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staruus · 7 months

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𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 ✩°｡⋆˚⁺

𝐀𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 - S. Gojo

SYPNOSIS. You and Satoru are one of the very few sole survivors of an apocalypse that broke out. After 5 years of surviving, you are sent to track down Satoru Gojo. You both are entwined by fate, names written in the stars. But that doesn't mean you both are fond of each other. What happens when the universe begins tangling your story with his?

GENRE: Fluff + Angst, TLOU au WARNINGS: Smut, smoking, mentions of drugs, violence, gore, cursing, death Pt. 1 - ??? WC: 7.5k + Read on Wattpad! User: GenyaMyBeloveddd

Masterlist

The apocalypse.

5 years ago, if someone told you that an apocalypse would eventually break out, you would've laughed in their faces. Since there was simply no way it could ever happen. Especially a zombie apocalypse.

Those were simply just myths fed to children for entertainment or frightening purposes. It wasn't real. Zombies aren't real.

They are non-existent creatures you would see in video games, or read in your books. But it actually didn't exist. They were simply just made up by the human mind that was desperate to find an escape route from reality. Since imagination was the weapon in the war against reality. In the depths of darkness, where shadows reside, creativity would always blossom, as a beacon to guide the human mind. It was a refuge, a divine sanctuary, where dreams are born, and reality intertwines.

These creatures couldn't exist, because you can't revive the dead. They were just figments of one's imagination.

Once someone's heart stops flowing, their soul is no longer. A zombie was a living being without a soul. A living being who yearned for blood, and "brains". No living being could walk, eat, or breathe without having a soul. It was simply impossible.

Until, it was.

What was once a myth and a thing of fiction, a fairy tale thought up for the entertainment of children, now had struck the world with a fearful blow.

Slaughtering humanity to a dreadful low.

Who could've ever imagined such a thing? That a zombie apocalypse would come true. The living dead, a thought of pure fantasy.

And now, our world is filled with agony.

The zombie apocalypse broke out in Japan. At approximately 12:04 am on May 23rd, 2025. It spread out all the way to Asia. Like a virus that was hungry for human flesh. A destructive virus that wanted nothing but blood and death.

And these weren't your childhood fantasy zombies. These weren't the ones you would hear from your childhood. These weren't the ones that weren't able to walk in sunlight or anything like that.

Because they could. And they weren't slow — they were fast. Dangerous, out for blood like a predator searching for prey. Death filled all of Asia, as rotting corpses were found all over the continent. The smell of blood and death would never leave one's nose.

The world had decided to turn their backs on Asia, in fears of spreading this deadly virus to the world. Asia was left alone to rot and die. All the people were left to be forgotten as if they were some type of failed experiment in a lab. Silent cries went unheard, the world's back turned, and hearts hardened, as the apocalypse dawned.

Now, here you are. One of the few sole survivors of the apocalypse. There's a group called the SNK. The head leader, Kenjaku, owns it. This community is one filled with survivors of this wretched apocalypse you're in. It was 2 years ago when you asked to stay here. One of the members, Fushiguro Toji found you lying in the woods – right at death's door.

You were injured, with a large wound on your waist, and were going to die of blood loss if you didn't get it treated. Luckily, Toji found something interesting about you and brought you back to the camp.

But before you could be an official member, Kenjaku had to make sure you could actually contribute to the community. You see, everyone had to have something valuable to be a part of this residency that Kenjaku had made.

And luckily for you, he deemed you as worthy to be a part of his "Society". Since that is what he called it. Even though you are sure that Kenjaku is a man full of pride, you still respect him. After all, he is the whole reason you are alive right now.

Now, you work as one of his hitmen. That is how you contribute to this community. Whenever Kenjaku tells you to search for someone, you do it. If he tells you to kill someone, you do it. You are the consequences of your actions. Kenjaku is the judge, and you are the executioner. Being a hitman was not something you wanted to do – but it was better than being a farmer.

And now, you are on your bed – in an abandoned hotel. Your room can be considered "luxurious" by apocalypse standards. Even though it only has a bed, a bathroom, and a table. It was better than the shitty apartments others got. Those apartments reeked with the smell of piss and old blood.

The sun rose, and the rays of sunshine hit your face, hurting your eyes. Your eyes fluttered open, as you got off your bed. You stretched your arms, as a yawn escaped your lips. The room was fairly clean – in apocalypse standards, of course.

Yeah, the walls were a little old, with paint peeling off of them, and a hole in the wall. It was there before you got it. The floor was slightly dusty since no one ever bothered to properly clean it up. The bathroom had some running water – even though you were 99% sure that you shouldn't even be using the water. The shower curtains eventually got moldy, so you had to throw them out. But it was better than camping in the woods like you were accustomed to.

Your door's locks didn't work. You guessed it probably broke down a few years ago – before the apocalypse even began. But overall, considering where most people lived, you had it good in a way. The community had made walls. These walls were filled with barbwire, metal gates, and some scraps that people could find.

Despite looking shady, the walls were strong and managed to hold off any runners or stalkers. Since those were the most common around your area.

All of a sudden, you hear a faint knock on the door. You immediately turn your head over to your door, and your whole body pauses. Your breath comes to a halt, and you wait to see if the person behind the door would speak, or reveal themselves.

"Y/N, open up." A deep and hoarse voice ordered from behind the door. You immediately recognized whose voice it belonged to — Toji's. You walk towards your nearly broken-down door and open it.

When you open the door, Toji stands in front of you, with a hand on his hip. He had a scar on his lip, black hair, and dark eyes. You raised a brow and looked up at him. "What is it?" Toji never came over to your hotel room unless he would ask for a favor, or Kenjaku had ordered him to carry out a message to you.

"Kenny needs you," Toji announced with a husky voice, as he scratched the back of his neck with his hand and his eyes darted around the hallway filled with empty and abandoned hotel rooms. Toji had a high rank in the SNK. He was practically Kenjaku's right-hand man. Whatever Kenjaku told him to do, Toji always did.

"Kenjaku? What for?" You inquired, as you narrowed your eyes at the tall male. Toji's eyes landed on you, and he shrugged. "I dunno. He didn't tell me yet." Toji answered as he looked down on you before he stepped aside. "C'mon. He needs ya like right now." Toji rushed. Your eyes widened as you nodded. You wondered what could be so important that Kenjaku needed you without warning. Normally, he would at least give you a heads-up before meeting with you. He was an organized man – so him behaving like this was somewhat strange.

You grabbed your white shoes that were stained with dirt and gravel, as you hastily tied your shoes. Once you were done tying them, you stood up and exited your hotel room. You shut the old door behind you and began walking with Toji as you guys headed over to Kenjaku's office.

Kenjaku's office was clean and tidy — which was surprising considering everyone in Asia was currently living in a shithole at the moment. You glanced at the old elevators and then glanced at the stairs. You hardly doubted that the elevator worked anymore. It was old, and it was probably jammed.

So you would rather take your chances with the damn stairs.

You and Toji walked up the stairs until you eventually reached the front doors of Kenjaku's office. You both glanced at one another before Toji nodded at the guards. The guards knew who you two were, and immediately nodded back to Toji before stepping aside and opening the large doors.

There, revealed Kenjaku in all of his glory. The office was luxurious, as he remained seated on his chair at his desk. The desk was polished nicely, and the walls didn't have paint peeled off — but instead looked clean and tidy. And behind his desk, was a clean window with a view to the entire community.

You don't know how he managed to keep his office this clean – considering the condition Asia was in right now. His back was faced against you and Toji — and you could only see the back of his chair. You could smell the smoke in this room, and it made your nose scrunch up in disgust. "Y/N," Kenjaku voiced. You snapped out of your thoughts and fixed your posture immediately when he called your name. You remained silent for a few seconds, before answering back. "Yes?" Your voice was hoarse and shaky — almost as if you were scared.

Kenjaku remained quiet, as he put out the cigarette on the ashtray, before tossing it to the trashcan next to him. He sighed, before finally turning his chair around – revealing himself. His eyes landed on you, and then he glanced at Toji. It looked like he was thinking about whether or not to keep him at the moment.

"Toji, you can stay," Kenjaku muttered. Toji glanced at you, and then glanced at Kenjaku and raised a brow. It was obvious he didn't have a clue what was happening right now – and he was lost just like you. After a few moments of silence, Kenjaku spoke again.

"You are probably wondering why I called you here." Kenjaku voiced, as he looked at you, his eyes locking onto yours with a cold gaze. A shiver ran down your spine, as you gulped. You decided not to say anything since you didn't even know what to say.

Kenjaku then laid eyes on Toji. "I need a favor. From both of you." Kenjaku began. His eyes darted back and forth to the both of you, as he had a small grin on his face. He leaned back on the cushion of his chair, and hanged his arms on the armrests.

"Y/N, I need you to bring me a man called Satoru Gojo back alive. I know I don't normally ask for them to be brought back alive, but this time I need it." Kenjaku spoke with a stern voice. Bring who back alive? A man named Satoru Gojo? Who's that?

Your brows furrowed, as you looked at Kenjaku. You were confused – who was this man? Why did Kenjaku want him back alive? Did he do something to Kenjaku? I mean, you never heard of that name before — so it was definitely a shock to you. You looked at Toji, and then back at Kenjaku.

"And for you, I want you to be taking care of Y/N's part while she is gone. Other than that, you are dismissed." Kenjaku told Toji, as he locked eyes with him, he gave a dismissive wave to Toji and sighed. Toji had a stern and cold look on his face — it wasn't his normal casual or laidback look. Did he seem upset? What for? He was probably upset at the fact he'd have to be doing more service hours now. Which, anyone would be upset over that, to be honest.

"Yes sir," Toji mumbled under his breath before turning around and walking out of the office. You watched him as his figure slowly disappeared into the hallway before he took a turn and escaped your eye's view. You turned your attention back to Kenjaku, whose attention was solely on you and you only.

"Satoru is a tall man, roughly around the height of 6'3. He's got white hair and obnoxiously bright blue eyes. He's hard to miss. He is also a part of the Yamamoto faction." Kenjaku informed you – as he gave you a brief summary of what the guy called "Satoru Gojo" looked like.

The Yamamoto faction was all the way in Tokyo. The SNK was in Kyoto. You were hoping that Kenjaku was about to tell you that Satoru Gojo was located in Kyoto at the moment. You couldn't imagine walking all the way over to Tokyo. Not to mention, Tokyo had the most infected and had the Yamamoto faction members. The SNK and Yamamoto faction were not on good terms.

Sparks between the two had been flying ever since the apocalypse started. At first, the Yamamoto faction was located in Kyoto but had eventually relocated to Tokyo, of all places. You were confused about why they would relocate to the place with the most infected, but then again you didn't care much.

"He is located in Shinjuku, Tokyo. I am giving you food, weapons, and clothes while you are on this journey. Once you bring him back, you will be greatly rewarded. You are set to leave in approximately five days. Is that clear?" Kenjaku explained, as he got up from his chair, and walked over to you.

He stopped right beside you and gave you a side-eye. "Are we clear?" He asked, his voice was cold, and hoarse as he talked to you. Probably from all those damn cigarettes he smokes. You wondered how he hasn't gotten lung cancer at this point yet. He smokes more than fifteen every day for crying out loud.

You paused, as you thought about your answer for a few seconds. Is it really worth it to go all the way to Tokyo, for one man? To the area that reeks of death and the infected? What if you die trying to find this man? What if he kills you? This is bullshit. But you can't do anything but simply comply with Kenjaku's orders. Since after all, you are forever in debt to him. Everyone in this community is forever in debt to Kenjaku. He gives them sanctuary, food, and safety. It's like he's seen as a divine entity — even though he is nothing but a simple mortal on this earth. No different from the rest of you. You cleared your throat and sighed.

"Yes sir." You muttered as you nodded your head. A smile formed on Kenjaku's lips, as he stepped back, and looked at you with a cheerful expression on his face. "Alright then! Better hurry! Pack your bag, but make sure to leave room for the stuff I will be giving to you. You'll need it." Kenjaku chimed, as he walked back to his desk, and sat down on his chair.

"Make sure to rest well. Gojo is not those ordinary weak men I normally send you to deal with. He's way more." Kenjaku informed with a sinister smile on his face as he rested his chin on his hand. You sighed and nodded. "Why does this man mean so much to you? What is so special about him? He's all the way in Kyoto — shouldn't we just let the infected take him instead?" You offered, furrowing your brows in frustration at Kenjaku's cheerfulness.

The man never had to get his hands dirty. It was always his hitmen or others doing it for him. He never had to pick up crops from the soil, never had to clean his body from the dirt, never had to deal with hands soaked in blood, he lived up here, in his office, bossing others around.

It annoyed you – but you were grateful anyway. If it weren't for him, you would've bled out and died. Or worse, one of the infected would've had their way with you. You would rather slit your own throat than get killed by an infected.

"Tsk. He's a criminal, Y/N. I want him here, and I want him to face the punishment for his actions." Kenjaku stated, raising his voice slightly as you glared at him. Whenever Kenjaku wanted his victims alive, they would be around a city or two away, but not a whole fucking state. How could you possibly contain a whole grown-ass man? Not to mention, he's 6'3. Way fucking taller than you. How would you manage to keep this beast in its cage? No doubt this beast wasn't going to let you drag him along – he was going to defy against you, obviously.

"Since when were there laws in the apocalypse? Let's be honest here. We're all just barely making it by. We all are doing whatever we can do to survive. There are no laws anymore." You snapped, as your hands balled into fists and your nails dug into the skin of your palm.

Kenjaku's eyes widened at your rebellion against his orders. You always followed his orders and never defied him. So why are you doing it now? Normally, he would've punished anyone who talked back to him, but you were one of his most valuable hitmen, so he was letting it slide.

"Oh don't get me started on that bullshit! If someone takes something from me, I'll take it back — or I'll punish them for it. Would you just let someone easily take something that rightfully belongs to you all because "there are no laws" in the apocalypse? No." Kenjaku stated, as his eyes narrowed and his brows furrowed. Even though it seemed like it, he wasn't that angry. He had a high tolerance and wasn't quick to anger.

"You see, this is the reason you almost died, Y/N. If Toji didn't find you, your body would be rotting under the soil right now. I thought you changed, I thought you learned. But apparently, you haven't. You haven't changed at all and it's annoying. In the apocalypse, you can't just let someone take something from you all because they are trying to survive. Because remember, you are trying to survive too. Every fucking crumb of food, every grain of soil, and every drop of water is valuable in this damn apocalypse. And you need to realize that." He yelled, as he slammed his hands on his desk and abruptly stood up from his seat.

You immediately took that as your sign to pipe down and shut your mouth. After all, he had more power than you anyway. More people followed him anyway. Who would follow a hitman such as yourself? No one. Because you are no one.

In this apocalypse, in this world, if you don't have power, you are no one. You don't matter. You could simply disappear and who the hell would go looking for you? No one has time for that. In the end, you die alone.

You frowned, as you made it very evident in your facial expression that you were not happy with this task he had ordered you to carry out. But you have to do it anyway. Or things won't end well for you.

And you had to admit, he had a point. Every small thing was extremely valuable. A single bullet, a crumb of food, a medkit, anything that was limited was now valuable in this apocalypse. You wish you could reverse time and cherish the time when you didn't have to scavage for food, had your hands stained and soaked with blood, and had to wash the dirt and dust off your skin every day.

Five years ago, you couldn't even imagine killing a man. Now, you've taken many lives with your hands like your a damn reaper or something. It made you sick — but in some sick and twisted way, it was comforting.

It was comforting knowing you still served some type of purpose, even in a situation like this. That you had a role that you needed to fulfill. Even though it was a horrible role, what else could you do? There are no laws, no one has morals anymore, or decent human tendencies.

You looked away from Kenjaku, diverting your eyes away from his. He always had a way with words. He always knew what to say to people. And he especially knew what to say to you.

"Fine. I'll be ready in five days." You muttered, before turning around and walking away, as you slammed the two large doors shut on your way out. You stomped away from his office, as you went over to your room.

TIME SKIP

DAY 1

It's been five days. And you've started your journey to Tokyo around six hours ago. You're used to the walking, even though it is somewhat annoying. You've walked through the abandoned buildings — and through the forests that were always a pain in the ass to come across by. Mainly because it was difficult to see your surroundings and make sure no infected were secretly stalking you.

Kenjaku gave you multiple guns, with multiple bullets that can last you around three months if you're wise. And he gave you clothes, food, and water that can last for about two weeks. You also, unfortunately, had to witness Mahito snickering from behind as he watched the irritated expression on your face as you accepted everything Kenjaku gave you.

Gosh, you hope that man-child gets killed by a bloater or something. What does he even contribute to the community again? You can't remember. His significance is that to a mosquito. They have no value, yet they are annoying little pests who leach off of others for survival.

13 more days to go until arrival.

DAY 6

This fucking sucks. You want to drive a spear through Kenjaku's heart to set you up for this torture. Your legs are sore, and you are extremely tired. You have been walking non-stop. You've only set up camp for two days so far. Other than that, you've been walking for the other four days. Non-stop.

Right now, you're taking residency in an abandoned grocery store that is unfortunately nearly empty. At least there is food and water that you can restock on.

DAY 9

Fuck this.

DAY 12.

You've almost died. Twice. One to almost falling off a damn cliff and the other to a stalker while you were setting up camp on day ten. You're running low on water and food. You're starving, and you've been desperately searching for clean lakes or ponds to drink out of. You have scratches all over your legs, and your hands are bruised from the amount of climbing on rubble and the number of times a thorn has cut you.

That reward better be fucking worth it, Kenjaku. Or else, you're going to turn that man inside out.

DAY 13.

Words couldn't describe the joy you felt the second you read the word on a sign that spelled out "Shinjuku, Tokyo". You looked at the sign, as a bright smile grew. You hurried over to the city of Shinjuku, with a relieved look on your face. You walked around the city, with a bright smile on your face. You were so glad that after thirteen days of pure torture, you finally got here. You kicked the rubble under your feet without care, as you hummed a soft tune. In the corner of your eye, you noticed a large grocery store that was stocked to the brim with food. Your mouth drooled, as you hurried over to the store.

Hopefully, the Yamamoto Faction doesn't find out about this place anytime soon — because this can last you for months. Maybe even an entire year. You walked inside the store, as the sound of glass crunched under your foot, and your eyes searched through every aisle.

You walked around the grocery store, without a care in the world as you searched the store in case they had any foods that you favorited. You were sick of eating soggy rice and stale bread for the past two weeks.

Your hand grazed through every item, as you found a food something that piqued your interest. Pocky sticks, that were strawberry flavored. Your eyes widened, as you immediately grabbed the box from the shelf and opened it without any hesitation. You bit down on the strawberry-coated part of the stick, and let out a satisfied hum. Gosh, you haven't had these in years. You walked around for a few more minutes before you finally finished the entire box and tossed it on the ground somewhere. Now, you were searching for water. Your eyes scanned across every aisle until you found a refrigerator. You opened it, and bingo. Water.

This is your lucky day. It's like the heavens were rewarding you for two whole weeks of hard work. You felt like they were congratulating you, for putting up with Kenjaku, and this shitty past two weeks. You immediately grabbed the bottle and opened it as you chugged down the water.

Surprisingly, the fridge was still working, which kept the water nice and cold. You missed this — you missed having refreshing water every day without worry. You missed having to just get up from your chair and get a bottle of water. You missed your old life so much.

And would do anything to get it back.

Craaaaaaaack.

You froze immediately. Your eyes widened, as you immediately tore the plastic bottle away from your lips and turned around. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your eyes scanned the area. You dropped the water bottle on the floor, as it soaked the epoxy floor. Your hand immediately reached toward your pants, as you took out a pistol from your pocket.

You turned off safety mode, and held out your pistol, with your finger on the trigger. You heard your heart pounding in your chest, and the blood rushing through your body. You stayed as still as you could — so you wouldn't be able to miss any sounds that would echo through the empty store.

"Fuck!"

A voice muttered. You slightly lowered your gun, but not too much. It was a person. A human. Even though you would prefer to have no one here at the moment, it was better than having an infected here. You stepped forward and walked to where you heard the voice come from.

You decided to remain silent since this person probably didn't know you were there. They wouldn't have cursed so loudly if they knew anyway. You made sure your footsteps were slow, and that you made the least amount of noise as possible.

You made sure you wouldn't step on any shards of glass, or trip over any cans of food that were lying on the floor.

You then heard footsteps. Loud and careless footsteps. You were certain this person didn't know you were here now. You followed where the footsteps came from, and made sure to keep your distance and peek over the isles from time to time.

"Shoot. No chocolate flavor? Ugh, strawberry will do then."

The voice complained. It was a male. You sighed, knowing you'd have to keep your distance. Most men in the apocalypse were physically stronger than you, so you always required your weapons to help you fight them.

You tipped your pistol up. You knew which aisle they were in since you were there just a few minutes ago. You stepped closer and closer to the isle, as you hid behind the shelf. You took a deep breath and did your best to build up the courage to face the unwelcome stranger.

You closed your eyes and took a deep inhale. You held for a few seconds, before exhaling. You looked at the pistol in your hands and decided to do it now.

You stepped forward, and pointed your gun, as your finger hovered over the trigger. Your body faced forward, as you raised your voice. "Hands in the air! Now!" You shouted as you revealed yourself to the man.

But, your eyes widened when you saw who it was.

Tall. White hair. Blue eyes. Wait this guy was really fucking tall what the hell?

You looked him up and down. He was wearing a white tank top, that was stained with dirt, dust, and gravel. He had dirty grey sweatpants and a black jacket wrapped around his waist. He had a strap on, which belonged to a rifle that looked like it was kept in pristine condition. His hair was messy, and his eyes were really damn blue. So this was Satoru Gojo.

You noticed he had a scar on his bicep, it looked like it came from a knife or something sharp. His eyes landed on you, and he immediately dropped the box of pocky sticks from his hand and reached for his rifle that was hung around his chest.

"You touch that gun and I'll shoot your hand off!" You warned, with a loud and authoritative voice. Satoru stopped immediately, as he lowered his hands to his side. "Really? In a grocery store? Can we be civil about this at least?" Satoru joked, as a smirk formed on his face. He obviously wasn't taking this as seriously as you were. And he was surprisingly calm for someone who was being held at gunpoint.

You shot a glare toward his direction, and shook your head disapprovingly. He pouted, as he threw his hands up in the air and shook his head. "Aren't you just a bundle of joy?" He muttered, as he kicked the box of pocky away from his foot and muttered a curse under his breath.

"On your knees." You demanded. Satoru raised a brow at your demand and rolled his eyes before getting on his knees as he scoffed. "You know you could've just asked for head—" You immediately cut his sentence to an abrupt stop as you slammed the magazine against his jaw.

You could already tell what type of person he was. He grunted as the magazine made harsh contact with his jaw, and his face snapped to the side. Blood dripped from his lip, as it landed on the dusty floors. His eyes narrowed at the blood that was bleeding from his lip, and he shook his head to the side.

"You know, you really shouldn't get close to someone who's about a whole foot taller than you." Satoru groaned as he wiped the blood from his lips. And in an instant, you felt hands grab your arms, and throw you toward the shelves.

A yelp escaped your lips, as you almost pulled the trigger, but you reminded yourself Kenjaku wanted this man brought back alive. Your back made harsh contact with the shelf, as canned foods landed on your head. You felt a sharp pain in your knee, and a curse escaped from your lips.

You ignored the pain as you immediately looked at Satoru, who was about to run. Your eyes widened, as you immediately latched onto him. He tripped over his foot when you did, and you both fell to the ground. "What the fuck—" Satoru was cut off by a swift punch to the jaw by you. He groaned before he kneed you in the stomach.

You felt like someone just took the air out of your lungs from how hard he kneed you in the stomach. Your hands gripped the pistol even tighter. The genuine urge to put a bullet through this man's head was growing stronger than ever now. He tossed you off of him and bolted.

Your eyes widened, as you watched him get up and run out. You immediately got off the ground and followed after him. You looked around and grabbed a shopping cart and pushed it, as it crashed against Satoru's back.

His body slammed against the wall due to the shopping cart, and his back hurt a little from the contact with the steel. He fell to the ground, and he immediately looked at you with a panicked expression on his face.

You wasted no time in getting on top of him, as you slammed the gun against the side of his head. You knocked him out. His body fell limp, and his eyes shut. Your eyes widened, as you immediately checked on him, making sure you didn't accidentally kill him or something. Since it wasn't the first time you hit someone in the head and accidentally killed them.

A trail of crimson stained his white snow hair, as it trailed down to his cheek. You panicked, wondering if you hit him too hard. You checked his blood flow with your fingers, as your fingertips grazed against the skin of his neck, and right under his jawline. You could hear the beating of his heart pumping blood in his veins. A relieved sigh escaped your lips.

You took your bag off your back and unzipped it. Your hands hastily searched through the bag, until you found a rope and bandages. You grabbed the rope first, as you walked over to Satoru's unconscious body and gently laid him out on the ground.

He was lying on his stomach, as the blood dripped onto the floor. You immediately grab both his wrists and put them together. You began tying them, making sure it's not loose. Once you secured his hands, you sat him up against the wall. You grabbed the bandages and kneeled.

You wrapped the bandages around his head, specifically where the wound was so he wouldn't bleed out more. You didn't want to clean up after his mess. Once you were done, you placed the rest of the bandages back inside the bag and crouched down.

You can't carry him. He's way too big. So you'll just wait until he's conscious. You guessed he'd be knocked out for about fifteen minutes and under — since the damage wasn't that severe. You couldn't help but notice his features though. He had impossibly long lashes, his skin was pale, and you also couldn't help but notice his dimples. He was handsome and had a mix of charming and handsome features. You frowned. It's a shame that he's a jerk. You stood back up to your full height and walked toward the fridge. You opened it and grabbed a cold water bottle.

You returned to your original position and pulled up a chair next to Satoru's unconscious body. You leaned back in the chair and sighed. You'll wait for at least ten minutes, and if he doesn't wake up by then you'll splash some water on him.

TIME SKIP

It's been ten minutes. You saw his body twitch from time to time, but he's still not awake. You sighed, and opened the water bottle, before standing up and walking in front of him. You tipped the bottle down, as the water streamed out of the plastic bottle, and soaked his entire upper body.

His eyes immediately opened, as his body jolted from the cold water. "Shit! What was that for?" He barked, as he shot a glare toward your direction. You stopped pouring the water over his head and drank the rest that was in the bottle. "How many fingers am I holding?" You asked as you held out four fingers from a far enough distance.

He blinked at you, and his jaw slacked. "Are you serious?" He inquired, looking at you in disbelief. You couldn't tell if he was about to laugh or yell at you. You glanced at your hand and then glanced at him.

"Yes, I'm serious! Shut up and answer the damn question already!" You ordered. You were getting slightly embarrassed that you were asking this question since you normally don't do this type of stuff and it was somewhat humiliating.

"You're holding 4 fingers up, ma'am." He answered, with a smirk on his face. You sighed in relief, as you threw the empty plastic bottle at his face. His nose scrunched up in annoyance when the bottle hit his face, as he watched it roll to the floor.

"This is unbelievable. We're supposed to be increasing the population, not decreasing it." Satoru remarked with a matter-of-fact tone of voice. You rolled your eyes and shoved both your hands in your pockets. "Maybe don't do stupid stuff and you wouldn't be in this position." You advised, your voice was laced with sarcasm as you raised a brow at him.

"What did I even do— wait, why the hell am I tied up?" Satoru questioned, as he desperately tried to wiggle his wrists out of the rope. You blinked at him a few times and watched him desperately try to wiggle out of his confinement. There was no use in trying to escape — but you wanted to see how long he would try to attempt to escape before he'd realize it's hopeless. "So you don't escape."

He looked at you as if you were crazy. He smirked and shook his head. He's got a tendency to shake his head a lot. "Okay, first of all, I'm humane. I don't point my gun at every breathing organism on this earth." Satoru stated, clearly dissing you in the process.

You grimaced at him, before standing up and running a hand through your hair. How would you be able to get this man all the way to Kyoto without any complications? It was a nearly impossible task.

"It will be easier for the both of us if you shut your mouth. It's a long way to Kyoto." You suggested. You grabbed your bag from the floor and put it back on your back. You look him up and down, before sighing. You almost hoped you wouldn't find him so easily, because then that would mean you could stay here a little longer and regain the energy you lost from the past two weeks.

"Kyoto? Why the fuck do we have to go to Kyoto— oh. Ohhhh. You're with that asshole aren't you?" Satoru seethed, as his eyes narrowed, and his face reddened. His blue eyes filled with rage. He looked visibly angry and wasn't as calm and laid back as he was a few minutes ago. Your eyes widened at how easily he managed to figure that out. But then again, it didn't take that much brain power to correlate the signs.

"Yeah. What about it?" You put back the chair in its original place and walked up to Satoru who was sitting on the ground, with his back leaning against the wall. "I'm not going to him! Your out of your mind if you think I'll let you drag me to my fucking death!"

Yeah, you figured it wasn't going to be easy. You kneeled down to his level and made eye contact with him. "I'm not his biggest fan too. But unfortunately for the both of us, things don't always go our way." You muttered, before grabbing the collar of his tank top and forcing him to stand up.

Satoru groaned, as he stood up to his full height and towered over you. He was also embarrassed he was getting manhandled by someone who was visibly weaker than him in terms of physical strength. He rolled his eyes and stood next to you. "This is embarrassing. Shoko is never going to let me hear the end of it." Satoru mumbled under his breath. He winced all of a sudden and inhaled sharply.

You looked at him and furrowed your brows. "What? You look constipated." You asked as you turned your body to face him. He looked down on you, and his jaw clenched. "Well, thanks to you my body is a bit sore. Especially my back." He informed. You raised a brow and walked behind him. You slipped your hand under his hands that were tied together. You lifted his tank top and spotted a bruise on his back. He probably got that from when you pushed the shopping cart onto his back.

"You're a full grown man, you'll live." You pulled his tank top back down and walked in front of him. He blinked at you, as his eyelids dropped. "You know, I don't think I can walk all the way back to Kyoto like this, hm? I think we should stay here for at least a week or so, yeah?" He suggested, flashing you a charming smile. He leaned down to your level — holding eye contact with you. You couldn't tell if he was trying to charm you or mock you.

As much as you needed to follow orders and head back immediately, you didn't want to walk all the way back to Kyoto at the moment. You were still tired from all the walking. You sighed and nodded. "Fine." You complied, as you shook your head. He stood back to his full height and grinned. "Yay! Y'know, I would hug you right now, but..." He nodded his head toward the restraints, trying to suggest you to untie him.

You snorted and laughed. "Yeah, no. I'm not stupid." he frowned.

"Worth a shot." He muttered.

You both walked out of the grocery store, as your eyes scanned the city of Shinkuju. There could be other Yamamoto members around here, so you had to be careful. Satoru followed behind you. He noticed how tense you were, but didn't bother to do anything about it at the moment.

You both walked in silence for around twenty minutes, before Satoru spoke up. "Gosh, this is so annoying. It's getting dark. Let's just go find somewhere to set up camp for the day." Satoru demanded, as he purposely shoved you when walking next to you.

You glared at him, but couldn't deny he was right. You guys needed to find somewhere to relax, and somewhere that was relatively safe from any infected. You looked around Shinkuju when all of a sudden you noticed an apartment with many floors. "There." You smacked Satoru's arm to get his attention and pointed in the direction of the apartment building. He raised a brow and frowned. "That place looks unsanitary." He commented. "You look unsanitary." You muttered under your breath. His lips parted, and looked at you as if he was offended. "Hey! I heard that!" He informed with an overdramatic voice.

"You were supposed to." You mumbled.

You both went into the apartment complex and looked around in each room to see which one was the least dirtiest. Eventually, you guys found a room on the fourth floor. You stepped inside and sighed with relief. Satoru looked around, with a frown on his face. "This place looks horrible." He added. I mean, he wasn't wrong. This place was definitely not your first choice when wanting to spend the night somewhere. But it was better than being exposed.

You fell onto the couch and sighed. It was the first comfortable place to rest so far in the past two weeks. During those two weeks, you were sleeping on the ground, or rubble. "Better than the room that was infested with maggots." You suggested. He nodded, muttering the words "fair". "Wait— are you sleeping on the couch? I think I deserve to sleep on the couch. I'm the one with restraints!" He argued as he looked at you in disbelief. You rolled your eyes at his whining. "You haven't been the one walking for two whole damn weeks just to be here." You snapped. He opened his mouth to say something but decided not to say anything.

"Bitch." He mumbled as he sat down on the ground. You glanced at him and gave him a side eye before standing up. You placed your bag on a table and opened it. You searched inside the bag, before finding a rope. His eyes widened, and his brows knitted together.

"Woah! Absolutely not! The ones on my wrists aren't comfortable at all. What makes you think I'm letting you tie me up again?" His jaw clenched, as he shot you a cold glare. He was definitely going to give you a hard time.

"Relax, it's only so you won't escape at night," You enlightened. You walked to his ankles and tied them together quickly. They weren't as tight as the ones on his wrist, because the only way he could free his wrists was if you cut them with a knife. But you weren't going to tell him that because you are 99% sure he would freak out. "Yeah, thanks for the faith." He grumbled in an annoyed tone as he watched you tie his ankles together. You stood up once you finished tying, and got back on the couch. You closed your eyes and sighed.

You could finally rest.

Tag list 3/100: @polarbvnny @xxemmarldxx @busyreader17

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lewdmommie · 3 years

Text

-Wisteria- 🌺

Rengokuxreader smut/fluff 💗

Warning🎀(18+, Smut, language, praise kink, Degradation kink, heavy angst, rough sex, slight gore, choking etc…)

-Request are open-

-Like,follow,reblog for more thank you all for your support in rebuilding my blog -💗

Flames. Wild and bright engulfing everything in its wake, an uncontainable beauty fierce enough to befall a thousand men. There he stood peacefully at the center of destruction even more gorgeous than the last time your eyes graced him. A somber look rest’s on his gentle face, thick cherry blood drips onto the burning grass beneath him staining the earth with sin. Low demonic laughter rumbles the dirt shaking the world around you.

“Who are you! What do you want with us!” You shout.

“Akaza…” the voice breaths menacingly.

The Hashira’s saddened expression fails to falter as you scream out for him.

“Rengoku!” his name claws at your throat as you call out to him with every ounce of will in your heart. ‘He can’t hear me’ you think, confused and afraid. Dark roaring clouds roll across the sky ,dimming all traces of moon light. Thunder rocks the earth and sky but there is something else, another sound…A whistle …a train maybe?

The train whistles in the clouds, wheels spinning and chugging along.

“y/n.” Cutting your eyes away from the scene above, you meet his gaze. Tears stab the corners of your eyes, there was blood…so much blood. The once clean white fabric of his Hashira robe now clung to what was left of his torso, sticky and scarlet.

Despite being so fatally wounded, he smiles softly settling the knots in your chest. How could he comfort you in such a time like this, The Hashira always put others first even when faced with death. Holding out a red stained hand, he beckons you forward. It is impossible to breath as salty droplets flood down your cheeks, all you wanted was him.

All you needed was to have him in your arms and for everything to be okay again. Was it selfish to reminisce on all the times you’d held that hand, walking through the gardens of wisteria. Strolling hand in hand past the endless plots of vermillion flowers, laughing till your sides ached. You could still feel the warmth of his lips when he kissed for the very first time, just as the flowers bloomed under the stars.

“Please don’t leave me!” You sob, falling to your knees infront of him. Both of your hands cradle his own, holding on with all of the strength you have left.

“Do not cry, My flower.” He coos, peering deeply into your tear-filled eyes. A soft warm light illuminates from his bloody palm and from it, a beautiful ruby wisteria Blooms. The lovely sight tore the beating heart right from your chest, how could something so delicate cause such agony. A warm calloused hand rest lightly on your tear stained cheek, thumb wiping away each new drop that falls.

“I will always be with you flower, whenever you feel alone set your heart ablaze and I will follow the light leading me back to you” before you can speak a bright light engulfs the Hashira, small sparkling specks of light breakaway from him carrying each one to a place unknown. Jumping onto what remains of Him, you wrap your arms tightly around him attempting to hold everything together, muttering pleas that go unheard.

“Please please I love you, you can’t do this…I cannot do this without you, RENGOKU! you have to hear me! Please hear me!” You wail clinging onto what was left of him.

“I will always love you, my wisteria” the wind whispers as he fades into nothingness.

“Shhh relax my love you’ll send me back to the land of dreams swinging your fist like that” the fiery warrior chuckles, pulling you in tighter. In a panic you bury your face in his bare chest inhaling deeply, if only you could bottle the sweet scent of Kyojuro Rengoku. Sunlight dances radiantly off his flaming locks, a sight only you had the pleasure of beholding each morning. Everyone else saw the polished heroic Rengoku but you… you got the untamed and free spirited warrior. You had him in ways the village fan girls could only fantasize about in their wildest dreams. Being the object of affection to the most popular and handsome Demon slayer in the corps was no easy title to hold. Jealous women can be cruel, always whispering amongst themselves in envy. That never bothered you though because you had something they all yearned for wrapped around your little finger.

“I-I had a unpleasant dream…” you mutter nuzzling closer to his warmth.

“Another nightmare? I’m so sorry my flower, would you like to share with me?” He kisses the top of your head lovingly.

“There was a train…and a monster, you were there too!…bleeding out…Dying” you trail, voice cracking at the last word.

‘A train…I never told her about the upcoming mission how would she know that…’ a look of concern washes over his handsome face as he thinks to himself.

“Dying?! Me! The strongest Hashira to ever exist! How silly your imagination can be darling!” He laughs loud and hardy, completely brushing off the notion.

“T-the monster, it had a name Ak- hmm what was it something with an A … Akaza I think” the laughter ceases immediately the grip on your waist tightens.

“Where did you hear that name?… Has someone in town been discussing that demon if so tell me now so I can report them to the corp…” he rambles frantically.

“No one-I heard it…in my dream” you explain sitting up in your shared futon pulling the blankets up to cover your exposed chest, you look down at him brow furrowed with concern.

“Akaza…an upper rank three demon, we’ve been tracking him for a while, just recently we caught up to him in hopes of putting an end to whatever he has been planning with Muzan…their transport routes have been through train…the Mugen Train.” He confesses staring somewhere far off.

‘The Mugen train… that must be the train from my dream’ you conclude internally.

“Do you remember when we were little kids and I’d always get mad at you for telling me your dreams because they’d always happen? As if you’d jinx them into reality… like when you dreamt my pet chick would die and the next day a huge bird came and snatched her right up?” He question’s frantically, you nod recalling the many misfortunes you’d predicted.

“Y/n what If it wasn’t a jinx…what if it were already meant to happen…you just seen it first.” He insist.

“What do you mean? Are you saying I’m some sort of witch?” You giggle.

“I’m saying…you have a gift. In a world of demons and Magic it wouldn’t be impossible.” He sighs avoiding your eyes.

“W-well…I saw something terrible I would never want to come to pass… you died, as clear as I am seeing you now I watched you slip away from me. That can’t be true! That can’t be our future!” You exclaim fighting the lump in your throat. The room goes silent for what felt like an eternity, a silence louder than any scream.

“I leave for such a mission Tonight .” He breathes.

Time stops. The world is no longer spinning, the waves no longer crashing, even the brush of the wind has gone quiet. The futon shifts from what you assume is Rengoku sitting up next to you in bed but you don’t see him. You don’t see anything through the blur of tears. A comforting hand rest on your thigh pressing into the plump flesh.

“This is good…we know how things would have ended if you’d Accepted the mission…now you can stay here…with me?” You cry finally meeting his golden eyes.

“How things will end, my flower…” he says matter-a-factly.

“What? W-what are you talking about? You’ll die! This is suicide!” You sob grabbing his face in your shaky hands desperately.

“This…is my duty. To serve and protect as a Hashira till the day I die” he states proudly.

“I won’t let you do this. I won’t let you go I swear on my last breath I will hold you captive.” You huff snaking your arms around his neck firmly.

“They need me. My life in exchange for so many more, it would be my greatest honor.” He whispers.

“I need you.” Your words cut him deeper than any blade has.

You’re all he’s ever wanted, since the day you split your rice ball with him As he sat crying at the playground all alone. Bullies cornered him making fun of him for not being strong like his ruthless father. They teased him, pulled his hair, threw him to the ground while calling him all kinds of horrible names. Little did they know a young feisty village girl who loved to pick fights was making her way to the playground that day. Taking a large fallen stick from under the town’s oak tree, you beat those bullies senseless. Swatting them away from Rengoku like the flies they were. That day he experienced love for the first and last time in his entire life.

“ Do you think I want to leave you? I have to ensure your safety along with the rest of humanity! When I look at you I see my whole life ahead of me. I see our children playing in the front yard, I see us dancing among the wisterias our old bones aching with each step, I see us living out our days together. None of those things can happen if I don’t try!” His voice cracks.

“That can’t happen if you aren’t here with me!” You shout.

“I’d rather you have a full beautiful life with another man than risk your entire future out of my own selfishness!” You kiss him. There’s no thought or reasoning behind it, your body simply moves on its own accord. The kiss is passionate and hungry, your lips mold together in perfect harmony. Breathing was no longer a priority as your lungs begin to burn with need. Large scarred hands dig into your love handles hoisting you into his lap, your thigh’s straddling either side of him. As you Pull away for a mere second to gasp for air he takes full advantage of your parted lips, invading your mouth with his warm skilled tongue.

Just as you begin to pull away once more, the hand leaves your waist sliding up the length of your spine, goosebumps prickle beneath his calloused finger tips. He grips the nape of your neck taking complete control over the kiss, It’s greedy and messy, filled with desperation. Your hips find a steady rhythm, grinding against the growing length resting against your dripping slit. Rengoku’s head falls slightly back, eyes closing in pure concentration, The feeling of your warm arousal coating his strained member nearly made him cum right then and there.

Suddenly you’re on your back staring up into glossy tangerine orbs, with gentle hands he cradles the back of your head from the sudden impact. His breathing is jagged as you part your legs inviting him closer, without breaking eye contact the Demon slayer nestles comfortably between your thighs, throbbing tip teasing your slick entrance.

“Please I can’t wait any longer” you pant thrusting upward urging him inside.

“You’ve always been such an impatient girl” he growls grazing a finger over your swollen bud. The weight of his body created a pressure firm enough to hold you in place, giving him full access to your soaked hole.

Back arching off the bed, an audible gasp falls from your lips as two thick digits slide inside of you. The Hashira wastes no time stroking your pillowy walls, petting the deepest parts of your sex. He groans low and raw as your nails dig roughly into his already scarred back, This action unlocked something within him…something feral.

A dull pain shoots to your breast as he nips lightly at the smooth skin, leaving marks you wished could last forever, marking you as his. Using the tip of his tongue, he paints circles around the perimeter of your stiff areola, close enough for you to feel every warm exhale of his breath.

“P-please” you cry fisting his fiery strands.

Everything stops. To your dismay he pulls away, even halting the fingers that’s been dancing inside of you just seconds ago.

“Let’s see how badly you really want it…touch me one more time… I stop. Only obedient girls can be rewarded, can you be good for me?” A whimper squeaks from your parted lips as he patiently awaits your answer. He smiles adoringly at you taking in every detail of this moment, wanting to remember every line and curve that created your lovely face. Nothing made him harder than seeing that half lidded ‘fuck me’ stare. You nod quickly, balling the sheets in an attempt to subdue your impulses.

“How can I say no to a face like that” he praises pulling out his fingers achingly slow, admiring the way you clench around him. Without hesitation he licks every drop of your nectar from his fingers, leering intensely into your fluttering eyes.

Replacing his fingers, he pushes past your wet folds, immersing himself in your slippery heat. He towers over you, holding himself up with one muscular arm, using the other to roll your taut nipples between his fingers.

“Fuck you’re so tight” he breathes, gently flicking his hips forward, pushing deeper inside. Your hands fist the blankets as you stretch around his girth, taking all eight inches of him. Despite wanting to completely rail the shit out of you, he pauses pressing as far as he could inside of you, his hips swirl ,massaging your gspot. Your hips buck begging him to continue hitting that sweet spot. Tears sting the sides of your eyes as that familiar feeling bubbles up in your stomach. Rengoku recognizes that squeeze all too well, he slides back before ramming back inside. He thrust in and out of your sopping cunt, the steady sound of clapping and squelches fill the space around you.

You were sure the sheets would rip by how tightly you gripped them holding back screams of pleasure. Veins bulge from his built arms as he ruts into you, using the amount of stamina he’d use in battle. He wanted to destroy you far more than any demon he’d ever faced.

“You’re so gorgeous with my cock inside of you” he groans palming your thighs as he rails into you with more force than before.

“I’m so close” you cry clamping tightly around his strained member.

“Please Flower , hold it for me… let’s cum together” he pants fucking into you hard and fast. You’re right at the edge teetering back and fourth, he raises up looking down on you with lustful eyes. A scream catches in your throat as he folds your already bent knees to your chest. Despite him being fully submerged inside of you, this position pulled him in even deeper and he loved it. Taking advantage of this new position he fingers your stiff clit, the pace of his strokes never changing.

The slight pull of your muscles didn’t matter as long as he kept pleasing you, kept fucking you, kept loving you.

“P-please let me cum it’s too-ah fuck” you moans eyes rolling back.

“It’s too-too what…don’t tell me you’re to cock drunk to speak darling.you know what I want to hear” He teases pumping into you.

“Please I-I’m begging…too much…uhn fuck” you swear, back arching from the bed.

“I love the way you beg” he breathes, brows scrunching with concentration. His strokes become needy and uncalculated as he chases his orgasm. With one final thrust he smashes his lips to yours shooting hot strings of cum inside your spent pussy. In the same moment your big O comes crashing down, vibrating every cell in your body.

Saying fuck the no touching rule you embrace him, holding on for dear life as your arousal comes flowing ,glazing his twitching cock. You lay there both breathing heavily reveling in the magic you’d just made.

“Caw caw” a raven colored crow sat perched on the window seal, a white scroll clutched in its claws. The warrior kisses your forehead before gently slipping out of your grasp. Shamelessly he stands fully nude walking towards the crow, retrieving the message. Instantly his smile falls leaving behind a look of pure despair.

“…It’s time” he mutters avoiding your pained eyes.

“Come back to me.” You recite voice cracking.

“Always…I love you for eternity” he states.

“Eternity isn’t long enough…Do you promise to find me?” You question hugging your chest.

“Set your heart ablaze and I will follow the light leading me back to you” a single tear falls blurring the ink engraved scroll.

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cherryjuicegf · 4 years

Text

the spaces where our garden grew wild

He cuts through the branches, desperate, but they grow back, thicker and thicker and almost hiding that raven hair, that red doublet behind their leaves. He grunts and shouts and pants and his sword rips the air like paper. He sees them again. Or is he?

Black, isn’t her hair? A chain.

Red, isn’t his doublet? Blood.

Oh, he’s too busy, too focused on the thorns. Of course he would, they have hurt him too much by now not to notice them. Yet he doesn’t hear the voices anymore. He doesn’t hear the screams. He doesn’t hear his name.

And when he does, it’s too late.

A study in gardening.

11.3k, angst with a happy ending, cw temporary character death, blood & gore, nightmares

The sky looks beautiful, she thought. She never did that, didn’t usually stop to look at the sky. It’s admittedly not what she was doing right now either. No, it was not. She just had to look somewhere, to avert her eyes from the road to where the wind blew. So that it dried the tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

She had shed tears. All the way down the mountain, every step, every tree. Every tear another droplet of trust wasted on the ground. Oh, those were too real. As if to compensate for all the moments that were fake.

Lovers. She was too old to believe this time would be different.

The sky looked indeed beautiful. Red and pink and orange, and the sun, although still not set, painted it with its rays as if they were brushes flowing on blue paper. Red. Her eyes caught movement behind her, albeit far, still, it’s as if she sensed it. The same taste of tears, the same cracking of a heart. She cleared her throat and turned her head, only slightly. Only to catch full sight of the bard standing for a moment there, behind her, his eyes piercing her just like the first daylight pierces through a closed window. Still, he was silent. And the way he looked at her. Just like he always did, yes, with indifference and rivalry. She knew mutual feelings when she saw them. But if she looked deeper, there was something else too. Something new.

Empathy. Gentleness.

His eyes were flooded. She said nothing though, only stared back at him without bothering to change her harsh look. It was the only one she afforded right now. So he lowered his look swallowing and nodded faintly at her. Like a greeting. And turned around, continuing down the mountain.

She looked at the sky spreading in front of her again. She never expected to share mutual feelings with the bard except for resentment maybe. She couldn’t even if she tried; he was too much of an idiot. She smiled at herself, for some reason. It was comforting, as bad as it sounded. Having someone to hurt with. Despite the thorns.

High on the mountain, the wind blew harder. The Witcher stared at the distance. Deep breaths shaking his shoulders, his nostrils flaring, his heartbeat a bit faster than usual.

What I am missing.

Too much. I’m missing too much.

There they go, there they go.

The night was warm, as warm as an early spring night could be, the last patches of snow still lingering on the roadside. It’s silent except for the chirping of a bird that had forgotten to return to its nest, enchanted by the first blossoms embellishing the trees, knowing that something so beautiful was worth singing for. It’s silent. Except for the whetstone dragged on the sword blade with slow, as though rhythmical with the birdsong movements. Geralt didn’t raise his eyes from the blade. Devoted to his work, knowing that if he allowed his mind to wander, it wouldn’t come back, lost in the paths of his mind, so many more than the one he was supposed to follow.

He was a Witcher. There was no other Path.

Yet there was. More than one, more than he dared to admit. And he was too afraid, too broken to follow any of them.

His eyes didn’t look away from the blade. But the mind is a strange enemy, attacking from the inside. From the heart.

He glanced at a faint scar on his forearm. A small smile, could be a laugh, escaped his lips. One would say it was one of the scars he’d gained on the big hunts, killing a monster unheard of. That’s what the songs said. That’s what Yennefer thought, that night in the tent, as she was peering at his body as if admiring a gallery of outstanding art. It had been no hunt though. No monster. It had been a damn thorn in a healer’s garden, ironic as it sounded. Yennefer had laughed when he told her. Gods, she was so beautiful when she laughed.

“Geralt of Rivia, the mighty Witcher, scarred by a thorn. An unorthodox way to be injured, for someone like you.” She smiled. “What’s next? Are you going to die from a garden pitchfork?”

Geralt huffed and shook his head, imagining a death quite different admittedly. Like the ones of previous Witchers, heroic or not, still defending what they had learned to defend. It’s not like he could avoid Destiny anyway. He would like to. He stared at Yennefer and took a deep breath, letting his eyes wander for a moment only to return to her. “You know”, he muttered, “I’m thinking it would be nice if one day I indeed retired. Maybe as a stableman,” he paused to hear Yennefer’s chuckle. “I’d like to have a garden. A normal life,” he smiled, “one that you’re a constant part of.”

She looked at him, her smile a little fainter now, a playful glint in her eyes. “Are you asking me to retire with you, Geralt?”

Her voice made him melt. He raised an eyebrow. “Only if you want.”

“Well,” she sighed and raised her eyes on the ceiling as if already thinking about their life, “it’s a nice dream. Something to wait for, even if it never comes. And anyway,” she shrugged, “a garden would be nice.”

He took in her scent. Lilac and gooseberries. Of course. One of his favourite scents, and those were barely five. How can I dream of a garden, he thought, when I have one right in front of me? A garden wild and beautiful and fragrant. It had its thorns, every garden does. Some of them he’d grown himself. But he wouldn’t let them get in the way.

He raises his sword cautiously, ready for anything to show up from behind the dense bushes. His steps are slow, silent like a cat’s as if scared that if he makes any noise, he’ll be unable to hear anything else. Anything resembling that whisper he’d heard less than a minute ago, a whisper that, stable as it was, sounded scared, hollow. He knows that voice. Gods, he knows it and he also knows he would hear it calling his name for the rest of his days without ever wanting it to stop. But not like this. Oh, not like this.

A sharp glint catches his eye some meters away from the spot he is standing, something shining on the ground, between the wild branches and the thick foliage that embraces wilted flowers, lilacs and roses, the remainders of a garden once blossoming with care. He approaches. He knows, before he thinks about anything else, like an instinct, he knows. And thinks, gods, how much he’d like to have no idea.

He lowers on one knee, ducks under the bushes and reaches for whatever is blinding his eyes as if reflecting the rays of a nonexistent sun, a sun that once had been. And as his fingers trace cold silver carved with a shape he’d felt so many times under his fingers, his heart flutters. A black velvet ribbon. An obsidian star.

Oh, how real it feels.

He hears his name again, flowing with the breeze, only now it’s trembling and suddenly louder and he stands on his feet, sword raised and the branches grow in front of him and he looks around, lost, desperate, encircled by leaves and thorns and bushes and flowers turning red as though painted and he cuts and searches and searches for a way out and then the earth trembles with a familiar voice screaming.

“GERALT!!!”

He stumbled close to Roach, reached for the saddlebag, groaning, arm pressed around his abdomen. He searched inside the bag, caught a small bottle and chugged it for dear life. He didn’t bother returning it to its place, instead, he threw it on the ground and searched inside the bag again for bandages, swearing when the only thing his hand brushed on is a cloth that definitely wasn’t a bandage. He didn’t really care though as his vision blurred in the light of the fire and he pulled the cloth as he fell on his knees, tying it around his abdomen with trembling hands. His breath shortened and if his head hit the ground hard, he was already unconscious to feel the pain.

When he did feel the pain throbbing in his head, he was already met with the first daylight, blinded. He squinted and made to sit up, grunting when he felt a sharp tugging at his abdomen. He fell back again and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s silent. Except for Roach snorting and walking closer to him, lowering her head to nuzzle in his hair, making him huff. It’s silent. And, as hard as it was to admit, there was no other exception.

And how he missed that exception now.

He swallowed, looked up at Roach and put his arms against the ground, trying to sit up again. He did, barely, and shuffled to the closest tree to rest again the trunk. Then he lowered his eyes on the wound. The white cloth had gone red with blood, but at least it had dried. He untied it to reveal a red scar across his abdomen, almost healed yet hurting him still. He sighed, ignored the pain that caused. And made to throw the cloth aside.

Only that he didn’t.

He stared at it, felt the texture. Silk. He had no reason to own a silk white cloth. Or maybe he had. As he unfolded it, he recognized a white shirt, embroidered with little flowers on the collar. A red stain was painting the front side and some of it reaching the back, ruining it completely. He stared at it, gritted his teeth. His hands were clutching it, tightly, just like he always wished to do. Yet it did next to nothing serving as a substitute.

“Come on, Geralt, it will suit you.”

“No doubt.”

“Do not mock me, you idiot. You have never tried.”

Geralt peered at Jaskier leaning against a tree beside him. His hands were moving feverishly, intertwining green stems, tight as not to fall apart. Colourful flowers were slowly forming a crown, yellow and light blue and a little bit of red, buttercups and forget-me-nots and carnations. It was beautiful indeed and definitely where his attention was drawn on, and not on the skilled hands and strong fingers brushing against the petals. He swallowed.

“Back at home, we have a wonderful garden,” said Jaskier without being asked, as he always did. “Even you would be impressed if you saw it. That’s how I learned to make flower crowns.”He tightened the last knot and sighed, taking a look at his work as if gazing at the greatest painting. Then smirked at Geralt and stood up. “There you go.”

Before Geralt managed to protest the leaves were falling in front of his eyes. He snorted, fixed the crown on his head less than eagerly. Then looked at Jaskier. Well, probably he was wrong before. Now Jaskier looked as if he was gazing at the greatest painting. He felt his cheeks burning.

He’d never considered flowers for anything else than their abilities and yet, if he was to see that smile on Jaskier’s lip’s again, he would consider them as so much more. He thought he could even let Jaskier show him their home garden.

It would be a nice meeting point.

“GERALT!!!”

He turns around, terrified, but not as much as the scream he hears now for the third time. Voices and screams and whispers that make him shudder as if feeling their fear. And it’s not just one now, it’s two, and he knows those two voices better than the back of his hand. And how he wishes he didn’t. He walks through thick branches and leaves and flowers that wilt the moment he stands close to them, as if he is the reason for their death.

Oh, he is.

His eye catches a glimpse of red among the bushes and he thinks it’s a rose or any other kind of flower he didn’t give a damn about. And yet, and yet, he stands closer and suddenly it’s not a flower at all, it’s just a piece of clothing, torn and achingly familiar. He approaches, runs his fingertips over it, his heart thumping inside his chest. It’s silk, and red, and although he knows the colour of that specific doublet he also somehow knows that there’s something more on it than the garment’s colour.

He hears the voices again. And again, and again, as if blowing with the wind that hit him out of nowhere and he looks around and it’s green, branches and leaves and then oh, flowers still alive. He feels a wave of relief for a moment, only to have it drained of him again when he realizes the flowers are buttercups and forget-me-nots and carnations. And the moment he seems to realize it, the flowers wilt.

And anyway, a garden would be nice.

Back at home, we have a wonderful garden.

Figures. He sees figures behind the branches and for a moment he thinks he can reach them. Craves to reach them, hearing their voices call him, screaming, weak, terrified but cold, so cold as if they already come from ghosts. He sees them now, yes. Raven hair. A bright red doublet. Shadows and yet their images are so clear in his mind. The last gaze he shot them, that’s what he sees. The tears prickling in violet eyes, the ones that used to enchant everything they laid their gaze upon. The tightened lips that struggled to swallow a sob, the ones that used to calm the wildest waves with their song. He raises his sword, cuts through the bushes. His skin is torn by thorns. He’s exhausted. He doesn’t care. He has to reach them, he has to.

Blood flows between his feet as he cuts and cuts as though trying to reform a garden grown irreparably wild. It’s not too late, it can’t be. It’s his blood, he thinks, it’s the thorns. They come closer, oh they do, he can reach them, he can grow the garden back beautiful again, he can, he will. He cuts through the branches, desperate, but they grow back, thicker and thicker and almost hiding that raven hair, that red doublet behind their leaves. He grunts and shouts and pants and his sword rips the air like paper. He sees them again. Or is he?

Black, isn’t her hair? A chain.

Red, isn’t his doublet? Blood.

And when he does, it’s too late.

When he does, he’s kneeling. Crawling. Reaching. Black hair sinking in blood. Violet eyes, wide-open, a moment ago frightened. Now lifeless. He can still smell the lilac and gooseberries. Or does it come from the garden?

A white shirt drenched in blood. Blue eyes staring at him, the void, everywhere, nowhere. If he touches his lips he can still hear the songs. Or is it the voices?

He’s small, shrinking suddenly, curling to himself. Blood. A chain. He’s shaking. Eyes looking at him. Accusing him. He closes his eyes, his ears, whimpering. Do not feel, do not feel. Witchers don’t feel. Witchers don’t feel, Geralt. Who are you? Where are you? What have you done?

There they go, there they go.

A sob. Then, slowly, hoarsely, desperately, a scream.

Geralt screams and jerks up on his bedroll, shaking in terror.

The sun was shining with a warmth fit as a goodbye from the last days of April. Light poured from the windows, brightening the whole room and Yennefer found herself unbothered to close the curtains. She looked outside the window, let the sun blind her eyes. Sighed. Maybe she should get out more, she thought, as much as she refused to admit it. Get some air, not the one blowing inside the house, getting trapped between walls. She needed fresh air, away from whatever smells Vengerberg brought to each corner, she wanted to go into the forest, sit down, take a deep breath. Rest, for once, or better, give a fitting end to the rest she was getting the past months.

It’s not that she felt comfortable at home anyway. It was good, having a place to retire for a bit, to remember what it’s like to live like a normal person. Be nothing more than a random lady strolling at the market, at least then she fit there, belonged somewhere, even if it was nothing but a shopping crowd.

Still alone nonetheless. Unimportant.

She was a fool. She knew she was, as she felt her eyes getting wet and blamed it on the sun. Nobody smart plays fair. She knew that, always did. Still, she thought that maybe, this once, it wouldn’t harm to hope for something more, to play fair, to give life a chance. She shook her head, laughed at herself. She was as foolish as then, picking up a daisy, hoping for something, everything, anything a little girl could hope for. She was a little girl. A child. What else can a child ask from the world other than to be something for it, for someone? Something important. Was she a child, then, still?

She was not, she knew. Yet, oh how bare had she laid her daisy, and how cruelly were its petals ripped apart and thrown on the air. She had played fair. But Geralt was smart, smarter than her. And nobody smart plays fair.

She sighed again and turned around, sat on her bed. She would go to the forest tomorrow. Today, she could use some sleep. If she managed to get any.

A loud knocking on the door made her realize sleep would wait for a bit. When she saw who it was from the window, she realized sleep was now out of the schedule. She swallowed, waited for a bit. Maybe he would go away. He wouldn’t know if she was there anyway.

Another knock, louder. “Yennefer? Please, open the door!”

Something in her stomach dropped at the sound of his voice. Did she really want him to leave? After all those times she saw how he…

Before he could knock another time, she pulled the door open and stood still, as still as the man in front of her, his hand raised ready to knock and his eyes wide. Like that, in his bright yellow doublet, he looked ridiculous. He is, she corrected herself and raised an eyebrow. “Jaskier.” Her voice was stable. As if she didn’t feel a weight coming off her shoulders.

That same weight seemed to abandon Jaskier’s shoulders as well but he didn’t have the intention to hide it. He let out a loud sigh. “Oh, thank the gods!” He looked around, breathless, and then back at her, for the first time unable to utter any words.

Yennefer frowned in confusion and smirked. “I wouldn’t say the same for you.” She paused, waiting for a comeback to her sarcasm but, as she saw Jaskier just standing there, looking at her as though he was looking at a ghost, she knew something was wrong. And as she noticed the dark circles under the bard’s eyes and exhaustion draining his otherwise bright look, she feared that this something might be more than familiar. She tilted her head. “Why are you here, bard?”

Jaskier stared at her for a couple of seconds as if he had forgotten why he was there in the first place. Then he lowered his look, cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

For some reason, even before he had finished the sentence, Yennefer had already stepped aside to let him pass. She closed the door behind her and if the food of the spying neighbour was burning on the frying pan, well that was none of her business. She turned around, faced the bard, crossed her arms on her chest, and waited. And oddly, so did Jaskier. But he was never the patient type anyway. He huffed and shook his head, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

Before she could even reject the thought of asking him what he meant since she didn’t really care, he went close and threw his arms around her, holding her tight. Hugging her. He was hugging her.

Even more outrageous, she hugged him back. Not because she felt her heart returning to her place. Not because he was the first friendly face she’d seen in months. Not because he was alive in her arms. Definitely not. Only because, as soon as they relaxed a bit in each other’s arms, he started trembling and, after a moment, he buried his face in her shoulder. She frowned but, for some reason, she knew exactly how he felt. Someone to hurt with, she thought. Even if she didn’t show it. She swallowed. “Jaskier.”

Jaskier took a shaky breath and suddenly his arms were gone, he took a step back and wiped his eyes. “Yeah, uh, sorry, it’s just--” He trailed off, his voice choked in his throat, quivered. A bitter chuckle escaped his lips. “I just-- I saw you… I saw--”

“Hush.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and another one, guiding his hand away from his face, letting some stray tears fall. Yennefer looked at him and nodded. If she remembered what she saw too and if her eyes sparkled a bit in the sunlight, he noticed but he didn’t have to say anything. She squeezed his hand. “Hush. I know.”

Oh. She knew too well.

continue reading on ao3

tagging some mutuals who have shown interest/might like this 💞 @geraltsays @indelibleposies @contemplativepancakes @restmyheadatnightcontent @broskier @geraltdirivia

#the witcher #geraskefer #geraskier #yennskier #yenralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #chrysa writes #fic recs #@the people i tagged: please feel free to ignore i'm already mortified for tagging you #it's just the first time i write something so big :')#>10k

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bungou-stray-dingus · 4 years

Text

Precious

Pairing : Ranpo x Fem!Reader

A/N : WE BACK AT IT WITH THE SUPER SAD SHIT AND BY WE I MEAN ME! ITS SAD TIME! BIG SAD TIME! Ranpo deserves betters, yes I know, but I just want to make him sad. I’m sorry <3

T/W : Pregnancy ; Murder ; Torture ; Kidnapping ; Blood ; Gore ; Angst

Angstember Day 11

Every day with Ranpo was the highlight of your life. He was sweeter than the candy he snacked on, he treated you like an absolute queen, and every queen needed her king and he was just that. He would do anything for you, he protected you with everything he had, he absolutely adored you. You worked at the Agency alongside him, an ability user yourself. You were able basically predict the future, but only ten seconds ahead. Everyone called you the Agency Forecaster, as you were able to tell them what someones next move will be, you were an asset to the Agency. When you got pregnant, Ranpo had wanted you to lay off Agency work, deeming it too dangerous for you and the baby, but you loved your job, you loved helping the Agency, and that would be your downfall.

Six months into your pregnancy and you were still able to conceal it well enough that everyone at the Agency had no clue. Your clothing was a little baggier but not by much, nothing that was noticeable by the members, and you had went from wearing heels to flats. The baby bump wasn’t much, and although it worried you in the beginning, the doctors had said that everyone’s body was different, and yours just decided to not show as much, but the baby was healthy and okay, and that’s all that mattered to you and Ranpo.

“I don’t know why you won’t tell anyone about him. Most people would be excited to announce their pregnancy.” Ranpo began the usual conversation that you always had over breakfast. He was always trying to talk you out of going into work, but you were persistent.

“Of course I’m excited, but you and I both know that if I tell them, they’ll ask me to sit out on cases. I love my job, and... they need me.” You explained, watching his reaction to what you said. He couldn’t argue with what you said, he never could. He knew how much everyone there needed you, but it still worried him. He rolled his eyes and shook his head, defeated by your logic. You reached across the table and grabbed his hand, brushing your thumb across his knuckles. “You know very well that my ability isn’t combative. I won’t get hurt.”

He nodded, but he still wasn’t comfortable, every second that you were in the office he was on edge. Every time you had to go out on a case, he was a nervous wreck. You always came back unscathed, unharmed, not a scratch on you. You were thoroughly protected at all times, you were just as important to the Agency as Yosano was. It wasn’t just you that he had to worry about now though, you had a child, his child.

Work started just like any other day. Ranpo and you walked into the office, hand in hand, his other hand was carrying a box of sweets to get him through the day. “Ah, Y/L/N! You, Atsushi, and I have a mission to go on today!” Dazai called from the other side of the office, waving to you as if his voice hadn’t gotten your attention enough. Ranpo’s hand squeezed yours tightly, he obviously wasn’t ready for you to go out so early in the day. He hadn’t had enough time to prepare himself to deal with the anxiety it caused.

“What kind of mission is it?” Ranpo asked, his hand no longer in yours, instead it was wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his desk so he could set down his sweets and sit comfortably with you next to him while he listened to Dazai explain the specifics.

“Oh, it’s just some crap with the Mafia. They want to talk about something, they wanted me to bring Atsushi, so I’m sure it’s something about handing him over or there will be a fight. Y/N will be able to let us know if they’re planning on something. Don’t worry though, everything will be fine.” Dazai said it so nonchalant, but Ranpo was losing it over just the thought of you being near anyone from the Port Mafia.

“I can do that. I’m sure everything will be fine.” You reassured Ranpo, turning to kiss his cheek. He had you sitting on his lap, and at this point, no one in the office was phased by you sitting there anymore. They would be more shocked if you weren’t sitting on his lap honestly.

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, hiding his face in your back. He mumbled against the back of your shirt, the vibrations from his voice and the warmth of his breath seeping through the fabric of your shirt sent shivers up your spine. “I don’t like this, cinnamon bun. It’s not safe.”

“We don’t have a lot of time. We have to get going.” Dazai said, noticing the way Ranpo held you tighter. “Y/N will be okay, Ranpo. Atsushi and I won’t let anything happen to her.” He walked over to pat Ranpo’s shoulder, you felt his breath hot against your skin again as he sighed, but his arms loosened from around you.

“Be careful.” He murmured, casually rubbing his hand over your stomach. The baby kicked against his touch causing you to giggle slightly. You leaned over to kiss him quickly before getting up from his lap, walking with Dazai and Atsushi out the office door.

The three of you got to the Mafia building, the boys both stared at you, their way of silently asking if anything was going to happen. You quickly shook your head no, giving them the nod that as of right now and ten seconds into the future, everything would be okay.

Dazai led the way in and you followed close behind while Atsushi stayed behind you. You felt safe with the two of them, knowing Atsushi’s ability and Dazai’s natural charm and the way he was able to sweet talk, you were sure that you were safe and you would be able to go back to the office and be with Ranpo rather quickly. Nothing would go wrong, at least, that’s what you thought.

The boys ran into the office, both their faces filled with worry and fear as their eyes scanned the office for Ranpo. He was already standing, staring at the door expectantly, waiting for you to walk in behind them. It took him a second to fully register the looks on their faces, that’s when his stomach sank and he had to fight the urge to puke right then and there.

“I’m sorry Ranpo-san.” Atsushi muttered, bowing in Ranpo’s direction. What did he mean sorry? Had something already happened to you? Were you dead? You couldn’t be, he couldn’t lose you and his son. That couldn’t be the case. You were still alive, he could still feel it, like your hearts were beating as one, and yours was still hammering in your chest. He still had time.

“You left her! Why would you leave her!?” Ranpo screamed, his voice reaching an octave unheard by anyone else in the room. They all turned to face him, his distress and obvious desperation all had them standing from their chairs.

“Ranpo, calm down. She’s fine. She’ll be fine.” Yosano attempted to reassure him, but he only shook his head, walking past her to stand in front of Dazai. His height didn’t deter Ranpo, instead he craned his neck, his emerald eyes meeting Dazais brown irises.

“You know I didn’t mean for anything to happen to her Ranpo. They took her while Atsushi and I were distracted. I didn’t think that it would turn to this.” Dazai pleaded with Ranpo, it was a first, his usual cocky attitude seemed to have disappeared under Ranpos glare.

“I told you not to take her. It’s too dangerous, and like always, I was right. Now, take me to her.” Ranpo ordered, but everyone’s attention was diverted when Fukuzawa stepped out into the main office.

“Everyone goes. We make sure to bring Y/N back safe.” His voice was powerful, almost hypnotic as he spoke. There would be no disapproval, no hesitation.

“Thank you, sir.” Ranpo bowed to the President before turning back to Dazai. “Lets go.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat on the concrete floor, your back against the concrete wall. The entire room was bare aside from the shackles and chains hanging from the walls, the same shackles and chains that they had used to bound you there. You hadn’t struggled, you knew it wasn’t safe for you to do so. The baby hadn’t stopped moving since you had been captured, but you tried your best to hide it and not react to his movements.

“Your ability is far more useful than the were-tigers. They’re all foolish to not see that. I’ve only known of two other people with an ability like yours, they’re both dead, but not even they were able to see as far as you do.” Chuuya paced back and forth in front of you, his hands behind his back, he rarely ever looked at you, but when he did his eyes were like daggers. “Why waste such a useful ability on the Agency. You’d get paid well here.”

“It’s not about money. I want to help people. I want to save people. I don’t belong here.” You tried to speak calmly, you didn’t want him to know you were scared, it would only give him more power.

“That’s what I don’t understand about you and your people. You never actually save people. All the people you say you save, they’re already dead. Most of the time you can’t even bring those people justice without killing someone else in the process. The Agencies body count is higher than ours, but we’re the evil ones?” Chuuya knelt down in front of you, his face was smug, arrogant, his eyes squinted as he stared at you. “You’re no better than us, and we’re no more worse than you.”

You heard the voice of another man calling from down the stairs, the sounds of explosions going off over top of you. “What’s happening?” You asked, trying to pull your hands out of the shackles.

“Looks like the cavalry has arrived to try to save you. Don’t worry, they won’t get down here.” He patted your head before getting on his feet and walking towards the stairs. “Come down and watch her. If anyone gets through, you know what to do.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The group powered through the guards at the doors, Ranpo was flanked on all sides by everyone trying to get him through. Dazai knew exactly where you would be at, he was in charge of leading the way.

“I swear, Dazai, if she’s hurt...” Ranpo growled. No one had ever seen his so angry, so distraught. He rarely cried, and although he was doing his best to hide it at the moment, everyone could see how glossy his eyes were, he was holding it all in the best he could, but he was about to burst.

“She’ll be alright, Ranpo. You have to trust us, we’re gonna get her back.” Yosano murmured, her voice soft as she spoke to him. She only ever used that tone with him, it was almost motherly the way she tried to console him.

They moved deeper into the building, taking down everyone they came across. It was mainly guards at this point, everyone knew that they would be saving the worst for last. “Right over there! Come on!” Dazai called out, pointing to an elevator at the end of the hallway.

The group piled onto the elevator, Dazai pushed to button to take them down, knowing all too well where you were being kept. “This is too easy... They’re waiting for us, aren’t they?” Atsushi asked, but he knew the answer, just as everyone else did. They were all ready though, they would power through anyone to get to you.

“You all showed up, now that really is something. How much is she worth to you?” Chuuya asked sarcastically. He was leaning against the wall next to the stairs that led down to you, his arms folded across his chest. Hearing him say that made Ranpo want to charge, but he knew he had to hold back, just long enough to get down those stairs. You would be there waiting for him, he would save you, he would bring you back home where you belonged.

“The members of my Agency are priceless, not one is worth more than the other. We just want to bring her back safe. I’m sure you wouldn’t want any harm to come to the young woman.” Fukuzawa, always the peace keeper said, his voice calm as he eyed Chuuya. Everyone was on the ready though, ready to charge, ready to attack, ready to kill just to get to you.

Chuuya chuckled, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t harm her, of course not. I’m not that kind of person. There is however, one person here who could care less.” He turned to look at Dazai, one eyebrow raised, his fingers tapping against his arm. “You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“Akutagawa...” Ranpo and Atsushi turned to Dazai as he said the name. Everyone knew who he was, and now they knew how much danger you were really in. “If anything happens to her-”

“Yeah, yeah. Spare me the speech. I’m not here to stop you. I’m here to watch him tear you all to shreds.” He moved away from the stairs, extending his arm down the staircase to let everyone through. “Have fun.”

Ranpo didn’t wait a second before pushing through everyone that had surrounded him, racing down the stairs. They all called after him, begging him to stop, but he didn’t listen, he didn’t want to stop. He wanted to pull you into his arms, he wanted to shield you, protect you with himself.

The second his feet hit the landing at the bottom of the stairs, Akutagawa had the chains undone, cutting through them effortlessly with Rashamon. You screamed at the sharp dark black masses that entangled you, pulling you up off the floor and close to Akutagawa. Ranpo didn’t move any closer, watching as a blade of the mass trailed across your torso, he watched your body quiver with fear as your eyes locked.

“A pitiful attempt of a rescue, honestly, I feel kind of bad. Of all the people to send down first, they send you?” Akutagawa almost growled with disgust, like he was disappointed in the lack of fighting that would ensue. “Although... I don’t feel quite that bad...” Akutagawa didn’t smile, there was no hint of malevolence, his face was as straight as ever as he plunged the blade of Rashamon through your chest.

Your scream was cut off almost instantly, the only sound was the gurgling of blood building up in your lungs as you attempted to breathe. It wasn’t enough though, it was never enough. The blade dragged down, the sound of skin and muscles being torn through filled Ranpos ears, as if the volume was turned up to the highest level. He watched on in both shock and horror as you were practically gutted right in front of him.

The blood pooled at his feet, there was so much, it splashed against the soles of his shoes as Akutagawa dropped your body to the ground. The other members of the Agency had been standing on the stairs behind Ranpo, they watched it happen just as he had. The anger that emanated from each and every one of them was palpable, it could have been cut with a knife, it was thick and it hung in the air like a storm cloud.

Akutagawa coughed, staring up at Dazai on the stairs. “I’ve done good, wouldn’t you think? Spare no one, show no mercy, just like you.” He rolled your body over with his shoe, wrinkling his nose in disgust as he looked down at your body. “Two for one.”

Ranpos eyes grazed over your abdomen that had been swollen with his growing son just this morning, now cut open, the torn muscles and tissues exposing your uterus that was also slashed open. He fell to the floor, his knees splashing the blood, droplets flying up and landing on his face, his shirt, his coat. He crawled over to where your body lay, he saw his son in your womb, small, not fully developed, but he had ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes, his nose like a button, perfect and round, curled up in a ball with his thumb in his mouth. He finally screamed, screeched, slamming his palms down into the pool of blood that surrounded him and you.

Akutagawa started walking away as Dazai, Kunikida, Tanizaki and Atsushi tried to pull Ranpo away from your body. He stopped on the stairs next to Fukuzawa, looking him in the eye as he spoke. “I’ll let Mori know to prepare for a fight.” He didn’t wait for Fukuzawa’s response before continuing up the stairs, a trail of bloody footsteps stained the floor where he walked.

“No! No no no no no!” Ranpo fought everyone off, pushing them away as he held onto your carcass. “I can’t leave them. I can’t! I won’t! Let me go!” His screams sounded more like cries. They were choppy, choked off, high pitched, the cries of a broken man, a man who had lost everything in one fell swoop. He had nothing, he was nothing if not with you. Life had gone dark for him, there was no light at the end of the tunnel, only darkness, a darkness that suffocated and blinded him. He would never escape the darkness that was now his life, it would only continue to consume him until he was just an image, no longer the man he used to be. He would never go back to being that man, not without you, not when you were the one who made him the man that he was.

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themfchase · 5 years

Text

raven unit I (m) jjk

Jeon Jungkook x Reader

‒ raven unit. (m) chapter one: gallaticus. ✎ [13k words]

genre: political!Au, taskforce!Au, warcrime!Au

warnings: eventual smut, angst, gore, violence, drug mentions, alcohol mention, graphic description of violence, death. With your life at risk and several people around you dead, your loyal head of security makes sure your safety is taken care of when he’s out of the picture. Three ruthless, dangerous and deadly men take on the task to protect and hide you, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok and the one in command, Jeon Jungkook. masterlist. chapter two. So, I would just like to mention I neglected my duties to write the requests sent my way because my good friend @diofulin had me thinking of this idea and when I knew it I had written 25k words and was looking at a small series. For what it’s worth, I hope you like it. Comment, reblog and I’ll be posting the nest chapter around Wednesday.

The first thing you heard was the loud noise of something exploding, the walls and floor shook as the lights of your room flickered. At first, your heart sped up, eyes alarmed as you held onto your desk and chair, looking around. Several things could happen next, and you were way under-prepared for any of the possibilities. The first being a second explosion, closer even, targeted towards you and you had few possibilities of escaping without injuries. Second, your room would be stormed with your security team and you’d be rushed out while attacked. And third, you die. The diplomatic daughter of the U.S president killed in a matter of seconds while overseas. All three options had their fair chances of happening, and although you were relieved, it was the second as they barged your door. Inside came a team of seven armed men. You could barely process the shouting and information being given to you while they shoved you out of your chair and into the hallway by the neck. Although your feet were perfectly fine and you had no injuries, they could barely move as your head of security, Thomas walked crouched down while he pulled you along. You were still in a state of shock, not fully understanding what was happening. The men formed a barricade around you while you ran, all of them with their guns in their hands. “What’s...” You began, but your voice was too low and not a few seconds after a second explosion came. This time, closer. The intensity of the blow was enough to make you fall back, the structure of the house you were living shook to the core as if the cement was made out of jelly. Smoke and dust whooshed right after, making the air thick and hard to breathe. “Miss, can you move?” Thomas yelled, you only then noticed how muffled he sounded, when your eyes found him, alarmed and bulged, you nodded. Shouts and gunfire all around erupted as you started moving. You could barely make a sound, your brain still unable to process what was happening, although you had an idea. Your body shook, flinching each time someone shot from around your barricade. You eyed Thomas, you could see the blood trickling down his forehead, into his ear. His face covered in dust as he gripped his gun in his hand. “T-Thomas...” you whispered, but yet again, unheard. And as if your voice brought doom, the shooting only increased, the man barricaded all around you suddenly falling, one after the other, shot down, dead. Thomas looked as alarmed as you, bringing his fist close to his mouth to speak into the microphone. “Blue Jay has been compromised, I repeat, Blue Jay has been compromised!” He shouted, still moving, still trying to get you out. Your eyes wandered, looking back as you saw the men who made an oath to protect you lifeless. Blood, the crimson red of blood painted all over the off-white walls and porcelain floor. Your head spun back to Thomas when you heard him speak. “Extraction executed in 0005, all men in their positions!” You knew what that meant. Five minutes for you to leave the premises, it meant that outside, men were waiting to usher you out of here, to save you. But the gunfire went on raging, the few men still standing shooting back into the smoke. The buzzing that kept on ringing in your head was loud, your heart beating as if it would stop functioning at any given moment and your pants were wet. Your pants were wet. You... Oh. You couldn’t even feel embarrassed, you didn’t even give it a second thought as you were finally met with the cold air of the outside. The screaming, crying, explosions and gunfire was all you could hear before you felt a warm shock go through your body. It hit right below your hips, on your thigh, and extended to the rest of your body. You didn’t give it any attention as you kept moving with Thomas to the black cars that parked extensively around the back of the house. The house was burning. You saw as you finally stopped in front of the door, eyes filling with water in horror. The house was burning. You had no time to mourn as they shoved you into the back seat, face hitting the leather as the warm feeling on the back of your thigh now turned into a raging ache, making a scream erupted from the dept of your lungs. Thomas looked at you as your hands reached back to stop the pain. “Blue Jay has been hit, evacuate immediately!” He screamed to the driver before jumping into the back seat with you, but as he closed the door his body flinched, a groan leaving his lips as he lifted his suit jacket and saw the red flow around the fabric. The gunfire started hitting the car again and again. “Go, Go, Go!” He yelled, regardless. And the car was rushing off, tires screaming into the asphalt as you were finally evacuated from the war zone. Or so you thought. You were screaming in agonizing pain as Thomas clenched the side of his body. He shook, but never let go of his gun. “Miss, listen to me.” He started speaking, but you couldn’t think of anything else but the pain that took over you, head to toe. “Miss, fucking listen!” He screamed, and you opened your eyes, looking back at him, breathing as if you were having a panic attack. Maybe you were having a panic attack. “You have to stay awake, you have to pay attention to what I’m about to say to you because if you don’t you will die, do you understand?” Thomas scolded as he cringed in pain. You nodded, trying to focus but already feeling your mind hazy. “You’ve been shot. We will only be able to receive medical attention when we get to the military base on the border, so you have to fight to stay awake.” He spoke to you, but also to himself. “When we get there, we will have little time to access your wound before they find out where our extraction point is.” Thomas’ words felt groggy, he was struggling to stay awake. “You will have to go under, they have to think you’re dead, otherwise they will not stop coming for you.” You shook your head, not understanding why this all was happening. “What’s happening Thomas, wh-what’s happening?” You didn’t notice you were crying, your face dirty and wet as you clenched your own wound as your life depended on it, and it did. “Eagle has fallen.” Was all he said and the ringing in your ears grew louder. You knew what that meant too and soon your entire body shook as sobs of desperation filled your body. “Miss... Please, p-pay attention, I understand you’re in pain, but you need to listen to me.” You could hear the knot in Thomas’ throat as he spoke. He had been working for your family for so many years now, three months from now it would become eight years. “We’re going rouge now, Miss, you have to stay hidden, I contacted a colleague, he promised to help under the radar, so you have to live Miss, you’re all we have left.” Although he was the one meant to protect you, you could see the plea in his eyes, you were his only hope. You were the country’s only hope. You nodded, a sob choking you up as tears streamed furiously down your cheeks. You tried sitting up, back against the door as you looked at Thomas. His head laid back on the seat and the gun still firm in his hand, you extended your shaking hand, he looked down and took yours, bloody hand gripping your fragile fingers tightly in reassurance. Then it was silent. The silence must have lasted about thirty minutes, at least that’s what you thought, gripping Thomas’ hand all the way to your destination while you struggled to stay awake, blood loss causing you to shake and feel cold. As your eyes fluttered shut, you always forced your mind to stay awake, jumping in your seat and looking at the dark road ahead, the driver silent as he drove as fast as it was physically possible. Soon you could see light, a flickering light on the horizon. It was the military camp, your eyes bulging open as you felt like your nightmare was now going to end. As the car got closer and closer you started shaking Thomas’ hand. “We’re here...” You looked ahead, your head turning to the man beside you. “Thomas, we’re here!” But he was silent. You looked at him, eyes closed and head resting back. Your eyes came down to your held hands, his grip loose while yours remained firm on his. His grip on his gun that was once like a vice was now gone, the object resting on his lap. You had little time to access what it all meant before the car was stopping and the door swung open before your body was pulled out by force, screams, and shouts of your name echoed in your head but your eyes were trained on the man that had known you since you were 14, the man that had taken care of you, that had risked his family, his life for you, that man that had now died for you. You made no sound as you were put on the stretcher, an oxygen mask being put over your mouth, flashlight coming in contact with your iris You knew you barely reacted, eyes welling up in tears as you were rushed into a secluded tent, between shouts and people rushing around, your body couldn’t handle it anymore, you remembered what Thomas had said; you had to stay awake and no matter how much you tried to fight it you knew that now you could, and your eyes shut as it was once again quiet.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you saw a bright white light, the air was brushing your hair and you still had the oxygen mask on. Your brows furrowed as your ears functioned, the loud noise of a propeller getting closer as you now understood you were in the air, being brought onto a helicopter. Your eyes shifted to the side. All you saw was the night, and you turned your head, leaving it on the edge of the stretcher looking down at the camp. Your eyes moved a little further as you saw cars and trucks racing towards the camp the sound of gunshots made your body jump, regardless of it being restrained on the stretcher that was being pulled into the air. Soon, you were in the helicopter, your head spun around as you watched the camp be attacked below you and not a second later the helicopter was off into the night and you watched as the fainting lights became red with fire. Your body remained restrained, a dull ache flowing all over as you not yet had processed all that had happened. Your eyes streamed without your knowledge, looking back up at the pitch-black ceiling of the aircraft. You shook as you cried, whoever was in that aircraft with you was silent, and even if they spoke you couldn’t hear them. They allowed you to feel the ramifications of all that has happened in a matter of hours, and you silently thanked them for it. An hour went by before you noticed your body was no longer restrained and you tried to sit up, body weak and broken as two hands helped you sit on your good side. You looked at the stranger but couldn’t see his face; a mask and helmet covered it. And you looked ahead at the pilot, same thing. You sat quietly all throughout your trip to wherever it was Thomas had arranged you to go. Your chest constricted. Thomas... The tears continued to flow like it was a never-ending waterfall, and even if you tried to rationalize everything, you were gone, in a state of shock. The sun rose on the horizon and somehow that made you feel calmer, the anesthetic they had used wearing off as the pain of your gun wound started to hurt. You looked ahead at the only window the helicopter had, you could see the desert and abandoned buildings here and there. A war zone. Soon, you were landing in one of them, the aircraft stopping only a few seconds before the door was being pulled open and you saw a man in a suit, thick black glasses and a file in his hand. His hair was going wild with the wind the propeller made. “Miss Y/L/N?” The man shouted over the noise. You nodded at him and he extended his hand. You took it, being helped by the stranger inside the helicopter on your way down. Hand coming to the back of your neck and making you crouch down, the suited man guided you into one of the abandoned buildings. As you made your way in the helicopter made its way out. The noise was now gone, only the sound of the desert wind blowing between the abandoned buildings. The mand stopped in a room, a chair, and a table were the only things there. He pointed for you to sit and you did so, hissing at the pain on the back of your legs. The man sat down on the table, letting the file rest beside him before he sighed and rubbed his face with both hands, stressed. He was older, maybe in his mid-fifties. It was quiet for a while before he finally looked at you. “Miss, I can only imagine what you have been through in the past ten hours.” He started. He was American, you looked away, flashes of the horrors you had lived coming like a rush into your head. “I assume Thomas explained a little of the situation before...” He pursed his lips and you looked at him, swallowing hard as you knew what he would say. “My name is Phillip Jackson, I served with Thomas a while back for the CIA and on the field. It seems that we have to make you disappear for a while.” You looked down at your hands. Dirty, bloody, shaking. You opened your mouth to speak. “What happened?” You questioned and heard your voice come out weak, hoarse. The man sighed again. “There was an attack on the Whitehouse, an organized attack all over the country, and we have little information about who it’s from and why. The only information is that there were no survivors.” He said. “Miss as much of a patriot as I am, I have a hunch that this was an inside job and you are an asset, so we gotta keep you alive. Thomas was a dear friend of mine and I will put my best men to protect and hide you.” You swallowed and nodded, unable to even access the fact that your family was gone. “Are you CIA?” You questioned. After all, if this was an inside job, what made you so sure this man was working for the right side of the government. “No, Miss, I am a private contractor. All my men are former Special Forces, SEAL, Marine, CIA, White Tiger, BOPE, we work with several specialized soldiers from around the world.” He said. “That means you make money off war.” You argued, eyes roaming your ripped pants. “Well, Miss, yes, but I in no way enjoy watching innocent people lose their lives.” He argued back, and you looked up again, eyes meeting his. You sighed, this was no time to argue over politics, your life was at risk and if Thomas trusted this man, you would have to take a leap of faith. “Where am I going to?” You questioned, face scrunching up in pain as the sharp sting from your wound overcame your body. “I don’t know.” He said and pursed his lips, grabbing the file and handing it to you. You furrowed your brows, extending your hand and taking it. “I assigned three men, the one in charge is my most trusted agent. The other two are his most trusted agents. For security reasons, I told him not to disclose any information as of where you’re headed and for how long.” You said nothing while you opened the file. Three papers inside, no pictures, just names. None of them American. You looked back up, Philip already understanding your confusion. “Miss, my men work for money and given that this might be an inside job, I figured it was wiser if I recruited non-Americans for this job in particular. Ones that wouldn’t be easily persuaded into handing you over.” It was your turn to sigh. “And how are these men being paid to protect and hide me, Mr. Jackson?” You looked back up at him. His brow lifted, side of his lips lopsided in a smirk. “They owe me.” Was all he said. You decided not to argue, after all, this was in your best interest. Or so you hoped. “There is a mattress in the other room, try to get some rest, they will be here by the hour,” Phillip said before he got down from the table and leaned in, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Thomas was very dear to many people and his life’s mission was to protect you, I have no intention of letting him down anytime soon.” He said, and you once again looked down at the open folder on your lap. Three papers, three names. Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, and Jeon Jungkook. You looked back up at him and nodded before you got up in a struggle and tried to walk. It was hard. You held the folder in your hand as you limped your way to the other room. Everything was dirty, dust all over, but you couldn’t complain, you slowly made your way to the dusty mattress and slowly got on it. Laying down finally, you tried to ignore the pain, bringing the file up and reading. The one in command was the youngest for what you could tell. White Tiger agent, an anti-terrorism unit. After that, he served three times as a special forces soldier for the U.S. before he became a mercenary, going rough. He was charged for war crimes and pardoned by his own government a few years later, then joined Phillip Jackson’s private Operation Unit. Unites build for maximum execution. The other two weren’t far behind, charged with similar crimes but pardoned before joining Phillip. They were all young but seemed highly experienced in the field. Soon your eyes fluttered, resting the file on your chest, you allowed yourself to drift off to sleep, the flashes of the horror you have lived playing underneath your eyelids. It felt like you had slept for two minutes.

“Wake up!” Someone said loud and your eyes shot open, a loud gasp being pulled out of you as your body jerked up, resting on your hands. You blinked twice before you could make out the figure standing in front of you. Dark eyes, dark brown hair and a jawline so defined that it could slice you in half. He was young and oh so very attractive. He had no emotion on his face, eyes void of anything, but that seemed so dark that it held nothing but rage and pain. He threw something at you, making you flinch. You looked down at your lap, clothes. “Put these on, we leave in fifteen.” His voice was cold and sharp, and you barely had time to process before he was out of the room. You looked back down at the clothes, camo. You struggled to get up but did so before you peeled off your ruined clothes. The wraps around your wound were red with blood and you knew you had to change it soon. But you went on, putting on the cargo pants that fit you perfectly and the tight brown tank top. You heard a whistle behind you and you turned around to see another face, different from the one that woke you up. His hair was white, so white that it looked like snow, and his eyes were just as dark as the one from before. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you pursed your lips. You knew he had probably seen something, but you couldn’t scold him. “Boots.” Was all he said before he left a pair of black boots at the door and walked out. “Ten minutes!” You heard him shout from the other room. You quickly finished getting dressed, leaving your clothes folded on top of the filthy mattress. You looked at your blouse, it was a rose color, well, now it was dirty, bloody and ripped. You remembered when you and your mother had gone to buy it in Paris in one of your father’s diplomatic trips a few years back, a few years before you had taken on a diplomatic journey yourself, studied political science and represented your country in small discussions here and there in your father’s place. You felt your eyes water again. Your life would never be the same, never go back to what it was. There would be no more Sunday breakfast with your parents or a late-night call from your father to tell you he’s proud of you. You swallowed the lump in your throat, rubbing your hands on your face before you walked out of the room. There stood five men. Philip was talking to the one that had woken you up, a quiet conversation, and when you walked into the other room, eyes lifted in your direction. The man ignored you, going back to speak to Phillip as the blond surveyed your appearance and the other beside him lifted an eyebrow, a knife digging into an apple as he looked back at the blond beside him. “She looks like shit.” He said a twitch on his lower lip. You bit your lower lip, unphased by his comment. You had no expectations that these men would act civil around you. Sighing, you remained silent, approaching the men. Phillip lifted his hand at the man speaking to him. “Miss Y/L/N...” He started, and you interrupted. “Please, just Y/N.” You stated. “Y/N, this is your unit, they’ll be in charge of your security and in charge of keeping you hidden. Yoongi..” He introduced and the white-haired man lifted his hand, unamused. “... Hoseok...” The one with the apple nodded in your direction, without making eye contact. “and Jungkook.” He looked at the man beside him, the one that had woken you up. He looked at you. Even if you didn’t know that this man was highly skilled to kill, he’d intimidate you. It was as if he was looking deep into your soul. “This is where I say my goodbyes,” Phillip said, and you gulped. You took a few steps and closed the space between you, extending your hand. He took it, a worried and pitted look on his face. “Godspeed, Y/N.” And you knew that from this moment on, the three men in the room were in charge of you. You looked back at the one called Jungkook, waiting for instructions, he sighed. “Are you injured?” He questioned, and you nodded. “Where?” He asked impatiently. “U-Uhm, back of my left thigh.” You answered nervously. “What’s the source of the wound?” He questioned again, taking a few steps towards you. “I was shot.” You said in a small voice. All three heads turned in your direction. The one named Hoseok furrowed his brows. “Aren’t you in pain?” He questioned. You took in a deep breath, the ache still raging through your body. “Yes.” Was all you answered. Everyone was silent, even Phillip. You forgot to acknowledge the other suited man right behind him. “So, she can’t walk for much, run for much, we’ll have to make camp every ten hours to clean out her wound, how he fuck do you expect me to keep her alive if she’s her own liability?” Jungkook looked at Phillip with annoyance in his tone. You felt as if you weren’t in the room, as if you were just some pathetic, worthless thing and not a human being. Phillip seemed unphased by his comment, shrugging. The man looked back at you and once again threw something in your direction. Your reflexes were terrible and of course, the heavy object landed at your feet. It was a backpack, a heavy backpack. You lifted it and put it onto your back. “We’re moving out. Hoseok, ground rules.” He announced before he was heading out of the building. All men followed suit, except for Hoseok, that walked beside you. “You keep up, you make no noise, you follow every order. If we say duck, you duck if we say run you run. No hesitation, no second thought. We know who you are and we don’t care, our only job is to make sure you stay alive and well-hidden until this is over. We won’t hesitate in taking violent measures to make you understand.” Hoseok said without looking at you, you limped your way outside, nodding at his words. As you made your way out, there were two military cars waiting. Phillip and the other suited man got in on and Jungkook, Yoongi, and Hoseok in the other. You looked at Phillip once last time and he gave you a soft smile before he was off. “Come on Miss President, we got no time to lose.” Said Hoseok once again and you made your way into the car. Jungkook was in the driver’s seat, Yoongi beside him and Hoseok in the back with you. As you drove off, sand lifted and blurred your vision, you covered your eyes and coughed a few times before the view was cleared. It was silent in the car as you drove off into the desert. You just then realized you had no idea where you were. You were lost and your life in the hand of three strangers. You looked out the window, all you could see for miles was sand, and after what seemed like forty minutes of silence, Jungkook looked in the review mirror, taking in your appearance. “She does look like shit.” He said and the man beside you chuckled. You side-eyed him and scoffed. “I’m right here.” You clapped back. “Fine, you look like shit,” Jungkook said again, eyes back on the path before him. “Oh, do I? I haven’t noticed.” You said sarcastically, looking back at him. It was Yoongi’s turn to chuckle. “She’s got an attitude.” He said and Jungkook hummed in response. You noticed that they all had a deceived perspective of who you were. For all they knew, you were the president’s daughter. They knew nothing of your life and your struggles, your ideology and what you’ve fought for. You rolled your eyes and looked back out the window. “Where are we going?” You questioned when the car fell silent again. Jungkook didn’t answer, instead, he looked at Yoongi in a silent command. Yoongi turned to face you. “We have three destinations before the safe house, the first destination is code name, Red Hawk. We have a friend there that can give us shelter for the night, food, water... And a place where you can look like a human again.” Hoseok once again chuckled, and you breathed in. If you had known you would be stuck with three annoying assholes, you might have asked Phillip for his second most trusted agents. “The second destination is code name Seamore, they’ll provide us with a border entrance into Morrocco under the radar, we will have only a few hours to cross without being noticed.” Yoongi looked back to the front. “The third destination is code name, Armstrong. Last resting point before the safe house. I’ll refrain from giving you the exact coordinates in case we’re compromised.” He said, and you nodded. “We’ll have to ditch the car tomorrow and then we have a two-day walk to Red Hawk. Resting periods will be two hours only.” You sighed. You didn’t know if your body was well prepared for something like this, but you had to stay alive no matter what. You had a long journey ahead of you, a journey you had no idea how long would last. Soon, it was silent again. You don’t know for how long you’d have been driving, all you could see was sand ahead of you. Eventually, you looked into the backpack they had handed you, Hoseok’s eyes trained on your every movement. There were clothes, the same ones you were wearing, a jacket, two big canteens of water, something that looked like food bars, several. Gauze and antiseptic. You haven’t even noticed you were hungry until you saw the food bars. The loud noise that erupted from your stomach was enough to get the attention of Hoseok. “Eat one.” He said simply and you shook your head. “No, we should save these.” You said not looking his way. He scoffed. “Listen, you need energy for tomorrow, if you’re drained of it today you’ll collapse after a few miles.” He argued, and you looked at him, meeting his eyes. They seemed just as dark as the two other men in the front, yet there was a kindness to them. He seemed almost worried about you. You put your hand in and took one out, closing the backpack and leaning back again with a wince of pain. “When was the last time you changed your bandages?” He asked, voice low as the wind hit the car with its high speed. You shook your head, too many memories invading your thoughts at once before you opened your mouth to answer. “I haven’t, I fainted before they took care of the wound and I woke up while I was being pulled into the helicopter, right before they attacked the camp.” You said, voice becoming low again. Hoseok looked at the back of Yoong’s seat, pursing his lips. “12 hours.” You heard Jungkook’s voice. Your eyes lifted to the review mirror. He wasn’t looking back at you. “You have to change them or else it’ll get infected.” He said, and you nodded again. “Will we stop?” You asked and Yoongi chuckled. “What?” You questioned, brows furrowed. “You want us to stop the car in the middle of nowhere so you can change your bandages?” Yoongi questioned, turning to you. You were quiet, looking around as you gather your thoughts. “Well, I’ll be naked.” You stated and Yoongi shrugged. “And?” He questioned. You looked from him to Hoseok and to the review mirror where Jungkook didn’t look back. Your mouth opened and closed several times, not because you were outraged, but because you knew that you had no other choice. Of course, they weren’t going to pull over so you could have some privacy while cleaning your wound. You shook your head. “Fine.” You scoffed, opening the food bar and taking a big bite. It tasted terrible. Bitter and sandy in your mouth. You made a face and Hoseok laughed. “Don’t worry, princess, we won’t look,” Hoseok said with a teasing voice. After you finished eating your food bar reluctantly you stuffed the wrapper into the bag and took out the gauze and antiseptic. Your eyes lifted to Hoseok, he had one brow lifted as he looked at you. You squinted at him, lips twisting. Taking the hint, he rolled his eyes before he was turning his body and looking away. Slowly, you lifted your body off the seat, pushing your pants down. The hiss you gave didn’t go by unnoticed by the three. Yoongi eyed Jungkook, and he looked through the review mirror. “Did they remove the bullet?” He questioned. You stopped your movements, your pants rested at the edge of your knees, your once white lace lingerie soaked in blood still on your body. You looked back at him, resuming. “I don’t know.” You answered him. “Hoseok.” Was all he said before the man that had his back to you turned, your eyes slightly bulged as he took out a knife and approached you. “Wait, wait, what are you doing?!” You pushed him away. “I need to check if the bullet is still there.” He said as if it were obvious. “What are you going to do with the knife?” You questioned. “Cute your bandages off.” He said once again as if it were obvious. You looked back at Jungkook; he looked annoyed. But you didn’t argue, shifting your weight so that you had your ass lifted to the side, where Hoseok could to what he needed to do. “Nice ass, Miss President.” He teased, and you shot him a murderous look. Looking back at the review mirror to see if you were being put on full display for everyone, you saw that Jungkook had his eyes back on the road, same with Yoongi. You rested your head on the side of the car before you felt Hoseok grip the edge of the bandages and start cutting through it. Soon, the bloody material was pulled away. “Ah, this looks bad,” Hoseok said, and you looked back at him. He had a pained look on his face. “I can’t tell if they took out the bullet, but they didn’t sow her up, just staples, I’m guessing that they didn’t take it out,” Hoseok said a Jungkook hummed. “How much does it hurt?” Hoseok looked up at you, fingers gently resting on your thigh and pulling at the skin slightly. That sent a sharp pain through your body and you groaned, hands balling into fists before you were biting on your lower lip. “Fuck!” You cursed out. “Shit, I’m sorry.” He extended his hand and grabbed the materials. “I-I can do it myself.” You said feeling your body hot and your breath quicken, but Hoseok laughed, opening the gauze. “Don’t take this the wrong way but, you can’t. If you’re in this much pain from just that, you won’t be able to do it yourself.” He leaned back, taking off his belt, and you just watched. “Bite on this, it will help” And he leaned forward, hovering the leather over your mouth. You hesitated for a while, before opening your lips and taking it. Your eyes shifted to the review mirror where you saw the dark eyes look straight into yours, you didn’t look away, breathe picking up as you knew the pain you were about to feel would be a lot worse than what you had felt before. And soon, you bit down hard onto the leather, a throated scream leaving you as your eyes shut closed and a shock of pain went through your body. It was so intense you felt your stomach turn, your muscles twitch uncontrollably and that had been just one swipe. At the second swipe, your vision blurred, everything around you turning black. “I think she’s fainted.” You heard Hoseok’s muffled voice. “She’s out.” And everything was silent again. “Nah, I don’t think Jimin is that stupid.” You heard Hoseok’s voice, but it was no longer by your side. “Fine, we’ll bet on it, a thousand bucks,” Yoongi spoke, only he was still where he was before. You slowly opened your eyes, brows furrowing as you noticed you were in the same position as you had fainted into. Head resting on the glass, your pants were still down yo your knees, but now your wound was wrapped in fresh bandages. Your head lolled back noticing that Hoseok was the one driving now, Yoongi still in the passenger seat. That meant that the body beside you was Jungkook and you tuned your head in his direction. He was looking down into a small black notebook with no cover, face serious. You noticed the small scar he had on his cheek, wondering how he got it and if it was in battle. You felt your mouth dry as you swallowed. “I suggest you pull up your pants.” He said in a low voice without looking at you. You blinked a few times before shifting. “Oh, hey, you woke up,” Hoseok said looking at you. “Jungkook told us your code name was Blue Jay.” You looked back at Jungkook. He was closing the small notebook and shoving it into his pocket. You pulled up your pants with a bit of difficulty. It took you a few seconds before you answered. “Uh, yeah, Blue Jay.” You said voice hoarse and Hoseok hummed. “Why Blue Jay?” Yoongi questioned, his head turning in your direction. You rested your head back, feeling it ache. “All my family had bird code names, my mother was Cardinal.” You said looking out the window and noticing the sun setting on the horizon. She was Cardinal. She was. “And your father?” Yoongi asked. You looked back at him, a deep sorrow taking over you. “Eagle.” You said low. Yoongi looked back ahead. “Cliche.” Was all he said. And you shook your head, your family was all dead. It finally settled in and your eyes welled up, silent tears flowing down your face. The car went silent as they noticed your silent sobs. “We’re sorry for your loss, Y/N,” Hoseok mumbled. You said nothing, did nothing, just allowed yourself to mourn your family in silence as the sun was setting. Your father had always been a respected man, loyal, intelligent and kind. The people loved him deeply. But, he pissed off a lot of big people when he would vet congress decisions that helped the rich when he gave more attention to minorities than to the lobby men and everything good came with a price; you assumed. And your father’s price was his life. “Why birds?” Yoongi asked quietly in an effort to distract you. You sniffed, looking at him. “I... I don’t even know, I was given that code name when I was 14, Thomas never said why.” You answered “Hm, did you like it?” His voice was calm. Slowly you stopped crying. “I never even gave it a thought.” You shook your head. The small talk was helping, of course, but you couldn’t ignore the silent man beside you. “I think Blue Jay is nice, but I don’t think it fits you,” Yoongi said. You raised your eyebrows. “Chose a new one.” You heard the man beside you speak. Your head turned in his direction, he was looking out the window before he also turned to face you. “What?” You asked. “Chose a new one. We can’t call you Blue Jay, we can’t call you by your name either.” He stated. “And we definitely can’t call you Miss President,” Hoseok said in the front seat. You looked down at your fingers. You thought about everything that had happened to you so far. You watched your most loyal friend and security die; you watched people all around you die in order to protect you. You were weak, slow, a liability to yourself just as Jungkook has said. You were worthless at this point. Something that brought death and despair. “Raven.” You said and everyone looked at you. “Another bird?” Yoongi questioned, and you nodded. They went silent for a while. “It fits you,” Jungkook said, looking ahead. You didn’t know if that meant he agreed with your own thoughts as to why you chose the name or if he thought it fitted your aura more, regardless, it hurt. As you stopped speaking, Hoseok and Yoongi went back to their conversation. Something about a man named Jimin accepting a job offer that was very underpaid. They argued over his intelligence and eventually settled on a thousand dollars in a bet. Jungkook remained quiet the whole trip, never sparing you a glance. At some point, the car stopped so Hoseok could switch places with Jungkook. As the night rolled in, Hoseok slept beside you and Yoongi slept in the passenger seat. You remained awake, looking at the clear sky, there were so many stars, something you’ve never seen before and you couldn’t help but feel calm. You glanced at the review mirror a few times, Jungkook always focused ahead, you noticed just how attractive he was, not just him, but the other two men too. Deciding to look again, you saw his eyes on you and you looked away quickly. “Take a picture, it lasts longer.” He said in a stern voice. You rolled your eyes. “Is being a royal dick a requirement to be part of your unit?” You questioned. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I being mean?” He said in a sarcastic voice. “My job isn’t to be nice to you, Miss, it’s making sure you remain alive.” He clapped back. “If you’re not satisfied, you can request a new unit when we get to Red Hawk.” At this, you sat up. “Regardless of who you think I am, you have no fucking right to speak to me that way. If you didn’t want the fucking job, you shouldn’t have taken it.” You argued. “I bet you think I’m just a spoiled rich girl.” At this, he hummed in agreement. “You don’t know shit about me, Jungkook.” “I know a lot more than you think.” He said, and you went quiet. “You, on the other hand, know absolutely nothing about me.” “I know more than you think.” You mused. “Cause you read my file?” He ironized. “Is this where you tell me your sad childhood story of why you became a special op and I feel sorry for you and tell you your trauma isn’t what defines you?” He pursed his lips. “Most definitely not, and even if I had a sad childhood story, you would be the last person I open up to.” “Good.” You said, and he chuckled. “What?” Jungkook lifted his eyes to the review mirror to look at you before he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. His eyes changed, going dark as his mouth closed and lips turned into a straight line. You furrowed your brows, noticing the change in his demeanor. “We’re being followed.” He said in a low voice and a shiver went through your body. You turned around looking through the back glass, but you saw nothing. Yoongi and Hoseok were awake by the time Jungkook had finished his sentence. It was as if they weren’t even asleep. You looked back again, but couldn’t see anything. “Hoseok?” Jungkook questioned, and the man took his gun, the sound clicking in your head as he looked back to where you were looking. “Two vehicles, military.” He said and you still couldn’t spot them in the dark. “Cut the lights,” Yoongi said, and suddenly the car lights where gone. Your body started to shake, you couldn’t believe you were going through this again. “What are our exit possibilities?” Yoongi questioned, his own gun shining in the moonlight. “West is Thunderstorm, East is Gallaticus, we can’t go north now, they know where we’re going,” Hoseok answered. “Thunderstorm isn’t reliable,” Jungkook answered. “Fuck, not Gallaticus.” Yoongi cursed. You had no idea what they were talking about, but you were still shaking in your seat. “They’re coming in fast, Jungkook, we gotta make a choice.” Hoseok urged. “Fuck...” He cursed. “We won’t have time to access, we’re going to have to engage,” Jungkook said, Hoseok and Yoongi both looked at him. And you swallowed. Suddenly, Jungkook stopped the car. “Yoongi, you know what to do, Hoseok, get Raven into safety, then come back and cover us.” Suddenly the car doors were opening, and they were all getting out, Jungkook and Yoongi walked to the car trunk pulling out whatever they needed. You pulled your bag with you as Hoseok pulled you further into the night desert. He hid you under a dune of sang, opening your backpack and covering your body with the camo jacket that was inside. “You stay down, you don’t get up under any circumstances, you are going to hear shooting, don’t make a sound, don’t flinch, don’t cry, I’ll come back to get you when it’s over.” From where you laid on the sand you could see Hoseok run back to them, it a matter of seconds they disappeared and silence took over. All you could hear was the harsh desert wind. Your eyes bulged, you had no idea where they were going to come from; you hadn’t seen anything when you were in the car. Suddenly you saw them, three men all dressed in camo, face covered by a mask and night vision goggles. Approaching the car, they each went to one side. You tried your best to keep quiet as they approached the vehicle, heavy rifles in their hands. You saw everything happen, the man in the back silently shot in the head, body falling down on his knees before his face was in the sand, lifeless, the other two pivoted rushing towards him and the further one groaned before he fell to his knees, Yoongi coming from under the car and stabbing a knife in his head, the lasting man turned to Yoongi faster than you expected rifle lifted into the air, and you saw as a dark shadow came behind him and pulled his boy back, the rifle shooting up to the sky. The sound was loud, the flashes of light beaming into the air. You gasped, but it was over as fast as it had started. Three lifeless bodies laid beside the car, Jungkook was the one that had pulled the man back, his knife slicing through the man’s throat like it was a piece of paper. Suddenly, the bodies were being pulled to rest in front of the car. It wasn’t over yet. They all disappeared again. You remained to shiver in your spot as you watched. Once again, three men appeared, this time more alert. They quickly found Yoongi, a series of shooting and fighting erupted, Hoseok coming to help as they were unable to use their weapons. The three men that were in charge of keeping you safe fought against the men sent to kill you. Your eyes welled up again. No... No, Hoseok told you not to cry. You tried your best to silence your whimpers, as you watched them fight in the darkness. Once one man was down, Hoseok ran to help Yoongi. You watched as a sudden relief started washing over you. But, of course, you weren’t that lucky. Two more men approached, and now your unit was outnumbered. The gunshots were deafening. You hid your head, not wanting to watch any longer. A hand came to rest on your shoulder and you looked up, but you were met with no eyes, just a man in a mask and night vision goggles. Your eyes bulged, and he aimed the gun at you. “Jungkook!” You screamed, and you heard a loud gunshot. Shutting your eyes closed you waited to feel the pain, the warmth, whatever was going to take over you, but instead, you felt the wet splatters of liquid hit your face, a body falling before you. It was all quiet again for a few seconds before you felt a hand on you, you jumped back, crawling away and shooting your eyes open, it was Jungkook, he looked back at you with both hands up, his gun in one of them. “We have to go, come on.” He said and helped you up, you took your things and stumbled back into the car. “Don’t look,” he said, his grip tight on your arm as he pushed you into the backseat, getting in and hitting the car twice. That was the signal to drive and even if you didn’t know who was driving, either Hoseok or Yoongi you didn’t have the courage to look, Jungkook holding your head down onto his lap with a vice grip on your neck. It took about twenty minutes before someone spoke. “How did they find us?” Is was Yoongi, he was driving, he was alive. “Satellite,” Jungkook answered, and you noticed the way his voice vibrated through his body. Your head remained rested on his lap, his hand never moving from your neck. “We should drive in the dark for a while.” You heard Hoseok’s voice. They were all alive. A relieved sigh left you and Jungkook’s grip loosened, but his hand remained on you. You felt how rough his fingers felt on your skin, his hands were warm and somehow that made you stop shaking. Soon, you were drifting off to sleep without noticing. In your light sleep, you could hear them talking from time to time. “Jungkook, do you want to drive?” Hoseok questioned. “No, you two can trade, I don’t want to wake her up.” His voice was soothing. And if it weren’t for your sleeping state, you would have sworn you felt his fingers gently caress your neck, but once again, never leave your skin.

You woke up with the sun rising, your eyes fluttering open as you noticed you were still nested in Jungkook’s lap. You slowly shuffled, looking up. Jungkook rested his head back against the seat, eyes shut. One hand was still on your neck, the other around your body, resting on your hips. You blushed unwillingly before you felt the pain on your side. You needed to sit. Trying to amble so you wouldn’t wake him proved to be useless because when you looked back up at him, his eyes were open, staring back at you as dark as the night. “H-hi.” You whispered, throat dry and lips chapped. He said nothing back. Instead, withdrawing his hands and reaching in front of him into your bag. He pulled out the water, opening the flask and nodding for you to sit up. You did so, struggling to sit up, and he handed to the bottle. “Small sips.” He said, and you obeyed. It was painful, actually. To drink liquid after so long, your mouth ached as you took small sips until the entire bottle was empty. When you were done, he took it from you, putting it back in the bag. You settled back, looking ahead at Hoseok and Yoongi. Something had changed after the attack during the night. Further ahead you saw a town come into view and your brows furrowed. “Is this Red Hawk?” You inquired. “No, we had to take a detour. This is Gallaticus, we’re taking cover here for a while before we head to Red Hawk,” Hoseok answered. As the car approached the city, you noticed it was full of people. It was a humble place, but colorful. There were a few men dressed in black with rifles in their hands, and a feeling of dread took over you. “Stay down, we don’t want anyone to see you,” Jungkook said, and you laid back down, this time next to his lap and not on it. As the car slowed down into the city, you drove for another fifteen minutes before the car stopped. “Ok, we’re here, grab your things, let’s go, and keep your head down,” Jungkook said and got out of the car. You followed, looking at the floor. Walking was hard, so you struggled to keep up. Impulsively you extended your hand and grabbed onto Jungkook’s shirt. He didn’t seem to care as he walked into the building. As soon as you were hidden from the city you let go, Jungkook stopped in his tracks, making you almost bump into him. When you looked back up you were in what looked to be a warehouse, an enormous warehouse. There were the same men dressed in black and armed all around, some curious eyes looking at you and the group of men that had just walked in. “Ah! You made it!” A deep voice was heard through the area and when your eyes found the owner of the voice, you blinked a couple of times. He was dressed in all black. Black shirt, black cargo pants, and black boots. His hair was grayish blond that was held back by a black hairband. “Taehyung,” Jungkook said, walking towards the man. You thought they were going to shake hands, but instead, they hugged. It was odd, seeing someone like Jungkook show affection, but it was also nice. It made you smile to see their closeness. Taehyung’s eyes roamed to the other two men. “Yoongi, Hoseok, long time no see.” He said with a large boxy smile on his face and Hoseok smiled back, going in for a hug just like Jungkook, Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Yoongs, I know you missed me,” Taehyung said, pulling the white-haired man into an unwilling hug. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Yoongi said and pushed the man away gently. The man chuckled, eyes roaming the group of men before they landed on you, a glint of curiosity shining in them. “And you must be Raven.” He said. Although you knew well, that he knew that wasn’t your name. You nodded, and he took a few steps towards you. “You look tired, hungry and in a need of a warm shower, don’t you think?” He stopped in front of you, lips pursing and eyes kind as if he knew everything about what you had just been through. You couldn’t help but take his kindness in a full blow, eyes welling up and lips quivering. “Yes...” You said in a breath. “Yes, please.” He nodded. “Come with me.” He wrapped a hand around your shoulders and you didn’t protest. As you all walked into a hallway, Taehyung started talking. “So, I looked into what you asked me over the phone.” “And?” Jungkook asked. Taehyung stopped in front of a door but looked back at Jungkook. “I have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you’re going to need help.” He said with a worried tone to his voice. “What’s the fucking number Tae?” Jungkook asked, annoyed. “1.5b.” He said. “Holy shit!” Hoseok exclaimed. “That can’t be possible.” It was Yoongi’s turn to protest. “Are you sure?” Jungkook ignored whatever the information meant. “Yes, and I already know that many people like us are in for it.” He sighed. Jungkook looked at you, brows furrowed. “1.5b for one hit? Why? What the fuck could she possibly do?” Hoseok was still outraged. “Shut up, Hobi,” Taehyung said, noticing you put two and two together. It was a lot of money for you to be killed, you knew that. But it wasn’t about what you could do, but about what you knew. “I think she knows why,” Jungkook said, your eyes met his dark and hard ones, and Tae was opening the door. It was a large room with bunk beds. No windows. To the right, there was a door that led to what looked like a locker room shower. Four showers divided by white low walls and on the other side, toilets. As you made your way in with the rest of the group, Taehyung took your bag and left it on top of one bed. “Ok, sweetheart, I’ll bring you some food and some fresh water, you’ll probably need underwear and some shampoo. There are fresh towels in the lockers.” He smiled sweetly at you and you nodded. “Why aren’t you that good of a host with us?” Yoongi questioned, walking towards the bunk bed across from yours and dropping his bag. “Because, one, you’re not worth 1.5 billion dollars, and two, you don’t have soft skin and look as pretty as she does.” He smiled sarcastically at the boy and Hoseok laughed. You felt your cheeks blush, looking away from the men and down to your bag, pulling out the fresh clothes. “Hoseok, go with Taehyung, get rid of the car and we’re going to need backup if we’re going to make sure we deliver on this.” Hoseok nodded, following Taehyung out of the room. Yoongi looked at Jungkook, having a silent exchange of words with the man before he glanced at you. “I’ll go check if Red Hawk hasn’t been compromised.” He said and left the room. You were left there with Jungkook, in silence. Swallowing hard, you took the clothes into your hand, turning around and looking back at him. He was leaning against the doorframe, eyes trained on you. “You were right.” He said, eyes shifting down. You pursed your lips, deciding to sit down on the mattress. “About what?” You questioned, voice low. “I really don’t know shit about you.” His eyes met yours again. You were quiet, your eyes now hard. “I don’t want to know why you’re so important other than being the president’s daughter, but you should know that I signed up for something a lot bigger than I expected it to be.” You felt your cheeks burn in shame. You were a burden. You felt like one. A chuckle left you. “You know what Jungkook if I’m such a hassle, why not let me get killed, maybe that will help with the weight on your shoulders?” Jungkook didn’t show any sign of a reaction, eyes still burrowing into yours as if trying to read you. “You seem to think life has no value to me.” He said. “Mine apparently does, 1.5 billion dollars, why not just do it yourself?” You challenged. He was quiet before uncrossing his arms and taking a few steps in your direction. You suddenly felt scared. He and the other two men had taken out nine men in the desert with their own hands. You could only imagine how quickly he could end your life. He crouched down, your eyes following his every move as you silently shook. He extended his hand, gripping your chin and turning your head from side to side. “Go take a fucking shower, you smell like piss and blood.” He spat at you, letting your face go harshly before standing. Your breath was ragged, eyes raging at him as you watched him take a few steps back. You got up, walking into the bathroom all the way to last stall. Jungkook stood at the bathroom door, back turned to you. “You can leave.” You said, peeling your shirt off. “No, I can’t, you don’t stay alone.” He said, his head turning but not looking at you. You hung your shirt on the wall, opening your pants and putting them next to it. Unclasping your bra, you felt a sense of relief overtake you when your breasts were free. Looking down, you noticed the bandaged were bloody, and you knew you were going to need help to get them off. Taking in a deep breath, you sighed, eyes closing in frustration as you groaned. Jungkook seemed to notice. “What?” He asked. “I... I need help.” You said reluctantly. Jungkook turned around fully, looking at you. All he could see were your shoulders and your head, your cheeks were slightly flushed and your eyes on the floor. He walked towards you, your hands crossing over your bare chest. “The bandages.” You said as he stopped behind you. He was quiet for a few seconds before taking out his pocket knife. The sound of the metal opening made you flinch, the memory of watching Yoongi stab a man in the head rushing back into your memory. “Hold still.” He said before he crouched down, hand grabbing at the top edge of the bandage and cutting through. The sound brought you the image of him slicing that same knife through a man’s throat like it was nothing, you could still hear the gargling noises he made before he fell lifeless on the sand. Your body started shaking as you were suddenly taken over by fear. When Jungkook was done, you felt him gently peel the gauze off, dropping it beside him. You started sobbing, unable to move as your eyes shut tight. You had lost everyone, you were alone and scared, and your future was nothing but a big question. Everything you had seen for the past three days haunted you like a monster and now, finally, you felt as if it were too much to bear. Jungkook stood, noticing you violently shake and cry. Gulping down his own sorrows he sighed, he might be rude, relentless and cold, but he wasn’t heartless. Taking a step forward, he took the knife and cut through the fabric of your underwear. “Don’t worry, I won’t look.” He reassured although you were barely there. Cutting on both sides, he peeled it off, throwing it along with the gauze. He leaned forward, beyond you and turned the faucet, a hard stream of water hitting your body and making you jump, a loud sob escaping you. “Sh, it’s ok, it’s just water.” He spoke in a whisper and gently pushed you into the stream. You looked down, allowing the water to run through your body as the white floor stained red with your own blood and unknown blood. Maybe it was Thomas, but you knew it was everyone’s blood. Every single person who had died because of you. Your body only shook more as Jungkook turned you around, eyes trained on your face and never looking down. You met his hard eyes, but they seemed gentle for the first time. Slowly, he leaned your head back, allowing the water to soak your hair, and you closed your eyes. Taehyung, Hoseok, and Yoongi were all standing by the door at this point, watching everything in silence, in sorrow. You didn’t notice them, and you doubted you would have. “Focus on me,” Jungkook said, and you tried your best, but you just couldn’t hold back the sobbing and shaking of your body. “Taehyung, can you bring me the soap?” Jungkook asked, bringing the boy back from his thoughts. The boy cleared his throat, walking towards the end of the bathroom and extending his hand, head turned away. “Thank you,” Jungkook said and finally looked at him. Taehyung had the sad eyes, the ones he knew well enough, held pain and empathy. He looked back at his unit, both men looking down in silent reassurance. They were all feeling their own pain from their own life while they watched your suffering. Jungkook looked back at you, the fragile shaking woman in front of him. Taking the soap into his hand, he gently started rubbing it on your arms. “You can go now, Taehyung, take the boys with you, we’ll be there soon.” Jungkook’s voice was low and calm, but yet commanding. The man nodded and walked away, leaving a towel on the wall. As he walked away, Jungkook brought your head back down. “Can you go on by yourself?” He asked, and you nodded, your shaking hand resting over his and trying to take the soap. You clearly couldn’t go on by yourself. “Tell me when to stop.” He said and continued to rub the bar of soap on your arms, then up your shoulders and neck. He watched his hand as you slowly unfolded your arms over your chest and shakingly rested them on your side. The water was warm, not too hot, and the stream was hard on your back. Jungkook gulped, eyes coming up as you slowly stopped crying, but never stopped shaking. “I’m going to have to look.” He said, and you nodded. As he looked back at his hand, he brought it to your front, above your breasts. This was a fragile moment for you and he knew that he would never take advantage of it. He took in your breasts, eyes darkening unwillingly, he went around them with the soap, never touching. Bringing the bar to your other arm, he rubbed it, bringing it back up your shoulder and neck. Every movement he made felt gentle, careful. “Turn around.” He said in a whisper and you did so, his other hand brushing your hair off your back where he brought the soap and rubbed going down around your behind. At this point, his clothes were soaked from the splatters, but he didn’t care. The moment you had screamed his name in that dark desert, something had shifted inside of him. It was primal, a screaming voice in his head saying. “I need to protect her.” And it was so loud he couldn’t ignore it. As he watched, you laid on his lap while you slept he saw just how fragile you were, your skin dirty, yet soft, pink cracked lips, small neck, so easy to cut through that he held his hand there, scared that something would. He shook the thought off his head as he crouched down. Rubbing the soap on the back of your thigh and down your legs, he went around and back up, making sure every spot that was acceptable to clean, he would. He shifted to the other side where your wound was, he had to clean around it, he did so, gently hearing you hiss in pain as the bloody water soon turned clear beneath you. As he got up, he brushed his fingers through your wet hair, bringing the soap to clean your locks. He watched as you let your head back into his ministration, eyes closed and body now shaking less. As he rinsed he turned you around again, letting the soap rest on the soap dish in the wall and bring his hand to brush off the dirt and blood off your face. You closed your eyes, allowing his rough thumbs to brush your skin ever so gently. When he was done he took the soap again, putting it in your slightly shaking hand. “Now you gotta do the rest, little dove.” He said, and you nodded. Turning his back to you, you stared at the wet fabric of the brown shirt he was wearing, it was slightly soaked and you rubbed the soap on the parts he kindly left out, hand still shaking, you slowly calmed down, putting the soap on the soap dish and turning to turn the shower off. Jungkook turned his head to the side but didn’t look at you. “I-I’m done.” You said in a weak, small voice so low that he could barely hear you. Jungkook nodded. “Can you dry yourself?” He asked. “Y-yes.” You answered. “I’ll get your underwear, we’ll clean your wound and put on bandages when you’re done.” He walked away, leaving you alone for a while as you wrapped the white towel over your body, Jungkook walked back in, handing you the undergarments. He walked back out when you thanked him quietly. It took you a few minutes to realize just how intimate that had been as you slowly dried your body and put on the underwear. A white pair of cotton female underwear and a cotton top. Trying your best to dry your head given your still shaking hands you walked slowly out the bathroom, Jungkook seated on a chair, elbows resting on his thighs. He looked up at you as you limped slowly towards him. He made a motion with his fingers for you to turn around and you did, ass facing him. “Taehyung brought some pain killers and ointments, it’ll help you heal faster.” He said, and you nodded. “This is going to hurt, so I need you not to faint, you’re standing.” His voice was now starting to sound like it did before. As Jungkook began to clean your wound, you gripped onto the table in front of you. “Jesus fuck!” You cursed in pain, face contorting as you tried your best to endure. “I’m almost done.” He said, but the next stab of pain was harder, making you whimper and your body falter. Yet, you held yourself up, nails digging into the wood. “Okay, spread your legs.” He said, and you did so, cheeks hot. You were in your underwear in front of him, legs spread as he slowly wrapped you up. You were naked in front of him a couple of minutes ago, and just that was enough to make your cheeks burn hotter. Even if he had been respectful, only making sure you could clean yourself without having a complete meltdown, you couldn’t help the embarrassment that flood through you. “Turn around.’ He said and on wobbly legs, you did so, his eyes trained on the task in hand. You looked down at him, his hard features were almost soft from how close you were. You shut your eyes, breathing in before you spoke. “Thank you.” You said. He had just finished wrapping you up and he looked up at you, knowing you weren’t thanking him for just helping with your bandages. “Even if you think I’m tempted to take on the task and get rich, your death would weigh on my shoulders a lot more than the situation at hand.” He said, eyes on your thigh as he made sure it was properly set. “I know.” You whispered. He looked up, leaning back in the chair. Clenching his jaw and sighing. “Do you?” He questioned. Wondering if you doubted his integrity. You said nothing as he slowly got up. “Get dressed, you have to eat before you take any medication.” He said, and you moved to the bed, putting on the fresh clothes in silence. Jungkook never left the room. When you were done you walked towards him and he walked out of the room, you followed. As you made your way back to the warehouse, Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok were sitting on the floor, some men you didn’t know around them, as they talked a laugh erupted through them as you finally came into Taehyung’s view. “Fresh and clean.” He said, and you smiled softly at him. Jungkook walked further, pulling a chair for you to sit down, and you thanked him before taking a seat. The air was thick. They had witnessed what had happened in the bathroom, an intimate, fragile moment that wasn’t meant for them, but yet, life as cruel as it was, allowed them to witness your pain. Trying to lighten up the mood, Hoseok cleared his throat. “We were telling Taehyung about the Jimin thing, he and Yoongi bet against me,” Hoseok said to Jungkook. Jungkook lifted an eyebrow, eyes shifting to Taehyung, he shrugged. “What can I say, Jimin can be quite stupid sometimes.” He said and everyone laughed, Jungkook included. You noticed how his face looked younger when he smiled, his front teeth jumping out a little and giving him a boyish look, almost as if he were a different person. “Who’s Jimin?” You asked, looking around at the men. “Jimin is the head of Red Hawk,” Yoongi said, passing you a hard plastic plate with bread, some chicken and what looked like mashed potatoes along with a hard plastic fork. You started eating slowly, watching as they handed the same thing to Jungkook and the rest of the men. “He’s a soft guy, but deadly, he’s one of the fastest.” Yoongi continued but was interrupted by a cough. “Oh, please, Jungkook, we all know he’s beaten you in speed at training more than a couple of times.” He indulged. Jungkook squinted at the man, eating his food eagerly. “Yeah, but I remember that on the field that was a completely different story.” He argued, swallowing down his food. Scoffing Yoongi took a bite of his bread. The food wasn’t bad, quite the opposite, it was good, but your stomach wasn’t thrilled with hard solid food after so long so you tried to eat slowly. “You all served together?” You asked, and this time Taehyung was the one to answer. “Well, us four, Jimin and two others. Jin and Namjoon.” Taehyung said. “We were the best unit on the field, served three times as a unit before shit went crazy,” Taehyung stated. You assumed he wouldn’t add on, and you assumed correctly. “But we are a family, brothers.” He said. “Speak for yourself, I despise you,” Yoongi said, and everyone laughed again, even you. Conversation flowed between them as you ate in silence. Sometimes you would glance at Jungkook and he would be quiet, almost as if not taking part in the conversation. His head working a thousand miles an hour. You had taken the pain medication and soon; it was just a small dull ache that made your head clearer than ever. You heard the men tell stories of when they served and stories about jobs they had gone on. What seemed like hours went by. Soon, the men had brought some alcohol into your circle, dinner being served not long after, and they put a fire lamp in the middle of the circle, everyone coming in and speaking a little about themselves. They all seemed to have immense respect for Jungkook, even if he was younger, it was as if he had lived more, seen more. Eventually, a man you didn’t know spoke up. “This is fun and all, but I can’t help but think you look really familiar,” The man in black clothing and a rifle on his back said, eyes on you. Four heads turned in his direction and you didn’t need to look to know who. You opened your mouth to answer, but Jungkook looked at you, shaking his head. The man noticed. “You seem like you’re very important, how about you tell me your name?” He questioned, a disgusting smile on his face. “That’s none of your business, Kyle,” Taehyung said in a low, yet threatening voice. “Oh, it’s not, boss? Because I think you hiding a 1.5 billion dollar worth hit from us makes it my business.” He quirked an eyebrow towards Taehyung. “What were you going to do? Take her away and keep all that money to yourself?” He questioned, you slowly felt your body shake again, eyeing Jungkook and the others. They were all looking at the man named Kyle, dark and dangerous eyes staring at him. “She’s not here for the hit, she’s here for protection.” Taehyung spat at him. “Are you fucking kidding me? Not gonna lie, I was wondering why you’d feed her and be kind before you’d kill her, I was thinking you were some sadistic bastard, but now I just know you’re stupid.” Kyle said shifting, the sound of several guns being pulled out and unlocked ready to fire ringed through the warehouse. “You touch one fucking hair on her head and I’ll put a bullet through your skull.” Jungkook’s voice was laced with danger, it wasn’t just a threat, it was a promise as he clutched his gun in his hand. You watched as Taehyung, Yoongi, and Hoseok all had their guns pointed at the man. Some of Taehyung’s men also had joined in and pointed the gun at him. You were staring back at the man, his eyes now slightly bulged as his arms were lifted in the air. The man chuckled. It made you shiver in your seat. “You all are idiots if you think you can protect her from what’s coming.” He spoke, eyes locked on yours. “I might not be the one to do it, but someone will.” He finished. “Raven.” Jungkook’s voice rang through the silence, his eyes still on the man. “Look away.” He said and your eyes bulged before you turned in your seat, looking the other way and the shot echoed through the warehouse. You flinched at the loud sound, a low thud being heard right after. You shook in your spot, not having the guts to look. “If anyone else has the same ideas as Kyle, speak now,” Jungkook said, and all you were met with was silence. You heard movement and a hand resting on your shoulder, you looked up at the dark eyes. ‘Let’s go." He said and you got up, his hand rested on the small of your back as he gently guided you back to the room, footsteps followed after you both. “A little warning would be nice next time,” Hoseok said while you walked down the hall. “You know he doesn’t pull out his gun if he’s not going to shoot,” Yoongi said, following right behind. As you made your way into the room Jungkook sat you down. You looked at the three men in front of you, Taehyung joining right after. “How reliable are your men?” Jungkook quickly questioned, looking up at him. “He was a new recruit, only a month here. The others have been here longer, they’re smarter than to pull any shit on me.” He said, but you noticed that wasn’t a good enough answer for Jungkook. He looked back at you, head going a thousand miles an hour. “We’ll take shifts, two at a time, we leave before sunrise, Taehyung and me first.” He said, his eyes finally meeting them. They all nodded. “Get some rest.” He said, and you watched as Yoongi and Hoseok made their ways to the bunk beds. Jungkook sat down on the table and Taehyung on the chair. Both gripped their guns in their hands. You laid back, slightly shaking as you curled in on yourself. Jungkook had killed a man for just mentioning you being killed, he didn’t even think twice, and what Yoongi had said repeated in your head again and again. He didn’t take his gun out unless he was going to shoot.

#jungkook #jeon #jeon jungkook #reader #y/n #fanfic #imagine #smut #bts #bts imagines #jk #mature #pureevilforkookie #fic #smutcentralnet

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gimmesumsuga · 5 years

Text

Sweeter than Sweet (82)

AO3 Link

Pairings: Jimin x reader, Yoongi x reader, Jimin x Yoongi, Namjoon x reader, Taehyung x reader, Jungkook x reader, Jin x reader.

Warnings: Angst, threat, violence and mild gore

Word count: 6.3

Previous / Next

“Sam?!” you shriek, immediately regretting your choice in both volume and pitch when your voice echoes loudly in the wide open space in which you’re held. It bounces back at you off of dirty white walls over and over and over, and you cringe with each and every echo. Given the predicament in which you've found yourself the last thing you want to do right now is draw any unwanted attention. Not until you’ve had a chance to speak to the girl sat bound to the chair beside yours, anyway.

Sam laughs through her nose; a breathy chuckle as she tosses her head back to throw her hair off of her face.

“Was wondering how long it was going to take you to wake up.” She twists her neck to face you, smiling wryly despite the way you gasp at the sight of her - at the angry red mark that stretches all the way across her left cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” you exclaim in hushed tones, “Are you ok?!” And blase as ever, Sam just shrugs her shoulders.

“Ah, I’m fine,” she says, completely dismissive of the finger marks that are lining her face. “You know I'm not exactly the type to come quietly.”

“I can imagine,” you say earnestly. Despite the seriousness of the situation, somehow the image of Sam kicking and screaming and flailing her fists still has a smile tugging at your lips, and you’d bet good money on her having given a good slap or two prior to the one she received in kind. You only wish you could’ve seen it, or that it’d proven enough to save her from being sat her next to you.

You glance around your surroundings again as Sam sighs, relieved that your earlier exclamation seems to have gone unheard.

“Who the fuck are these guys?”

“Hell if I know.” Sam shrugs again as she shifts on her seat, her wrists wriggling in their binds. They must be sore by now; your arms are beginning to ache already, bent as unnaturally as they are. “All I know is I was leaving yours and then suddenly I’m getting thrown in the back of some van, dragged in here, sat down, and told to stay put.” She laughs humourlessly, glancing down at her lap. “As if I could really go anywhere else.”

“And they haven’t said anything? Asked you anything?”

“Not a thing.” Your brows furrow in confusion, at a complete and utter loss as to why someone would go to the bother of kidnapping someone to not even make any demands. Will it be the same for you, you wonder? Or are they just biding their time?

“But why would they-” As if on cue, your words are interrupted by the metallic screech of a door opening somewhere over the other side of the room, somewhere out of sight. Heart pounding with a fresh surge of adrenaline you fall silent, and next to you, Sam does the same, quickly facing forward.

After all the surprises that you’ve faced today, you’d think you might be immune to any more than might follow. That’s not the case, though. Not when rounding the corner of a pallet of crates appears a face you recognise well - someone that if asked, you probably would’ve referred to as a friend.

“You’re awake,” Alex observes, his steps a casual saunter as he makes his way across the room with two other men in tow, all three dressed in black. “Good. I was worried that bump on the head might’ve been something more serious,” he says, though he looks anything but.

Truthfully, you don’t even remember hitting your head at all. You suppose it must’ve happened during your unexpected relocation; a reasonable explanation for the dull ache that’s been throbbing at the back of your skull ever since you opened your eyes.

He squats down in front of you, his head tilting to the side as he watches you watching him, amusement twisting his mouth.

“What’s going on?” you utter quietly, your brain struggling to come to terms with the fact your former colleague seems to have suddenly turned villain. Or so you assume.

“I guess this must all be pretty confusing, hm?”

It’s strange, really, knowing this man in front of you whilst yet not really knowing him at all. Alex’s voice is different. It’s lower. More assertive. His hair, too, has changed; the long flowing strands you’d so often seen him tucking back pulled up into a tight bun that makes the face that had once been so friendly look sharp and severe.

Alex continues to smile in the same sinister fashion, and as he reaches out to smartly tap the curl of his bent index finger to the underside of your chin, lifting your gaze, a sensation like cold water trickling down your spine makes you shudder.

“Poor little lamb,” he coos without a hint of the tenderness those words should carry. “So naive. So totally unaware of the world that lies outside your twisted little love nest.” You stare back at him blankly, gaze flicking back and forth between his crystal grey eyes in search of answers. Vaguely, you’re aware of Sam next to you telling someone to get the fuck off and the sound of her chair creaking as she thrashes with indignance.

“What do you want?” You’re pleased that you manage to keep your voice from shaking despite the anxiety that has your pressed palms sweating behind your back. Alex, however, seems disappointed by your lack of visible distress so far, sighing in what sounds like an awful lot like disappointment as he releases your chin and steps back, straightening to full height.

“To put it plainly,” he begins as he tucks one hand into his pants pocket, “I’ve got a bone to pick with your boyfriends.” With Jimin and Yoongi? Your family? What possible problem could he have with them? As far as you’re aware he’s never had anything more to do with them than brief small talk at the bar - and Yoongi isn’t exactly the chattiest of guys.

“And what’s that got to do with us?” Sam asks brusquely. You envy the way she doesn’t even flinch when Alex’s head turns sharply to fix her with a glare, clearing his throat before answering.

“Didn’t seem smart to go starting a fight on someone else’s home turf.” He turns his gaze back to you - nonchalant, casual - and the two men at his back exchange a look, smirking in a way that makes your gut roil with nerves. “What better way to lure them out than with their most prized possession, right?”

Alex smiles as realisation washes over you like an ice-cold tidal wave, dragging you under its surface and making it hard to catch your breath - to even breathe at all. You’re nothing more than bait; a worm wriggling at the end of a hook. That’s what’s going on here. He’s stolen you and brought you here to gain the advantage - to catch them panicked and off guard.

“But why ? And why’d you go dragging Sam into this?” you ask, unable to withhold the questions that are whirring round and round your brain.

“Her?” Alex scoffs with laughter as he glances at her, dismissive. “A case of mistaken identity, I’m afraid. An unfortunate mistake.” One of his lackeys shifts uncomfortably at the dirty look that’s thrown his way, averting his gaze as Sam bristles with indignation next to you. Anyone would think she’s taken insult at not being deemed worthy enough to steal.

“Then can’t you just let her go?” you plead, unconcerned with however your desperate you must look as you lean forward in your chair, pain shooting down each of your arms as they’re stretched even further. Alex is quick to rebuff you, shaking his head as he scratches at the stubble across his jaw, an expensive looking watch revealed as his sleeve pulls back.

“Don’t think so, not now. Two birds, one stone. Extra motivation and all that.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Plus she’s really made a nuisance of herself while she’s been here. Thanks to her, several of my guys barely have their balls intact.”

You hear Sam snicker and a glance to your left reveals just how pleased she looks with herself, smiling so hard she risks re-opening the split at the corner of her mouth.

“As for why?” Alex begins, “That goes back a little ways.”

“Ugh, here comes the monologue...” Sam grumbles, her words going either unheard or ignoring as he continues to speak over the top of her.

“See, when we were hired to take out your two pretty boys we were vastly underprepared. And yeah, ok, we managed to get some good shots in - do our fair share of damage - but it was nothing compared to what they did to us.” Alex fixes you in his gaze, eyes narrowing as he takes a step forward and leans in. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to recruit people in our line of work? Guys who’ve actually got a brain cell to go along with all the muscles?”

Unnerved by his close proximity, you lean back slightly into the wooden slats of the chair, swallowing thickly.

“And then when that Namjoon guy left, holy fuck, it got even worse!” he exclaims, making you jump when he suddenly slaps his knees and stands up straight, throwing his hands in the air. A quick look to your left shows Sam to be just as full of trepidation as you are, her throat bobbing as she wets her lips. “Your guys start working with the feds and now I can’t get shit done. They're bad for business, and it's about time someone put them down."

Movement captures your focus, and out of the corner of your eye, you note one of the men turning away from the group for a second or two as Alex continues to speak. The slender man raises a phone to his ear, murmuring too quietly for you to have a hope of hearing what’s being said.

"Besides, this is a public service we’re providing.” You quickly look away as the man finishes his phone call and turns back to the group, moving in close to Alex’s side. “I doubt the locals would be too happy if they knew their nice little town was infested with vampires ,” he spits the word like a slur, grimacing in distaste, and it’s only when his subordinate leans in to speak directly into his ear that Alex pauses his tirade, listening in intently.

Bad guys momentarily distracted, you glance at Sam, sure that your expression must be an almost perfect reflection of hers. Tense. Frightened. She mouths at you ‘what do we do?’ and you hate that all you can do is shrug in reply, as at a loss for what to do next as she is.

All you can hope is that if and when you surrogate family come and rescue you, they’ll realise this for the trap that it is and be adequately prepared. Surely you and Sam should be safe until then - if you’re the bait it makes no sense to harm you, right? At least… not in any significant way.

“Speak of the devil.” You jump in your seat as Alex suddenly claps his hands together, and when your head snaps back round to face him the smile you find waiting for you is one that’s entirely unsettling; wide as the jaws of a shark and with just as many teeth. Too busy enjoying the rapid darting of your eyes and nervous wetting of your lips, he doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he orders his men to ‘bring him in’ - a sentiment relayed via another short phone call by the man who originally passed on the message.

It takes a conscious effort to try and slow your breathing in the seconds that follow; soon light-headed from your panic-stricken panting. You desperately try to look past your captors towards the back of the room, unsure of who it is you’re even hoping to see. Is it Jimin? Is it Yoongi? Either way, the fact that Alex’s men seem to have already captured them can’t be a positive thing regardless of your longing to see a friendly face.

God, please let them be ok. Please let them be alright.

You hear heavy doors opening and slamming shut in a great jarring clash of metal, the room falling silent save the echoing footsteps that follow thereafter. Alongside each clean footfall, there’s an accompanying shuffle as though someone is dragging their feet - or rather, being dragged along - and the sense of unease in your stomach continues to grow with each pace that they draw nearer, ever closer to rounding the corner where you’ll finally be able to see.

Half pushed and half pulled into your line of sight, you softly utter his name as Namjoon comes into view. Flanked on either side, there’s a barrel of a gun pressed solidly into his ribs as he staggers forward in their grasp, growling deep when the shorter, unarmed man shoves into him from behind.

“Namjoon!” There’s no warmth in Alex’s greeting, no friendliness to be found in the smirk that twists his mouth as Namjoon is pushed to his knees in front of you all, thudding into the concrete. “Nice of you to join us.” The vampire totally ignores your presence, his focus solely on Alex as he lifts his head and fixes the man towering over him in an unforgiving stare.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Namjoon’s reply is delivered through tightly gritted teeth, and his jaw clenches as his captor decides to nestle his gun right at the base of his neck, directly against his spine. “Obviously.” Alex chuckles, his head tilting to the side.

“I’m little surprised to see you,” he admits, and honestly Alex couldn’t have hit the nail better on the head if he’d have tried.

‘Surprise’ is a little bit of an understatement for how you’re feeling. Of all the vampires that could’ve appeared through that door, Namjoon was the last you’d have expected, and now he’s here in front of you, you can’t quite distinguish whether or not you’re glad about it. In the time in which you’ve known him, Namjoon’s been the root of your fears more often than the remedy. In fact, if anyone had asked you prior to him being knelt at your feet, you might’ve ventured a guess that he’d been involved in this plot too; one of Alex’s co-conspirators. It feels a little disconcerting, then, when you realise that instead of fright, it’s a sense of relief his appearance brings. Perhaps if he knows where you are then the others might, too.

Better the devil you know, right?

“I thought you were smarter than this,” Alex smirks, “Showing up here on your own. No backup, no plan.” He reaches out and takes hold of Namjoon’s sharp jawline, delight shining in his eyes as he inspects the vampire’s shabby appearance. “Looking like shit.”

You’re surprised Namjoon manages to restrain himself from biting Alex’s hand clean off with the way he’s glaring up at him, chest heaving with rage. It’s not even as though he’s restrained, and though you know Alex and his men will have no doubt armed themselves with silver in preparation for this, it still strikes you just how sure of himself the young man must be to risk manhandling Namjoon the way he is.

The vampire isn’t exactly putting up a fight, after all, so you can’t blame Alex being a tad over-confident. From the look of his clothes and the way he tripped and stumbled in, the untrained observer could be forgiven for thinking that Namjoon looks sickly - weak - but you know him better than to be so easily fooled.

Though his outward appearance may look worn, there’s a stark difference in Namjoon’s complexion now compared to the last time you saw him. Some of the colour has returned to his face, no longer so sunken or sallow, and where once before his eyes were flat and lifeless now they seem to shine with a fire that has your pulse thundering with anticipation of what he might do next. Like the master of deception he is, Namjoon is lulling them into a false sense of security. You’re sure of it.

A low, warning growl rumbles from his chest as he yanks his chin free of Alex’s grip, visibly seething as the human laughs and shakes his head in response, completely unphased.

“I guess even vampires aren’t immune when it comes to love’s foolishness, hm?” he goads, glancing at you with a fiendish grin, and for the first time since he entered the room, Namjoon’s gaze follows, meeting yours. It’s only for the most fleeting of moments but even that brief eye contact has you feeling as though you need to catch your breath, so full of complicated emotion that your lungs feel as though they’re full to the brim with it.

You can't deny the hate you feel for the awful things he's done, still frightened by his visage however grateful you might be to see it. He must’ve continued watching you after your encounter at the bar to know that you were in trouble, a thought that certainly doesn’t sit well with you at all, but... he’s still here. He came for you - put himself at risk - and you suppose that must count for something, regardless of whatever twisted reasoning might be behind it.

Alex approaches you; his slow, purposeful steps providing the distraction required to recapture Namjoon's attention and pull it away from you. Sharp, golden eyes narrow as he watches the young man close in on you, Namjoon's sharp jaw clenching.

"To have so many of them wrapped around your little finger," Alex muses softly, reaching out to you. Long fingers trace your cheek, your jaw, unfamiliar in their warmth, and you can hear a growl rumbling in Namjoon's chest so quiet it almost sounds like a cat's purr.

Without warning, Alex's thumb pushes past your lips and presses down against your tongue, roughly wrenching your jaw open despite your nonsensical squawks of protest and the thrashing of your head.

"This mouth must really be something special, huh?"

"Don't touch her!" Sam yells from beside you, her struggles rattling her chair as a scuffle simultaneously breaks out; Namjoon quickly forced back down to his knees by the hands of four men as he'd attempted to lunge, snarling and gnashing his teeth.

"Fuck you," Namjoon spits out as Alex laughs, amused by the display. He doesn't let up on the pressure against your tongue, tears of panic welling in your eyes as you struggle not to drool. "I should've killed you when I had the chance."

"You're right," Alex agrees. He pushes his thumb far enough back into your mouth to stimulate your gag reflex before swiftly removing it, smiling to himself as you wretch, tears spilling over and onto your cheeks. "You should've."

And it's then that you realise that the loathsome look on Namjoon's face is one you've seen before, back when the two of them had clashed before at the bar. Suddenly it's like everything clicks into place; Namjoon's animosity towards your coworker right from the offset and his warning that you weren't safe. He'd known who Alex was from the start. He'd seen this coming, weeks ago.

"You ok?" Sam whispers and you nod your bowed head, not wanting her to worry. There's a bad taste in your mouth and an ache in your throat, cheeks wet with the moisture that still clings to your eyelashes.

"What should we do with him?" You raise your head sharply, all your attention focused on the man who just spoke - the man whose gun remains pressed between Namjoon's shoulder blades.

"Put him down," Alex replies off-handedly, his back turned as though he's bored of you all. "It's not as though anyone will give a shit," he adds, and for the first time since you found yourself in this place anger courses through you. Like red hot fire it scorches through your veins, heart beating so hard you can feel it thudding in your temples.

How dare he so casually throw away a life like that? How dare he presume that there's no one left that would mourn him?

Your mouth opens, about to protest, but before you can speak Namjoon beats you to it. In the quiet of the room, he murmurs under his breath just loud enough to grab Alex's attention. He turns back, head tilted.

"Excuse me?" Alex enquires, stepping closer again. "You have some final words, is that it? Pearls of wisdom? Some last declaration of everlasting love?" Namjoon lifts his face from where he'd been busy glaring angrily at the floor, and as he looks up his change of expression has you frowning in confusion, bewildered by the smile that curls his lips.

"Just one thing," he replies. The silky softness of his voice seems loud in such a wide and empty room and in the pause that follows you unconsciously hold your breath, waiting to hear him speak again.

"Well?" Alex prompts, impatient, and Namjoon's smile grows when faced with such frustration, a devilish glimmer in his eyes as they land on you and his lips part, commanding you.

" Get down ."

Namjoon's yell is the trigger that sets off the explosion of sound that follows thereafter. Surrounded by angry shouts and ear-splitting bangs, your body seems to act purely on reflex, obeying Namjoon by ducking your head and screwing your eyes tight shut. Sam screams in fear next to you and it takes biting down on your lip so hard it splits to keep you from doing the same, your whole body trembling from the sudden adrenaline hit.

Metal doors slam and there's more banging, more shouting, and the chaos around you is ten times more frightening when you can't see what's going on so you open your eyes and then immediately wish you hadn't when you're greeted by the sight of one of Alex's men meeting his maker right before you; a demise made swift and brutal by the throwing knife that finds its mark in the side of his throat. You can't help the sound that tumbles out of you when he falls to his knees at your feet, eyes rolling back - a pathetic whimper of fright that no one else will be able to hear.

Another boom lifts your gaze from that macabre sight and now more bodies are pouring into the room, drawn by all the noise, and amongst them Jin and Jungkook and Jimin and oh god Jimin’s here and he -

A roar of rage and a flash of motion in front of you, bodies blurring together as one and it's not until they stop rolling across the filthy ground that you realise it's Alex and Namjoon - a flash of silver and teeth bared.

"HOSEOK!" Sam's yell turns your head just in time for you to see his boots hit the floor amongst the sound of gunfire, Yoongi landing next to him a mere second later with a grace unbefitting of the brutality surrounding them. There's a long knife clutched in each of his hands; weapons he's just about to use when Hoseok beats him to the punch and launches himself at the man who'd dared to approach them, neck broken and long dead before he's even hit the floor. Yours and Yoongi's eyes meet for just a second, long enough for yours to begin filling with tears. Relief and terror and love and all of it is just too much for you to even attempt to hold it back, the ache in your throat intensifying for every second longer that you look.

Hands on your hands jerk you back to reality, jumping in your seat one minute and then struggling the next, feet kicking out wildly until you realise the fingers brushing yours are cold, not warm, and a familiar voice whispers hurriedly into your ear.

"Noona, noona, it's ok," he promises and an unattractive sob escapes you when you feel Jungkook's lips brush fleetingly against your temple as he swiftly breaks you free of your bonds, snapping the thick rope like sewing thread. Next to you, Sam is being pulled to her feet, her newly freed hands clutching the thick harness straps running down either side of Hoseok’s chest.

“C’mon, let’s get you-” Alarm registers on Sam’s face as she turns to look at you, and just as Jungkook is wrapping one arm around your waist to lift you to your feet the two of you are suddenly knocked off balance, another body barrelling into Jungkook’s side. He goes sprawling backwards as you go the opposite way, your hands reaching out to brace your fall, palms grazing on the cold concrete. They take the brunt but you’re not quite able to save yourself in time to keep your head from smacking against the floor, and your vision spots and sparkles as you groan with the pain that explodes between your temples.

The room rages around you as you blink back the haze. You fight to remain conscious, forcing your head up only to be overcome with a wave of horrified nausea at the first thing you see; Namjoon just a few feet away, blood smeared around his mouth and dripping from his fingers. Alex is trapped beneath him, defeated, and your stomach roils at the sight of the rivulets of crimson pulsing from his torn open throat. It pools underneath him, staining his clothes and running into eyes that are still open wide and staring - unseeing.

Amongst the chaos Namjoon bends to drink, his eyes meeting yours as his mouth nears the source. The look of terror on your face has him pausing - hesitating in a way he never would’ve done before - but before you either one of you can say a word another loud and unfamiliar sound makes both your heads turn.

From across the other side of the room flames roar, the streams so vicious that you even you can feel their deadly heat from where you lay, sprawled across the floor. Both men and vampires are forced to dodge the flamethrower’s wide range as they continue to fight, and as the flames come closer and Namjoon springs to his feet, you soon follow - though you’re not nearly so graceful in motion. Your head swims as you stagger to your feet, head blindly turning this way and that in search of a friendly face to run towards but finding it hard to pick anyone out amongst the seemingly endless stream of Alex’s men that pour into the room.

They’re well prepared. Whether they carry a gun or a knife, each and every one is armed with silver and the knowledge of what it is they’re fighting - of their strengths and their weaknesses. Useful information, but you can tell that it scares them. You can see it in their eyes. Their attacks are frantic and uncoordinated having been caught off guard and without a leader to direct them, but that doesn’t make them any less lethal.

“Jimin!” Yoongi’s voice cuts through the noise and you spin on the spot to find him, eyes landing on him first and then quickly following his line of sight over to Jimin where he’s trapped on the far side of the room, surrounded by three of Alex’s men.

He’s fighting hard, his expression fierce, but it’s obvious he’s beginning to struggle as the two of them come at him with their long silver knives, blood already oozing from a defensive slash wound to his forearm. More worrying still is the third - a man with bright blonde hair stood back from the rest with a gun held out in front of him, the barrel swinging to and fro as he tries and fails to take aim whilst Jimin is still moving so fast.

Outnumbered, though, it won't take long until Jimin’s overwhelmed; pinned down and held in place to deliver a final, fatal blow. It's a thought that has your stomach in knots, the same desperate look on your face as the one Yoongi's wearing as his efforts to reach Jimin are thwarted by another of Alex's men. He's forced to stop - to fight - screaming out his frustration as his blade swings.

Helpless, your eyes sweep the room. None of the others seem to have noticed that Jimin’s in trouble, too preoccupied with defending themselves - or in Taehyung's case, revelling in the assault. Seeing him now, throwing himself onto the back of the man wielding the flamethrower and ripping his throat out with nothing but his teeth, you're perfectly able to imagine the menace Taehyung had confessed he once was.

A punch to his solar plexus catches Jimin off guard and knocks him off balance, crying out as his attacker takes advantage of his falter and slashes open his shoulder, the other aiming for his side. Injured, Jimin isn't quick enough to recover. They grab a hold of him as he staggers backward, clutching his ribs, and your stomach drops as they force him to expose his chest to the gun trained on him, arms pinned behind his back and a knife pressed to his throat.

As if sensing that these are his final moments, Jimin’s eyes find yours amongst the chaos. Helplessness isn't an expression you're used to seeing on Jimin’s face but he wears it well now, eyebrows furrowed and eyes pressing closed as he cries out in pain at the blow he receives to his already injured side.

It's not a conscious thought that has you suddenly rushing forward into the fray - no grand decision to suddenly be brave. It's nothing but instinct and adrenaline that drives you toward danger, only vaguely aware of Jimin shouting for you to stop as your fist closes around the barrel of the gun. You're unsuccessful at yanking it from his grasp but you're an effective distraction at the very least, yelling a war cry as you try to wrestle it out of his hands, any fear for your own safety long since gone.

You can smell his breath as the man screams at you; stale cigarette smoke that has yellowed the teeth he bares. His large fingers pry yours from the metal roughly, bending them till you're forced to let go, and he laughs as he lashes out and strikes you with it, the butt of the gun slamming into your jaw. Pain ricochetes through bone and takes your breath away, barely conscious enough to register just how much of a mistake you've made until you feel cold metal wedged against your ribs and your body goes rigid, an unfamiliar hand gripping your waist tight.

"Stupid bitch," he grunts as Jimin shouts your name. He's frantically trying to wrestle free of his captors in spite of the knife threatening to slice into his flesh. You close your eyes, unable to stand the sight of utter panic written on his face. You don't want your last look of him to be one so miserable as this.

The barrel of the gun jabs sharply between your ribs and makes you whimper; makes your legs feel so weak that they'd give out if it weren't for your pride.

If you're going to die, it sure as hell won't be on your knees.

If you're going to die… you wish you could tell them you love them one last time.

Bracing yourself, you clench your teeth and press your eyes shut even tighter as the gunman says something you refuse to give him the honour of hearing. You wish he’d just get on with it. You wish he’d -

Suddenly, you’re being grabbed - dragged - and when your eyes reflexively snap open it’s Jin’s face you see, the bridge of his nose purpled with bruises. He barely looks at you, though, too quick to toss you to the side and then launch himself at Alex’s men to spare you anything other than the most fleeting of touches to your cheek; a tender gesture in the midst of such violence.

It’s Yoongi’s arms that catch you - Yoongi’s arms that hold you back as you twist and turn, completely disorientated. You don’t even realise it’s him until he forcibly takes hold of your face and insists look at him, eye to eye, and it’s only then you realise how hard you’re breathing; how sopping wet your cheeks are.

“Jimin,” you choke out, barely able to speak for the fear that grips you, “Jimin, he-”

“He’s ok,” he coos, his thumbs dirty as they stroke back and forth along your cheeks, smearing black across your skin. “You’re ok. We’ve got you.” Yoongi tries to pull you into an embrace but you resist, unable to believe the words he keeps repeating without seeing it for yourself. With a thundering heart, you turn in the circle of his arms this and that and soon see that what he’s been trying to tell you is, in fact, true - it really does seem as though the tides are turning in your favour.

There are only small pockets of fighting left - loyal stragglers that haven’t yet fled that Namjoon and Taehyung are quickly taking care of with ruthless efficiency. There’s blood smeared around both their mouths and looking around you see that they aren’t the only ones that have taken advantage of this opportunity for a fresh meal. Jin’s busily draining what’s left of the man that had threatened your life and you watch with wonder as his bruises begin to fade before your eyes.

And Jimin…

Jimin’s safe. Although bleeding, he’s still conscious, and the room has quietened enough now that amongst the sounds of gluttonous feeding and Taehyung’s whoops of joy you can hear him groan as Jungkook helps him to his feet. Jimin looks to you, and though his hair’s stained with blood and his body looks near broken as he limps his way forward, you’re still able to summon a smile.

You’ve never felt relief like this before - never experienced such a swing between high and low in such short space of time. It has you dizzy. Euphoric.

“He needs to feed,” you tell Yoongi, so giddy that you’re almost giggling as you say the words. You slip out of his arms before he can protest, utterly blind to any danger that may remain as you rush forward, not noticing until too late the searching hand of one Jimin’s earlier attackers.

Clinging to consciousness, he reaches beyond the pool of blood in which he lays. His fingers close around his comrades gun and he lifts it, selects you as his target and takes aim.

If someone asked, you couldn’t say where exactly the bullet hit you. You couldn’t say you saw it coming, either, nor give an opinion on which was worse; bracing for death or having it take you by surprise.

The pain of it takes your breath away, gasping your inhale as you stagger back from the force of it. You can’t seem to inflate your lungs, your whole chest burning as you feel yourself falling, but even as you tip backwards Jimin’s face is the only thing that you can see. He catches you in his arms to cushion your fall and your hands - scrambling, shaking - clutch onto his shoulders as your mouth flails uselessly, silently pleading for help in gasping, gulping breaths.

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe .

Your focus changes, wild eyes fixing on Yoongi and reaching for him - reaching but he can’t seem to see past the blood that’s dripping from his hands as he lifts them from your side, too shellshocked to speak let alone cry the way Jimin is doing. Knelt at your side he has the side of his face pressed to your chest, his ear left above your heart as his shoulders shake and heave. As if somehow if he can just focus on your heart he can somehow keep it beating.

Your fingers twitch with the want to run them through his hair but you can’t seem to feel them anymore. You’re heavy and weightless all at once, your vision fuzzy and fading around the edges, and somewhere in the distance, you can hear sorrowful sobs. Jungkook, you think. He’s calling for his noona and hearing it almost makes you smile in spite of everything - in spite of the ache inside your chest.

Jimin looks up - his face wet with tears and eyes red-rimmed - and it strikes you then how familiar his expression is. It’s exactly as he looked as he knelt over Yoongi before, in a situation almost identical to this, and you want more than anything to reach out to him and tell him that he’ll be ok. To run your fingertips along the face you so adore just one last time.

Yoongi will look after him. Give Jimin all the love you haven’t had the time to give.

They’ll look after each other, you know that for sure.

You feel your smile falter. It’s harder to open your eyes, now, and you feel Jimin shake you, hear him call out your name. His tears are dripping on your face and his mouth is on yours and you can feel them shaking but he’s slipping away.

He’s slipping further and further away from you and try as you might, you can’t summon the will to stay.

Are you leaving, or is he? You’re not sure any more.

A voice calls out into the darkness as it lures you in, but it’s not your name that you hear - nor is it Jimin’s or Yoongi’s; Jungkook’s or Jin’s. One word. Loud and clear as it’s repeated again and again.

The knell of a bell.

‘Hyung! Hyung! Hyung!’

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