, as Namjoon held your hair and rubbed your back. You must have seen something awful to be reacting like this. He believed you had been in a trance, probably having to do with where you came from. It was the only thing that made sense. After whispering soothing words, he offered you water to rinse out of your mouth.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He had no idea what he could do. He kept a hand on your back, resisting the urge to pull you close and cross the line he had drawn for himself over the past week. You smiled shakily and finally sat the half empty water bottle on the blanket.

“We shall leave, give you some space. If you need anything, we will be here.” Fable gave a nod, then prodded Caly with their snout. The kingly pokemon reluctantly followed Virizion toward the center of camp. Namjoon was left sitting next to you, wanting nothing more than to comfort you as much as you would let him.

“I... it’s true. I think. I’m sure,” you added with more conviction. You took a deep breath and leaned into him. Namjoon immediately accepted, closing his eyes as you snuggled against his chest. He ran a hand through your hair as you gripped him tightly around the waist. After a long while. you pulled back. 

“Better?” After you nodded, he started to pull his hands away from your shoulders, but you leaned forward once more. His heart beat faster as you returned to your spot, head nestled into his chest. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I have Mewtwo’s DNA.”

The words caused Namjoon to freeze. He hoped you hadn’t noticed, and he forced himself to relax immediately afterward. Clearing his throat, he tried his best to work through the shock of the famous man made pokemon being mentioned.

“What.. what did you see?” He put his chin on top of your head. 

“Mewtwo contacted me through our minds. Maybe the DNA made it easier? I was in a lab. Well, shown a lab.” You paused, then continued. “He said I had powers.”

“Powers? I... suppose it would be the next logical thought...” How else was he supposed to respond? Nothing like this had ever happened before. What if the mixture of the different DNA’s had caused something awful inside you? Namjoon squeezed you tighter. You returned it, unaware of him closing his eyes in fear. He opened them quickly, though, not wanting to dwell.

“Powers could mean so many things,” you stated with a sigh, pulling back. Namjoon studied your face and saw how tired you look.

“Why don’t we sleep on it? You look exhausted.”

“Can.. can I sleep with you tonight?” Your words left him speechless. He opened his mouth once, then shut it. Namjoon felt his cheeks turn red as he cleared his throat. It took a few moments for you to realize what you had said, and lifted your hands to frantically wave it off. “I didn’t mean it that way! I was wondering if I could sleep next to you! In your tent! In my own bedroll!”

“Obviously!” he replied, his voice a little higher than normal. He pretended nothing was awkward as he stood and held out his hand for you. You took it, letting him pull you up. Still a bit unsteady, you put your arm around his waist, and Namjoon took a bit of your weight as you both made your way to his tent.

Namjoon caught Fable watching, and immediately cut off eye contact, face still red. 

“You’re becoming more and more obvious with your feelings,” Fable said in his mind. Namjoon ignored it and the amused chuckle that followed.

----------------

You couldn’t sleep because of the acute knowledge of Namjoon sleeping beside you. He was inches away, and it felt like sparks were coursing through your body. At first you thought it might be whatever power Mewtwo had mentioned, but you would be a fool to deny the attraction between Namjoon and yourself. Still, you were too focused on what had just happened. Did he see you differently, now? Your relationship had grown into something nice and comfortable, and you didn’t want to ruin that. 

As you nibbled your lip with worry, you heard Namjoon turn in his sleep to wrap his body around yours, throwing his arm across your waist. He pulled you into his chest, and your back hit a solid wall of muscle. Your breath caught in your throat as lust slammed into you. Had you ever felt lust before? You tried to recall a moment of your past that included sex, but nothing came to the surface.

“Oh my god, I’m a virgin,” you muttered to yourself. You snorted and brought a hand to your mouth to keep your laughter in. It was an absurd thought, honestly, and it calmed your charged nerves. You sighed and wiggled back against him. His warmth surrounded you and built a wall of comfort you couldn’t remember feeling before you met him.

Apparently you had finally gone to sleep, because your eyes fluttered open as the sun was coming up, the night bugs singing their last notes. The first thing you noticed was the warmth still around you. The second thing was the large, bare hand against your skin just under your shirt. 

“Joon?” you whispered, body still. You waited a moment, then said his name again. The only response was a soft snore. With a shaky breath, you began to gently pull his arm off you. Once you knew he was still asleep, you slipped out of the tent and into the clearing lit by the sunrise.

“May I speak with you?” You were startled by Caly, the rabbit-like pokemon. You placed a hand over your chest, taking a breath to calm your jumping heart. “I... owe you an apology. I was very rude.”

“Thank you for apologizing.” You moved to lean against a tree trunk, watching the orange sky. Caly floated next to you. After some silence, he continued to speak to you through telepathy.

“It seems you and I have more in common than we both thought,” Caly stated. “Have your powers developed, yet?”

“Does speaking to Mewtwo in my mind count as a power?”

“I think it does. Would you like me to help you explore what kind of powers you may have inherited?”

--------------

Reaching out, Namjoon ran his hand over the sleeping bag next to him. His eyes were still closed, but it was immediately easy to tell you were not there anymore. He knew he hadn’t been dreaming of your body close to his, of his hand running along your skin. Had it made you run away? Frustrated with himself and his inability to just admit certain things, Namjoon let out a heavy sigh and sat up. 

When he emerged from the tent, he was surprised to see you and Caly staring at one another. The pokemon was floating at eye-level with you, with a light purple and pink aura around you both. Your eyebrows were furrowed, body in a position that seemed sturdy. Confused, he walked closer, but was stopped by Lobo the flapple fluttering to his shoulder. 

“Is.. she okay?” Namjoon wondered out loud, watching as a bead of sweat run from your hairline and down your cheek. Flapple chirped his own confusion, tilting its head.

“She wanted to learn.” Fable gracefully came to his side. “I think this aura is all her doing. I’m surprised Caly has decided to let her take over their body.”

“What?” Namjoon wasn’t sure he heard right. He pulled his eyes away from the scene and toward the green pokemon. “She’s... she’s holding Caly up on her own....”

“It’s a simple skill, but it gets more difficult to hold it for long periods of time. They have been like this for a good twenty minutes.”

Suddenly, you gasped and slid to the ground, eyes closed, just as the aura disappeared immediately. Calyrex caught themselves before they hit the ground, and floated over your still body. Namjoon called your name, tripping over himself to get to you. He dropped to sit on the ground and pulled you into his lap. You groaned and let yourself be pressed sideways against him. 

He held you close as you trembled, your skin glowing with sweat. Calyrex looked cool and collected, like always, as they watched Namjoon run his hands over your body. Relieved nothing was physically wrong, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. His chest ached with worry as he leaned forward, his lips near your ear.

“Can you hear me?” He called your name once more, and your eyelids fluttered open. 

------

The power had been intense, although Calyrex has assured you it was only a simple skill any pokemon that was psychic mastered as a young. Floating yourself was one thing, but focusing on manipulating others energies to keep them off the ground? It didn’t take long for you to feel yourself straining, sweat from the mental effort covering your skin. As you concentrated, you saw the swirling purple and pink aura surrounding yourself and Caly, the pressure against your skin oddly comforting, yet frightening. 

The next thing you knew, you were in Namjoon’s lap, so weak you could barely keep your eyes open. You stared into his brown ones, wide with concern. His large, gentle hands roamed your body, checking joints and bones and anything else that could have gotten hurt. You closed your eyes once again, comforted by his presence, but the small shake he gave you made you fling them open once more.

“Stay awake, just for a moment. Speak to me. Does anything hurt?” His arms tightened, bringing you to lean against his chest. You felt and heard his heartbeat slamming through his chest. 

“I’m ... okay,” you whispered. “Just tired. Let me rest. Caly said this was normal.” Your eyes closed once more as you were placed on the ground. After a moment, Namjoon lifted you, bridal style, and carried you to a large blanket Lobo and Tori had spread out as a makeshift bed. The rising sun didn’t penetrate your eyelids as you rested, hand on Namjoon’s knee. He sat beside you as you slept.

--------

Spritz was the one to pull a reluctant Namjoon away from your side when they chirped and pulled him toward the trees. Fable realized there were some trainers and their pokemon trapped on a cliff with no way down. As this part of Namjoon’s job, he couldn’t just ignore it. He put Otis in charge of staying with you, which the apathetic pokemon did so with a snort. 

After the three kids and pokemon were helped down the cliff, a couple hours had passed. Namjoon had been distracted a few times with you, almost slipping himself as he scaled the rocks. Caly scolded him even as Namjoon gulped down water on the way back to the camp.

“You could have killed yourself, Namjoon. I don’t understand what happened. You’re usually so careful! Humans are so confusing...”

“Bi..bibi!” Spritz giggled as it fluttered around Fable and then near Namjoon. It seemed highly amused with the situation, and patted his head sympathetically. Namjoon wasn’t sure what the mythical pokemon found so hilarious - Calyrex was right, he could have really gotten hurt.

“It’s because he’s in love.” Fable said, so casually Namjoon almost missed the teasing lilt in the telepathic voice. He choked on water he had just swallowed, having to stop his steps and lean forward, coughing violently. 

“Bi! Cel-Cel...!” Spritz frowned as they patted his back again.

“I’m okay, just swallowed wrong,” Namjoon gasped, wiping his mouth. Finally, he got his breathing under control enough to begin walking once more. Tori leaned her head down and grinned her usual goofy grin, grunting her concern. Namjoon reached up, patted the huge body of the tree-like pokemon, and continued walking. Lobo rested on Fable’s back.

“Love, romance, a purely human invention,” Caly scoffed. The party crossed into the small clearing where the camp was, and Namjoon felt his breath catch as he stopped in his tracks. Otis was creating music with his body, his shield opened to expose the center part of himself. You were happily hopping around, laughing and spinning as you danced in a circle.

“Well, that’s something I never thought I’d see,” Fable muttered in as much awe as everyone else in the group. “All I’ve known Otis to be is grumpy.”

As the group entered the camp and interrupted your dancing, Namjoon’s head was filled with what Fable has said. Love. Was he in love with you? He had been in relationships before, but it wasn’t like he was an expert in that emotion. Still, it was easy to see as soon as it was noticed. 

The nervousness when he spoke to you or thought about you, the flush he always felt when you were near, the awkward situations he found himself in when only you were there or in his mind. It was clearly obvious - he had feelings for you and it was getting strong. 

You smiled at him as the pokemon worked together to build a fire to cook lunch, coming to sit on a log that had been a bench for the last week. You scooted close to his side, the sunshine raining down on everything. He resisted the urge to grab your hand.

“Fable told me about the kids on the cliff. You’re amazing, you know that?” Namjoon chuckled, bashful with the compliments, especially as it came from you. You knocked his shoulder with yours. “I’m serious! It’s a dangerous thing to do, be a ranger, but you put your heart and soul into it. You care about people and pokemon and the earth we live on.”

“Someone has to,” he replied. “I think the fire’s ready, I’m going to make us some lunch.” As he focused on cooking, his thoughts were sprinkled with you, as they always were lately. A small smile was stuck on his face, and Namjoon didn’t even notice. Unfortunately, the facts of your origin snuck in with the other thoughts. 

You were a pokemon. Could a human feel this way for a pokemon? But were you really? Sure you had the DNA of Mewtwo, which was made from Mew and a human, but... you looked human. Nothing about you was out of ordinary, at least from an objective perspective. To him, though, you were extraordinary, a beautiful soul and a pretty face all rolled into one.

------------

That evening, after a week of avoidance, you stared at the screen of Namjoon’s laptop. The folder named NOCTURNA stared back at you, taunting you with answers and more questions. The sun was almost below the horizon, and everything was quiet, settling down to sleep. You felt the comforting presence of Namjoon dozing in his sleeping bag next to the bench, where he had insisted on staying while you did this.

You glanced toward him, taking in his softened features and gentle breathing. On his back, one hand was under his head while the other was on his stomach atop the cover. The realization of your feelings came to you rather quickly, as your stomach jumped and rolled with nerves. You had never been in love, but it seemed obvious this was it. How did you know without... knowing?  Maybe a part of you that you didn’t remember had experienced it before. 

After taking a deep breath, you opened the file. There was one PDF file labeled JOURNALS, and one text document labeled “READ FIRST”. Whoever had given this USB to you had left a note, it seemed. You lifted your hand from the touchpad and placed them on your lap. The arrow hovered over the text document, waiting for you to give it instructions with the double tap of your fingers. The butterflies in your stomach turned into a storm, a happy feeling changing into one of anxiety and fear. This was it, this was where some answers would be.

Swallowing hard, you lifted your trembling hand and double tapped the touchpad. The text document took a few seconds to open.

Let me begin by apologizing for my actions that have led to your mistreatment. I understand that these are merely words that you are reading, so I don’t expect you to completely forgive me. I will not apologize for the reason, though, as that pertains to more than just myself. The reasons for your creation were for good, I promise you that.

My life had turned toward good, giving back to those I had wronged and focusing on making the world a better place. During that time, my partner gave birth to a child, a little girl, who had a tremendous duty ahead of her. Unfortunately, my partner had been a part of a group called Nocturna.

Unknowingly, they had used her as an experiment. I did not know they had added the genetics of Mewtwo to my wife, but once you were born, the group made sure I knew. They took you.

It has taken me years to find you, but here you are, a grown woman that these wretched people had poked and prodded so thoroughly there wasn’t anything alive inside you. When I finally got you out, I made sure to take this USB, as well as wipe your memory with their technology.

I am too old to continue my deeds, good or bad, so now it’s up to you. This USB is proof to my successor in Viridian City that you are my daughter. Go there, and everything that was mine will be yours.

Be safe, be kind, and don’t make my mistakes.

Giovanni Sakaki

By the end of the letter, tears were flowing down your cheeks. Unable to hold back, you put your face in your hands and sobbed. Your memories may be gone, but the pain, confusion, and fear that had been most of your life was thrown back into you. It was hard to breathe, you cried so hard. You didn’t even flinch when someone sat beside you and held you close, his deep, calming voice telling you it was going to be okay.

You didn’t know how long you sat there, him holding you, but the stars were high in the sky when you finally pulled away. Suddenly, you were self-conscious about the state you were in - puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Namjoon took your face in his hands, though, and leaned close. His lips touched your forehead, staying for a moment, then pulled back.

“The letter... there’s a lot of things in it. Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head immediately. “What about the journals?” You repeated the action, placing your head against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms seemed to shelter you from all the frightening emotions and unanswered questions swirling in your mind. “Let’s get some rest, then.”

----------

He wasn’t sure what else to do, so he held you close as you two settled into one sleeping bag inside the tent. You had been silent this whole time, but he couldn’t blame you. He had read through the letter as you sobbed earlier. Namjoon was shocked and confused, but he could only imagine how much more emotions you were feeling. Had your memories returned? Was the amnesia permanent? It was clear now was not the time to ask these questions, especially when you were finally calm.

“Namjoon?” you asked, your hands between your bodies, your face pressed against his chest. He kissed your hair, just under his chin. “Namjoon, I...” You trailed off.

“What is it?” He pulled away just enough to see you move your eyes from his chest to his face. Something was in there that he hadn’t expected to see. Lust. He swallowed as his body started to react, starting to feel every inch of you pressing against his body, no matter the sweatpants and tshirt he was wearing.

“It hurts. Not physically, but.... emotionally? I don’t feel good. I want to feel good.” You stopped, biting your lip as your eyes closed for a moment. You opened them and continued. “Can I feel good with you?”

“You mean...? You’re emotionally hurting right now, maybe this isn’t the best way to deal with it right now...” Namjoon trailed off as you placed a hand on his cheek, and scooted up enough to press your lips against his. He closed his eyes, the soft touch electrifying everything. He kissed you back, barely, then pulled back. Your noses stayed close enough to touch.

“Before the letter, it was on my mind,” you admitted, a bashful smile on your lips as you avoided his eyes. “Last night, when we were lying together. I didn’t want to interrupt your sleep, though, so I left and practiced with Caly.”

“Oh,” he replied, swallowing hard. Namjoon placed a soft kiss on your lips in response, hesitating for only a moment before opening his mouth to kiss you deeper. You showed no hesitation as you opened your mouth and teased his lips with your tongue.

Limbs wrapped around one another, and he found himself rolling to be on top, your thighs opening desperately as he pressed himself against you. Lips and tongue tangled as you both rocked your clothed hips desperately. The sleeping bag gave little room to pull away, and everything seemed heat even more as you nibbled on his lips.

“Are you sure?” Namjoon asked, whispering your name as your hands ran down his chest. He hovered over you, body trembling as your roaming hands touched the skin at the edge of his shirt. 

“Definitely sure. I want to feel you, all of you.” You smirked at him, a playful twinkle in your eye. He returned it with a smile, then caught your lips again with his. He rocked his hips and you let out a delicious groan. “I don’t want to wait. Pull down your pants.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Namjoon rasped. It was difficult to maneuver your bodies to disrobe, but you both managed to discard the items with giggles and stolen kisses. Finally, you were skin to skin, with him large and aching between your thighs.

He couldn’t resist the urge to kiss your skin, so he trailed his lips over your neck and to your breasts, swirling his tongue around the nipples as you arched your back and whimpered. Your hand reached between your bodies, wrapping around his cock. Namjoon gasped and brought his lips back to yours, kissing you hard as he shuddered. 

“Fuck, that feels too good,” he groaned. You removed your hand and wrapped your legs around his hips. This caused the head to press against your slick heat. Namjoon’s head spun as he flexed, coating himself in you as the head of his cock hit your clit. 

“Don’t stop,” you whimpered into his ear. He buried his face into your neck, biting, kissing, and licking as you rutted against one another. He kept moving, ignoring the way he was getting closer and closer to his climax. You writhed beneath him. Namjoon reached down and circled your clit with his fingers.

You gasped and bucked, surprising both of you as you cried out and climaxed at his hand. His cock pulsed against your opening, covering your mound with his release. It was so unexpected, his hand was almost splashed.

Breathing hard, he placed hands on either side of your head, looking down at your face, clearly showing content and pleasure. His arms trembled, but he focused on catching his breath and staring into your eyes. His own eyes widened as a purple and pink aura began to glow around the two of you.

-----------

You had not felt such bliss, such pleasure, and you didn’t want to let it end. You hadn’t paid attention to Namjoon, and when you realized that fact as you stared into his eyes, guilt ascended. He hovered over you, breathing heavily, watching you with wide eyes filled with surprise, lust, and care. You felt his sticky cum between your bodies. He had climaxed as you had, but you hadn’t done anything to help him along. 

“I’m sorry, Joonie, I wasn’t paying attention to what you needed,” you purred, feeling confident even without practice. His mouth tried to form words as you pulled the hand that was still covered in his release from beside your head and to your mouth. He leaned heavily on his other forearm as you licked his fingers, sighing with pleasure at the taste of him on your tongue. “Can we do that again?”

“I may need a few minutes,” he answered roughly, rolling to his side. “Um... you’re glowing?” he pointed out, confused. It took a moment, but you then noticed the pink and purple power aura swirling around you and partially around him. You also felt more powerful than you had ever felt before. You didn’t know if it was the climax, or the fact you had finally given into your feelings.

“I see. I think I can use this,” you stated with a grin. Namjoon raised his eyebrows as you pushed against his chest. “Lay on your back, Joonie.” He did as you asked, and you settled yourself between his thighs, hands on his skin. He sucked in a breath as you studied his soft cock.

“Use your powers?” he asked breathlessly, putting his hands behind his head. 

“Maybe,” you replied, winking.

You leaned forward and placed a kiss on the tip of his cock, causing it to start growing. A low growl came from Namjoon’s throat. You appreciated him letting you experiment. You took a breath in and blew lightly against him. Smoky purple and pink energy swirled around his member, and you heard him gasp loudly as it began to grow even more. He whimpered, and you felt a hand fall into your hair, His hips flex upward, his cock twitching.

You did it once again, this time circling your fingers around him. Your fingertips didn’t touch anymore, and you knew he was growing even larger. Namjoon cursed and whispered your name, his body starting to tremble. The purple and pink energy swelled to encompass the tent, heightening the arousal of Namjoon and yourself.

“You're so big, I don’t know how you’ll fit inside me. I suppose that’s the fun of it,” you added. You leaned forward and placed your lips on his cock, slowly sliding down. Namjoon placed both hands into your hair, tightening his hold as you took him halfway into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around his member as much as possible, a bit of saliva running down onto your hand gripping him.

You took your time to taste him, moving your head and hand together to pull moans and gasps from Namjoon.

“Baby, please, I’m so close, Where do you want me?” Namjoon’s voice was choppy, the pleasure clear as he shook with pleasure. You lowered even more on his cock, just an inch or two from the bottom, and he cried out, gently pulling your hair. You knew he was climaxing, so you used your psychic aura to stop it just before he let himself go. “Fuck, what was that?” he whimpered.

You pulled off his member slowly, letting the saliva lubricate your hand as you pumped him. You felt powerful and sexy as you saw his face, eyes half-lidded and mouth open. He was covered in sweat, his eyes staring lovingly at you. 

“I used my power. Did you like it?” Suddenly, you weren’t so sure that had been the right choice. Your own body pulsed with desire, nipples hard and your entrance weeping. You stopped moving your hand.

“Oh, yeah, that was... amazing,” he answered, trying to catch his breath. His cock twitched in your hand, bringing back your sexual confidence. You began to stimulate him again, using your hand on his cock and your energy to stroke against his skin, especially the places he seemed to enjoy the touch.

“Do you want me to continue? I want to but...” you trailed off and let some spit dribble onto his throbbing cock. He grunted, hips lifting, as he nodded quickly.

“God, yes, don’t stop.” He placed his hands under his head once more. You watched as he shut his eyes tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. “Fuck, I want to be inside you... can I?”

“Yes,” you immediately answered, letting him go. He watched as if you were the most beautiful and precious thing as you climbed on top, lining his member up with your slick opening. You rubbed yourself over his cock, your mound still sticky with his release before. His eyes zeroed in between your thighs. “Help me,” you requested with a whimper, unsure how to get him to fit inside you.

“Okay, okay,” he rasped, putting his hands on your hips. He flexed his hips as you shifted, and suddenly he was inside. You both gasped at the same time, the aura around the tent brightening. Trembling, you felt yourself being stretched to the point of pleasurable pain. He cursed, gripping your hips tightly. “Baby, you okay? Shit, you're tighter than I thought...” His dirty words, which he never said before, caused a rush of wetness to slide around him inside of you. It helped him move deeper inside you.

“It hurts, but in a good way,” you groaned, shifting slightly. “I didn’t realize it would feel so good.” You placed your hands on his chest, lowering yourself the rest of the way. After he was buried completely inside, you caught the look on his face.

“You’ve never done this.” It was a statement filled with emotion. The energy pulsed around you in time with his cock flexing against your inner walls. You controlled some energy around him, stroking his body again the way he enjoyed moments ago. He grunted as he pulled you off of him half way. You went to protest, but he lifted his hips and slammed you back downward.

“Joon!” you cried, clenching around him. He did it once more, like he was testing your reaction. His eyes glittered with arousal now, remembering what made you cry out, what made you shudder in pleasure. “No, I haven’t,” you replied as you gasped for air. “I’m sure of that.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, starting to repeat his thrusting slowly, over and over again. With each movement, you felt the amazing climax from before coming closer and closer to you. Eyes closed, you let yourself give him control, moving your body the way he wanted. “Thank you for trusting me, thank you for this.” His words confused you, but the tenderness made tears come to your eyes.

“Joon,” you murmured, eyes opening. You bent over, capturing his lips, as you matched his thrusts. The kisses turned sloppy, only wanting to taste more and more of each other. “Do that again,” you demanded at a particularly pleasurable thrust. Namjoon did as you asked, and you cried out. “I’m almost there!”

“Me too, baby. Can you ride me? Fuck,” he added when you took his hands and slammed them on either side of his head. 

You took control, slamming down onto his cock at a rapid pace. You focused on him, taking the energy once again and stroking his skin, this time moving down to stimulate his balls. His eyes opened wide, curses leaving his mouth. After a few moments, you slammed down and grinded your clit against his pelvis, clenching his cock, as you orgasmed harder than before. You felt him release inside you, the warmth and fullness of him making you shudder even harder. Purple and pink clouds of energy brightened even more, then shuddered along with you into uncountable falling stars.

You fell onto his chest and gasped for air, eyes closed tightly, as you kept yourself in the mental high of orgasm as long as possible. You felt strong arms wrap around you, sticky with sweat, and breathed in the heady smells of sex. The psychic energy that had floated in the tent slowly dissipated into nothing, and all that was left was the sound of Namjoon and you breathing deeply.

-------

After a nervous start the morning after, Namjoon and you stumbled through the beginnings of a new relationship as the days passed. Another week went by before you made a decision, and Namjoon supported you completely. It didn’t take long for you to establish yourself with the Pokemon Ranger program as a supportive ranger, with your psychic abilities suited for healing and soothing wounded pokemon and people. Still, you knew you would eventually make your way to Viridian City, where your father’s legacy awaited your return.

In time, you had a team of your own that helped in your newly acquired duties as Namjoon’s support and medic. Even though it wasn’t his official title, Namjoon was the same for you. Nightmares would come and go, and he would stay there, holding you close as you cried. Every loving kiss, every gentle touch, allowed your emotional wounds to heal. You even conversed with Mewtwo a handful of times over the year, learning a few offensive psychic techniques that you hoped to never have to use. The pokemon insisted you would never meet in person, but it was always in the back of your mind. You did have his DNA inside of you.

It was Namjoon’s idea to set up a traveling clinic, and you expanded that into specializing in abandoned psychic pokemon. The type was as misunderstood as ever, and the aftermaths of abusive, greedy groups were always going to be there. Just as Namjoon and his pokemon team allowed you to grow and heal, you would be there for these pokemon. Sleeping under the stars was one of your favorite things to do when you and Namjoon spent time together outside of work, which would include deep conversations and heated touches. Eventually, your memories returned, and a year later, all was clear. That was when you decided it was time to face your past, your family legacy, and create something new and wonderful out of something as dark as Nocturna

During one of those times, just over a year since you had met him, Namjoon held you close as you sat between his thighs, back pressed against his chest. You felt his relaxed breathing near your ear, and found your own breath matching his. With a blanket wrapped around both of you, everything was comfortable and warm.

“I love you,” Namjoon said quietly, lips touching the top of your ear in a light kiss. You let out a soft sigh and closed your eyes, the sincere and beautiful words flowing through your skin and into your soul. Everytime he said it, it was almost unbelievable, but he would always prove himself.

“I love you, too,” you replied, eyes opening. You leaned to the side, turned your head, and kissed the corner of his lips. It was an awkward position, and you both giggled and returned to your previous position. “I contacted the Viridian City gym leader today.”

“What?” Namjoon froze, shocked at the news. He squeezed you tighter. The note of concern in his voice was sweet, but you patted the arm that was around your waist.

“I’m not changing my path in life, just adding another part. I’m going to meet him and maybe make a business deal. We need donations to keep the clinic going and up to date, might as well start using what was left to me, right?”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“I… yeah, that might help, I’m nervous to meet the famous rock trainer and gym leader, Jeon Jungkook.”

EVERLAST CLINIC TEAM

[superhusbands4ever]

The Chain - Chapter 2/15

Now to check in with The Bad Batch.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Full Work | AO3 Link

Fandom: The Bad Batch (Star Wars)

Characters: Crosshair, Hunter, Howzer, Rex, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, Various Clones

Relationships: Crosshair & Howzer, Crosshair & Rex, Crosshair & The Bad Batch, Crosshair & Omega, Hunter & Rex, Hunter & Omega

Additional Tags: Crosshair Redemption, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Found Family, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: One year after the events of The Bad Batch, Crosshair struggles to reconcile his choice with the harsh truth of the world around him. He finds enlightenment in the most unlikely of places and realizes he may have made the wrong decision. But is it too late to do something about it?

Two years after the events of The Bad Batch, Rex reluctantly agrees to allow Hunter and his squad to help him rescue a man who's been captured by the Empire, an Imperial double agent who's cover has been blown. What Hunter thought to be a simple extraction ends up having far greater consequences for their squad than he could have ever anticipated.

At any moment the decision you make can change the course of your life forever.

- Tony Robbins

“How much longer until we’re there?”

Hunter turned from the navicomputer to look at the young girl beside him.

“We should be dropping out of hyperspace in a few minutes, so not much longer,” he said, fiddling with buttons on the computer. “You should go ahead and get your stuff ready for when we land.”

“Okay,” she smiled, bouncing on the balls of her feet excitedly. “I can’t wait to see Rex. I want to show him how much better I’ve gotten with my bow.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m sure he’s excited to see you, too. It’s been awhile.”

She nodded, skipping away to her room to gather her things.

She’d grown so much since the day the Batch met her on Kamino two and a half years ago. Sometimes Hunter wondered if maybe Omega did actually have advanced aging with how quickly she’d shot up in so short a time.

Before where the top of her head had only come up to his chest, now she was tall enough to lean her head on his shoulder when standing together (though the others teased that had more to do with his own height than Omega’s.) Her hair was longer too, down to her shoulders in a frizzy mess of blonde curls. Her face had lost some of the baby fat she’d had nearly three years ago, and she was slowly but surely looking less like the awkward child they’d saved from the Empire, and more like the young teen that she was becoming.

She’d settled into her place in their squad much more comfortably now, too. Going on supply runs and various jobs for Cid would be impossible without her — she factored into all of their plans, worked fearlessly and flawlessly with the others, and had become so proficient with her bow it made Hunter’s chest ache when he watched her.

Her confident shooting and various games on missions with Wrecker reminded him so much of their missing family member it hurt. They hadn’t seen nor heard from Crosshair at all in the two years since they’d left him on Kamino. Since he left us, he tried to remind himself. He made his choice.

Their squad worked their hardest to stay under the Empire’s radar since Tipoca City, picking and choosing jobs that weren’t too risky, that didn’t grant too much exposure. Rex was right that day on Ord Mantell — being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages. Especially when that meant the leftover bounties from the Kaminoans on Omega disappeared. From what Tech could glean from Imperial channels, as far as the Empire was concerned, the sole survivor of the destruction of Tipoca City was Commander CT-9904. The longer it stayed that way the better.

They couldn’t figure out why Crosshair would protect them, would lie and tell the Empire that they had perished in the bombardment. They thought maybe it was only a matter of time before they were caught out, before Crosshair’s anger at them got the better of him and he let it slip that they were still out there somewhere in the galaxy. But as a month turned into six, six months turned to a year, and a year turned to two with no Imperial bounties on their heads, they began to accept that maybe this was Crosshair’s last gift to them. A chance to survive the Empire, at least by him not giving them away.

Hunter would be lying if he said that knowledge hadn’t given him hope. That maybe his little brother, who’d slept in his bunk during bad storms as a cadet and gave him Lula to hold when the sensory overload got too bad, was still in there somewhere. That the cold, angry, and jaded man they’d seen on Kamino wasn’t all that was left of their kih’vod.

Nowadays he wasn’t so sure. As far as they knew, Crosshair was still with the Empire. And with each day as the Empire’s list of crimes and atrocities grew, Hunter’s hope for his little brother realizing his mistake and coming home to them dwindled. Maybe Tech was right. Crosshair was severe and unyielding and nothing could change that. Crosshair had made his choice.

This… is who I am.

Maybe this was who Crosshair had been all along, much as it pained him to consider.

The navicomputer beeped and pulled him from his ruminations just as the ship shuttered, dropping out of hyperspace in the Yavin system.

He stood and walked toward the cockpit, watching as the forest moon in front of them grew larger as they grew closer.

“Entering atmo shortly,” Tech announced, pressing buttons on the dash. “We should be landing at the base momentarily.”

“It’ll be good to see Rex again,” Echo said, stretching his arms above his head. “I wonder if he’s found any more clones since we were here last.”

“He seemed optimistic last time we talked,” Hunter agreed. “There were more clones than I expected there already a few months ago.”

“Rex is a proficient and effective leader,” Tech added as he brought the ship down through the clouds, “it is not surprising that he would have decent success on his mission.”

“I just wish we could help him more than doing the occasional supply drop,” Echo said. “It feels wrong to not be helping with the vode. To not be joining the fight.”

“Keeping off of the Empire's radar is more important right now,” Hunter reminded his brother for what felt like the hundredth time, “which we can’t do if we’re running rebel missions to help clones defect from the Empire.”

“I know, I know,” Echo grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly. He sighed. “I just…”

Hunter laid his hand on Echo’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I know.”

“Beginning landing sequence now,” Tech called as he flipped the landing gear.

As the ship touched down on the landing pad hidden away from the base in the trees, a loud crash came from the back racks, followed by twin groans.

Hunter squinted back at the pair. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Omega and Wrecker both shouted back.

Omega stepped out of the hold, bow strapped to her back, fiddling with the strap of her pauldron. She saw Hunter looking at her and smiled brightly and innocently at him, moving to stand in front of Wrecker as he rushed to clean up the knocked over crates. Hunter rolled his eyes.

Soon after the five of them were offloaded and walking through the trees toward the base. It didn’t take long to reach - as they drew closer Hunter felt worry stirring in his chest at the sounds of raised voices, scraping crates, and the general sounds of chaos that, in his experience, indicated something bad was happening.

He sped up a bit, the others following behind him, and he heard them all make their own noises of concern as they drew close enough to the base for the others to hear.

A couple of Regs standing at the entrance of the hangar bay moved forward as if to stop them, but waved them through once Hunter pulled off his helmet.

“Captain’s inside,” he said, nodding to the chaotic scene behind him.

They all walked inside slowly, Omega jumping out of the way of a frantic looking nat-born woman, the upper half of her jumpsuit tied around her waist, waving a datapad threateningly and shouting at someone on top of the freighter in the middle of the room.

“What’s going on here?” Wrecker grumbled as they watched clone and nat-born alike clamber around, gathering supplies and loading them into the freighter.

Hunter’s brow quirked as he watched two men load a crate of explosives while another loaded a crate of ammunition onto the ship.

“It would appear they are prepping for an urgent mission,” Tech said, adjusting his giggles as they watched the chaos.

“We just commed Rex an hour ago and he said everything was fine,” Echo looked toward the group, concerned.

“Hello boys!”

They all turned at the sound of a familiar voice and watched Gregor walk toward them, fully armored, with a wave and a grin on his face.

“And lady,” he added once he was next to them, smiling down at Omega and offering her a high five which she accepted.

“What’s the hustle for, Gregor?”

“Bit of an emergency came up in the last hour or so,” Gregor said with a sigh, face falling into a serious expression as he looked around. “One of Rex’s main operatives sent out a distress signal. Looks like he’s been busted and needs extraction.”

“I didn’t know Rex ran stealth ops,” Hunter said, surprised.

“Oh, he doesn’t. But this one is a bit of a special case,” Gregor explained. “He’s had a man playing double agent in the Empire for about a year now. He’s the guy who’s been helping us save all these clones.”

Glancing around, Hunter couldn’t help but be impressed. He knew Rex had made it his mission to fight the Empire and save all the regs he could, but Hunter hadn’t realized just how many Rex had managed to accumulate even since they were last on base four months ago. There had to be dozens of clones just in the hangar bay. Who knew how many were in the rest of the base.

“One man helped smuggle all these clones out?” Hunter asked, surprised.

“Them and more,” Gregor nodded. “Even helped some get their chips out first.”

“And now the Empire’s figured him out.”

“Aye, vod,” Gregor sighed. “Rex wants to try and extract him as soon as we can. He’s done so much for us… we don’t leave men behind.”

Hunter nodded, very carefully ignoring the way Echo shifted at his back.

“Trooper! Make sure you load a couple emergency field kits and a med scanner into the cargo. I don’t know what sort of condition he’ll be in when we get to him.”

The group turned to watch as Rex rounded the freighter, fully kitted up in his customary 501st blue armor, helmet tucked under his arm. Captain Howzer followed close behind him, similarly decked out in full armor. Rex stood and directed a few of the troopers around before turning to the group huddled to the side of the chaos.

“Evening, Bad Batch,” he greeted as he walked closer, chuckling when Omega ran forward to wrap her arms around the man’s waist.

“Hey there, ‘Meg.”

Howzer nodded respectfully to Hunter and the others.

“What’s going on here, Rex?” Echo said as he stepped around Hunter.

“Emergency extraction,” Rex said simply, accepting the gentle kov’nyn from Echo when the man reached forward. “Bit of a sketchy situation. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Heard about your man,” Echo said, “how deep was he?”

“Very deep,” Rex sighed, expression pinched. “Hopefully we can get to him before, well….”

Hunter nodded as Rex trailed off. By this point, they were all familiar with the Empire’s idea of justice against those they felt had wronged them.

“We should head out,” Rex said, nodding at Howzer and Gregor. The two saluted and Gregor slid his helmet on. “It’s a couple hours to Daro and I don’t want to waste any more time.”

Hunter started. “Wait, Daro--?”

“Rex, wait!”

The group turned to watch as a rather gaunt looking clone with a handlebar moustache ran up to the three captains.

“I’d like to request permission to go on this mission, sir,” he said, snapping breathlessly to attention and saluting.

Rex looked at the other clone with concern clear on his face.

‘I don’t know, Boil. You’ve only been here a couple of days, you should be taking time to recover--”

“I understand,” the clone - Boil - said, relaxing. “But I owe it to the Commander to help him. It’s my fault he got caught in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t,” Rex argued, reaching out and clapping Boil on the shoulder. “He knew the risks and it was his decision. Besides, you have no way of knowing--”

“That signal went out within days of getting me out,” Boil said quietly. “I know how high of a risk I was, but he did it anyway. I owe this to him.”

Rex held the other man’s gaze for a long moment before sighing and turning to Howzer.

“I hate to ask,” Rex began apologetically, “I know the two of you are close, but--”

“I’ll stay here,” Howzer agreed, reaching up to pull his helmet off. “Man the fort, as it were.”

He glanced over Rex’s shoulder at Hunter and the others before turning back to the other man.

“Just…” Howzer sighed, face pinched, “bring him back safe, okay?”

“That’s the plan,” Rex assured him as the two braced arms.

He unclipped his bucket from his belt and slid it over his head.

“Sorry to dash on you like this, boys,” Rex said, turning back to Hunter and the rest of their squad. “We’ll have to catch up another time.”

“I understand,” Hunter said, reaching forward to clasp the other clone’s hand. “Good luck on your--”

“We can go too!”

Everyone in the cluster turned to look at Omega, who pushed her way forward between Hunter and Boil to stand next to Rex.

“You can?”

“We can?”

Hunter and Rex glanced at each other before Hunter turned back to Omega.

“Yeah!” Omega insisted, looking imploringly at Hunter. “We’ve been to Daro and broke out Gregor before, you know the facility. You guys are trained in special ops, and if this guy is as important as Gregor says he is then they’re going to need all the help they can get.”

Rex glanced back at Gregor who shrugged.

“Omega,” Hunter sighed, “we can’t-- they’re going into a major Imperial base. If something happens and we get caught, we’ll be in serious trouble. The Empire thinks we’re dead and we need to keep it that way. Besides, Gregor knows the inside of that base better than any of us.”

“But we can help!” Omega argued, frustration clear on her face. “Whoever The Commander is has saved so many people, if our help gives Rex a better chance at saving him, I think we should do it!”

“Omega, we can’t risk--”

“We can’t run from the Empire forever, Hunter,” Omega said softly, grabbing Hunter’s hand.

“Besides, I--” she glanced over to Rex who had yet to speak, before turning and leaning closer to Hunter.

“I have a feeling about this mission,” Omega said quietly, eyes bright as she looked at her brother. “This feels right. I think this is where we’re supposed to be. I can’t explain it, but I… I think we need to do this.”

Hunter sighed, staring down at Omega’s hand on his.

He knew logically that their safety from the Empire wasn’t meant to last. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to hide Omega and his squad from them forever. The Empire certainly wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future, so running into them again was ultimately inevitable. It was hard enough keeping his squad away already, Echo arguing with him about helping Rex and the rebellion more and more as the Empire grew. Wrecker and Omega were starting to back Echo up whenever he and Hunter argued, so he knew it was only a matter of time.

He just thought they’d have more time than this. Two years was admittedly a long time to continue on without Imperial detection, but Hunter had been hopeful their peace could last a little bit longer. Omega may have been growing up quickly but she was still a kid. Kids shouldn’t need to worry about rebellions and Empires and bounties and missions and death.

Besides, this seemed like an unnecessary risk to Hunter. Whatever feeling Omega had about this mission, Hunter wasn’t getting it. It felt like a waste to risk their tentative peace and safety from the Empire on a rescue mission for some man they didn’t even know. No matter how impressive his work against the Empire was.

But as much as Omega was a bleeding heart about helping those in need, she was also stubborn as hell. A trait she shared with all the clones, really, but it had gotten worse in her time as a member of the Bad Batch.

Hunter looked back into Omega’s wide eyes and felt his resolve crumble. He sighed, glancing back to the rest of the squad. Tech and Wrecker looked impassive as they stared back at Hunter, likely waiting for him to make a decision and follow whatever option he chose. Echo was looking back at him with the same amount of hope, the same determined resolve that Omega had in her eyes and Hunter knew he was losing the battle here.

He sighed tiredly, turning back to Rex.

“Got room in that ship for five more, Captain?”

Rex was frozen in place as he stared back at Hunter. His body language gave no indication as to what he thought of this development, though the incredulous tone he’d used to question Omega indicated that this was not a turn of events he was planning, or even hoping, for. With his helmet on and staring blankly at him, Hunter had a hard time getting a read as to what the other man was thinking.

Rex’s head tilted just slightly to glance briefly at Howzer, who was standing to the side watching the exchange with a strangely intense look in his eyes.

“I don’t know if--”

“Please, Rex?” Omega said, stepping up to the older clone.

Rex shuffled under Omega’s intense gaze, a feeling Hunter was very familiar with. Finally he sighed, dropping his chin to his chest before turning back to Hunter.

“I don’t have time to argue about this— fine,” he said, ignoring Omega’s happy whoop. “But you have to do exactly as I say, okay? No matter what happens.”

If Hunter didn’t know any better he’d say the Captain sounded tense, almost nervous. Hunter nodded and heard the others agree as well.

Rex kept his gaze on Hunter for another moment before shaking his head and turning toward the freighter.

“Let’s go,” he ordered, commanding tone back as he barked orders at the men around them. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

Hunter turned back and nodded at the rest of his squad, who all nodded and slipped their helmets back on their heads as they checked their gear.

“Good luck,” Hunter heard Howzer mutter to Rex, who just shook his head. Something told him they weren’t talking about the mission.

Together they followed Rex, Boil, and Gregor up the ramp of the freighter, Rex and Tech headed for the cockpit. As everyone else got strapped in and the engines on the ship started, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right choice.

Omega may have had a good feeling about this mission, but Hunter had a feeling this mission was going to change everything for them, and he wasn’t sure it was for the better.

[marvel-m-lee]

Fire, Note books and a- kid? •Part 1 of M-Verse•

Warning! This series will include gruesome descriptions of blood, bodies etc. These may be rare but they will be graphic. (This one doesn't have much tickling but it has a⁸ little haha)

This Series is also a tickls series, so if you dont like it, sorry oof.

Fandom: Marvel

-

"CRAP" Sam yelled as he flew right under a collapsing tie beam. "Language!" The cap yelled through the intercom, they were on a mission. There had been an explosion in an old warehouse building, no one knows how it happened but once they got there the place was covered with fire and dead bodies.

They were now in the building, fighting what they believed to be ex hydra workers that went into hiding for more experiments.

Cap fought from the ground whilst Sam was trying to get some shots from above while reading looked for any potential prisoners.

"Ain't seeing nothing from RedWibg Cap, the place is about to blow, we've gotta get out" Steve had just taken out about 17- now 18 Hydra agents, throwing them in the burning flames or beating them in combat.

"Alright, have one more look around the perimeter. Nat get the Jet prepared for exit incase the place actually does blow" He yelled, fighting off the last two Hydra agents in his area, throwing one onto another knocking them into a large fire screaming.

"K, sam make sure there arent any survivors" Nat ran back to the jet and started it up, the lights turning on as it slowly began to hover over the ground.

"Will do Widow" Sam flew up above the collapsing building to get another view of the area.

"Black Widow or Natasha" A sassy voice explained down the intercom.

"Okay Spider Lady" A grunt was heard that made both Cap and Sam laugh. Sam was looking through Redwing and his own eyes and couldn't seem to spot anything. "It all seems clear" Just as he were about to fly back down though he noticed something.

A young girl, her hair stuck together with some blood, mixed with dirt and wood. Her skin covered with brown mud and small cuts, she wore a white ripped hospital gown, too no longer white- or had seemed to be in years?...

"Holy shit-"

"Language!"

"There's a kid- west bound, see if you can get her. Covered in dirt and seemingly blood, right near where the fire seemed to have started from the burnt wood scraps and dying fires around her"

"A kid? West bound? Nat how long we got left?" Steve asked, running through the flames, dodging their burns and running as fast as he could.

"Before the place explodes? From my view about 150 seconds, just over two minutes. But you're gonna need to be fast so we can all get out." Nat watched over the intercoms and the computers showing where Steve was.

"Take a left"

"What?"

"Take a left! I'm giving you the fastest route to the west bound. Keep running until you find large doors, go through them and the last one at the end should lead to the girl"

Steve stopped asking the questions and complied. It wasnt his first time saving a kid, but the closer he got, the more he saw about the place. Cages, torture chambers, training halls.

This place wasnt a good one, especially for a kid... He thought.

He found the large doors, chained shut. Before he reached them he threw his shield, breaking the locks almost instantly. He ran through, but stopped in his tracks. The room was full of blood, the sticky walls glossed over, there were bones, some shattered, some scattered. Not hundreds, probably enough for the bodies of a good couple of people though... it was gruesome. Some of the worst things he had seen in a while, probably since... well. The blip?..

How was a kid kept here? How did we not know sooner?...

The thoughts span round the super solider head, taking up more time than he would have cared for.

"Steve? What's happened why'd you stop? We've got a minute!" Nat asked, she was getting impatient, the adrenaline was rising and so were the flames, everyone felt on edge here, as soon as they stepped down something felt very wrong.

"Shit, yeah. Alright, I'm going!" Steve ran and soon found the young girl, she didn't seem too strictly harmed for being so close to the flames. And for surviving in this, this prison.

"Got her, how long have I got left?"

"45 seconds"

Steve now had the young girl over his shoulder, he was trying to run even faster than he had before. This place. Something else had been happening here.

As the 100 year old ran though, he seemed to notice the fire die down wherever he ran to, creating a simple path for him to run in. He spotted the jet, Sam was standing in the open doorway, waiting to see if cap would make it. Silently cheering him on.

"10 seconds Cap"

"Start taking off now, we'll make it."

"FUCK NO! HURRY UP MAN" Sam yelled, this time to Captain America ratger rgan through the intercoms.

Time felt like it was going in slow motion, Steve got close enough just to jump and as soon as he did the whole place behind blew up. It all went so quickly after that, Sam grabbed his hand, holding on with all his might as Steve held the young girl. Nat, quicker than ever, sped off into the sky, miles from the ground to make sure the explosion wouldn't hit them as harshly as it should have.

Steve lay on the floor, with the young girl cradled in his arms behind the shield so she wouldn't get burnt. He was staring at her, even though she was covered in- well not so flattering things, she was beautiful. Something within began stirring. Something warm, familiar...

"Holy shit my dude. We almost died!" Sam droned, going to sit down on the chairs they had.

"We usually almost die, its part of our job" Nat explained, walking in and rolling her eyes. "Nahhh, Nat even you know that place was off" Sam looked over to the spy who sighed and walked over to Steve to help him up.

"How's the kid?"

Steve stood up and pulled away the shield to show off a little girl with y/c/h hair, covered in mud and pieces of blood, tucked up into his chest, breathing gently. "Wow" Sam sighed from the back.

"She's not in as much bad of a state as I would have imagined?" Nat said, watching over the little girl. "She wasnt too close to the big fire, must have been thrown into the mud and spotty snow from the explosion." Sam suggested.

Steve just held onto the small angel in his arms. He felt as though it were only he and she in the world, that time was no longer relevant. He memorized every piece of her face, even the pieces with dirt, cuts and bruises.

Suddenly Nat snapped him out of it, "Alright, I'm going to go get Bruce over. See if she's alright. For now just but her on a bed." Steve nodded as the Spider left to go call Dr. Banner.

"We haven't got beds though?- oh fuck you man" Steve laughed at Sam, he had just pulled out a bed from the sides of the ship. "You didnt know?" He teased. He and Nat had let sam sleep on the chairs or ground for the past few years. It seemed to be a secret agreement not to tell him amongst the avengers.

"Nah man, that's cold" Steve placed the little girl down and pulled up the walls of the bed to make sure she wouldn't fall out. Watching her little breaths as Sam's words started to fade away.

"Oi you even listening to me?" Sam asked unamused sitting up and looking at the fallen solider. "She's gonna be alright Steve" Steve sighed, deep down he knew she'd be fine. But he felt something strange. Fear. Like he had just found an old journal or someone he hadn't seen for a very long time.

He sighed and stood up, walking over to the bird man who was now sitting up watching the soldiers actions. They both heard Natasha in the background talking with Bruce.

"She's gonna be alright Steve"

"I hope so..."

It was a while till they had all landed at the compound. Rogers and Wilson played some card games- dont question it, Roger's made Tony buy him loads for each mission. He enjoyed the games. He also won most of them.

Steve picked the young girl up and brought her to Bruce as the doors opened up, they lauded her down on a hospital bed and hurried off. Bruce stayed back checking in on everyone. "The mission?"

"A success as always"

Steve seemed quiet, Sam answering fir him rather than fir himself. He watched the girl be scurried along into the building.

"Did you clean all her wounds?"

"Mhm"

Steve looked down and nodded before they all began walking. He didnt mean to seem any less- well captain america-y, but he definitely had something on his mind. Bruce began to follow quickly to ask what's up.

"Hmm? Oh.. nothing. Just worried for the child" Steve tried to brush the feeling off but couldn't his gut had other plans. They wanted to see the girl, see if she was okay.

"She's gonna be alright, she only needs a few tests done- safe ones of course, blood pressure, cut cleansing etc" Bruce smiled at the much taller man. Oh god he was short. Steve smiled back to the Dr with 7 PHD's.

"Thanks Banner, I'm gonna go see Stark"

"Okay, stay safe, I'll tell you when she's improved"

Steve nodded and walked into the building, turning an opposite way to Banner and going to go see Stark. Steve was secretly very grateful Bruce would tell him about the child once she was improving. He felt a connection.

"Stark?" The 100 year old asked, knocking on the doors to the Lab.

"F.R.I.D.A.Y, Open the Doors for Roger's Pleade and Thank you" The billionaire didnt move from his seat, he had been working on some new tech as usual.

"Thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y" Steve walked in, still in his spandex from the mission covered in blood and dirt with little scuff marks all over from the fire flames.

"Its an 8 Code Pin Rogers"

"I know I know, I just can't seem to remember it"

Tony rolled his eyes and looked up leaning on his chair with one arm resting over the top.

"What's up?"

Steve furrowed his brows. "Hmm?"

"You, you seem... less Super, more Man"

Steve rolled his eyes, "I'm not Super Man Tony!" Tony just shrugged and chewed the side of his cheek.

"Dunno there Cap" The genius stood up and walked over to him, the man was much seemingly smaller without his heals on, just bare foot walking around. He got extremely close to the Cap and got on his tip toes leaning in. If he wanted he could have kissed the man he were so close, though they both knew it wouldn't happen, Tony just liked getting close to annoy people.

That's when the billionaire squealed and almost fell to the ground with a jump back, a light blush on his face. "Dick" Steve smirked at the man, he sure was one ticklish man, billionaire, genius who cares. He was still ticklish. Tony went to go sit back down.

"So what's up?" This time, happily keeping his distance.

"I saved a kid today"

Tony furrowed his brows and chuckled, slowly clapping his hands. "Well done soldier, you saved a kid"

"Tony im serious"

"Well I didn't really think you were lying-"

Steve stepped forward making the Billionaire loose his confidence. He never minded being tickled, but then again it didnt help his reputation being melted into a giggly mess. He was still really nervous. Steve smirked at the man but then continued.

"She was covered in dirt and bits of blood. But before I found her, I ran through a hall. It was Dark, but the raging fires lit it up. There were bones, scattered. Probably enough for a good few people, some big some small. And blood, all over the walls..."

Steve tensed up, remembering the place. "It reminded me of the war with Thanos."

Tony stayed quiet, no longer fearful of childish tickles. It seemed horrifying. Even for them. "Okay, send me the Locations, I'll get F.R.I.D.A.Y up and working on it alright?" Tony wasn't the best when it came to comforting, but he knew he could do something.

Steve looked up at him and smiled thankfully, but Tony coukd tell there was something else bothering. Yet he didn't want Steve to be too focused on it all.

"Hey, here" Tony grabbed something from within a draw, it had a captain America's shield on the front, he handed it to steve. Just a normal sketch book. And some pencils. "You're welcome to use these and sit down at the window or something while I work. Keep your mind off things.

"Thanks Tony" Steve smiled at the billionaire, he wasnt great at comforting, but he knew what Steve wanted. It was a strange friendship that's for sure.

"Look at the first page too! I did a little something" The billionaire smirked as Steve turned the book open, on the front was an IronMan helmet with a little speech bubble saying "I Am IronMan" and a little stick figure with a shield in a cage in the bottom corner saying "I stink!"

Tony burst out laughing at Steve's expression. Let's just say his laughing continued for longer than expected...

[glass-es-say]

Are Ya Winning, Gos?

“Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says solemnly. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you. We really need to get you a helmet.”

Gosalyn tries to teach Drake how to play Legend of Legends Quest.

Here on Ao3

“Uhg, are you kidding me!”

Drake blinks and looks away from patching his costume back together—again. He’d had no idea how many buttons Darkwing should’ve lost when he’d watched the show as a kid. He’s already had to put in a bulk order for them.

“Ahh!” Gosalyn drops her game in her lap and scrubs her hands over her face.

“Having fun?”

Gosalyn glares at him then slouches somehow further down into the couch.  Drake makes a mental note to include some more stretches in their training routine. “I’m trying to level up my character so I can play with Launchpad and one of the Dewey’s brothers whose character is super OP but this stupid Routerrock monster just! Keeps! Killing me!”

Huh. He can honestly say he hadn’t been expecting that. “Sounds annoying.” He frowns. “They want you to level up before you can join them?”

“No, uhg, they’re both super nice about it obviously but I haven’t really had time to play since before—you know. And I don’t want to be carried!” She punches the back cushion of the couch. “I want to kill stuff myself!”

“Just what every superhero wants to hear from his sidekick,” he responds wryly, standing up and wandering over to where she’s sprawled across the couch.

Gosalyn sits up just enough to roll her eyes at him. “It’s video game, you—uhg, whatever, you probably have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Oh?” he asks mildly, leaning his arms on the back of the couch and looking down at her. “You sure?”

“I mean, it’s—whatever, you don’t have to pretend to care, um, but. Basically, I’m trying to beat this big rock monster so my character can get stronger but there’s like, this trick to it that I just haven’t figured out yet. And it’s frustrating me. That’s all.”

“Sounds tough,” Drake says. “You must really enjoy playing to keep going after something so frustrating.”

She shrugs, looking away from him and down at the couch cushions. “I mean, it’s fun still, so.”

“Must be. Cool graphics, too. I like that ridiculously huge sword you’ve got.”

Gosalyn snorts. “Thanks. It was a quest reward.” She’s still pointedly not looking at him when she quietly says, “Do you—um, do you want to play?”

Drake blinks. “Really?”

“Well,” she starts, louder and brasher and attempting at blasé, “I’ve already died to this guy so many times not even you could screw up my character’s stats more, so.”

Drake rolls his eyes. “How reassuring.”

“But yeah, I mean. If you wanted to. I don’t mind.”

“Sure, okay,” Drake says, hurdling the couch and landing on the cushion next to Gosalyn. “Sounds like fun.”

She gives him a particular smile he’s been seeing more and more often as they get used to being around each other and he and Launchpad get to know her. It makes something warm and happy squeeze at his heart—he’s beginning to think he’d do pretty much anything to see her smile like that.

“Okay, so this is how you move around and stuff.” She makes her character spin around in a tight circle. “And these are the block and attack buttons. You can get the menu with this one, but please don’t use all my items or I’ll be very, very sad.”

“So you’re saying I should definitely use all those glowing potion things right now.”

“No!” She pushes at him. “God, you’re so annoying.”

Drake laughs and takes the controller from her. “Alright, alright, I promise not to touch them.”

She huffs and throws herself back on the couch then immediately leans back up again. “I’m out of PvP mode right now so if anyone else shows up you can just, like, ignore them. Do not chat with anyone, I—you know what, I’ll just disable that too.” She takes the controller back and navigates through the menu to toggle the chat function off.

“The amount of trust here is heartwarming,” Drake deadpans.

Gosalyn tabs down a few more rows and hesitates, then says, “I’m gonna set the camera on auto too, that’s probably a bit beyond you right now.” She clicks around, then hands the controller back over. “Okay! All set for what I’m sure is going to be a very entertaining fight.”

“Trust and confidence. I’m so touched.”

Gosalyn has left her character in a dark, narrow stone hallway. A line of torches dots the walls, dragging the player’s attention toward the glowing block of light at the end of the hall.

“So,” he asks. “Where am I going?

Gosalyn lets out a long breath. “Oh my god,” she mutters to herself. Drake makes a heroic effort and stops himself from laughing. “Okay, just keep going down the hallway. No—that’s the wrong way. Toward the light, Drake, please. This is already so painful.”

Drake does not snicker. He simply walks the character forward to the light and triggers the loading screen for the next area.

“Okay, so,” Gosalyn says as the shape of a large stone chamber renders onscreen. “There’s gonna be this big rock monster in this room—that’s who you’re fighting. He doesn’t have any minions so you can literally just focus on him and try not to get crushed.” She tilts her head. “I hope you’re better at that than you are in real life.”

“Are the continued insults really necessary?”

“Yes. Okay, see him? That’s the guy. Don’t let him—”

A giant rock fist crushes him immediately. It isn’t exactly what Drake had in mind when Gosalyn asked him if he wanted to play. He huffs.

Gosalyn hisses in sympathy. “See that—that’s not what I meant by don’t get crushed.”

Drake levels her with a glare. “I kind of gathered that, thank you.”

He taps through the character respawn loading page until it drops them back in the corridor before the monster.

“Oh, yeah, try again. Just don’t get hit by rocks this time, okay?”

“Gee, I never would’ve thought of that.”

“I know,” Gosalyn says. “That’s why you keep getting anvils and junk dropped on you.”

“That was one—that was tw—that doesn’t happen to me that often!”

“Oh, it super does,” she nods solemnly. “We really need to get you a helmet.”

“Now she’s all about helmets,” he says, moving the character forward into the battle area again. This time he darts away from the monster a couple times—but within a minute the character gets hit by not one, but two giant rock fists and the death screen pops back up.

“Yikes,” Gosalyn says. “This is just getting a little sad, actually, so maybe you can stop—"

“Wait,” Drake says, navigating his way back to the starting point. “Let me try one last time.”

“Uh, sure,” Gosalyn says. “But please don’t break my controller when you die again.”

“I won’t!” Die or break the controller, hopefully. “Look, I’ll make a bet with you. If I can beat this guy, you have to start helping me sew the buttons back on my costume.”

“And when you can’t?”

He makes a show of sighing. “We’ll get Hamburger Hippo for dinner tonight.”

She just looks at him, eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“I’m trying to decide if it would be unheroic to let you make a bet you can’t possibly win.” She squints. “Eh, I want Hamburger Hippo more than I care about that. You’re on.”

Drake restarts the character and runs forward to the boss area. Right. No item run with a mid-level character that isn’t his. Now that he’s got a handle on Gosalyn’s specific build a single Routerrock won’t pose too much of a problem. He won’t hit speed-run times, but that’s just fine.

His heart beats quickly in his chest. The payoff for pulling this off is going to be so good.

Gosalyn shifts beside him. “You know, this is kind of a hard boss so you don’t need to like, feel bad if you can’t beat it or anything. I mean, I haven’t quite managed it yet—”

The room loads and Drake immediately scales the wall. Gosalyn stills beside him.

Three minutes later and the monster is dead, stone figure dissolving away into pixels. Gosalyn’s character punches the air and starts counting up new XP.

“What.”

Drake finally lets his grin break through. “Probably would’ve been faster with those power ups you’ve got banked, but eh. Your ranged damage is actually pretty good, though, how come you haven’t tried sniping it while dodging out of its melee distance?”

“Buh—Because that’s no fun,” she says distantly. “Wait—what just happened!?”

Gosalyn’s staring between him and the game with a flat look of shock. Drake sets the controller back in her lap and leans back. “I’m a nerdy kid from the ‘90s, Gos. I’ve put more hours into Legend of Legends Quest than you’ve been alive.” He stands and stretches his arms above him. “Hope you’re excited to start sewing buttons.”

“You tricked me!” She cries, vaulting off the couch and throwing herself at his upper back. It knocks the wind out of him and they both go tumbling to the floor.

Drake groans into the rug. Ow. At least Gosalyn had something to cushion her fall.

“You Legend Quest sharked me! Liar!”

Drake wheezes face down onto the floor. “Oh my god, Gos, I’m not LP you can’t just —”

“Stop whining, you’re fine,” she says, but she jumps off of his back and scurries around to kneel by his head instead. “Or you will be until it gets out that Darkwing Duck himself is a scam artist. A con man. A frivolous fraud who lies to innocent children—”

Drake sits up with a groan, rotating his shoulder. “You really want that burger, huh.”

She sniffs. “What I want is for my hero to be a good role model. And yet,” she sighs dramatically, “I am let down. Literally.”

“Again,” Drake says, “I am neither LP nor a climbing wall.”

Gosalyn rolls her eyes and drops down to sit beside him. She doesn’t look at him, just bites her lip and fiddles with the string of her sweatshirt. Drake rubs shoulder and watches her with growing curiosity.

“Uh, you know, there’s a local multiplayer now,” she half-mumbles to the floor. “If you wanted to play again, or whatever.”

Drake swallows around the warmth spreading through his chest. “Would you—do you want to?”

Gosalyn gives a kind of half-shrug. “You know. It could be fun.”

He can’t help the stupid smile that spreads across his face. “I’d like that a lot,” he says, rolling to his feet and reaching down to help Gosalyn back upright. “Let me get my account code so I can log in as my main.”

She gasps and punches his arm. “You have a main? You know what main means? You are such a cheater!” She shakes her head with mock solemnity. “You’re a terrible influence on a growing young mind.”

Drake chuckles and rubs his arm. “Alright, we’ll get Hamburger Hippo. But only tonight! And you still have to help me resew buttons.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Do you know how to get the Lightning Longbow?”

“Yeah?”

“Alright. Deal accepted.”

*

"...Your character is basically just Darkwing."

"I don't know why you're in any way surprised."

“God, you’re the lamest superhero ever. Even Gizmoduck is cooler.”

“Hey!”

*

Friend request received from GosaWin

 Friend request accepted

[ahgaseda]

enough | one

even if everyone else leaves me, you’re enough for me, you’re my only one, stand by me forever, only you, just you...

summary : to survive as a single woman in the big city, you resort to letting rich men pay for your company, but never anticipated that your first client would be the boy you once loved, Jinyoung.

warnings : strong profanity, explicit dialogue, references to prostitution, mentions of gang activity, graphic sexual content, potentially triggering elements involving mental health, panic attacks, etc.

miniseries chapters : one / two / three / four / five / six / seven

“Sorry, Mom,” you apologized under your breath as you stepped into the warm, bustling hallway of the agency. The building may as well have been your second home at this point, considering you spent most of your free hours under its roof.

Your place of business lay hidden beneath a layer of secrecy, operating within the guise of an illustrious marketing firm. After all, prostitution was still very much illegal. But evading the law in such sparse times had become an undeniable artform for creatures of the underworld.

However, you had yet to jump from that hyperbolic bridge. Until today. Hence the apology to your mother.

Being an escort that didn’t have sex with her clients had allowed you to earn enough to survive. Men paid for your company, nothing more. They took you to candlelit dinners or upper class events, because in the world of preternaturally rich people, having a gorgeous slab of meat on one’s arm was a blatant demonstration of funds.

Also, if the society they ruled knew who they actually slept with, their careers would be over as quickly as they began.

When you first came to the big city from your humble hometown in the countryside, you swore to yourself you would never sell your body to make a living - no matter how comfortably you could thrive if you did. But keeping your head above water was no easy feat and you were thrust back into the bottomless pit of debt and insecurity.

Seoul had become more and more expensive around you and you could feel the sensation of water rising over your head, drowning you in the hopelessness of it all. Your hopes and plans for the future were costly and the bank refused to grant you any more loans.

Then, you were reminded that sex sells. You had the advantage of being a woman in a world of ravenous men. Your employer had always given you the option of stepping into darker circles when you needed more. You met every criteria on the checklist of powerful, wealthy suitors.

Who needed dignity anyway? It was but another luxury you could not afford.

“We have just the client for you,” explained Seokjin, predictably diplomatic when discussing every dirty detail of his illegal business arrangements.

You were more than grateful and certainly never faulted him for it. Seokjin was a remarkable boss, especially considering his line of work. He had spent more than his fair share of time on the streets from a young age and he grew to provide individuals a safer, more regulated way of earning money the only way they knew how.

“He’s new,” Seokjin added, breaking you from your reverie. “Never hired before. Specifically asked for a virgin.”

“I’m not a virgin, boss,” you deadpanned, inevitably daydreaming of the one man that had ever known how it felt to be between your thighs.

How many years had passed since you last saw him? Four or five, maybe. In your mind, you tried to play clueless with yourself, but truth be told, you knew the exact day you left him down to the very hour. The bitter memory was fresher in your imagination than recalling what you ate for dinner the night before.

Seokjin twirled a pen through his knuckles before resuming his notes. From what you knew, he preferred to document everything in excessive detail. That was the lawyer part of him. Knowing that your own employer had worked his way from streetwalker to successful attorney and business owner gave you a blossom of hope for your own future.

“I’m referencing your lack of sexual activity with any of your previous clients,” Seokjin clarified, his tone level. “You have served as a public escort, not private. Emotional, not sexual.”

You nodded your understanding, already missing the simpler days that would soon be forgotten to you. Though life had abandoned most of its simplicity since you moved to the big city. Weighted under the gravity of your decision, your thoughts drifted back to that fateful morning when everything changed forever.

The rain had poured from the blackening sky and you were relieved the drops would conceal your own tears. Thunder roared with a vengeance and drowned the shouts following you as you leapt into the truck that would bring you to the city.

Your boyfriend had been a step or two behind, slamming his hands on the door and begging you to stay with him at the top of his lungs. You watched him through the window, apologizing over and over in a pitiful chant. His yelling turned to pleading and desperation, and when the truck drove away, he chased behind it.

Eventually, you lost sight of him in the rainfall as you sobbed uncontrollably. You could only imagine how long he had spent running after you.

Seokjin called your name tenderly and you blinked back to your surroundings, shifting anxiously in your seat in an attempt to rouse yourself. Meeting his gaze, you made some off-handed comment about lack of sleep, but to a man whose entire survival had once completely relied on the sharpened skill of reading people, you were an open book.

“You don’t have to do this,” he lamented, sympathetic. “The women that choose this path, do so because they want to. Clearly, you do not.”

Your experience with sex was narrow, that much you were certain. Given you had been out of the metaphorical saddle for almost four years, you wondered if you were even remotely good at the act anymore. The only partner you had ever known was heavily biased, in your opinion.

You recalled how it felt to ride him, wincing at how hard he could grab your hips while he begged you to slow down just a little, afraid he would blow his load too early. Getting off on the heady feeling of power with how easily you could ruin him, you would giggle and quicken your pace, grinning with victory when you felt him shudder with release beneath you.

“No, I do,” you insisted, readjusting your position in the chair at your unclean thoughts and the way they made your pulse throb. “I do, honestly. You know I wouldn’t waste your time unless I was sure.”

Seokjin sighed, recognizing the signs of someone who had made up their mind. After a short pause, he diverted your attention and asked, “How is school?”

“Good, actually,” you chirped, delighted he would opt to change the subject to something less heavy. “The general requirements are all done which means I can spend more time focusing on my major.”

“You’ll make a great doctor,” Seokjin crooned, sincere. “I just know it.”

You smiled. The compliment and vote of confidence warmed your very soul.

Seokjin wasn’t obligated to smooth your feathers. He was your employer, but he also served as a confidant and friend to those who needed him. You were the type of girl that never should have darkened his doorway, but life forced your hand and rather than accept defeat, you clawed a path over every obstacle you faced. Seokjin admired you for that and recognized you as someone that reminded him of his own tenacity.

Noticing you had relaxed, Seokjin gave you a reassuring simper before returning to business, informing, “There will be a function tonight. Lots of powerful people will be mingling and your new client will be present. I can have you added to the guest list and you can meet him, but only if you feel ready.”

You appreciated the fact your first meeting with the client would be in a crowd full of people. A man willing to pay for his own personal sex toy must have been a low-down dirty bastard, you surmised. Frankly, you were terrified to meet him, expecting he would see you as an object to possess and not a human being capable of pain.

The saving grace was you had unshakable faith in Seokjin. He screened every client personally and had a zero tolerance policy toward any form of abuse. Plus, he employed some of the most no-nonsense bodyguards you had ever seen. Your personal favorite was Hoseok. He was number three on your speed dial and your emergency contact on all medical forms at the university.

“Just like that?” you questioned, skimming over the document Seokjin pushed toward you. It was puzzling to you - how easy sacrificing a part of your soul would be. You naively expected some bells and whistles.

Seokjin hummed an affirmation and responded, “There’s absolutely no commitment to do anything physical with him tonight. He will be made aware as well. You have to agree to a contract of consent with him established by this agency because money is involved, similar to the ones you have had before. Tonight, you simply meet him, get to know him. Then, in the morning, you give us your answer as to if you wish to proceed.”

Signing your name on the page, agreeing to an initial evaluation with a potential client and swearing not to engage in any sexual activity with him until a contract had been signed, you acknowledged, “I understand. Thank you.”

Your employer accepted the document and slid the page into your file, tucking the folder away into his locked drawer. With that business concluded, Seokjin laced his fingers together over his desk and mentioned with a smile, “The event tonight is formal. I suggest you buy a new dress. Use the company card. We will add it to his bill.”

You chortled and stood to leave, shaking his hand and saying, “Pleasure working with you, boss.”

Seokjin rose and squeezed your fingers. “As usual, the pleasure is all mine.”

Making the long, arduous trek to your little apartment, you kept your head lowered, eyes on your shoes and every labored step you took. You wondered how many days from now you would be heading home in a walk of shame. Tears threatened behind your eyes, but none appeared. Your reserves were empty from the amount of crying you had done over the past few weeks.

Not long after you departed the agency, you came to a stop before a large stone building with a courtyard set in the center. Surrounded by well-trimmed hedges, students glided in and out.

The medical school you hoped to attend within a year or two was a massive, daunting building, but you had seen the inside during a quick tour and knew the place to be modern and professional and - in your humble opinion - warm and welcoming. Excitement gathered in your chest at the sight and for a moment, you remembered the determination you kept stored deep down and tapped into the current for the remainder of the day.

Your father was a farmer. Your mother was also a farmer. All of your neighbors within a ten mile radius were - big surprise - farmers. You were born and raised in a little town surrounded by nature and you were taught to cultivate the land from a young age.

But your heart was in a hospital and had been since the first time you were able to speak to your physician during a routine annual check. You told him you wanted to treat the sick and to your surprise, he encouraged your dream with a smile.

From that moment on, your mother rebuked you for wanting to abandon the family tradition of agriculture, as she called it. People like you and her were never meant to aspire to anything greater than the hand life dealt them, she said.

Your father, on the other hand, secretly fueled your plans at every turn. For your tenth birthday, he bought you a stethoscope which became the most sentimental item you owned. It was one of the few things that had survived your journey to the city when you ran away.

The town you came from left much to be desired. Once a simple place for hard-working residents, machines and modern advancements turned an entire way of life on its edge. Soon, your home became a breeding ground for gangs, using the rural, poverty-stricken lands for a perfect nest to hide from the law and conduct their devious affairs. Name any contraband and it was run through your streets; guns, drugs, and even women. Anything and everything was available for the right price.

Not much time passed before everyone came to recognize a simple principal: you either got in the gang or the gang got you.

You couldn’t abide by that and you would rather leave than accept it. Your heart yearned for the simple life of those that came before you; the straight and narrow path of working hard with your hands while earning your education. Without any options, you ran and turned away from your home, never looking back. And to your dismay, the big city was even more ruthless.

But you couldn’t go back. It wasn’t a matter of pride... it was the boy you left behind. You couldn’t come home and see the devastation left in your wake. Even your own family had broken all contact with you when they discovered you sold your body as an escort for wealthy men. No matter how many times you tried to convince your parents you weren’t sleeping with these people, they didn’t believe you. And you couldn’t blame them.

They didn’t know you anymore.

What you quickly learned was the city was no different from your little town except the stakes were higher. You had much farther to fall. The players in such a dangerous game were ruthless and influential and walked in plain sight without fear of consequences. You had heard the other girls chatter about the clients they regularly entertained and how deep they were in when it came to the illegal way of life.

You had most certainly jumped from the frying pan and into the open fire.

These same men meandered through the room you entered that evening, themed with gold and maroon for the elegant fundraiser. A few took long, lingering glances at you, shameless with their intentions as their eyes hovered far too long on your ample curves. You paid them no mind and made your way to the bar.

The gown you wore for your first meeting with the potential client was sultry purple. “A statement of royalty,” the dressmaker had exclaimed when you tried it on. Of course, she would say nearly anything while trying to entice you to spend a lump sum on one of her pieces. Given the money wasn’t coming out of your own account, you had no qualms when it was time to swipe the company credit card.

Hell, this man would more than likely be fucking you in the near future. He could splurge for a dress.

The thought made you overthink, as you often did, and you sipped your wine while you sat at the bar. From what your forthcoming coworkers told you, selling your body to the right man was a gold mine that surpassed security and landed in excess. Most spoke of riding a man so good the reward was a luxury car or a penthouse apartment overlooking the city.

You tried not to be disgusted, but it was a rebellion against everything you had been taught about respecting your body. You never thought you would reach this point in your life - putting a price on your own head to survive.

“Hello, beautiful,” greeted a husky voice at your side, an older man offering you a glass of bubbling champagne.

Jolting from your internal monologues, you turned and bowed your head politely, speaking your greetings shyly. A shudder of remorse tore through you. Would this be your future? To be owned by a man who had accrued enough wealth to feel he was entitled to your body as he pleased?

Briefly, you remembered the boy who had stolen away your heart. The boy who was patient and gentle with you at every turn. The same boy who was always tempted to fight any man who didn’t give you the respect he felt you deserved. Damn it, you knew he would hate you for what you were about to do.

“Don’t ever let another man touch you,” he had whispered in your ear once while taking you against a wall.

Soaked to the bone from an impromptu dive in the neighborhood lake that quickly devolved into a tangled mess of limbs, your boyfriend lost any and all patience when you begged him to soothe the ache between your thighs from his hot, wet kisses. You cried out his name softly as he held your hips and bounced you up and down to meet his thrusts, filling you with his cock and making stars appear behind your eyes.

“I won’t,” you swore against his neck, gasping for breath and locking your ankles around his waist.

He nipped at your jaw then, groaning in the back of his throat at the scorching heat of you around him, and growled possessively, “Because you’re mine.”

Fire gathered behind your cheeks, clouding your head, and you blinked rather rapidly as you tumbled out of the memory. God, you had almost forgotten how good he felt, skin against skin. No man would ever make you feel that way again, not that you had even given one the opportunity. You had tasted paradise and no one else could ever hope to compare.

Reminding yourself to pay attention, you focused your gaze on the visitor offering you a drink, realizing rather quickly he was not your prospective client when he failed to utter your designated alias. Clad in a fitted suit, the man introduced himself by his position and holdings and then proceeded to flirt borderline aggressively. The moment you could cut in between his words, you graciously told him you were expecting someone. Offended that you dared dismiss his entitled ass, he rose from your side and stormed off, taking the untouched glass of champagne with him.

You exhaled to release your irritation, drumming your manicured nails on the counter and resting your head on your free hand. The longer you waited, the more you wallowed in indecision. Could you really go through with this?

Suddenly, your phone rang and you pulled the vibrating device from your clutch. Your brow furrowed when you didn’t recognize the number, but you answered anyway with a rushed, “Hello?”

“Did that bastard really take the drink with him?”

You chuckled at the annoyance in the stranger’s voice and glanced around to see if any of the men at the fundraiser could be holding a phone to his ear.

Finding no one on their mobile, you nodded and replied coolly, “Yes, he did, but I prefer my wine anyway.”

“Is that so?” the stranger rumbled. “Hand your phone to the bartender for me.”

You narrowed your eyes in surprise before calling the pleasant server behind the bar over. Giving him your phone, adding that you were as clueless as he was, the server chuckled at the caller and echoed after a moment, “Your tab? Got it.”

You took your phone back from his outstretched hand and purred, “Very generous of you, sir.”

The caller chuckled and persisted, “Anything you get goes on my tab and I took the liberty of ordering you a White Russian, if you don’t mind.”

“We have made the jump from wine to liquor so soon, have we?” you joked, thanking the bartender when he made the drink and slid the glass your way. “May I ask, why a White Russian?”

The caller took a sip of his own drink as he leaned leisurely against a pillar and mused, “You look like the type of girl to nurse one while you scan around the room for me.”

You giggled, amused. “Well, you’re in luck. They are my favorite.”

“Imagine that,” he sang, but you failed to hear the lack of surprise in his reply. “Take your time with it. You need to be coherent for this conversation.”

The assertiveness in his voice snared your attention, because there was something strikingly familiar about it. With a smirk, you rebuffed, “Are you implying I am a lightweight?”

The client chuckled ever so subtly and replied, “I would never insult your alcohol tolerance, but yes, you do strike me as one.”

“It seems you are right again for the most part,” you admitted, giving the room another glance over for participants on their phones and finding none. “If I start singing Fall Out Boy at the top of my lungs, I’ve officially reached my limit.”

This time, he openly laughed.

The sound registered deep within you, because this delayed sense of familiarity was growing stronger.

“Alright, pretty lady,” the caller asserted, steering the conversation with a firm hand though he sounded rather young and carefree to your ear. “What is your game?”

You shrugged nonchalantly and returned, “I’m not playing any games.”

Abandoning his hiding place alongside the pillar, the stranger was quick to interject, “You most definitely are and I’m more than ready to play with you.”

You wanted to be ashamed at how effective his banter was thus far. You found yourself biting your lip and resituating on your bar stool. The rush of flirtation was pleasant, foreign to you after so long. Personally, you greatly enjoyed verbal sparring and rarely could someone hold their own against you.

Glancing at your glimmering fingernails, you sighed as if in deep contemplation, “Life is merely a game in the grand scheme of things. Isn’t it?”

He hummed an agreement before offering, “As are relationships between people.”

“I agree.”

“I like to hear you agree with me,” he confessed lowly, voice dropping an octave.

To which you replied, “You are easy to agree with, sir.”

Then, he quickly veered back to his easy-going and flirtatious manner to whisper, “I’m still trying to get a read if you’re submissive or if you just try to appear that way because you think it’s what I want.”

You swallowed nervously, viscerally reminded of the situation you were in. Harmless flirting had been fun, but now you remembered why you were here in the first place - to be someone’s plaything. To be used and used until nothing was left of you.

At your conflicted pause, the caller coaxed, “I’ve spooked you, little one.”

You came back to your senses and stuttered over your words, “No, I, uh...”

“Take a breath and sip your drink.”

You obeyed without a second thought, welcoming the liquor and swallowing a mouthful. Your conscience was too strong for this, but the duality of him had you snared like a wild animal lured into a false sense of security. He balanced adeptly between hot and cold, reeling you into a disarming sensation of safety before trapping you in his clutches. Because all the while, you knew he was a dangerous man and yet he made you brush aside your instinctual fear of him.

“Well, well, well, you are a bit submissive,” the stranger taunted, obviously pleased at how mindlessly you had heeded his order with no resistance or snark. “But you’re skittish.”

“Am I?” you sassed skeptically, glancing around with narrowed eyes. “Are you an expert on me now?”

He tsked his tongue and muttered, “And there’s that little streak of fire. I like it.”

You flushed. Your mind raced at the thought of your potential client. He had a way with words and he clearly enjoyed the banter. It seemed he wasn’t intent on just bending you over a surface and having his way with you.

He wanted to play.

Rising from the bar, you tucked your clutch to the inside of your arm and carried your drink, still holding the mobile to your ear. As you glided across the marble floor, you scanned the room for men on their phones, ready to hunt.

“You know what they say about playing with fire,” you smarted, words hushed.

He chuckled and sounded as if he were also in motion, potentially avoiding your gaze. With a smirk, he asked, “Are you going to burn me?”

“I might,” you replied boldly. “But I get the feeling you would like it.”

“You’re right about that. How the tables have turned. Are you reading me?”

You snickered, licking your bottom lip before sipping your drink. After swallowing the alcohol, you exhaled and asked cautiously, “Can I be honest with you?”

He nodded, slinking behind a pillar, and spoke almost sternly, “If anything between us goes beyond tonight, I want you to be honest with me always.”

That response surprised you and you didn’t bother to hide it. For all his potential danger, he didn’t instill in you a feeling of maliciousness. You were becoming less and less afraid of him. “I appreciate that,” you finally told him.

“Hit me.”

Stopping in your tracks, you turned on your heels, surveying the upper decks in the massive gallery, and inquired, “Why do this?”

He growled, “Why pay a woman to fuck me?”

His blunt words sent a shiver through your body. This man didn’t carry much fear, that you could tell. You were intimidated by your potential client already and you hadn’t even laid eyes on him. Pinching your lips, you hummed, “Mm.”

“My job mostly. I can’t have a normal relationship in my line of work. And I’m not the type who should try,” he explained without hesitation. There was nothing dishonest or remotely offensive in the way he spoke to you, which made you wonder what kind of position your client held that would lean him toward this inclination.

But you remembered something he said previously and turned his words back on him when you remarked, “You’ve already brought up submission. I think you like the power balance this would give you.”

There was a pause. Then, he exhaled, “You’re right again.”

You smiled victoriously, taking a sip of your drink, and resumed walking across the room.

The caller chugged some of his own alcohol; you could hear the ice cubes clinking against the glass. “I know you’ve never done this before. I specifically asked for that,” he began, sounding piqued with interest.

“Yes,” you murmured, shivering at where this line of question might go, but knowing you had opened the door in the first place.

“Why are you doing this?”

Flinching, you felt your heart clench. For a moment, your mind showed you that hated memory - of the only boy you ever loved chasing you down as you scrambled into the truck. He beat both hands on the door and screamed those exact words to you at the top of his lungs.

Shaking your head to snap out of your thoughts, you played cool and echoed, “Why am I agreeing to let someone fuck me for money?”

He was entirely unaffected by your language as he said, “Yes.”

Frowning at the mental image of bills piling on your coffee table at home, you answered, “Because these are hard times.”

That was a valid enough reason for him apparently. “I hear that,” he rasped.

Pensively, you nibbled on your bottom lip as you walked through the sea of patrons, tasting the slightest remnants of the White Russian on your tongue. Accepting defeat when you still found none of the men on their phones, you asked demurely, “Any more questions, sir?”

Playfully, he chuckled and teased, “No, I just wanna flirt with you some more.”

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes and said, “I’m listening.”

“I’m watching the way you move,” he sang, drifting from his perch. “You’re beautiful.”

Spinning in a quick circle, with a simple statement you were reinvigorated to find your client and called with curiosity, “Where are you?”

Amused, he easily ignored you and continued, “You’ve passed through a crowd of people and everyone has moved out of your way. Did you even notice that?”

Glancing around to see a small empty radius around your presence, you whispered in disbelief, “No.”

It was time for him to take control. Monitoring your movements from above, the caller couldn’t help but lick his lips at the sight of you, at the way the violet gown hugged your curves and displayed your beauty in all of its glory.

Finishing his drink, he continued, “You walk with confidence. You’re assertive and commanding.”

Something was nagging at you, tugging on your instincts as you meandered through the crowd. Your mind had already solved this mystery, had already put the pieces of the puzzle together, but you were in too much denial to accept the signs.

The client moved to another shadow, noting your gaze kept passing over the gallery above, and taunted, “If I were any other man and I saw such a stunning goddess coming toward me, I would fall to my knees and worship her.”

“What a silver tongue,” you droned, feigning indifference. As a waiter passed by, you discarded your now empty glass on their tray.

“My tongue is ready to do things to you, sweetheart.”

You stopped, biting your lip again, and persisted, “You said, if you were any other man. Are you implying you wouldn’t bow down and worship me?”

He swallowed the last mouthful of his drink and chuckled, “You don’t fool me. I know what you are.”

Hesitating, you resisted the urge to be offended, but the feeling seeped its way into your voice when you asked, “What I am?”

Licking his lips like a predator on the prowl and moving in for the kill, he elaborated, “You’re a rare breed.”

Approaching the stairs to the overhead gallery, you tapped your fingers on the bronze railing and ordered, “Keep talking.”

“The world has made you strong and hard. You demand respect because no one has given it to you. Even when you’re afraid, you can convince everyone else in the room that you are fearless.”

Brow furrowed, you questioned, “And that’s rare?”

“You, my dear, are no lion. You are a lamb.”

You stopped, blinking in surprise. A glimpse of his face flashed in your mind and for a moment, the world began to spin around you.

He resorted to a guttural snarl as he continued, “You may try to convince the world you are the untouched goddess who needs no god, but behind closed doors you wanna scream and beg for Daddy to fuck you harder.”

Saliva had gathered in your mouth. You knew your client when he spoke in that tone, a tone you once knew so intimately. The years had made his voice deeper, more mature and roughened by the cruelty of life experiences.

But you angrily cursed at yourself for not recognizing him until now.

At your lack of a reply, the stranger pressed coyly, “Am I close?”

A memory tore across your mind of the man who once called you the love of his life, the way he held your face and told you he would never leave you. You remembered how raw and firm his voice had been when he promised to fight every battle that needed to be fought to keep you safe.

Hands shaking, your voice broke when you choked, “Jinyoung?”

For the first time since the call began, there was only silence on his side of the line.

The absence of an answer served as confirmation and you furiously shouted into the phone, “Jinyoung!”

“Took you long enough.”

Before you could utter another word, the call went dead.

next chapter →

a/n : this story was previously Lacuna on my old blog, minheoney. I’m really excited to finally finish it! This fic was my baby for so long and I’m ridiculously happy to give it a new home :)

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[jeonggukingdom]

splinters of love • day III (m) [myg]

pairing  ⟶ min yoongi x fem!Reader

summary  ⟶ a collection of drabbles (one for each day of April) based on prompts by an online prompts’ generator site. Specifically  ⟶  • day III  ↳ in which you decide to have a little fun inside the library but Yoongi is having a really hard time keeping quiet.

genre  ⟶ smut rating  ⟶ 18+ word count ⟶  2.072 words

warnings  ⟶ graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, public sex, blowjob, filming, dirty talk, a tad bit of exhibitionism. 

series masterlist  ⟶ here  (links on mobile may not work, if you’re looking for all the works in this series, you can click on the “!splintersoflove” tag and you’ll find them all there!)

Amongst dusty shelves and old books, that’s where your love burns the greatest, hot like a hundred blazing suns.

It is not a rare occurrence for the library’s floor to rouge your knees, merge with the soft and delicate skin as your mouth deliciously wraps around him in a very lewd and improper fashion that juxtaposes so much with the way you portray yourself, or even the place where you have these encounters, it is almost laughable.

And you would laugh about it, maybe to the point of tears, if it weren’t for the fact that your lips are currently very busy giving Yoongi the suck of his life.

Black jeans pooled down his ankles, boxer briefs hanging right above his knees—still delectably hugging his slim thighs—and white t-shirt pulled upwards just enough to show his belly button and the trail of little hair that leads to the price between his legs: Yoongi looks absolutely exquisite like this, an image you’d like to bore inside your mind forever or even snap a picture of for you to remember him by, enclose this memory in a timeless photo you’d keep close to your heart until the day you die.

But alas, there is no time for such trivialities when time in itself is the essence of this brief and satisfactory encounter.

There is a very fine line between the risk of being caught like this and actually getting caught. That fine line is exciting because dangerous and easy to cross but neither of you would actually willingly cross it and face the consequences of it all.

It is merely a game, this thing you have going on between the two of you, a silent agreement that if you happen to find each other at the same time within these four walls, this remote niche of the library will be your play-field.

Today you truly had meant to be a good girl, to go to the library to study and fully prepare for your pending exam and no, your mind, for once, hadn’t drifted to the thought of the blonde boy with pouty lips and peach cheeks and the mere chance of finding him there.

But then, your eyes swept over the tables filled with students and inevitably, they had zoned in on him, on his concentrated and slightly sleepy expression and your heart had practically jumped against your ribcage, excitement immediately coiling down your stomach at the prospect of a good time.

You had licked your lips as if foretasting his nectar on your tongue and then you had made it a point to walk right in front of him and nonchalantly sit at the table right in front of him where there was no doubt his eyes will eventually land on.

A wicked smile twisted your lips as you opened your book and even though your eyes were fixed on the pages filled with big and hard words, your thoughts were somewhere far, far away from the subject.

It didn’t come as much of a surprise that, after a few minutes, his familiar frame caught your attention as he strolled through the library, making sure to pass right in front of your table, and quickly disappeared along the usual corridor leading to your secret spot.

You mentally counted a full minute before following him, your pace relaxed and eyes fixed on the shelves as if you were honestly looking for a tome you needed for an essay or something. And then, you reached him and his smile melted all your inhibitions away.

You look up at Yoongi now as you hollow your cheeks around his shaft, your heart missing a beat as he struggles to keep the soft sigh contained within his lips.

His eyes are fixed on you, one of his hands almost lovingly wrapped around your hair to keep your head right there, between his legs.

Yoongi is a mere friend, you always tell yourself that the next day, when the memories of your encounter start fading away and rationality seeps back in but when you are like this, it feels like anything but.

In these moments, he is yours and you are his and you can fully bask in the emotions ruling over your every little touch, your every little look of utter desire.

Yoongi's head falls back as you take more of him inside your mouth, his hair parting to reveal his forehead and the deep furrow of his brows as his mouth opens in a silent moan that has you turning bolder.

There is something about having him like this, breaking him deliciously like this to the point he's erupting inside of you, grunting almost too loudly considering where you are hiding and the thousands of ears and eyes that could catch you at any given moment.

Yet, it is thrilling to know that you satisfy him so well he always has a hard time fighting it all, especially the cuss words that would leave his mouth in the form of deep growls instead of broken whispers if this were to happen behind closed doors.

"Damn," his voice graces your ears and the blood rushes all to your abdomen, the arousal undoubtedly staining your panties by now with the way he is panting for you, his chest heaving as you run your fingers up his thighs, tease his flesh and then wrap them around the little curve of his ass.

You tug on his bottom cheeks until he is thrusting a little into you, his breath getting stuck inside his lungs as he loses completely inside of you and the pleasure of having you like this, at his feet and ready to make him touch the stars within minutes.

His fingers wrap tighter around your hair and you hum slightly for him, your eyes closing for the briefest of moments as you suck hard around him, giving it your all.

You can feel his muscles tensing underneath your digits and you grasp him harder, lock him into place as you start bobbing your head up and down vigorously.

Your saliva starts trailing down your open mouth, falling on your chin under his intense gaze as he focuses back on you, on how immensely pretty you look when you have his cock deep within your mouth.

Another soft groan leaves his mouth and you look up at him with mirth shining in your eyes.

"Damn, I want to take a picture of you," he whines under his breath. His sudden words surprise you, they make you squirm and shiver under his gaze with unadulterated hunger.

You tilt your head a little to the side, allow his cock to bounce away from your lovely mouth just long enough for you to utter your next words.

"Why don't you, then?" Your lips brush against his turgid cock, your teeth graze his skin and he’s shuddering, cursing under his breath as he fishes his phone out, hands trembling as he opens the camera to fulfil one of his deepest desires.

You offer him a coy smile that makes him bite down his bottom lip and then, you are engulfing him whole anew, sliding up and down his cock so hard he fears he might drop his phone at the peak of his orgasm before he even gets the chance to take the damned photo.

But he does take it, he takes dozens and then, testing his luck, he breathes out his next deep, secret, fantasy.

"Can I film you?"

It is almost a whine, a plea even, and if you ever had a doubt before this moment, it is quickly swept away now when you truly realize you simply cannot say no to this boy.

So you hum around his member, the vibrations making him grunt alongside the silent permission laced within the simple gesture.

He cannot believe he is actually living this, that you are allowing him to do this and yet, here you are, compliant to his very deep desires and it is in this moment that Yoongi realizes how deeply he has fallen for you.

Of course, he does not voice any of this, not right now anyway, but the realization hits him like a truck and leaves him breathless for a couple of seconds.

But then, you are looking up at him expectantly and he gulps down heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down for a second before he wets his lips and turns the camera on.

Your cheeks feel hot under his digits as his free hand moves from the top of your head to the soft and delicate skin to cup it, caress it lovingly with his thumb.

You give him the warmest of looks and he feels his heart burst in his chest, his breath leaving his lungs in heavy pants that seem to entice you even further.

You are hollowing your cheeks around him, batting your eyelashes for the camera and he is teetering on the verge of the biggest orgasm of his life and he cannot, for the life of him, keep his damn mouth shut.

The more you pleasure him like this, the more you look up at him like this, the more he fills himself losing control.

He wants to grunt out your name, make everyone in the library know what you are doing to him, how hard you are bringing him down and how deeply yours he is but he cannot do any of that.

The frustration makes his fingers wrap roughly around your hair once more and you gladly welcome the touch, even lean into it as one of your hands leaves his bottom cheeks to cup his balls, making him hiss.

"Are you trying to make me moan, kitten?" He asks in a breath, his eyes leaving your frame for a second as he scans your surroundings, just to make sure nobody has caught you yet.

You smirk around his cock, the innocent look on your face driving him absolutely insane.

He wants to fill that pretty mouth of yours, he wants to see you gulp down every little drop of him and he wants it now.

So he buckles his hips forward, he thrusts deep inside your throat and you allow him to, you slack your jaw and close your eyes and he records every single instant of it, including the moment his hips jerks forward one last time, a strained moan leaves his lips and his load fills your mouth to the brim.

He watches with rapt eyes as you gulp down happily for him, your eyes never leaving his face as you don't let a single drop out of your pretty cherry lips.

You lick those lips, bite them down to keep the bittersweet taste of him firm in your memory and then Yoongi is disregarding his phone on the ground and he is grasping your face to pull you upwards so that he can crash his lips on top of yours, feel his taste mingling with your own, turning him into a mad man.

He is still panting by the time you retreat from the kiss, a teasing smile on your adorable lips as you push yourself back up on your feet.

You peck his lips once, twice, your fingers wrapped around his chin and Yoongi wonders if this is your way of finally claiming him as yours but he has no time to fully ponder over the possibility or to even ask you that because there is the faint sound of voices coming your way and he has to hastily get dressed, pick up his phone from the ground and disappear from your sight before it is too late and your secret is out for everyone in the school to know.

He offers you a quick and gentle smile before he turns the corner, traces his steps back to his table knowing perfectly well he won't be able to focus on anything else for the rest of the day, or night for that matter.

Thoughts of you fill every corner of his mind and as he watches your frame reach your table anew he finds himself desiring he could seat there with you, grasp your hand in his and let everybody know who he belongs to and you belong to him.

Tomorrow, he silently promises to himself and for once, he has every intention to keep it.

Copyright © 2020 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. Do not repost, do not steal, do not translate without consent.