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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months

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Whalien52 (m) | pjm

you’ve been working for the New World Order as an assassin for years, guarding secrets without batting an eye or asking questions. But when a striking pink haired man shows up at the headquarters stealing information, he makes you question everything. With all of humanity at stake, what will you do?

→ Pairing: Jimin (kitty gang!jimin) x reader (female) → Genres/AUs: apocalyptic, survival, dystopian + angst, fluff and smut. → Tropes: strangers to lovers → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 10.6k → Warnings + triggers: changing povs (between reader and Jimin), action, weapons, guns and swords, blood (it’s not in extreme detail or anything, but blood is mentioned a few times), death (people are dying, but no important character dies!!!), wounds, shooting, self defense, m*rder in self defense, sickness (cancer due to radiation), mention of a cure and treatment for said cancer. Explicit smut in the form of unprotected sexy, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, degrading names, multiple orgasms, creampie, kissing. → Author’s note(1): okay, so I’ve been struggling a lot with this one too, lol. I miss writing sappy romance I think. This isn’t sappy, and I’ll hardly call it romance, well, it’s in there, but there’s honestly so much action in this one, compared to the Yoongi one. It’s also more fast paced, and shorter. I hope it’s alright! It was fun to write, even though I know nothing about writing action, I hope I did it well! And to everyone who’s scared or reluctant to read it because there’s angst and it’s kinda heavy/dark themed— IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING. There, I spoiled the ending for you 😇 + This story is a gift for my friend @remmykinsff! Thank you so much for sharing your Kitty gang Jimin folder with me, and letting me use you for motivation and inspiration to get out of my writer’s block 💜 → Read on AO3? [link]

[navi]*: end of the world // end of the world: a flickering hope // shower drabble // whalien52 // end of the world: epilogue *this story is technically a stand alone one-shot (and can be read just as is), but it is also a spin-off from another one-shot (that got a sequel, so a two-shot?). The characters and the story are the same, but the first two stories takes place before this one, and it’s with Yoongi x reader (not the same reader though).

It’s raining again. Lately, it’s always raining. The rain is everlasting, it seems, drenching the city in a ceaseless, oppressive downpour. The Capital is perpetually shrouded in darkness and gloom, a place where the sun is a distant memory. You’ve grown accustomed to it, ever since you were recruited by The New World Order to guard their secrets. You’ve been trapped in this godforsaken city ever since. Do you like it? Not really, but it’s a job that pays well. They give you a roof over your head and enough to survive—luxuries in this ravaged world.

You came from nothing, clawing your way up since the war began, fighting for every scrap of existence until The New World Order caught you. They gave you a choice: die or work for them. You chose to live, naively hoping that working for them wouldn’t be so bad. But it turns out, it can be quite bad. You’ve done unspeakable things to keep their secrets safe. You’ve killed for them, just as you had killed for yourself before they found you. Now, you don’t even flinch when you have to eliminate someone who gets too close to the truth. Part of you wonders what these secrets are, but you’re not interested. It’s just a job, nothing more.

Tonight is another shift. You head to the New World Order building, ready to patrol the city under the cover of darkness. First, you gear up: leather pants, a basic white shirt, and a black leather biker jacket. A belt around your waist for support, with a strap around your thigh that holsters your gun. A small knife is sheathed at your back, just in case.

You glance out the window. The world outside is as bleak as ever; night has fallen, and the rain taps a morose melody against the glass. You sigh, watching the neon signs flicker, casting a purple and blue glow that dances across your room. Grabbing your keys, you lock the door behind you and sprint down the stairs. This apartment is nothing special, but it’s a step up from the streets where you once lived before the war. It’s a small comfort in a world gone mad.

The rain soaks your skin, but you don’t bother with an umbrella. It’s just rain. You run down the dimly lit main street, the few wandering souls avoiding eye contact as they scurry to obey The New World Order’s curfew. Your boots splash through rain puddles on the unpaved, muddy road. It doesn’t take long to reach the towering New World Order building—its looming presence still sends a shiver down your spine, but you step inside anyway. Scanning your security card, you brace yourself for another night of duty.

You start your shift monitoring security cameras and patrolling the eerie hallways for any sign of suspicious activity. As you return to the front desk, you catch sight of a man attempting to bypass the card reader.

“What are you doing here?” you growl, your hand instinctively hovering near your gun.

The man fumbles with the machine, clearly lacking a security card. Desperation edges his voice as he yells, “I want the data that The New World Order is keeping from us!”

“You’re not getting that,” you reply coldly, assessing the intruder. He seems harmless, more frustrated than dangerous, so you relax, slightly.

“Do you even know what it is that you’re protecting?” he spits, abandoning his futile attempt to climb the machines as the alarm blares. The piercing sound echoes through the corridor, and you quickly pull out the phone issued by the New World Order to silence it.

“I don’t care what I’m protecting. You’ve got no business here. Now leave,” you say through gritted teeth.

“You shouldn’t be so blind to the secrets you’re safekeeping for them,” he hisses, making another hopeless attempt to scale the security machines.

His efforts are laughable, a pathetic display of defiance. A dark chuckle escapes your lips. “Leave, or I’ll shoot you.” This is his final warning. If he doesn't heed it, he’ll meet the cold, indifferent justice of your gun. So be it.

He freezes, uncertainty flickering in his eyes as he gauges your resolve. Your unwavering stare breaks his spirit, and he quivers in fear before backing off. Without a word, he turns and bolts, likely retracing his steps. Fool, you think, watching him flee.

The encounter leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. He’s not the first to suggest you should question your work and the secrets you guard. Maybe you should. But you know the moment you do, you’re dead. You’ll lose everything you’ve achieved and everything you hold dear. That fear keeps you in place, and you reckon that’s the point of it all—the New World Order instills fear in everyone, ensuring their control remains absolute.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go in there alone?” Bora asks, her voice tinged with unease. It’s understandable—years of meticulous planning and reconnaissance are culminating in this moment. Whalien52 is about to attempt the impossible: stealing the cure for cancer that The New World Order keeps hidden away.

Jimin isn’t scared. He’s accustomed to these kinds of missions, though this will be his most significant one yet. A good kind of nervousness tingles through him, a mix of excitement and determination. “Yeah, Hobi’s done plenty of research. I know exactly which room to hit,” he says, flashing Bora a reassuring smile.

He gets why she’s scared. Bora and Yoongi have been through hell, and with both of them sick, finding the cure is personal. Yoongi’s condition has worsened over the years, a stark reminder of the injustice that The New World Order perpetuates by hoarding the cure while people die from radiation-induced cancers. The thought makes Jimin’s blood boil.

It’s this anger that led him to join Whalien52 after meeting Jungkook in the wasteland, a desolate remnant of what the bombings and wars left behind. The new government organization threatens to transform the remnants of humanity into a dystopian nightmare—if it hasn’t already.

Jimin thrives as an assassin, driven by a relentless quest for truth. The thrill, the chase, the stealth—it’s all part of the adrenaline rush he lives for. But beneath the excitement lies a deep-seated hatred for the rich elites who hid in their bomb-proof bunkers, safeguarding their technology, only to reemerge and rebuild a civilization for themselves amidst the ruins. Their swift reconstruction of the Capital stands as a bitter reminder of their enduring power.

The injustice has turned him bitter. It’s why he’s vowed to do everything in his power to change the world, to help Whalien52 make knowledge free and accessible to everyone, not just the rich. The gap between rich and poor has become a chasm, with only the vetted elite allowed to live in the Capital. The rest of humanity is left to fend for themselves, struggling for survival in a world that hopes they’ll destroy each other.

Jimin won’t stand for it. This mission isn’t just about stealing a cure, or getting data on possible treatment—it’s about justice, about leveling the playing field, about giving hope to those left in the dark. And he’ll see it through, no matter the cost.

Yoongi comes up to him, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this for me,” he coughs, his voice so raspy it sounds like he’s been smoking forever.

Jimin places a hand on Yoongi’s shoulder, his gaze shifting briefly to Bora before settling back on Yoongi. “We are doing this for you. But I’m also doing this for everyone else,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion and a glimmer of hope. “You’re not the only one suffering from cancer because of the radiation. We want to help everyone; we can’t just let people die.”

Yoongi flashes a soft smile and sits down to rest, the effort of standing too exhausting for him now. Jimin will do this for him, for Bora, and for the rest of humanity. He doesn’t mind risking his own life in the search for a cure—he might need one later himself.

“I’ll go get ready,” he says, turning away from Bora and Yoongi. He walks past Jungkook and Taehyung in the dimly lit hideout and heads into his room. He pulls on his leather pants, a white shirt, and then his favorite leather bomber jacket, adorned with pink, silver and purple sparkles. The jacket complements his pink fluffy hair perfectly. He retrieves his gun, tucking it into his back pocket—risky, he knows. Then he picks up his katana, swinging it over his back into its sheath. The sword, his preferred weapon, feels reassuringly familiar.

Now he’s ready. Ready to infiltrate the fortress of secrets and retrieve the cure. Ready to fight for a future where knowledge and healing aren’t hoarded by the few. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself for the mission ahead, a mission that could change everything in this dystopian nightmare they call life.

He says goodbye to everyone, hugging each of them tightly, aware that any moment could be his last. This mission is perilous, and while he has infiltrated The New World Order before without getting caught, this time is different. He will be venturing deeper into their stronghold than ever before.

After bidding farewell to his friends, Jimin strides outside to his motorcycle. The powerful machine, stolen from the Capital, gleams with a sleek, futuristic design. Its pale metal body has an industrial look, and its size dwarfs Jimin as he mounts it. Neon lights flicker to life as he revs the engine, the bike purring beneath him. With a flick of his wrist, he speeds towards the Capital, sand flying from the back wheel.

He knows he must be cautious once he enters the city. Stealth is crucial to avoid detection and successfully infiltrate The New World Order’s building. Failure means everything will have been for nothing.

The rain is endless, a perpetual downpour that defines the Capital. He doesn’t know why it always rains here, only that it does. The empty streets are illuminated by the neon signs adorning the various buildings, casting a colorful glow in the darkness.

He parks his motorcycle near the New World Order building, at the secluded back entrance where security is minimal. This is his best chance.

Taking a deep breath, he opens the door.

It’s all or nothing.

It’s getting late, and the monotony of patrolling the building is wearing you down. The nights are usually quiet, save for the occasional curious stranger trying to access the information you guard. You sigh and head back to the surveillance room, your eyes scanning the screens for anything unusual. Suddenly, you spot a figure moving on one of the monitors. A shot of adrenaline surges through you, breaking the dullness of the night.

The absence of triggered alarms tells you the intruder is a professional. No amateur could bypass the sophisticated security systems. The thought excites you, your heart rate spiking as you dash through the corridors, your hand hovering near your gun. You search each room hastily, growing more anxious with every empty space, until you reach the final room—the one that holds the most guarded secrets.

You pause outside the door, peeking in cautiously.

Inside, a well-defined man with pink, fluffy hair, leather pants, and a sparkly bomber jacket stands with his back to you, working at one of the computers. This is the information hub, where all vital data is stored. This is bad, but you have the element of surprise. Steadying your breath, you draw your gun and step into the doorway, your voice commanding, “Freeze!”

The man doesn’t freeze. Instead, you watch as he swiftly pulls a USB drive from the computer, moving with a grace that is almost dance-like. Before you can react, he glides across the floor and stands before you, a sword at your throat. A thrill of excitement runs through your body.

You stand still, a smile twisting on your lips, locked in a standoff with the pink-haired intruder. He’s chosen the wrong weapon to threaten you with. “You brought a sword to a gunfight?” you laugh, despite the blade pressing against your throat, your gun aimed at his chest. Who really has the upper hand here?

“Oh, I have a gun too,” he smirks, his voice sweet but laced with danger.

“What are you doing here?” you seethe, standing your ground.

“Getting information,” he replies matter-of-factly, not even breaking a sweat.

“You’re stealing. I can’t allow you to leave,” you spit, but he doesn’t flinch.

“Do you even know what kind of information you’re guarding?” he challenges, his words striking a chord. He’s not the first to ask you this today, and it makes you pause. “I know nothing, and I don’t care,” you respond after a moment’s thought.

“You really should,” he says, stepping closer until your gun is pressed against him. He doesn’t seem afraid, almost as if he’s an adrenaline junkie like you. But no, he’s not scared. He’s reckless. Your finger hovers near the trigger, but something makes you hesitate. You don’t know what it is, and you don’t like it.

His eyes, dark pools of obsidian, glint with amusement. He chuckles, and before you can react, his boot slams into your stomach, sending you sprawling to the cold, hard floor. Your gun slips from your grip, clattering away.

The man towers over you, his boot pressing down on your pussy, the katana poised at your throat, its cold blade grazing your skin. You raise your arms in a defensive pose, trapped and weaponless. He smirks, waving your gun tauntingly.

“You’re guarding information that can save humanity. What you’re doing is sick,” he spits, pressing his boot harder into you. Why does that feel hot? Why do tingles shoot through your body? Damn it.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you growl back, genuinely confused. Your mind feels hazy with adrenaline and something else.

“The cure for cancer,” he snarls, his anger palpable.

Your eyes widen. The cure for cancer? You’ve heard whispers, but you didn’t know that’s what you were guarding. You know there’s treatment, but the New World Order has been hoarding those as well, making treatment inaccessible for the common people.

He presses his boot into you even more, a mix of pain and pleasure surging through your body.

“Oh my god. Are you getting turned on right now?” His voice drips with dark amusement, mocking you.

“Fuck no!” you yell, even as your body betrays you, responding to the pressure of his boot. You know you’re aroused, but you refuse to let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

“I can smell you from here. There’s no point in lying,” he chuckles, lifting his boot from your crotch, though his sword remains at your throat.

You hate how observant he is, and you need to change the subject, to find a way out. You growl, “I’m not. And you’re not getting away. I don’t care if it’s the cure for cancer or whatever you’ve stolen.”

“I have my katana at your throat. I’m sure I’ll make it out just fine,” he replies, his dark chuckle sending shivers down your spine. “I’ve got what I came for,” he says, smirking down at you. “I’m flattered you’re turned on. Maybe if we met under different circumstances,” he adds, his eyes glinting with dark lust. “You should look into the secrets you’re guarding,” he says, withdrawing his katana and retreating, tossing your gun far out of reach.

You scramble to your feet as soon as he’s gone, snatching up your gun and bolting after him through the corridors. He’s silent, almost ghost-like, but you chase him nonetheless. He can’t leave with the vital information. The New World Order will have your head if they find out. You hear the click of a door—it’s the backdoor. You rush outside, the heavy rain stinging your face as the neon lights flicker on the deserted street. You catch sight of his motorcycle’s tail light disappearing into the rain.

Fuck.

As soon as he crosses the threshold between the Capital and the dystopian suburb, the rain ceases abruptly. He twists the throttle of his motorcycle, speeding through the desolate landscape back to the hideout. His heart pounds, but he doesn’t look back. He doubts he’s being followed.

The journey back is swift. As the hideout comes into view, he decelerates, parking his bike with a sense of triumph. He’s relieved not to return empty-handed and, more importantly, to have survived the mission. Reflecting on the encounter, a smirk forms on his face. You were easier to deceive than he anticipated. A part of him hopes to see you again, intrigued by your reaction to seeing him.

He wonders if he could sway you, make you see the truth about the secrets you’re guarding for The New World Order. Could he enlist you in his cause? The thought intrigues him, though he doubts it. You seemed too ignorant, too indifferent to the atrocities made by the regime.

The night is still young as he dismounts his bike and strides toward the door. It opens easily—unlocked, as usual. They really should lock it; you never know who might come by.

He’s greeted by a flurry of curious eyes as his friends jump up, their eagerness palpable. “Relax,” he gestures, “sit down.” Reaching into the pocket of his leather pants, he pulls out the USB drive. The tiny piece of tech holds the key to saving the world— the cure for cancer. Something they had all doubted, but had uncovered through relentless investigation, exposing the dark secrets of The New World Order.

He strides over to Namjoon, whose eyes glitter with excitement, his fingers itching to grasp the device and run an analysis. Jimin hands him the USB drive with a proud smile. “Here,” he says, “I hope everything’s on there. I was interrupted while pulling the data.”

“Thank you,” Namjoon responds, already heading into a back room, eager to delve into the contents.

Jimin collapses onto the spot Namjoon vacated, feeling the weight of their stares.

Bora clears her throat. “You said you were interrupted?”

“Ah, yeah,” he chuckles, revealing his crooked teeth. “A security guard. But she was easy to handle.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Yoongi grunts, his voice strained and raspy.

“It was,” Jimin shrugs, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. In truth, it had been almost too easy. He can’t shake the thought: had he overlooked something, or was fate simply on his side this time?

Jungkook’s questioning stare pierces through Jimin, but he doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t want to share how you made his blood boil with adrenaline and lust. He doesn’t even know your name, but you ignited something within him, a cocktail of emotions in mere moments. He’s both intrigued and captivated by you.

Time blurs as Jimin waits, lost in his thoughts until Namjoon reenters the living room. The look on Namjoon’s face is enough: it’s not the cure.

“This data isn’t complete,” Namjoon groans, frustration etched across his features as he waves the USB drive. He paces anxiously, “It has some information on cancer treatment, but the data on the cure is fragmented. Jin, can you take a look at it? All I see are molecules. I don’t know what to make of it,” he adds, his voice tinged with nervous laughter and defeat.

Jimin’s stomach sinks, a heavy weight of disappointment and anger settling in. He had hoped to secure all the needed information, but now they’re still unable to help Bora, Yoongi, and countless others suffering from the cancer that The New World Order likely caused. The thought sickens him. It wouldn’t surprise him if they were behind everything—the war, the slaughter of mankind. Sometimes it feels like The New World Order is playing a sick game of battle royale with the world’s population. People fight desperately, both for information and survival, in a world where information and treatment are hoarded like treasures.

Jimin’s mind races, thoughts swirling with the grim reality: when people are dying and sick, they become desperate, willing to do anything to stay alive. He feels a bitter mix of anger and sadness, questioning if he was delusional to think it would be easy to obtain the cure or even secure vital treatment information. The hope that things could change for the better feels like a distant dream.

Jin takes the USB drive, slipping it into his pocket, and gives Jimin a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to his patient and study room. Jimin feels a gnawing sense of inadequacy, berating himself for getting caught and distracted by you. He wonders if he should attempt to sneak back into the New World Order building, determined to obtain the missing data they desperately need.

“I’ll go back and see if I can get the remaining data in a few days,” he declares, his voice tinged with deflation but underpinned by a strong current of willpower. He can’t afford to fail again. The mission is too important, the stakes too high.

It’s been a few days since the pink-haired guy infiltrated the New World Order building undetected, slipping through your fingers like sand. The incident has left you feeling weird and anxious. You expected The New World Order to contact you, reprimand you, or worse, eliminate you. But there’s been nothing—no messages, no ominous visits. Maybe they don’t know about your slip-up yet? Or perhaps they’re biding their time.

Your phone, a sleek piece of tech courtesy of The New World Order, vibrates in your hand. You unlock it, and a text message glares back at you.

New World Order: Come to the headquarters in 15 minutes.

That’s all it says, nothing more, nothing less. You gulp, feeling your palms grow sweaty. This is it. This is how you die. Thrown off the tall building. You’ve heard stories, and they’re not nice. The tales of disappearances and silent executions run through your mind, making you shiver with nerves.

You lace up your boots with trembling hands, each loop a countdown to your potential demise. Trudging down the stairs of your dark apartment, you step into the rainy street. The city around you is a dismal sprawl of neon lights and shadows, a perfect reflection of your inner turmoil. You try to calm your racing heart, but it’s a futile effort. Every step feels heavier, every breath more labored as you make your way to the New World Order headquarters, fearing that this is the end.

You reach the New World Order headquarters, a monolith of cold steel and glass looming above the city. For a moment, you let the rain caress your face, cleansing you of your sins. Maybe they won’t mention anything? Clenching your fists, you walk into your workplace, passing through the security scanners, the impassive front desk, the sterile halls, and finally to the elevators. You step into one, the doors closing with a cold finality. The elevator ascends, a silent reminder of the 30 floors that separate you from potential death should you be pushed out. You close your eyes, banishing the thought.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, revealing an amble-lit hallway adorned in red and gold. The color scheme feels both luxurious and ominous, a blend of future opulence and ancient dread. The red rug underfoot seems out of place, a relic amidst the high-tech surroundings. It suddenly hits you—it might be there to hide a certain color of liquid. No, you shouldn’t think about it. Nothing’s going to happen to you.

Each step down the hallway feels like walking through a graveyard at midnight, the silence thick and oppressive. Your breath quickens, your hand hovering over the handle of the door at the end. This is it. Just get it over with.

With sweaty hands, you push open the door and step inside. A tall man in a black suit stands with his back to you, staring out of the tall windows. The view overlooks the bleak, rainy city, a desolate wasteland stretching to the horizon. The room is deathly silent, save for the patter of rain against the glass. You feel a shiver run down your spine.

He doesn’t turn to acknowledge you, his presence as cold and unyielding as the cityscape beyond. You gulp, your heart pounding in your chest, waiting for him to speak, waiting for your fate to be decided.

You clear your throat, the sound echoing in the tension-filled room. The man’s attention snaps to you, and he turns on his heels with a sinister smile. “Y/N!”

The way he says your name sends shivers down your spine, raising the hairs on your body. An urge to flee or jump out of the window floods your senses, but you force yourself to steady your resolve.

You recognize him as the head of the organization, though his name remains a mystery, like everyone else’s in this godforsaken place. Faces are familiar, but names are a dangerous luxury.

“Glad you could make it. Take a seat,” he gestures to the chair in front of his imposing wooden desk, an artifact of richness you could never dream of affording.

You gulp, a slight ringing in your ears accompanying your erratic heartbeat. Your palms are slick with sweat as you move to sit down.

“Nervous?” he asks, his voice calm and commanding as he paces the room.

“Yes,” you manage to say, gulping again as you track his movements.

“Good,” he replies, looking down at you with a predatory glint in his eye.

“I saw the surveillance footage from the break-in a few days ago,” he begins, his eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity. Fear knots in your stomach, paralyzing your muscles as you brace yourself for whatever comes next. You remain silent, too scared to speak, knowing that he already knows everything that happened.

“You’ve gone soft. If this happens again, shoot the intruder, or you’ll be the one staring down the barrel of a gun,” he says, his voice sharp and precise, each word like a blade against your throat. A chill runs through you, and you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole. You’ve messed up, but somehow he’s letting you off with a warning—something you didn’t expect. A small part of you dares to breathe a little easier.

“Now leave before I change my mind,” he hisses. You flinch, your body reacting instinctively as you rush to the door. Bowing quickly, you slip out without a word. Outside, you realize you’ve been holding your breath and you gasp for air, your hands trembling.

You know you have to do your job better if you want to survive. The threat lingers in your mind, and you can’t help but wonder about the secrets you’re guarding. What could be so important? Maybe it’s time to investigate—time to find out if this job is truly worth risking your life for.

Your boss won’t find out, right? You gulp, pushing the thought away. You need to know. You’ve done your job blindly for so long, but the time has come to uncover the truth. You know the higher-ups won’t give you any information, even if you asked, which is why you find yourself downstairs in the control room.

You locate the computer you usually use, turn it on, and log into the company drive. Your fingers tremble as you navigate through multiple folders, delving deeper into the rabbit hole. You uncover information you never imagined existed. Details about how and why the war started shock you—who knew a failed peace treaty could lead to such global devastation? The realization hits you hard: the war was actually orchestrated by a few countries aiming to seize power when the peace treaty collapsed. Those people now form The New World Order. A chill runs down your spine.

You stumble upon a folder detailing the side effects of radiation, studies on various cancer treatments, and ultimately, a cure for cancer. Disbelief floods your mind as you stare at the words on the screen. You blink, hoping the text will change, but it remains. The next document reveals their sinister plan: to keep this life-saving information hidden, ensuring only the rich survive while letting the rest of humanity rot and die.

This is what the pink-haired man wanted you to know. Regret and anger churn in your gut—you should have listened, should have questioned everything from the start. You feel sick, overwhelmed by the weight of the truth. You close the computer, resolve hardening within you.

As you leave the control room and head home, your mind swirls with thoughts. You need to figure out what to do with this explosive information before your shift tonight. The rain continues to fall, each drop a reminder of the world’s decay. You realize now that your role in The New World Order’s scheme is far more sinister than you ever imagined.

Jimin has to obtain the missing piece of data his group needs for the cure for cancer, or at least information to develop new treatments. Ever since the war started, all research and treatment for cancer have been inaccessible. Late at night, at their hideout far from the Capital, Jimin prepares for his mission. He looks at Bora and Yoongi—Yoongi, in particular, has deteriorated, and Jimin fears he doesn’t have much time left. The urgency gnaws at him; failure is not an option.

He doesn’t know whether he hopes to meet you at the New World Order headquarters or not. The thought of you makes his heart race, but he knows that if you get in his way, his mission might fail. He sighs, waving goodbye to the group, then steps outside. The night is oppressive, the air thick with the scent of decay and rain. He puts on his helmet, the world narrowing to the visor’s view, and straddles his bike. The engine roars to life, vibrating through him, merging with the adrenaline surging in his veins.

It’s now or never.

He twists the accelerator, the bike surging forward into the darkness, toward the lifeless, desolate Capital. The neon lights flicker ominously as he speeds into enemy territory, a lone figure against the backdrop of a crumbling dystopia.

The room is dark—just the way you prefer it. Your eyes, adept at seeing through the gloom, catch every detail, including the pink-haired intruder hunched over a computer terminal, stealing vital information from your employer. Silently, you watch him, observing his methodical movements as he navigates the screen. The monitor casts a ghostly blue light, making his hair shimmer with a surreal purple hue. You can’t deny he looks striking.

Tonight, you decide not to intervene. After your own clandestine investigation into your employer, you understand why he’s after the data—why so many risk everything to steal it. The New World Order’s secrets are dark and twisted, and the pink-haired man’s quest suddenly seems justified.

Minutes tick by in silence, the intruder’s focus unbroken. His sparkly bomber jacket gleams faintly in the dim light. Finally, he seems satisfied, pulling a USB drive from the terminal. The moment he turns around, you flick on the lights.

Yellow fluorescent tubes flicker to life, bathing the room in a harsh, sickly glow. He freezes, one hand instinctively hovering over the katana strapped to his back, the other gripping the USB drive.

“Fancy meeting you here,” you smirk, leaning casually against the wall by the exit, blocking his escape.

He hisses, scanning you up and down before his features relax into a smirk. “Where’s your gun? Aren’t you gonna try to stop me again, pretty?”

Your eyes sparkle at the compliment, much like his jacket, and you chuckle softly. “Nah,” you shrug, but straighten your posture, exuding confidence.

He quirks an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “Why?”

You take in his appearance—black leather pants hugging his thick thighs, lace-up military boots, and that unmistakable sparkly bomber jacket. With a soft, yet sultry smile, you reply, “I finally opened my eyes to what’s really going on. What’s truly been happening, and I don’t like it one bit.”

His shoulders relax further, and his hands withdraw from the katana and the gun stashed behind his back. He eyes you with a mixture of caution and intrigue, seemingly pleased by your revelation.

“So, you’re just gonna let me go?” he asks, ensuring he hasn’t misheard.

“Yeah. But actually…” you begin, drawing out your words to capture his attention as you step closer, batting your eyes at him. “I have more information back at my apartment that you might want to see. I can take you there. Show you.”

You can’t help the way your body responds to him—you want him, and you want him bad. It’s true, you do have valuable information at your place, but your ulterior motives are undeniable. The risk is immense. The moment you make this move, you’ll become a wanted criminal, hunted by the New World Order. But the thought of remaining complicit in their schemes sickens you. You crave freedom, and he might just be the key to it.

For a flicker of a second, you catch him stuttering, but he quickly collects himself, smirking back at you. His pink tongue darts out to wet his lips in a teasing move, and you feel a tingle between your legs.

“Let’s go then,” he says, brushing past you and out the door. You follow closely, aware of the cameras tracking your every move, but you don't care. Time is short; the New World Order will come after you soon, so you need to be quick.

The pink-haired man leads the way through the dim, familiar halls to the back door. The green emergency light flickers ominously overhead. He pushes the door open, and the bleak night greets you with flickering neon lights. His sleek silver bike stands nearby. As you approach, he hands you his helmet and lets you straddle his bike, taking the place behind you. His body presses close against your back, and a surge of arousal courses through you.

You turn the bike on, and it roars to life. With a swift movement, you speed through the empty, rain-soaked streets back to your apartment. His arms wrap securely around your torso, and it feels nice. His head rests against your shoulder, and you catch a whiff of his scent—like fresh cotton on a summer's breeze, something you haven’t smelled in a long time. You long for it.

It doesn’t take long to reach your apartment. You turn off the bike, parking it out of sight from prying eyes. He gets off first, then you remove the helmet and jump down. Neither of you speaks as you walk up the stairs to your first-floor apartment. You quickly unlock the door and push into your dark space. The lights are off, and the place is messy with clothes strewn about, but you don't care. The apartment is a tiny one-bedroom, an open space where the kitchen, living room, and bedroom blend together. It’s small, but it’s home.

“Welcome,” you whisper, closing the door behind you, sealing both of you in a cocoon of secrecy and danger.

The tension between you feels thick as you make your way inside, heading straight to your desk and rummaging for the flash drive you’ve hidden. The man’s eyes follow your every move as you open a drawer and pull out the drive, smirking as you wave it in the air. “This has more information on it that I think you’ll need.”

He stalks closer, his smirk widening. In the minimal light, he seems even more predatory than before. The look in his eyes suggests he wants to devour you right then and there.

“What’s in it for you?” he asks, standing mere millimeters from you, your noses almost touching. His warm breath fans your ear and neck, sending shivers down your spine.

“Take me with you,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. His eyes roam your body, lingering on your eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, and collarbone.

“Hmm,” he hums, his hands landing on your hips. You feel the warmth of his fingers through your leather pants.

Your breath quickens, and you feel like you’re crumbling beneath his stare, utterly aroused for this man whose name you still don’t know. The mixture of arousal and adrenaline makes you feel almost high.

You close the gap between you and kiss him. It’s quick and needy, and he responds immediately, pressing his body hungrily into yours, his fingers digging into the bare skin of your waist above your pants. His lips are soft, but his moves are hard and hungry.

He moves his lips to your ear, kissing and licking it, then trailing down to your neck. He marks it with his teeth, eliciting a needy moan from you. The world outside your darkened apartment fades away, leaving only the desperate, electric connection between you.

“You’re really something,” he pants into your ear, his breath sending tingles down your spine and all the way to your core. “I want to taste you, and I don’t even know your name.”

You chuckle, the sound strained and laden with lust. “It’s Y/N,” you manage between pants. “What’s yours?”

“I’m Jimin,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing your neck before biting gently.

Fuck.

“I want you, Jimin,” you groan as he pulls back slightly, his pupils blown wide with desire.

“But we don’t have much time,” you say breathlessly, the urgency of your situation seeping into your voice. “The New World Order will be looking for me soon.” You fumble with your pants, dragging them and your panties down to expose yourself to the cool air of the apartment.

In one fluid motion, Jimin drops to his knees, looking up at you with a teasing lick of his lips. “No worries, I can be quick.” Without another word, he dives in, his mouth sealing around your wet heat.

You gasp his name, your legs turning to jelly as your hands find purchase in his pink locks. His tongue is relentless, strong and skilled as it laps over your clit and teases your entrance. The obscene noises he makes against you only heighten your arousal, your breathing growing shallow as you lose yourself in the sensation.

Your back meets the wall, and you do your best to hold yourself up as he devours you from the floor. His mouth works you expertly, sucking and licking, driving you closer to the edge. The coil in your stomach tightens, your body trembling with the impending climax.

Jimin grunts into your cunt, his teeth grazing your clit, and the world shatters around you. He sucks hard, creating a perfect seal around your sensitive nub, and the coil in your stomach snaps. You come undone on his tongue, panting furiously as waves of pleasure wash over you.

Even as you orgasm, he doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing its assault, his nose pressing against your clit. You grab his hair, trying to pull him away as your sensitivity peaks, but he holds you there, pushing you to the brink of overstimulation and back into the abyss of pleasure.

His face glistens with your slick, and you think he looks beautiful, so you grab his sharp jaw and pull him up for a kiss. You don’t care that you taste yourself on his plush lips.

You break away and say, “I really want to return the favor,” your hands toying with his pants as you brush against his already erect dick.

He pushes your hand away gently. “It’s okay. You said to be quick, so you can do that another time.” He kisses you again, trailing down to the other side of your neck, then up to the shell of your ear. “I really just want to fuck you now.”

You’re drenched, dripping with arousal. His words render you speechless; you bite your bottom lip and nod, anticipation coursing through you.

The sound of his zipper sends a thrill down your spine as he opens his pants. He drags his boxers down, and his cock springs free. It’s thick and of an average length, and the sight makes you salivate. You wish you had time to take him into your mouth, but that’s a pleasure for another time, like he promised.

The head of his cock is red, with a bead of precum at the tip. It looks beautiful, and your pussy clenches around the emptiness, eager to be filled. You can’t wait to have him stretch you, it’s been so long since you’ve had sex. It’s honestly been years, and as you realize this, you think he should have prepared you more. But you don’t get to mull over it for long; you feel the tip of his cock against your folds, and in one fluid motion, he pushes inside you.

You moan his name as he grabs both of your legs and wraps them around his waist, driving himself deeper into you. You feel so fucking full, it’s delicious.

“Fuck. I forgot about a condom,” he pants, slamming you hard against the wall. He stays inside for a moment before beginning a relentless rhythm of thrusts.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, “I’m clean, and I can’t get pregnant.”

He just grunts in your ear, then starts nibbling on it. The pace he sets is quick, hard, and dirty—unforgiving. But you don’t mind; you're pressed for time anyway. The pleasure is intense, and the way he growls into your ear makes the knot form in your stomach again.

“You’re a dirty little thing, aren’t you?” he growls, thrusting hard and deep. “You wanted this right from the start, didn’t you?” His voice is low, dangerously so, making you even wetter because he’s so right.

“Such a fucking slut for cock,” he pants, his tongue trailing along your neck. “No one in this godforsaken city to satisfy your needy pussy.”

You clench around him, your hands gripping his shoulders, fingers digging into the back of his sparkly jacket.

“Fuck. You’re so tight,” he groans, his hips working overtime to pleasure you, and your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“Are you gonna come?” he asks, a wicked glint in his eyes.

You moan in response, releasing a wave of liquid around his cock, making the glide even smoother.

“Fuck. You’re gorgeous,” he says, licking your neck again. “I’m gonna come too.”

With a rapid burst of thrusts, he spills his warm seed inside your still-pulsating pussy. For a moment, you rest your foreheads together, panting for air. Your legs remain wrapped around his waist as he hungrily kisses your lips.

You feel a mixture of your essences trailing out of you, pooling on the floor or your panties—you don’t really care.

As you struggle to steady your breathing and rapid heartbeat, a pounding on your door shatters the moment. It's not gentle—it’s hard and oppressive, sending a terrible shiver down your spine. The New World Order. Your mind turns razor-sharp, senses heightened. Jimin quickly softens inside you, then pulls out, your legs falling to the floor, dripping semen as he pulls up his pants and grabs his gun and the hard drive.

You do the same, hastily pulling up your pants as the banging continues. The door handle rattles, but it doesn't open. Thank fuck you locked it.

“We have to leave,” you pant, your heart in your throat. You fumble for your phone, then throw it into your room—you don’t need it; they can track you with that.

“No shit,” he grunts, running a hand through his disheveled pink hair.

“We gotta jump out the window,” you say, fear in your eyes. You know it’s only a matter of time before they break down the door.

You grab Jimin’s hand and pull him to the window beside your bed. Thankful that you live on the first floor, you make the jump first, landing on the dirty ground. Jimin follows, landing more gracefully. You hear the brute force of the door breaking, and you startle, fear coursing through you. But Jimin is quick, pulling you to his bike, shoving his helmet onto your head. He straddles the bike, and without much thought, you climb on behind him.

You lean against him, feeling the rapid beating of your heart. He turns on the bike, and you hear shouting and gunshots from your apartment as Jimin speeds down the rain-soaked streets. You lay your head against his back, closing your eyes against the chaos behind you.

Jimin parks his bike in front of the Whalien 52 headquarters, and you dismount first, removing the helmet and handing it to him. He follows suit, and you both stride into the building. It’s well past midnight now, and as you walk into the headquarters with Jimin, all eyes turn toward you. The tension in the room is palpable; they’ve likely been anxiously awaiting his safe return.

“Hi,” he says casually, plopping onto the couch with a soft thud.

“Who’s this?” Taehyung strides up, pointing at you with a raised brow.

“Oh, that’s Y/N. The woman who got in my way last time,” Jimin shrugs as if this is information everyone should already know.

“So you decided to take her home?” Taehyung asks in disbelief.

“I helped him gain extra information. And I want out of the New World Order,” you say, crossing your arms, not flinching under their scrutinizing stares.

“You’re the enemy though,” Yoongi joins the conversation, his voice strained with a cough.

“She really isn’t. Do you even know how much she’s risked just by coming here?” Jimin retorts, defending you without fully understanding why. He knows you can defend yourself just fine.

“I have a target on my back now. So I want to help you guys. Make things right in the world. That’s what you want to do, right?” you ask, scanning the open living room space.

The room falls silent, the weight of your words sinking in. The dim, flickering lights cast long shadows, amplifying the room’s tension. Each member of the group seems to wrestle with their thoughts, eyes flicking between you and Jimin. Finally, Seokjin steps forward, his gaze steady and thoughtful.

Seokjin approaches Jimin with an intense gaze. “Did you get all the data?”

Jimin nods silently and hands over both the USB drive and the flash drive you gave him in your apartment. Seokjin’s eyes light up with a rare glimmer of hope as he takes the hardware and retreats to his makeshift lab.

You slump down beside Jimin, exhaustion finally catching up with you. Jungkook steps forward, extending a hand. “Welcome to Whalien52, Y/N.”

You shake his hand, offering a tired smile, then lean back against Jimin. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you both allow yourselves a moment of rest. But Jimin’s mind races with concern. How quickly will the New World Order track you down? Did they follow you here?

Time becomes a blur in the dimly lit room. You drift off to sleep on Jimin’s shoulder, and his eyelids grow heavy as well. Just as he’s about to succumb to slumber, Seokjin bursts into the room, a triumphant smile lighting up his face.

“I’ve sequenced a cure from the data,” he announces, his voice brimming with joy. “And treatments for various cancers too.”

The room erupts in cheers and laughter, a collective sigh of relief and celebration filling the air.

“I’m preparing the cure for Yoongi and Bora now,” Seokjin adds, his pride evident.

Jimin feels a surge of relief and accomplishment. They’ve finally done it. You’ve secured the cure for cancer. Now Yoongi and Bora can be saved. And perhaps, just perhaps, they can save the rest of civilization. But first, they have to deal with the looming threat of the New World Order.

The battle is far from over.

It’s been a few days, and the absence of the New World Order’s presence is unnerving. You expected them to chase you and Jimin out of the city, but they haven’t. This silence feels ominous, a dark cloud hanging over your newfound sanctuary.

You’ve settled into the daily routines of Whalien52, where hope and caution dance a tense waltz. Seokjin tirelessly crafts cures and treatments. Yoongi and Bora, the first recipients, show promising signs of recovery, their improvements a beacon of hope amidst the uncertainty. The group celebrates these small victories, buzzing with a cautious optimism that almost feels too good to be true.

In these days of uneasy peace, you’ve found roles within the group. Namjoon introduced you to his intricate tech—ingenious weapons and machines designed for survival. Taehyung showed you around the small town that Whalien52 calls home. On the horizon, the Capital looms like a dark sentinel, a constant reminder of the lurking threat.

Despite the calm surface, the air is thick with anxiety. The lack of action from the New World Order feels wrong. Yoongi polishes weapons with a grim focus, and you’ve all had tense conversations about the impending attack you’re sure is coming. Jungkook echoes your concerns, insisting on readiness.

Hoseok monitors the New World Order’s communications, but all he gets is an unsettling silence. This lack of intel twists your stomach into knots. Each passing day, the tension ratchets up. The quiet eats at you, turning every creak and rustle into a potential threat.

Weeks pass, and the tension in the headquarters is palpable. You’re all on edge, constantly looking over your shoulders. Every sound is magnified, each one making you jump, hearts racing with the fear that the New World Order has finally come for you.

Everyone is exhausted, sleep deprived and on edge, each day a relentless battle against the looming threat of the New World Order. You long for an end to this tense limbo, for the chance to truly rest.

Yoongi’s condition has worsened, and Seokjin’s latest research scatters your fragile hopes. “This isn’t a cure,” he admits, deflated. “It’s just a temporary fix, a treatment.”

Yoongi coughs weakly but manages a smile, hugging his girlfriend Bora tightly. “But it helps,” he says softly. “A cure was always a dream. There’s never been a real cure for cancer, and maybe there never will be.”

Bora kisses his forehead, her eyes glistening with determination. “The treatment is helping,” she insists, caressing his cheeks. “Maybe Seokjin can alter it, make it better, stronger?” She turns to Seokjin, who nods, already lost in thought, considering how to enhance the treatment. You all want to help, driven by a fierce collective will to save Yoongi.

You walk over to Jimin, giving him a soft kiss, seeking a moment of solace. Suddenly, the sharp crack of a gunshot shatters the room. Bora screams in pain, and chaos erupts. You all drop to the floor, hearts pounding in sheer panic. For a moment, there’s an eerie silence, broken only by Bora’s agonized cries. You can’t see her or Yoongi, shielded by the couch.

Frantically, you search for Jimin, and his hand finds yours, squeezing tightly. The connection is a lifeline, a brief reassurance amidst the terror.

More gunshots pierce the air, and you hold your breath, praying Bora is alright. Your heart races, the reality sinking in: the New World Order is here, ready to kill you all.

With steely resolve, you clench your free hand, feeling the cold metal of your holstered gun against your thigh.

It’s time.

Time to make a stand.

Time to fight back.

You look at Jimin, your eyes wide with panic as your heart pounds in your ears. He army crawls to your weapon stash, grabbing an arsenal: a rifle he slides over to Yoongi, a gun for himself, and his sword, which he straps on while still lying on the floor. Jungkook, with his tattooed hand, clutches a rifle down his length of his body. You scan the room for Seokjin, Taehyung, and Hoseok, but they’re nowhere to be seen.

Bora’s screams have diminished to grunts of pain. Yoongi drags her towards Seokjin’s room, leaving a trail of blood. An eerie silence falls as you watch them. You hear Yoongi's voice from Seokjin’s room, explaining that Bora’s wound is a flesh wound, pleading for Seokjin to take care of her. Yoongi crawls back into the living room.

“Is Bora okay?” you ask, sweat beading on your hairline, your breathing quick and shallow.

“Yeah. Seokjin’s got her. Namjoon, Tae, and Hobi are in there too,” Yoongi grits his teeth, his face pale with anger.

Jungkook crawls over to join you, “I guess it’s the New World Order knocking down our doors.”

“We have to fight back. Or die trying,” Yoongi spits, his anger palpable. “I’m sick and tired of them. We need to overthrow them,” he says, his eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. You’re all on high alert, fighting for your lives.

The door bursts open, a harsh light from outside flooding in as heavy boots stomp on the floor. You count six people by the rhythm of their steps and then a seventh, moving slowly and deliberately. Ominous, and just by the sound of the boots, you know who it is—the leader.

A cold shiver runs down your spine as your fingers curl around the trigger of your gun. The footsteps grow louder, the moment drawing closer. You roll onto your back, raising your gun for the inevitable confrontation.

Suddenly, you’re yanked by your legs, sliding across the floor with a yell, losing your grip on Jimin’s hand. The leader looms over you, a shadow of dread, as you prepare to fight for your life.

“Well, well. What have we here? Y/N. Nice to see you,” the man sneers, his voice dripping with mockery. You don’t know his name, but you remember him all too well—the leader of the New World Order, the man who had last spoken to you in his office after Jimin’s initial attempt to steal information from your former employer.

You gulp, pointing your gun at him.

He tuts dismissively, “You know that’s useless,” and with a swift kick, he sends your gun skidding across the floor.

“You’ve been a bad, bad girl,” he hisses, his hands casually resting in his pockets while his men, guns trained on you, stand menacingly behind him.

“What you’re doing is sick,” you fume, anger bubbling within you.

Suddenly, Jimin rises, his gun aimed directly at the man before you.

Recognition flickers in the leader’s eyes, “Ah,” he chuckles darkly, “so this is the man you left me for.”

Jimin grunts, “Hands off her.”

“Protective, huh?” he laughs, a cold, mechanical sound that sends chills down your spine.

Your eyes dart between Jimin and the leader, anxiety tightening your chest. You don’t know who will be quicker on the trigger. You hold your breath, terrified for Jimin’s safety. Your heart pounds so loudly it nearly deafens you.

A gunshot echoes through the room, followed by a heavy thud. Your heart sinks as you see the leader still standing. Fear grips you, paralyzing you from turning around to check on Jimin. You feel a scream or a sob rising in your throat, maybe both.

Then, you hear the sound of someone standing up and Yoongi’s voice cuts through the tension, “You are one sick bastard. Keeping vital information to yourself, letting people die of cancer and radiation.” His voice is thick with anger and disdain.

The leader turns his attention to Yoongi and chuckles again, a sound you’ve come to loathe. “Only the elite deserve to live. I don’t mind letting people die to create the perfect world.”

You scoff, the revelation of his twisted ideology making you nauseous. The horror of being part of such a sick scheme churns in your stomach.

As you try to glance over your shoulder to see Jimin, one of the leader’s men grabs you, yanking you into a sitting position. Panic surges through you, but determination hardens your resolve. It’s time to fight back, no matter the cost.

Finally, you spot Jimin lying on the floor. There’s no blood, thankfully, and his hand is giving you a thumbs up. Relief floods your body, momentarily pushing back the fear.

“You are so sick,” Yoongi spits, his voice a raw edge. “You killed so many people, for what? Utopia?”

Your old boss nods, chuckling darkly. “Too much freedom breeds murder and chaos. I needed a clean slate,” he shrugs, strolling past you towards Yoongi, who keeps his rifle trained on him. “People need order. Someone to follow. When the weak and poor have died off, I’ll guide the rest into a New World Order.”

Yoongi spits on the floor, “Over my fucking dead body.” His index finger twitches towards the trigger, his stance solid and ready.

You stop breathing.

Yoongi fires, but your old boss is faster, landing a shot in Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi hisses, dropping the rifle to the floor.

“I told you it’s useless,” your old boss sneers, chuckling. “Next time I’ll aim for the head.”

Time stretches and warps as he paces the room, taking stock of you all. You’re at a standstill, trapped in the crosshairs of his malevolent gaze. Jimin remains prone, waiting for an opportunity. Yoongi grunts in pain, clutching his wounded shoulder. Jungkook lies still, eyes flicking between you and the leader.

It feels like game over.

You’re all going to die.

Your old boss paces slowly, chuckling, reveling in your predicament. “I wonder who I should kill first…” he muses, dragging out the words as he turns towards you. “Your boyfriend, maybe? How do you feel about watching him die?”

Your heart pounds wildly.

You struggle against the grip of the man holding you by your hair, pain searing through your scalp, but the thought of Jimin’s death is unbearable.

The leader strides towards Jimin, raising his gun. Your breath catches in your throat, terror gripping you as you watch. You scream with all the force in your lungs, a primal sound tearing through the air as you close your eyes, bracing for the worst.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The sound of three gunshots fills your ears, and you scream even louder, tears streaming down your cheeks as you call out your lover’s name. More gunshots follow, and the man holding your hair lets go, dropping you to the wooden floor with a heavy thud. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to blink them away, desperate to find Jimin.

But you don’t see him.

Panic surges through you. Where is he?

Your gaze shifts, and you see your old boss, his head snapped back from a point-blank shot, blood pooling beneath him. You gasp, turning your head just in time to see familiar lace-up boots moving purposefully across the room. Chaos reigns. Bora stands in the hallway, a rifle trained on the lifeless body of your boss. She was the one who shot him?

Jimin moves through the room like a lethal dancer, his katana slicing through enemies with precision. Jungkook is on his feet too, methodically picking off the men from the New World Order. Amid the chaos, you see Bora approach Yoongi, who is clutching his shoulder.

“Are you okay, babe?” she asks, her voice strained but determined as she examines his injury.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he pants, noting the bandage on her thigh, stained with blood. “You should lie down.”

“I could say the same to you,” she chuckles, raising her rifle to take aim at another man.

How many are down now? You scan the room, counting seven bodies sprawled on the floor.

“Is it over?” Seokjin calls out, peeking from his room down the hall.

“I think so,” Jungkook replies, clapping his hands together, trying to shake off the tension.

The room falls into a tense silence, the aftermath of the battle settling over you like a shroud. You push yourself up, your body aching and adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Jimin meets your gaze, and you feel a flicker of hope amidst the wreckage.

For now, you’ve survived.

You rush over to Jimin, pulling him into a tight embrace, relief flooding through you. “I’m okay, babe,” he murmurs, kissing you softly. Thank God.

“We need to take the fight to their headquarters. They’ll be coming for us anyway. Better to surprise them,” Yoongi declares, his voice grim.

“Don’t you think they’d anticipate that?” Jungkook counters, eyeing Yoongi critically. “And you’re in no condition to fight, hyung.”

“The fuck I’m not. It’s just my shoulder. I’m fine,” Yoongi pants, picking up his rifle.

“Let’s go,” Bora interjects from behind Yoongi, her voice determined.

Yoongi spins around, his mouth agape. “You’re staying, babe. Your leg—”

“This is as much my fight as it is yours, and Seokjin patched me up,” she retorts, her stern look brooking no argument. Yoongi deflates, conceding to her resolve.

You all huddle together, gathering weapons for the imminent battle. Taehyung, Namjoon, and Seokjin stay back, while the rest of you head outside to your vehicles.

You and Jimin mount his bike, while Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora take the car. Jimin hands you a helmet, then puts on his own before revving the engine. The bike purrs to life, and with a roar, he accelerates toward the Capital, Jungkook and the others following in the car.

The journey is a blur, the rain pouring down in relentless sheets as you navigate the desolate streets. The Capital looms ahead, a monolithic reminder of the oppressive regime you’re up against. You skid to a stop in front of the New World Order headquarters, jumping off the bike with Jimin close behind. Jungkook, Yoongi, and Bora emerge from the car, weapons in hand, steely determination etched on their faces.

The rain-soaked mud reflects the harsh glow of neon lights, casting eerie shadows as you steel yourselves for the fight. The headquarters stands ominously before you, a fortress of tyranny that has caused so much suffering. You take a deep breath, fingers tightening around your gun.

It’s time to end this.

“Follow me. The building is massive,” you say, leading the way into your old workplace. Navigating the familiar lower floors is swift; they’re almost deserted. Jimin dances with his katana, each swing mesmerizing, cutting down any opposition with ease.

Clearing the lower levels quickly, you ascend the stairs, banging open doors and moving through the less familiar upper halls. The men from the New World Order fall easily; many surrender, unwilling to defend a crumbling regime.

Finally, you reach the top floor, the office of your now-dead boss. Stepping inside, you look out through the tall windows overlooking the city.

“What do we do now?” you ask, your voice echoing in the silence.

The horizon flickers with a strange yellow glow.

Jimin, his katana sheathed on his back, joins you. “Is that the sun?” he asks, his eyes following yours.

“I think it is,” Bora says, intertwining her fingers with Yoongi’s.

“Now that the New World Order is gone,” Yoongi muses, “won’t another group try to take its place?”

“Maybe,” you respond, lost in thought.

Jungkook chuckles beside you. “We’ll make sure no one does. All information will be free and accessible.”

“Aren’t we just like the New World Order then?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

“No,” Jungkook replies firmly. “We’ll let people live freely, with no ‘order’ imposed.”

You all hum in agreement, turning your gaze to the horizon. For the first time in a long while, the oppressive clouds of the Capital part, slowly revealing the sun. The relentless rain stops, and you feel the air shift—this is a new beginning.

→ Taglist: @jeonsbabygirlsworld @11thenightwemet11 @haru-jiminn → Disclaimer: the photo of kitty gang Jimin is a concert photo by a fansite, and I’ve been trying to reverse google search the image to find the fansite/photographer, but without luck. I can see on the original that the fansite name is something along the lines of ‘CelestialYM9999’ but that show on results on google either. If you know the fansite, please let me know so I can credit properly (my photography brain really wants to give proper credit). → Author’s note(2): what do you think? Please let me know! A big shoutout and thank you to @manipulatedstars for having the idea to make Jungkook run a survivalist camp 🥳💜 Now, I can’t wait to write something that isn’t action— back to my sappy romance writing! I think one of the mermaid fics is next on my list ✨

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stevebabey · 1 year

Text

question on my lips

kia ora my loves, i'm stuck with writers block on another piece and this is hopefully the cure <3 its all sweetness as usual [established relationship + fluff + 2k words] mucho mwahs as ALWAYS <3!

Steve’s in a bad mood.

Which might be very fair considering the state of the weather outside. Flurries of snow batter against the windows and a hair-raising chill leaks into the panes, painting them in condensation. It’s cold. You don’t want to be caught outside on a night like tonight.

But, somewhere across town, there’s a reservation under Steve’s name that is being wasted. At a pretty restaurant, with 2 too many forks for your taste — but Steve had insisted. Even put on a suit.

And even though Steve has told you he prefers the quieter nights in with just the two of you, he seems quite… miffed that you can’t go anymore.

Maybe not quite a bad mood but… well, it’s a hell of a pout he’s wearing.

Amber drenches the wall of the room, lit by your bedside table lamps — a cozy cocoon that feels worlds away from the blizzard coming down outside. You’re actually quite excited; there’s seldom a comfort like being in Steve’s arms when it’s cold like this. Tangled together in your bed, letting his perpetually blazing heart heat the both of you.

But… he’s still pouting. You’re both unwinding a bit, taking off what you’d managed to put on before the weather took a turn for the worse — but Steve’s stuck, hands in his pockets. He seems to be fumbling with something.

His silence worries you more. Maybe you hadn’t realised how actually upset he was that your plans were cancelled.

He had been mentioning it all week, all month actually- since he’d first made the booking. Some claim that you’d love the food and he loved any occasion to see you all dressed up and drool-worthy— (“Not that that’s not all the time, babe.”)

“Steve?” You say. His head jumps up, hands in his pockets going still. “C’mon, come to bed.”

He softens at your coaxing words. Like the very sound of them, the sweet nature of your words, melts his hardened edges. He nods, tugging off his tie and beginning to work on his belt.

In the meantime, you creep into the bed. It smells like a smattering of something sweet that you know to be Steve’s hairspray, fabric softener, and maybe what you think love might smell like if it had a scent. You sink into it lovingly. Warm. Safe.

Your eyes find him instinctively. Watching, observing, drinking in the sight of your lover soothes you like nothing else. Love spools messily in your chest, like a knotted ball of yarn strewn through your ribs. It aches sweetly. Steve catches you as he’s pulling a pair of sweatpants up his calf.

“You’re staring,” He states plainly, but he’s smiling a bit, lips turned up in the corners. He jumps, hiking his pants up over his hips, and wanders closer.

You nod, hair scrunching against the pillow. Your voice comes out a bit muffled when you speak. “That a crime?”

Steve grins this time. He pushes the covers back, kneeling on the mattress beside you — pausing to push back the hair covering your eyes. He smiles down at you, eyes fond. “If it is, lock me up, baby.”

He pauses, thumb drifting over cheekbone lightly. “I could look at ya all day.”

Something delightful purrs behind your ribs, warm and all-encompassing. Where you would’ve once hidden your face away, this time you just let your glee wash over your face — and let Steve see every second of it. You’re happy. Steve makes you happy.

Steve gives an awed exhale and flops, bouncing down on the mattress beside you. He works the duvet around, bundling up as best he can before his hands begin to search for you. Traversing across the sheets, seeking, til they meet skin. He hums happily. Pulls you into his chest and lets you figure out how you want to wrap around him, like unkempt ivy. He’s warm, as always.

You’re not even trying to sleep yet, either of you, just having a moment huddled up in each other's embrace. The wind whirls loudly outside. You wonder what you’d be doing if your plans had gone through.

“M’sorry,” you say into his chest. It rises and falls with his breath, soothing and constant. “That we couldn’t do dinner. Y’seemed really excited.”

Steve makes a little noise, saying that he agrees. For a moment, your words hang in the air and then he clears his throat, pulling you closer.

“S’okay, not like you can control the weather.” He murmurs his reply. He pulls back to peer down at you with suspicious eyes, a tease on his tongue. “Can you? Because as your boyfriend, I should totally know that, and considering what we’ve seen—“

“Shut up,” you giggle. You poke him in the ribs because you can’t think of a good jibe back.

“Shutting up,” Steve says, before snuggling back closer. There’s another moment of quiet. The window rattles in the absence of words. Steve sighs.

“Just…” He starts. You can already tell he’s got his thinking face on, a little furrow between his brows. “Had some good plans for tonight, is all. Not a big deal.”

“A plan within a plan,” you muse thoughtfully. Steve chuckles. “How layered this night could of been!”

“And instead, you just have to have this, huh?” Steve murmurs, dejection creeping into his voice. Your heart twists. He must’ve planned a lot just to watch it go down the drain.

You pull back from his embrace and catch his eyes, searching his face. Disappointment lingers in his expression and it pushes a pout onto your lips.

“Well, is there anything we can do? That was like your plans?” You ask.

Steve breaks into a grin, giving a chuckle — but a glint in his eyes says he’s grinning for another reason. He stares at you lovingly, eyes dragging up and down your face as he seemingly thinks of his answer. He shakes his head.

“Nuh uh. Nothing we can do tonight.” He says, a tad forlorn. His hand on your back sketches a soft stroke up your spine. You shiver in a good way and Steve speaks again, eyes searching somewhere behind you, imagining something. “Well, not— not the way I want to do this.”

There’s a long pause. At the same moment a soft realisation blooms in your chest and on your face, Steve seems to realise he’s said too much. His eyes widen, the apples of his cheeks turning scarlet.

“Were you gonna—?”

You push back from him, suddenly sitting up in the bed. Your heart thuds loudly in your chest, risking bruising the inside of your ribs with each resounding thud. You don’t even mind because… because…

Steve sits up too, wide-eyed expression still on his face. He looks flushed, taken off guard — he clearly hadn’t meant to tell you today. Well, he had meant to tell you today but he wanted to ask you at dinner, on one knee, and then the storm—

“You were gonna ask?” You squeak. A smile wobbles on your face as you try to rein in your reaction, even as joy floods every nerve. “Tonight?”

Steve seems unsure of the right way to answer. “Yes,” He stammers. Then crushes his eyes closed, dropping his eyes closed to curse. “Shit, I wasn’t supposed— I had it all planned! This isn’t—“

Steve pushes his palms into his eyes for a moment, dragging his hands down his face. You feel a pang of remorse for ruining your own surprise but it’s completely overshadowed by the rampant happiness. You can’t help yourself for what you say next.

“Yes.”

Steve blinks. “What?” A grin grows on his face, like your own is contagious even as he shakes his head. “I haven’t even asked you yet!”

He’s laughing, a glorious sound, and so are you. You're so full of love you feel stuffed like you’ve just eaten, it fills every crevice of your body. You nod. You think your teeth might be aching with how sweet the boy before you is— pouting and giving away his own surprises.

“I know,” you breathe. “But if- when you do, it’s a yes.”

And you’ve known it before. You have known it long before tonight that yours and Steve’s futures are knitted together so intricately that where one goes, the other follows. Still, knowing it and saying it— the difference steals your breath. You feel like a teenage fool again, back to the first time Steve ever asked you, ‘Be mine?’

Steve sinks into the pillows, deflating into them with a blinding grin. Like he hadn’t been sure up until right then. He giggles. Another awed sound, like he can’t quite believe what’s happening.

“Okay,” he breathes. You sink down too, curling up into him. His warmth feels burning hot now as he pulls you back into his arms, the same as he had a minute ago; this time, you swear your hearts are an inch closer.

“I gotta come up with a whole new plan now, don’t I?” Steve asks, eyes shining as he peers down at you.

You laugh a little bit, delirious, and shake your head. Gathering courage, even as your stomach twists up in the best way.

“Nope. You can… you can ask now, if you really want.”

You hope your voice betrays everything you mean; that he could ask anywhere and you would say still say yes. That it didn’t need to be somewhere fancy, didn’t need to be a big spectacle, he didn’t even need to get on one knee and you would still say yes.

Steve stares down at you, drinking in the sincerity of your expression and he softens impossibly more. Smile lines you adore get scrunched up as he gives a shuddering breathy laugh, punched out of him by his own enormous affection. Christ, he loves you.

His hand raises, cupping your jaw sweetly and he tugs you closer to meet him in the middle. You come home to him, lips meeting lips as he kisses you deeply and maddeningly. There are a thousand sentiments in his kiss, I want to marry you and I love you among them.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against your own. His hand on your jaw rubs soothing, fingers tucking some stray hair behind your ear.

“Got a plan.” He murmurs, a wickedly handsome smile on his face as he taps his temple.

You’ll have to wait, it seems. You think you can stretch your patience a little longer, especially for this. Your cheeks are beginning to ache from your smile.

Another quiet moment. Then, your eyes light up with the recollection of an earlier memory. They skirt across the room and land on their target, Steve’s crumpled pair of slacks on the ground. You recall his fumbling with his hand deep in his pocket.

Steve follows your eye-line and the moment he spots what you’re looking his head whips back.

Steve fixes you with a stern look, a warning that says don’t. You move an inch, more to tease than anything — you don’t want to see anything til he’s the one giving it to you — but you don’t get very far anyway.

“Oh no, you don’t—” Steve’s arms around your middle tighten, pulling you closer as you pretend to reach off into the distance.

He shifts you easily, setting you down into the pillows and then squishing himself atop you. You let out a strange noise, a surprised yelp as Steve lightly crushes you beneath him, a slightly maniacal grin on his pretty mouth. His hair is a mess, cheeks still glowing, and he looks utterly in love.

You wiggle a bit, seeing if you can free a limb. Maybe to pretend to escape, maybe to dig your fingers in and hold him closer. Either way, it’s fruitless.

Somehow, you’re not all the mad with the situation; squished lovingly beneath your hunk of a boyfriend so you don’t go scampering around searching for a- for your engagement ring.

“Can I at least get a kiss?” You ask, knowing he’ll say yes. If there’s one thing, it’s that Steve never denies you a kiss if you ask. His eyes look a tad misty as he looks down at you so so fondly, eyes drawing down to your lips.

He doesn’t disappoint.

#written and edited in the space of today #wapow!#if there’s mistakes! no there’s not!#i’m worried u can’t tell he’s proposing in the beginning so fingers crossed #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington imagine #girl what tf do i tag it’s been so long so i’ve posted for the x reader girlies #ruby writes steve #steve #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x gn!reader #steve harrington x gender neutral reader #steve x you #stranger things #stranger things imagine #ok i can’t be bothered

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xtra7s · 8 months

Note

It's me again, how about Renee and r reading thirst tweets??? Or Renee flirting with r and she just loves making her flustered. Something like Renee always calling her "baby" I just can't get my mind out of these thoughts.

Also, love you and your works darling<3

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋: 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐒 ─── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee and Y/N get to read thirst tweets!!!

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, fluff, Renee bullying the hell out of Y/N(lovingly)

Word Count: 1.2k

a/n: please keep these comin baby. I am in writers block like crazy right now but this shit was fun to write. Hope you enjoy, (let me know if you want 'something special: Paris Trip' (;

masterlist | first part | second part

The studio lights glowed softly as Renee Rapp and Y/N settled into their seats, ready for another interview. This time, the format was a bit different. There was no host, and they were told that they would be reading and reacting to "thirst tweets" from their fans. Renee and Y/N exchanged amused glances, knowing this would be a fun and cheeky experience.

The camera starts rolling, and Renee perks up in her chair.

"Hey guys what's up, my name is Renee Rapp and this is my lovely costar Y/N YL/N, and we're here with BuzzFeed to read our thirst tweets."

Y/N smiles softly at Renee as she speaks, turning to the camera playfully when she's done. "I'm so excited about this you have no idea. Let's see what our fans have to say."

The first tweet appeared on the phone, and the playful banter began.

Y/N giggles at the tweet, reading it out in between breaths. "Is it just me, or does Y/N's smile have the power to cure any bad day? Asking for a friend.'"

Y/N grins and looks up at Renee, and then back to the camera. "Well, I'm flattered. If my smile has that kind of power, maybe I should start offering smile therapy."

"I can attest to the smile therapy. It works wonders." Renee speaks with a smile that matches Y/N's, leaning forward in her chair like she's telling a secret.

Renee shakes her head with a shit-eating grin on her face at the next tweet, "I wish Renee Rapp and Y/N YL/N were my birth parents, actually no, I wish I was in a throuple with them."

Renee tilts her head, looking at the camera intently. "I think you need to decide if you wanna be in a throuple with your parents, and that's something you should talk to your therapist about. And I don't know who 'Y/N YL/N' is." Renee speaks with a laugh, looking over at Y/N.

Y/N has a tint of pink covering her cheeks as she shoves Renee's shoulder playfully. "that's, I need a minute to process that one" She giggles, scrolling to the next tweet.

As the tweets became bolder, the chemistry between Renee and Y/N intensified. The playful flirting was accompanied by shared laughter, and the studio audience couldn't get enough.

Y/N widens her eyes at this one, a silent laugh coming out of both Renee and her.

"Perfect threesome? Me, Y/N YL/N, and a tub of peanut butter. How you feelin' about that one baby?" Renee murmurs, looking over at Y/N softly.

Y/N raises an eyebrow, her face scrunching into a grimace. "that-" she shrugs awkwardly as her face gets darker in a shade of maroon, "makes me feel weird."

Renee smirks as she sees the effect she had on Y/N, grabbing the phone gently from Y/N's hand and reading the next tweet.

"Renee Rapp I am simply just a hole for you."

Renee sits there in silence for a second, pushing her tongue against her cheek while she laughs. "And I am simply just a fucking- I'm a person, I'm a human being. What do you want me to do to your holes? Be more specific."

As the interview shifted back to a more traditional format, An interviewer named Taylor came in and decided to focus on the professional aspects of Renee Rapp and Y/N's collaboration on "Unveiling Hearts." The studio lights dimmed slightly, creating an intimate ambiance as Taylor delved into questions about their characters, on-screen dynamics, and the impact of the show.

Taylor greets both Y/N and Renee, getting into her questions smoothly. "Alright, let's talk about 'Unveiling Hearts.' The chemistry between your characters is undeniable. How do you both manage to bring such authenticity to your roles?"

"Well, I think it helps that Y/N and I have a natural connection. It's not hard to portray a convincing love story when you're working with someone as talented as her." Renee speaks as she looks at Y/N, grinning at her.

Y/N blushed as she looked away shyly, "Aw, thanks, Renee. It's definitely a collaborative effort. We bounce off each other's energy, on and off the set."

Taylor nods and moves right into another question, "Fans are loving the romantic storyline this season. Any hints you can give us about what's in store for your characters?"

"Let's just say there might be a few more unexpected twists and turns in the romance department. You'll have to tune in to see." Renee leaned in, speaking with a playful glint in her eyes.

Y/N matched Renee's expression, placing her hands on her lap. "Renee loves to keep me on my toes, both in the script and in real life."

As the interview progressed, Renee couldn't resist injecting a flirtatious edge into her responses, causing Y/N to squirm in her seat. The studio audience picked up on the dynamic between the two, and Taylor couldn't help but smile at the palpable chemistry.

Taylor smirks at the banter between the costars, "What's it like working together? Any memorable moments behind the scenes?"

Renee looked at Y/N, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she narrowed them at her. "Oh, where do I begin? There are so many, I just can't choose. Probably that one time when we visited Paris, the Eiffel Tower was-

Y/N smacked Renee's arm quickly, but not hard enough to hurt her. "And that's enough out of her mouth." She spoke with a nervous grin, narrowing her eyes back at Renee.

The interviewer raised her eyebrows as the teasing continued, with Renee casually dropping endearments and playful comments throughout the interview.

"Working with Y/N is a dream. She's not just a talented co-star; she's my partner in crime, my confidante, my baby." Renee speaks with a flirty tone, gripping Y/N's knee and squeezing it softly before letting go.

At this point, Y/N's face was covered in a deep shade of maroon. "Okay, Renee, you're really going for it with the baby thing today."

Renee playfully flipped her hair and winked at Y/N, "Can't help it. It just feels right, baby."

The interview concluded with laughter and a lingering sense of warmth. The fans would undoubtedly dissect every word and gesture, adding a new layer to the mystery of the real-life connection between Renee Rapp and Y/N.

Renee wraps her arm around Y/N's shoulder as they finish reading the tweets, "Thanks for watching, hope you had fun, thank you for all these.. Very sweet.. Tweets, I will be thinking about them before I go to bed."

Y/N says to the camera, a false concern look on her face as she smiles at the camera, Renee and her waving as the screen fades to black.

#renee rapp x reader #renee rapp #wlw #lesbian #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray x reader #leighton murray #regina george x reader #mean girls musical movie

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moody-alcoholic · 8 days

Text

These Violent Delights

Chapter 4 - The Distance

MDNI +18 explicit content.

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe. 8.7k words. They say distance makes the heart grow fonder.

CW: MDNI +18 explicit content. a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes, nightmares, mentions of torture, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past SA, choking, receiving injections, sex, anal sex, spanking, handjob.

AN: The writers block has been ROUGH but hey ya get your first smut for the series. It is a poly fic after all. XD

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

You’re sitting in John’s office with Dr. Piper while he’s looking through some folders. You’re trying hard to not be nervous. It reminds you of the times you would be called into the Professor's office. It was rarely for anything good. John puts the papers away, locking the drawer on his desk. It’s way too familiar for your liking, but John doesn’t look mad.

“We’re going to be leaving for a few days, 3 at the most,” John says.

“Where are you going?” you ask.

“Wisconsin.

“You shouldn’t need us. I’ll leave you a way to contact us but if you do I’m going to assume it’s an emergency.” He looks between you both. Now you’re worried about him, all of them. They’re probably going away to do something dangerous. You could never see them again, they’re soldiers after all.

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“Dr. Montgomery let us know where we can find some of the formula. We’re going to get some so it can speed up her research,” John explains. So they can find a cure sooner. You’re still not sure what to think of this, but you know they want a cure.

You look over at Dr. Piper. She’s listening to him. You shouldn’t care, it’s your job to be a good omega and do whatever your alpha wants. John and Simon both want a cure. You’re not really listening to the conversation but Dr. Piper nods at him now and then. They’re going to be gone for a few days. You can live with that, just a few days.

“We’ll be back before you know it.” John smiles. You smile back at him.

“When are you leaving?” you ask.

“Tonight.”

Tonight comes quicker than you think. Everyone had been so busy that Johnny and Kyle didn’t even have time to eat dinner with you. It’s the first time you’d been to the mess alone. You missed the days when Dr. Piper would bring you your meals and you didn’t have to leave the barracks. She said getting out of the barracks is good though, a nice change of scenery and fresh air.

You can’t sleep. You're not sure why. You’re turning around in bed and whatever position you’re in feels uncomfortable. You can see the light coming in under your door, you can hear their voices in the common room. You want to see them again, one last time before they leave. You slip out of bed pulling your arms around your chest. With the window open your room is always cold.

You crack open the door and you can see them all moving around the common room. You see John’s back as he gives orders in a low voice. You’re sneaking down the corridor. You don’t know why you’re trying to be sneaky. It’s not like you’d get into trouble for wanting to say goodbye to them. You see Johnny leave the building as you make it to John, and it’s almost like he senses you before you have time to reach out to tap him on the back. He turns around, looking at you, resting the tablet he has in his hands down by his side.

“You should be sleeping,” he says.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admit. A little smile forms on his lips as he puts his hand on your shoulder.

“We’ll be back soon,” he says. You look up in his eyes, his deep blue eyes. He looks sad, his expression soft. Maybe if you beg, he’ll stay.

“What if you get hurt?” you say. He lets out a chuckle, his hand moving up to your face.

“No one’s getting hurt. Not on my watch,” he says, and you believe him. What if he gets hurt though? You don’t think you could live with yourself if any of them got hurt.

“Cap, the truck’s here.” You look past John to see Kyle sticking his head around the door. He pauses when he notices you. John waves him away before turning his attention back to you.

“You’re not going to worry while we’re gone are you?” Price says. You shake your head, and he leans down kissing the top of your head. You wish he didn’t have to go. His scent strong in the air, you project your scent onto him. It’s all you can really do. You see him react to it, his thumb stroking your cheek. He sighs, dropping his hand and turning to leave. You smile for him. That's what he needs, for you to be a good omega for him and not worry, or at least make him think you’re not worried.

“Stay safe,” you call as he leaves out the door.

“Always,” he says, smiling. You watch as he leaves, the door closing behind him. The place already feels empty. You hit the switch on the wall and the building goes dark. You walk back down to your room, there’s already a pit forming in your stomach. You almost want to wake up Dr. Piper just so you’ll have someone near you so you won’t be alone. You walk into your room seeing your nest. It’s all you want. You rush over to it, flopping down on the pillows, pulling the blankets over you. They’ll be safe, they know what they’re doing.

Your dreams are filled with visions of everyone dying. Johnny dies quickly, always shot in the head bleeding out on the floor. Kyle’s not so lucky, some kind of chemical that burns his skin and his lungs as he screams in pain. Simon’s next he takes the longest to go down, fighting to the bitter end, his body punctured with knives and bullets.

Then there’s John, it’s always the Professor who gets him and tortures him just like every other alpha he’s slaughtered. You hate the Professor being in your dreams, you hate that you’re riddled with nightmares. Dr. Piper said it’s normal—something called PTSD. You hate that they’ve all left, you hate Dr. Piper, they're doing this for her, for the cure. You don’t even want a cure. But you have to do this for them. Be a good omega.

—————————

It’s been 24 hours since they left. You’ve been lonely. You didn’t think you were going to miss them as much as you do. You miss Johnny and Kyle keeping you company, lunches have been too quiet. Dr. Piper has been so busy you haven’t seen her much, and she’s been skipping lunch. You hate being alone. The mess is loud and busy. It’s the only other time you see any other soldiers. Sometimes you see them training around the base but then they’re caught up in whatever they're doing.

You miss John the most. Dr. Piper said it’s normal to miss your pack, to feel like this. It doesn’t make it any easier, especially when you’re not sure when they’re going to be back. You hope John’s safe. You hope they all are.

In the mess people stare. You hear them talking under their breath. It makes you uncomfortable, so you eat faster, their eyes drilling into the back of you. It’s not their fault, they just don’t understand. You’re sick of being called a freak. You heard a new one yesterday, ‘barracks bunny.’ At least that doesn’t sound bad, and bunnies are cute. You miss having an alpha around, and you miss having someone you can go to for safety. Dr. Piper was right, John is a good alpha. When he comes back you want to go for another walk in the forest.

You’re not allowed to leave the base alone. Maybe you could sneak out though, figure out another way through the fence. There has to be a break in the walls somewhere. Then you could see the lake whenever you want. You sigh as you finish your pudding, it's custard flavor this time. You should take a sandwich to Dr. Piper, she probably needs it. She’s been working so hard. You throw your tray away and pick up a chicken sandwich. You walk out the mess passing soldiers coming in for a late lunch.

‘She’s fucking some SAS soldier,’ a voice says, followed with laughter. ‘Really an SAS soldier?’

Why should you even care? You shouldn’t care, all they think is that you’re some sex toy. Maybe that’s what John wants? You haven't had time to talk to him about it. He’s always been so soft, so kind. When he’s in heat, he’ll be different though. At the end of the day, it’s all you really are. An omega made for an alpha, to breed with an alpha make more omegas.

You walk over to the lab still squeezing the sandwich in your hands. You’re going to start going for food later, maybe then you can avoid the rush of soldiers. At least here you’re accepted, people won’t stare or judge you. You walk in the scent of beta is strong in the air. It’s relaxing, and you stop squishing the sandwich.

“Hey.” You turn to see the alpha looking at you, his hands behind his back as he leans forward. He’s not like other alphas. If he didn’t smell so strong, you’d presume he was a beta. Even the way he holds himself is like he’s shy.

“Dr. Miller right?” you say, keeping your distance. He nods.

“I’ve been working on a hormone blocker for Lieutenant Riley, would you like to see?” He says moving to the side of the table he’s working on. You can see a microscope set up. You nod, feeling intimidated by his presence, but you're too curious. You walk over to the table. He smiles at you and you press your eye up to the microscope. You don’t know what you’re looking at but it looks pretty.

“Awesome right?” he says, sounding enthusiastic. You back up, smiling at him.

“Do you think it will help him?” you ask. He shrugs.

“I hope so, that’s why I’m working on it.” He looks at you sympathetically.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you offer. It feels right. He smiles at you.

“I’ll let you know,” he says. You nod at him. He seems nice, he makes you think of John, kind and smiley. You walk across the lab to Dr. Pipers office. You knock and she calls you in. Her office is small, not like John's; there's no personality in it, just lab equipment and a massive window looking out into the lab. She’s sitting behind a desk typing on the computer as you sit down.

“I got you a sandwich,” you say, putting it down on her desk. “Have you ever had your own office before?” you ask her as she moves to look over at you.

“No. Are you missing them yet?” she asks.

“It’s only been a day,” you say. You do miss them though.

“They’re your pack. I would expect you to be missing them after a few hours.” She leans back in her chair. You nod.

“They’ll be back before you know it. I did ask John if one of them could stay but he said they were all needed,” she explains. You would have liked it if one of them had stayed, if not to just eat with you.

“How are the nightmares?” she asks. You hang your head, you don’t want to talk about it.

“I hear you screaming at night. We could try some sleeping pills?” she asks. You look up at her. You don’t know if you want that. Would it even help? You shake your head.

“It’s not that bad, I don’t remember them anyway,” you lie. You’ve always found lying so easy to Dr. Piper or betas in general. Even so, you can tell she doesn’t believe you, but she doesn’t push it any further.

“Think they’ll be back tomorrow?” you ask.

“I don’t know. They’ll be back when they’re back. John said it could be 3 days at least.” You nod, you don’t know what you were expecting her to say. You wonder what constitutes an emergency, what would have them racing back across the country for you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you ask, looking out the window and seeing scientists working.

“No. You should get some rest, things are going to get busy over the next few weeks. You should appreciate the down time,” Dr. Piper smiles. You sigh, you’re sick of being stuck in the barracks, the TV can only keep you occupied for so long.

“Think it would be possible to get some books?” you ask. You used to read in the bunker. There was a bookshelf in one of the rooms, and you must have read each book about a million times but it was something to do.

“I can talk to John about it when he gets back.” She rolls away on her chair and picks up a bag pulling a book out. She hands it over to you. You take it out of her hands, it’s a pretty book with a picture of a cat and a girl on the front.

“Alice in Wonderland. It’s a bit on the nose, I was going to wait to give it to you,” she says.

“What do you mean?” you ask, flicking through it. It’s old, the pages are turning yellow on the edges, and it's got the old book smell you like.

“It’s about a girl who follows a rabbit down a hole into a mysterious land where she has adventures. It’s a classic book, if you like it I can definitely get you more.” She smiles, her computer beeping capturing her attention. You smile back getting up to leave, excited to have something to do other than watch TV.

Dr. Miller waves as you pass him, clutching the book. You rush back to the barracks. It’s starting to rain and when you make it back to your room you can hear the pitter patter of drops on the window, there’s a cool breeze brushing through and you can smell the pine from the forest. It’s perfect as you crawl into your nest, throwing a blanket round your shoulders.

You open the book surprised to see your name written on the first page. It’s signed by Dr. Piper. Happy 13th birthday. It makes a lump form in your throat. She’s had this all these years. You wonder why she never gave it to you, or maybe it was the Professor stopping her. It makes you smile. You shuffle deeper into your nest and make a mental note to thank her later as you start reading.

——————————

Doctor Montgomery and Price both agreed if there was going to be a sample of the formula it would be in Professor Hale’s mansion. He hardly spent time at his other properties, just used them when he needed to travel. Besides this was where his home lab was. It wasn’t hard to get blueprints for the mansion. The place was huge, the lab suspected to be in the basement.

“Place looks quiet, no lights, no movement.” It’s Ghost’s voice in Price’s ear.

“Copy,” he replies. The place was quiet, no cars, no one in or out for hours. The sun is starting to set and no lights are being turned on. If the Professor was here, he wasn’t letting them know. They should move in now in case someone comes back in the evening.

“Let’s move.” Price looks over at Soap and Gaz kneeling next to him on the forest's edge. He hears Ghost say copy as Soap leaves the cover of the foliage to meet him. Gaz moves too, standing up out of the bushes. Something’s different now, he feels more on edge then normal, like his senses have been turned up to the max.

“Think he’s out?” Gaz asks, breaking Price’s train of thought.

“Think so,” Price responds, getting up and walking with Gaz over to a side door. The Professor’s not a threat, but it would be nice to be able to deal with him now. He’s lucky they still don’t know where he is. The sun is low in the sky. The view from the back of the mansion is nice. Sprawling fields broken up by woodlines, he takes a moment to soak it in.

When they get to the side door Price signals for Gaz to get the crowbar in position. Everyone is stacked up on the door. He nods at Gaz who presses down on the crowbar as the door pops open. Price gives the order for Ghost and Soap to enter. They walk in. There are no alarms—that's not good. It’s almost too quiet. Everyone funnels in. Price let’s Ghost take the lead as they walk through the kitchen into what looks like a living room.

“Where’s the entrance to this basement?” Soap asks.

“Main lobby,” Gaz replies. Ghost keeps walking, scanning each corner as he moves. They make it to the lobby. Price can see the front doors. The place is quiet, there's no one here.

“Ghost, Gaz, clear the next floor, Soap let’s go,” Price says gesturing to the next room. He can see Soap smile in the dark as he moves into the next room. It doesn’t take long for Soap and Price to finish clearing the ground floor. Dr. Montgomery said it was normal to hear and see things better. One of the perks of the formula, it makes clearing rooms easier when you can sense what’s in there before you enter.

Soap was already good at sweeping rooms before this but now he’s like a fine tuned machine, Price watches his nostrils flare as he enters each room, every source of noise being snapped to in an instant. It’s mainly creaking floors, rats behind the walls. Maybe he’ll have to look into some training to help them all get better at using their senses to their advantage. At least until they have a cure.

Price can hear Ghost and Gaz upstairs, their methodical steps, the opening and closing of doors. Definitely the best thing is being able to see better even in this low light, that’s a massive advantage. The building loops round and before they know it they’re back in the lobby. Price looks for the stairs to the basement as they wait for Ghost and Gaz to come back from upstairs.

“Place is clear,” Ghost says as he comes down the stairs with Gaz following behind. Price nods and they all follow him to the open door. They make it down into the lab. The place looks ransacked. Maybe Dr. Montgomery was right and he’s fled with the only known sample of the formula. A light comes on and now Price can see the extent of the damage, it doesn’t look like there is much left. Gaz and Soap are already pulling drawers and cupboards open.

“What are we looking for exactly?”

“Medical vials, anything labeled, omega project or omega initiative,” Price says going over to a computer.

“Do you ever read the briefs?” Gaz asks.

“‘Course,” Soap replies. Gaz hums. To Price’s surprise the computer turns on as he moves the mouse. Unsurprisingly the whole thing has been wiped.

“Price!” Ghost calls from round one of the corners in the room. Price goes round seeing Ghost leaned over a computer. He presses play on the video. It's you, although you look younger, thinner. Your hair tied back, you look pale, sitting in a chair, your head slumped forward.

“How do you feel?” asks Dr. Montgomery. She’s the person sitting on the other end of the table, just out of frame. You don’t respond, just sniffle.

“It’s been 5 days, and you’re coming down from your–” there’s a pause “—19th heat.” Your head looks up, your eyes swollen with tears. There’s bruising too, on your cheeks and on your neck. A knot forms in Price’s stomach.

“Have you got any pain anywhere?” she asks. You shake your head.

“The water is for you,” Dr. Montgomery says sliding the glass closer to you. You reach out to grip it with a shaking hand. There are marks around your wrists. The video glitches and skips along.

“Heat experiment 15 was a failure.” It’s another voice out of frame. It’s a low male voice, it must be the Professor. There’s the sound of a door opening interrupting his speech.

“You said they would leave her neck and face alone.” It’s Dr. Montgomery, she sounds mad.

“Doctor, you know I cannot control people’s actions,” the Professor sighs. “Is she going to recover?”

“Physically, yes the bruising is already improving.”

“Then what is the problem?” he asks, sounding annoyed.

“She is becoming more and more aware during her heats. Mentally this is taking a toll,” Dr. Montgomery says. Simon skips to the next video. This time your hair is wet sticking to your face, blood running down the side of your head. The table is gone.

“You keep pushing and pushing. How are you ever going to be a good omega if you keep pushing your alpha!” It’s just the Professor and he sounds mad, the anger is almost radiating through the monitor. The Professor steps into frame pressing his face up against yours, you flinch trying to lean back as far as you can.

“No alpha will ever want a disobedient omega.” His hand grips your throat, choking you, pulling your neck up. Your hands grip his wrists, feet flailing.

“You will stay here until you’ve learned your lesson!” he snaps, letting you go. You fall forward out of the chair and onto the floor pulling your knees to your chest. The Professor walks out of frame for a second then comes back, pulling your hair up. You yelp in pain as he places something on the back of your neck. You scream as the Professor holds your hands away from your neck, then your body goes limp. Ghost steps forward pulling a USB stick out the computer the video stops playing.

“Soap!” Price shouts. He walks round the corner. “Did you listen to the part of the brief about which explosives to bring?”

“‘Course, sir,” he smiles. Price looks at Ghost. There’s anger in his eyes. They both just witnessed the same thing, and that was only a snippet. There’s a pit in his stomach that he hasn’t felt in years.

“Set the charges,” Price says, pushing past Soap.

“Let’s find the formula, then blow this place further into the dirt.”

——————————

“Hey, stranger,” Dr. Miller says as you walk into the lab. It’s been over 48 hours now and you’ve still not heard if they’re coming back yet or not. You smile at him as you watch him pipetting something into a test tube. He’s alone, it is getting darker out and you’re surprised anyone is still working other than Dr. Piper. You can’t remember what you came in here for. You just wanted some company from someone who understands. It didn’t take you long to finish the book, and you read it twice before falling asleep yesterday.

“Still working on the hormone blocker?” you ask him, and he nods. You pull over a stool to watch him.

“I think I’m a bad omega,” you say as he squirts more solution into another tube. The chemical changes colour.

“Missing your alpha?” he asks sympathetically. You nod, but it’s not just John. Your whole pack is gone, you miss them all.

“When did you leave the bunker?” you ask. He looks over at you for a second.

“I managed to get out a few months before Professor Hale started to kill off the alphas.”

“You were lucky,” you say. You remember the mass slaughter. The stench of blood was thick in the air for days. You remember how the Professor told you it was your fault. You were not being a good omega. You thought you remembered every alpha, the Professor made you scent all of them. Maybe there were more than you remembered.

“Do you think there can be 2 alphas in a pack?” you ask him. He sits back in the stool humming.

“I think your pack situation is very unique. I think Lieutenant Riley is very controlled,” he says. It’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Why do you think you’re a bad omega?” he asks, changing the subject.

“I don’t know if I want the cure,” you say.

“That doesn’t make you a bad omega, that makes you human,” he says, smiling as he picks up a vial of something shaking it in his hand.

“What about you, do you want a cure?” you ask him. He pauses for a second.

“A lot of us had very normal lives before working for Professor Hale. Being in a relationship with kids, it’s hard when you have all these new instincts. Not to mention you’re the only omega we know that exists. That’s not easy for alphas knowing the only shot we have of getting an omega is one who’s already claimed,” he explains.

You didn’t think about it like that. You know what it’s like, the burning drive to find an alpha. You’ve lived through not having one for years. Maybe the Professor was being kind when he killed all the alphas, it was that or condemning them to a life of pain, searching for something they’ll never get.

“Did you have a family?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I had a mother who lived in Oregon, she died a couple of years ago.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. That’s what you’re supposed to say when someone dies. He looks at you and smiles.

“I have some samples I need to test on you. They’re just simple compounds. I can give you them now. It would be a really big help.” You can smell his sincerity in the air. You nod before you even realise what you’re doing. He smiles going into a drawer and taking out two syringes.

“Actually, I should ask Dr. Piper,” you say.

“Don’t worry it will only take a few seconds, there’s no need to bother her, she's so busy.” His alpha is strong in the air. You don’t really have much of a choice. Before you’ve even realised it you're nodding, rolling your sleeve up. You turn to the side for him, as he cleans your arm.

“Sharp scratch,” he says pressing the first injection in, you don’t feel anything.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Captain Price is going to claim you right?” You nod. His alpha is almost suffocating, it makes nervous goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. You forgot what question you asked.

“Will it help them?” you ask. He smiles, injecting the second syringe.

“Of course, everything you do here helps them.”

“They really want a cure,” you say as he finishes and you pull your sleeve back down.

“What do you want?” he asks, turning to write something down on a clipboard.

“I want to make them happy, and be a good omega.” It doesn't matter what you think. It’s whatever they want, especially John. You want to keep him happy. He looks over from the papers to you.

“You know I have been working on an idea with Dr. Montgomery. I think maybe if you could give us a hand we could figure it out quicker.” He looks at you, you don’t know what to say. You should talk to her first.

“It would really help them. We might even be able to get a cure sooner,” he says. You swallow the lump in your throat. You should do this for them, be a good omega. You remember how angry Simon was a few days ago, even asking to be discharged. You nod reluctantly.

“I’ll talk to Dr. Montgomery, will you come back tomorrow, early morning around 6?” You nod hopping off the stool.

“You’re a good omega for this. Captain Price will be very proud.” You smile at the praise. John will be happy. The sooner they can find a cure, the happier they will be. You smile at him as you leave the lab. You wonder why Dr. Piper hasn’t approached you about helping before. Maybe she’s not ready yet, or maybe she’s just trying to give you a break.

You don’t care, she’s lied to you before, for years. Maybe Dr. Miller is closer than he thinks to a cure. The least you can do is help. You walk back to the barracks. It’s already evening and the days feel like they’ve been going faster. That’s good, at least. Hopefully they’ll be back soon.

——————————

You wake to the smell of alpha in the air. You sit up straight looking around. You’re laid out on the sofa. You don’t remember making it to the barracks or turning the TV on, or falling asleep. Your head is swimming, the scent of alpha is strong, you see the door open as Price and Johnny walk into the room. You smile when you see them, you want to throw yourself in John’s arms instead you pull yourself off the sofa.

“Hey lass did ya miss us?” Johnny says, you nod going over to them. John’s alpha scent washes over you, and you project your scent into the air for him. He looks tired.

“Yeah, it’s been boring.” Maybe you should tell them about your conversation with Dr. Miller. No, you want to wait until you have something more concrete to show them. No point in getting their hopes up for nothing.

“Did you get the formula?” you ask as Gaz walks in the building.

“You bet we did!” Johnny calls swinging a bag over his shoulder. You smile at him. That’s good, you’re happy for them. Now Dr. Piper has one less obstacle, and with the help you’ve been giving they could have a cure in a few months. John comes over to you, his scent strong. There’s something else there too. Sadness.

“Let’s have a quick chat,” he says, leading you to his office. You’ve missed him, missed being around him, missed his scent. He sits down on the sofa patting the spot next to him. You smile sitting down.

“We went to Professor Hale’s house. That was where Dr. Montgomery said we could find a copy of the formula.” Your breath catches in your throat. You dig your nails into your palms. Why didn’t they tell you?

“D-did you kill him?” you ask, swallowing hard.

“No, he wasn’t there. We got a copy of the formula, it should help Dr. Montgomery find a cure quicker.” You nod ignoring the pain in your palms. You feel relief. You shouldn’t be relieved—he was a bad man—but for some reason you’re relieved he’s not dead.

“I saw a video, a video of you—”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” you say getting up. You’re embarrassed, you want to cry, you want to run away. You turn away from him, you can’t look at him right now. You were happy in the fact that you thought everything from the bunker had been destroyed. Of course the Professor kept videos of you. You can only imagine what John saw, and none of it is good.

“It’s okay,” you hear him say as he gets up off the sofa.

“I know he would take videos. I know.” You can’t stop the tears now. Cameras were just part of your life, he would record everything for research. He especially liked to record your heats. You’re lucky you remember so little of them, you wish you didn’t remember any of it. You feel John rest one of his hands on your shoulder. You freeze up. His hand is warm, strong. He’s not going to hurt you, but he could. It would be so easy for him to slip his hand on the back of your neck and it would be over. Everything in your body is telling you to protect your neck, to run. His scent is suffocating, the smell of sadness is gone. You smell something else.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he says. You smell the betas worry through the doors. You know they’re standing there listening, they’re projecting, they're trying to mask your scent without even realising it.

“I’m okay.” It’s a lie. You’re being a bad omega, you’re lying to your alpha. You hear him sigh. He can tell. You tense up even more than you thought you ever could. You wait for the anger, the shouting, anything. His hand leaves your shoulder. It's not what you’re expecting, your hand goes up to the back of your neck. You swallow hard letting the betas scent relax you and turn to face John. His expression is soft. His hand slowly comes up to cup your cheek. You let him, keeping your eyes on him as he brushes your cheek with his thumb.

“They hurt you,” he says as a matter of fact. You look down, you can’t look him in the eyes right now. You can’t tell what’s embarrassment or what’s sadness.

“I only got what I deserved,” you say, looking back up at him. You can’t look in his eyes. He might not want to punish you now but he will eventually. You’re a bad omega. His hands come back to your shoulders, and you almost flinch away. His hands grip you strong and firm keeping you in place.

“If anyone tells you that you deserved what you went through, you send them my way, all right?” he asks. You nod. You trust him, you trust him.

You press yourself into his chest, your arms wrapping around him as you sob, trying your best to keep quiet. His scent fills your nose and you relax into him. He’s your alpha, you’re part of his pack.

“What are you going to do, kick their ass?” you ask, trying to lighten the mood.

“Worse,” he says, kissing the top of your head. You believe him. For a few seconds you let yourself imagine him kicking the Professor's ass. He would be able to, the Professor is bigger but John’s a trained soldier. You hum into his chest, letting your scent fill the air as his hand rubs your back.

“I trust you John, I'm just not used to trusting people,” you say, opening your eyes, the tears run down your face. He pushes you off his chest, you almost want to whine from the break of contact. His hand comes up to brush your cheeks.

“I know.” He’s gentle, his hands move slowly as you look in his eyes. You didn’t want it to just be a biology thing. You like him. You wish one day you could maybe love him. His head tips down as he leans into you, you look at his lips. He wants to kiss you, you want to kiss him. Panic rises in your chest—what if you’re a bad kisser, you’ve never kissed anyone before! You don’t have time to worry about it as his lips meet yours. You close your eyes. His lips are soft but his beard tickles your face and it makes you smile. You don’t know if you’re doing it right but you must be on the right track as he pulls you closer to him, his arms running down your body, his fingers mapping out each curve.

You don’t even realise you’re not breathing until his tongue presses against your lips and you gasp opening your mouth for him. Just like his touch his tongue is gentle too, he moves slow like he’s taking his time to explore your mouth. His hands grip your waist pulling you tighter as he continues his slow movements. You can smell it in the air now, arousal. You try to ignore it, it’s strong though almost as strong as his alpha. He senses your change in body movements and pulls away. You open your eyes looking at him, his eyes glossed over as he comes back up to stroke your cheek.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, you feel yourself blushing.

“Nothing.” You say smiling up at him. “That was nice.” He kisses your forehead, you wrap your arms around him and he pulls you into the hug. You can still smell the beta’s through the door, you feel embarrassed now, they’ve been listening to this whole thing.

“Johnny and Kyle are standing outside the door.” You smile breaking away from the hug as his hands drop down to your waist. He walks around you to the door. When he opens it you can hear them scuttling away. He turns to you and you walk back into his embrace.

“How about a cup of tea and some horrible reality TV?” he asks. You smile at him.

“All I’ve done is watch TV for the last few days.”

“Great so you’ll know all the best channels,” he says. You let him wrap his arm around him as you both walk out into the main common room. Johnny winks at you from the kitchen.

“MacTavish, Garrick, get some rest,” he says to the room which is followed by ‘yes sirs.’

“Where’s Simon?” you ask.

“I’m sure he’ll be around soon,” John says as he moves you over to the sofa. You sit down as he heads into the kitchen.

“How do you take the tea?”

“I like it milky and sweet.” You see him smile as he turns into the fridge. You turn the TV on flicking through the channels till you find something.

You watch him work in the kitchen, spooning sugar into mugs, then water, then milk. He brings the mugs over and you move over making space for him as he sits down next to you. His arm rests round the back of the sofa and he motions for you to lay in his arms. He wants you to lay in his arms, your alpha wants you to lay in his arms. You pull your legs on the sofa and scoot over resting your head against his chest and your arm around his stomach. The show on the TV is familiar, you recognize the people, actors? You can’t tell.

“So what’s this about?” he asks, wrapping his free hand around you while he sips his tea.

“These women all live near each other in these big houses. The blonde haired woman is always upset about something,” you explain, cuddling into him. His arm is warm, you can hear his heartbeat, you can feel each muscle and scar under his shirt.

“John, I like spending time with you,” you say as you find your fingers run across his stomach. He kisses your head again.

“I know, we have all the time in the world.” That’s a lie if you’ve ever heard one. It’s what you need now though, his familiar scent filling your lungs. It’s what you need. It’s making you dizzy. His arm runs down your back then back up to your arm making goosebumps stand up on the back of your neck. You’ve missed him, you’re glad he’s back and safe.

“I’ll be a good omega for you,” you breathe as your body gets tired again. You feel safe, you are safe. You close your eyes.

——————————

Simon walks into the lab letting the door slam behind him. He doesn’t care if she knows he’s here or not.

“Welcome back,” she says, watching him walk across the room. He doesn’t say anything as he stops at the table she’s working on. He puts a small crate down on the table. She stands up and clicks it open, running her fingers over the vials then looking up at Simon smiling. He used to like her smile, now he just sees the evil behind it. She takes the vials, turning to put them in a fridge behind her.

“How did it go? Smoothly?” she asks, turning back to look at him.

“Classified,” he grunts.

“Well omega’s been missing you,” she sighs, he can hear the annoyance in it. He huffs, shaking his head. She missed Price, not him.

“We got what you needed, and this,” he says, throwing the USB on the table.

“What’s this?” she asks picking it up.

“Maybe you’ll find something helpful. If not, well.”

“Well what?”

“Thought you might enjoy some memories.” He turns to walk away.

“Memories? What are you talking about?” she says confused.

“You stayed to keep her alive. I saw what it was like for her.” His voice is harsh in the air.

“Simon—”

“No. You kept her alive. You kept her alive to be tortured.” He doesn’t want to talk to her right now. He wants to be with you, and he can’t even do that.

“So what? I should have let her die? Hale would have picked another omega, another subject,” Dr. Piper says.

“So what?” he snaps. “She’s a human being, she’s a person. You let her suffer. You let her suffer and that's on you.” His hand rests on the door handle.

“Simon. I tried so hard for her. I put my life on the line for her.” She steps round the desk towards him. He huffs letting his hand fall from the door handle.

“No more excuses. You made the choice to let her go through it,” he says, turning to face her. Her eyes dilate for a second and she takes a step back. He wants to trust her, but everytime he lets his guard down with her something reminds him of who she is.

“I’m not making excuses,” she says.

“You are, you just don’t realise it.” He opens the door and leaves.

——————————

Simon walks through the door into the barracks. He looks at Price on the sofa with you laying up against his chest. You’re asleep breathing steady against him. You’re safe, calm in his arms. He can smell you in the air, always something sweet, strawberries or cherries. He remembers how you looked in the videos, how you looked so helpless. Price told him to destroy the USB, but he already decided he was going to give it to Dr. Montgomery.

“You gave her the formula?” Price asks as Simon closes the door behind him.

“Yeah, she’s working on it,” Simon says, coming over to the sofa. He moves round to the other side, grabbing a blanket and throwing it over you. Price nods at him. Simon knows all about Price’s glances, knows what they mean. He wants to be left alone.

“How is she?” Simon asks, stepping back round the TV.

“She’s fine, missed us,” Price says. Simon can hear the hesitation in his voice. Simon sighs, soaks you in: eyes closed, mouth open slightly, your arm wrapped round Price’s stomach. He wants nothing more than to climb onto the sofa with you both, pry you out of Price’s arms and into his. He knows you haven’t missed him. He just hopes you’re not scared of him.

“You good?” Price asks. Simon doesn’t want to lie to him.

“All good, sir,” Simon replies.

“If you want to talk about it, you know I'm around,” Price says.

“It’s okay Price, I’m good.” Simon’s voice is harsh in the air, his heart pounding in his ears as your scent fills his nose. You’re relaxed, you’re safe. It’s nothing like the videos, it’s nothing like the reports he has seen.

He’s jealous. He wishes you were in his arms. He doesn’t want to be jealous of Price but he can’t help it. There’s an ache there, something he can’t put his finger on. It hurts like a deep pain in his chest, something he hasn’t felt in years. He remembers what Dr. Montgomery said; it’ll get easier once you’re claimed. He wishes it was him doing it instead of John.

He picks his bag up then heads to his room walking past Johnny’s open door, his kit spread all over the floor. Typical, he must be the one in the showers since Gaz’s door is closed. He goes into his room throwing his bag down. He grabs a towel and a change of clothes. He needs to blow off some steam.

Simon walks into the bathroom, his nose filled with the smell of Johnny. It’s a good smell, soapy and fresh. It reminds Simon of a warm summer's day, clean sheets in the breeze. Johnny’s head pokes out from one of the showers.

“Hey LT, come to cop a look?” Johnny winks at him from across the room. Simon rolls his eyes, stripping his clothes off, pulling his mask over his head. He can feel Johnny’s eyes on him. Simon likes when Johnny’s eyes are on him, and he’s not sure why. There’s a new scent in the air, he could faintly smell it when he walked into the building earlier. Vanilla, only this time it's heavy in the room, he makes his way round to the showers. Simon can see Johnny trying and failing to avoid his gaze. Maybe it was just Johnny’s shower gel this whole time.

“See something you like, Sergeant?” Simon asks, turning on the shower. He holds his hand under the water as it starts off cold.

“It’s nice and warm in here, sir,” Johnny says, leaning on the wall between them. There’s the smell of vanilla again, this time it hits Simon fast, right at the back of his nose. He looks over at Johnny with that cheeky grin on his face and before he knows it, he’s turned off his shower.

Johnny’s eyes follow him around as he steps into the cubicle with him. Johnny’s hands immediately run up Simon’s chest, his hands are soft, and his touch is nice. Simon presses closer to Johnny backing him up against the wall. Johnny leans up, planting his lips on Simon as he grips his waist. Simon’s hands run down Johnny’s arms as he forces his tongue into his mouth. Johnny’s touch is familiar, he knows where to touch him, how to kiss him. Simon relaxes into it letting Johnny’s hands run over him. Simon moves one of his hands up to run through Johnny’s hair letting his fingers massage his scalp.

“It’s been a while,” Johnny says between kisses. He was right, it had been a while. Simon had missed Johnny’s touch. Maybe this is what he needed, a true way to relax and destress. Ever since you showed up in their lives everything had just been a mixture of emotions, everything had been moving at a million miles an hour. Simon could use a break, and Johnny always knows how to make Simon feel good.

Johnny’s mouth moves to his neck, he grips Simon’s cock, thrusting his hands down his shaft pressing his thumb on the underside the way Simon likes it. Johnny looks back up at him smiling before he plants another kiss on his lips. Johnny shuffles his body like he’s about to get on his knees, but Simon grips his arms instead. Johnny looks at him confused, tipping his head to the side.

“We’re skipping the foreplay,” Simon says in a low voice that sends shivers up Johnny’s spine. There’s the cheeky grin again. Simon doesn’t change his expression, leaning down to kiss him before spinning him around. Johnny doesn’t need to be asked twice bracing himself on the short shower wall. This was definitely what Simon needed, he grips Johnny’s ass parting his cheeks digging his fingers into his skin.

It doesn’t take long for Johnny to relax too, the air being filled with the smell of something musky Simon can’t quite put his finger on. Even though the act is familiar, the sensations and the smells are new. That heavy scent of vanilla that’s making Simon’s head spin, the smell of beta filling the air and the other scent Simon can’t place.

Johnny lets out the most beautiful moan Simon has ever heard as he eases himself into him. One of Simon’s hands reaches around to find Johnny’s cock. He pushes Johnny’s hand out the way, replacing it with his.

“Christ Si, desperate?” Johnny moans as Simon starts to thrust into him. Simon brings his free hand up to cover Johnny’s mouth.

“Quiet MacTavish, unless you want Price and the omega to know whats going on.” He gestures towards the wall. Johnny nods and Simon releases his hand from around Johnny’s mouth. Johnny keeps quiet but doesn’t relent with the snarky comments. Simon’s almost not paying attention, letting Johnny run his mouth, enjoying hearing his voice and letting himself get lost in the pleasure. His senses feel heightened, he can tell Johnny feels it too, Johnny’s panting becoming faster as Simon wraps his arm round his stomach hitching him up so he’s bouncing down onto him.

The smell of alpha is strong in the air and it only gets stronger the closer Simon gets to cumming, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of Johnny’s neck, his moans becoming more like whimpers as he gives into the scent. It’s intoxicating. Simon isn’t thinking when he cums, his hand pumping his fist on Johnny’s cock, letting Johnny get as loud as he wants as he thrusts into Simon’s hand. The smell of beta and vanilla fills the air. Johnny goes limp in Simon’s arms and he holds him against the wall.

Simon’s head is spinning, his body tingling, he’s never felt pleasure like this before, Johnny's arms are slumped over the short wall as he pants, Simon’s hand still holding his spent cock. Simon rubs his thumb over the tip causing Johnny’s whole body to twitch and shudder up against him. Simon slowly moves Johnny back under the warm water holding him up against his chest.

“Fecking incredible sir.” Simon can’t help smiling as he lets go of Johnny letting him stand by himself.

“Not too bad yourself Johnny,” Simon says, slapping Johnny's ass as he leaves the cubicle, going into the one next to him. This time he lets the cold water hit his skin, and his mind turns to you, the smell of strawberries fills his nose. He tries to shake it away, but it’s not long before the pit forms again in his chest like there’s something missing. Simon looks over at Johnny.

He’s finishing up, turning the shower off to leave. It’s not the same anymore, the burning pain of needing an omega is too strong. He wanted Johnny but he needs you. He closes his eyes, turning up the heat on the water. He lets it burn his shoulders as he hears the door to the room open and close.

He’s alone now but he doesn’t want to be. He wishes it was you in the shower with him today, not Johnny. He can’t keep doing this, he has to get over you, for the team's sake. You’re Price’s omega not his, and until there is a cure it has to be that way. Frustration builds in him as he goes to leave the shower, drying his body and pulling on the fresh change of clothes.

He has to break this up. There's no other way to do it. He picks his mask up, rubbing his thumb over the fabric before pulling it on. Simon can feel whatever he wants for the omega, but Ghost can’t care. It’s just a job, you're just a job, the job is to find a cure and leave this world behind. He picks up his towel leaving the steaming bathroom.

He looks over at the sofa. Price is asleep now, his head tipped back snoring softly. You’re still asleep against his chest, the blanket pulled all the way up to your face. Ghost sighs reluctantly. He can’t let Price sleep on the sofa all night, he’ll fuck his back up. He walks over and shakes Price’s shoulder, it doesn’t take much for him to jump awake.

“You should go to bed,” he says once Price meets his eyeline. Price looks down at you still sleeping. He moves like he doesn’t want to wake you. Ghost sighs, he turns to walk away. He did his job and woke Price up. He hears Price waking you up as he goes back into his room. He moves fast, closing the door behind him and leaning up against it. He smells the unmistakable scent of strawberries as you pass his room. He closes his eyes, breathing it in. He smiles as your scent fills his nose. That’s it, that's the last time he’ll do that. From now on, for everyone's sake, you’re a stranger to him.

Next Banners by Plum98 Thank you as aways to rememberwren who told me my work was good when my brain was telling me it was shit <3

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hyperfixat · 6 months

Note

hey!! I really love ur blog so so much rn! If you can, I'd like to request a neurodivergent MC? One that has certain foods they hate and have never told anyone since their family had forced them to try them since they were little? (Ex. Cauliflower, brussel sprouts, blueberries, bananas, carrots) and so, one day, when theyre all eating (at the HoL or just out) and they notice MC eating all but those foods on their plate? Sorry if this is a bit too specific, I just really can't write it properly for myself and i would like to have some form of comfort-

Anyway, have an amazing day!!

anon i am holding you so close rignt now this cured my writers block this is the first ask i’ve got in like two months TT

i am incapable of writing anything not hurt comfort so there is some ‘oh man im so sad :(‘ at the beginning but yk if u said u like my writing i imagine u kinda expected this

warning for mentions of throw up and actually eating the bad foods :(

and yes yes yes i love writing explicitly nd mcs!! i added in another obstacle to the req; freaky demon food bcs thats always fun to consider. That way u can kinda make the demon food similar to whatever food u want in ur mind, anyhow, the words u wanted;

You push the pile of purple (purple!?) mashed… something from one corner of your plate to the center. First you had to go to a strange demon school where all of your peers are so much scarier and larger than you and now you’ve been presented with whatever the hell this is for dinner.

You think Leviathan (Levi — it feels so odd referring to him so casually having just met him) was the one that made it. There was a protein on the plate, you ate that with no issues, but.

Urgh. This?

It’s your second night sleeping in the House of Lamentation and you don’t feel nearly comfortable or safe enough to get a snack on your own, especially at night. You’ve had such a long day at RAD and your body is dying for some food.

Disguising your disgusted reluctance with a carefully blank face, your grab some of the. The stuff.

Ah, nope. You set your fork down quietly after taking a slow bite / swallow and grab your cup to drown the leftover flavors and textures.

Luckily all the demon brothers seem pretty into their dinnertime banter and didn’t notice your… less than satisfactory reaction to the food.

Gosh, you don’t want to offend any of them, especially not so early on in the year you’ll have to room with them.

It’s a good thing that Beelzebub is practically a food vacuum and doesn’t question the nearly untouched pile of. Well you know. Left over on your plate.

…It’s official. You hate Devildom cuisine.

Is the universe playing one big, cruel joke on you? What the hell is wrong with demons? Why must the eat the worst things in the world? Why… why… why?

Lucifer wouldn’t let you starve under his roof, and provides you with full meals and makes it clear what parts of the kitchen are free to raid (as not to take anything designated to anyone else). You feel like the most ungrateful human in the whole wide world right now.

It’s been quite a few months since the start of the exchange program and you’ve been… getting by. Okay, that’s not exactly true, you’ve been having a blast in most aspects of your stay in the Devildom. Most.

There’s still the teeny tiny issue of the cuisine not quite fitting your tastes. You’ve tried talking to Solomon about the Devildom cuisine and he tried to cheer you up with some authentic human world cuisine, but as it turns out his cooking is far worse than Devildom-style food.

Not to be dramatic, but you’re suffering in silence. You get by, as in you’re not hungry – the demons you’ve grown oh so fond of wouldn’t let that happen. They always seem willing to fetch you anything.

You’re trying so hard not to hurt any feelings, because you love them and want to support them. It’s just. You want to throw up almost every meal. (Barbatos’ little treats have been your saving grace – he always seems to have some yummy little snack on him. One that you like and doesn’t make you feel like your throat is crawling out of your mouth.)

Most of the time the brothers don’t pay much thought to what you leave on your plate – as long as you eat some of what was served they seem content. Even on nights where the meal is more nasty than good, it’s easy to just say you’re not that hungry.

This night was bound to happen at some point. Your plate is uneatable. It’s edible, just uneatable. It’d be more humiliating to choke down a few bites than it is to go to bed hungry. You wrinkle your nose when you think no one is looking and stab at the meat chunk.

Your eyes are downcast and you drag your knife lazily through the food. It’s mesmerizing in a way, so much so that you don’t notice at first when Asmo calls your name.

“MC, is something wrong? Are you feeling alright?” At this point he’s drawn the attention of his brothers as well.

“Yeah, you’re barely eating,” Mammon supplies.

Ah, the moment you’ve been dreading and hoped you would never have to face.

“Oh, I don’t have much of an appetite right now.” Which certainly isn’t a lie.

“You didn’t eat much at lunch, hon.” Asmo reaches across the table to put the back of his manicured hand on your forehead to feel for a fever.

You cringe, “uhm, well. I’m.” You fail to think of a decent lie quick enough – nothing you say will be believable as you mentally blue screen.

“Honest answer?” Satan prods.

“I’m not the biggest fan of some Devildom foods.” “Not the biggest fan?” Beel questions, “you dislike them enough to forgo eating entirely.”

“I’m trying not to sound like an ungrateful jerk right now. Give me a moment to word this properly.”

Satan scoffs. “Just say it. Whatever you have to say can’t be worse than what we’ve put you through.”

“Damn, okay. The food makes me wanna throw up when I eat it.”

Levi, the chef of the night, folds in on himself, face darkening with shame or embarrassment.

“It’s not a personal gripe, most meals have something that makes me feel that way, hon.” It seems your attempt to comfort him isn’t appreciated though, as Levi shoves his face in his hands.

Lucifer sets his fork down. “And why haven’t you said anything to any of us about this? We want you to feel at home here.”

“You can’t expect me to be comfortable barging into what was at the time a strangers house and demand they make special accommodations for me, then once I was comfortable enough to say something I felt I put up with it long enough that it’d be odd to bring it up out of nowhere.”

“Fair enough,” Satan nods along.

“No? Not ‘fair enough’!” Mammon scolds. “You shoulda said something to me! Do you even like half the snacks I give you? I spent good Grimm on those!”

Memories of bribing Beelzebub to do certain errands in the earlier days of your Devildom stay flicker through your mind. “They got eaten.”

“MC,” Lucifer brings the conversation back on track. “Let us know foods you don’t want to eat, we may be demons, but we’re here to provide you with a comfortable stay.” You nod under his sincere gaze. “Now, give your plate to Beel and order some delivery. I’ll cover the costs, as long as you eat.”

As you shove your plate across the table you see Lucifer pulling a shiny black card from his coat pocket. He gestures for you to come and take it. You walk to the head of the table and he presses the card into your hand.

“Order whatever you’d like. My treat.” There’s a glint of humor in his eyes and you look down to see Goldie in your palm.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #om hcs #obey me hcs #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me x you #obey me demon brothers #hyperfixat answers

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farfromstrange · 1 month

Text

Okay sinners, listen up! Like every single Matt Murdock obsessed individual in the fandom, I’ve been obsessed with THE Shower Scene™️ in the Born Again trailer since I first watched it. The gif keeps replaying in my mind. I’m absolutely fucking feral. It’s been a while since I last picked up my laptop to write, but I am here to inform you that the trailer has brought me back from the dead. Like, I’m sat with my legs open for this man. Sir, I have three holes that can be used.

Only God knows what kind of person I will become when the actual show comes out when a grainy leak is melting me more than this fucking heatwave. So (and my fellow Matt Murdock fic writers can probably relate to that) I picked up my laptop again, imagined this man in the shower and just started writing. I’m liking where this is going so far, so I just wanted to ask if you guys want it.

No.

That’s a lie.

I’m not asking. I’m insatiable and feral and horny, and I’m not ashamed. I’ll post it no matter what. And I will get to reading whatever my moots wrote inspired by the trailer ASAP because I think Matt Murdock’s Big Dick Energy might have actually cured my writer’s (and possibly reader’s) block.

This is just a PSA. And a warning. Because I’m about to become ten times more insufferable.

Me for the past two days:

#i’d do anything for him and i’m not exaggerating #matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #lizzi updates #ddba spoilers #daredevil: born again #lizzi talks

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okchijt · 2 months

Note

Can you do romantic yandere Adam x reader hazbin hotel alphabet? :)))

Author's Note: YES, I ABSOLUTELY CAN!!! Sorry not sorry but he's my fav so this request single-handedly cured my writer's block lmao. The amount of love I have for this sexist narcissistic man is unreal, which I know sounds bad... BUT I DON'T CARE HE'S THE BEST! And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you, and enjoy!🩷

Possible Trigger Warnings: Some minimal NSFW that is only mostly mentioned a few times with no explicit detail.

Adam -> Yandere Alphabet

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

You're the only person he's affectionate with and genuinely so. It's not just about sex or a quick fling with you like some other angels/winners he was seeing before you. He holds a much deeper type of feeling for you, something he didn't even have with Lilith or Eve, and unlike with them, Adam isn't planning on letting you go no matter what, even if you're willing in the relationship or not. For that reason alone, I feel like he'd be pretty intense with it: heated make-out sessions, ''inappropriate'' grabbing, be that your ass or thighs, and just possessive holding on the waist or around the shoulder in general. He puts on this act in public so the others won't catch on to how low he has fallen with the way he feels about you, he doesn't want his ''cool guy'' image to be tarnished just because he's soft for you. But in private he's more gentle, considerate, and even pathetic with how he treats you, always asking for permission or where you would like to be touched.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Not at all. You're obviously up in Heaven with him and it's not like Adam has any interest in making Heaven his personal blood bath, so he's pretty chill. If you were an Exterminator like him though, he would get pretty messy, wanting to impress you with how gruesomely and fast he finishes the enemy. He wants to show just how powerful he is and that he's the only one you should depend on. But if you're just a regular angel or winner, then you obviously don't know anything about his "work-life", so like I said at the beginning, he's pretty chill...mostly

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Only if you'd tick him off, by which I mean disobeying him or acting out. He'd be like: "Oh, boohoo, stop your fucking whining and get over it! You're fucking mine now, bitch!" Or anything along those lines. He'd basically refer to you like you're inferior to him and say that you should be grateful that the Adam graces you with his time and presence. Which is funny because no matter how much Adam likes to pretend you're below him, he secretly worships you and thinks you're his God. So even though Adam has his occasional slip-up of being way too aggressive and mean to you than he intends to be, he always tries to make it up to you later in some way. Even though he won't admit to it, he always feels guilty for treating you horribly, so don't be surprised when you hear a very half-assed apology from him or a present of some kind to indicate he is sorry, because he genuinely does feel guilty even if his words or actions don't portray that in the best of ways.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Yes, that being quality time together and affection. If you're well-behaved, you'd be allowed to walk around Heaven "freely" with him. But only on the condition that all of your time and attention is on him, you're not allowed to go anywhere alone without him. You wanna go bawling? Eat somewhere? Just hang out outside? That's fine, as long Adam is right next to you. So basically no privacy. Adam does not hold back on affection, whether in private or in public his arm/hand is either always on you or around you. He may be super clingy, but he's considerate enough to stop touching you in any inappropriate way out in public if you tell him to. Which he gets super bummed over and will beg you relentlessly to let him be bolder with his affection for you, no matter the answer he will respect it, apprehensively, but he will.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Adam, vulnerable? Never. Even though you are the only person he would ever wanna be or feel so exposed with, he's just too prideful and insecure to let himself do that. He feels like he shouldn't feel anything but good about himself and to always act like the top dog no matter how he truly feels. You'd really have to try hard to get him to open up to you like that, but no matter how close you get you'll just be faced with a greatly angered Adam. Bearing his heart to you comes off as easier for him though. He's super confident about it, even though his wording sounds extremely awkward, showing just how new he is to actually loving someone in the way he loves you. You can always tell he's forcing himself to sound more considerate or romantic, he means everything he says of course, it just sounds fake because it comes out of his mouth so it feels uncanny even for him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Just a bunch of irritated and confused cursing as he tries to calm you down. He doesn't necessarily curse at you, he just does as he struggles to come up with anything that won't be him just screaming at you and calling you names. But to answer the question directly, he doesn't like it, mostly. There is a tiny bit of him that does enjoy it because he finds you hot when you're angry, but he'll still much rather you not try to kick and bite him just to escape you're shared home. Adam would try to restrain you as fast and gently as possible, pinning you down and holding you're wrists behind your back before pushing you to a secluded room and locking you in there till you calm down.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Adam is certainly amused by your attempts of trying to get away, but it doesn't mean he endorses it or doesn't get bored of it quickly. If you do it frequently then he'd just become more and more irritated, struggling to keep himself composed and not accidentally hurt you or your feelings. Not to mention, at some point, he'd realized how fucked he'd be if you did escape and anyone would find out that he kidnapped you so he gets more stressed and forceful with keeping you in instead of out. So it's a no for the most part.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Hard to say... I think it depends on what kind of person you are and how much are you willing to tolerate when in regards to your kidnapper. Adam is loud, clingy, possessive, narcissistic, insecure, prideful, arrogant, disrespectful, immature, ignorant, selfish, etc. I could go all day honestly. Point is, if you're someone who could not handle one or more of his traits on the daily, then I'd say every day with Adam is like a nightmare to you probably.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Nothing too crazy, just you finally accepting that you belong with him and reciprocate his feelings. Adam just wants you to want him in the same way he wants you, living a normal and loving domestic life together, is that too much to ask?

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Adam is the jealous type! He thinks that everyone, even Lute is in some way trying to steal you away from him. He lashes out at those he deems as a threat, never outwardly blaming you for others getting in the way. Adam is immensely paranoid about you leaving or someone stealing you away, he won't let anyone steal his love away a third time. Lilith and Eve abandoning him, really left a huge scar on Adam, therefore him letting you form any sort of friendship is under his watch only. No ifs or buts, his insecure self is the one deciding who is "trustworthy" enough to spend time with you without them stealing you away. Not like he'll ever leave you alone with the person anyway.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

I've already touched on it, but Adam views you the same way he views God, someone who should be worshipped and treated as such. The only problem is that Adam is far too insecure and prideful to treat you the way he wants to openly. He has a "reputation" to uphold in the eyes of his fellow angels so out in the open he's pretty much the same as ever, except with a little hint of softness and consideration that is only ever reserved for you. He'd try to be more gentle with you, not curse so much around you or at you, not be so loud around you, basically not be the usual ass he is. Though him being better for you is a struggle and he does slip up more often than he'd like to admit, he still won't stop trying. Anything to gain your approval and affection.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Courting? What is that? This is "Dickmaster" we're talking about! He should be able to get you without even trying! It always worked before so why shouldn't he expect you to fall right into his arms like everyone else? But low and behold the shock he gets from you doing the opposite. You mean, he actually has to try this time??? Well, you're in luck! Cause if this was anyone else, Adam would have given up right then and there, but this is you we're talking about and he hasn't felt this way about anyone since... Ever really. So he'd approach you like he does everyone else but with a hint of anxiety to it and a very subtle change in his demeanor where he's surprisingly sweet and gentle with you.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really, no. Already said it a few times before, but the way he treats you is the same as he does with everyone else with a subtle difference here and there. Adam doesn't even acknowledge half the time when his dickish humor and loud yelling suddenly shifts into soft pleading and gentle touches when he's alone with you.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

We already know Adam is sadistic and cruel just from the way he views the Exterminations as entertainment and the way he treats the sinners as trash to throw around without any regard, making the contrast drastic when it comes to you. Whether you're aware of Exterminations or not, it's surprising how this man won't even dream of putting his hands on you in any way with an intent to harm you. He basically punishes you as if you were a child: time out, no TV, no ice cream/snacks, being locked in your room, etc. It sounds degrading and it would feel that way if it weren't for the fact he sounds absolutely clueless and guilty as he enforces his punishments on you, because in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. It's laughable really with how hard he's trying to discipline you while failing at the same type because of how childish his methods are.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Just the ability to be anywhere or do anything without him. Okay, maybe not that extreme, but it depends. Like, going outside without him is a big no-no that will not be tolerated without him being with you, it will immediately result in one of his punishments back at home. The same goes with spending time or even talking with others, he has to be next to you to monitor the situation, he's not happy about letting you talk to others, but he'll put up with it if it means you warming up to him for it. That's pretty much it, you're free to roam and do whatever inside the house. It's just outside of it does Adam step in and dictates what you can or can't do.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Adam is not a patient man by any means. With you, however? He struggles but tries to be as patient with you as he can. If you don't disobey him or fight back in any way then he acts like his usual clingy self around you. He's surprisingly patient with you slowly letting him in, sure he still forces his affections onto you, but he'll back away the moment you tell him to. Adam more than anything wants you to finally submit yourself to him so he can go as far with you as he desires, so he'll be patient with you as long as you need. After all, he's not only with you so you can please him, if it were about that he wouldn't have you locked up in his home with him, would he?

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No, never. That would break him. His first and second wife left him for the most hated being in all of creation and the sole reason evil even exists in the world. And now you, someone who at some point he realized you outshine both Lilith and Eve in every aspect, his perfect little angle/winner. Adam would go through Hell and back just to have you back with him, destroying everything and anyone in his path who dares to keep you two apart. Death is not an option and escaping/leaving is hardly a possibility with how glued to you he is 24/7. But if you did manage to somehow get out while you can, there would never be a time of day when you wouldn't have to look over your shoulder in fear he won't eventually find you. Because he will. He will always find you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No, and no. Such a thought won't ever even cross his mind! You should feel honored that out of everyone he picked you! You belong together, and Adam knows you'll someday feel the same about him. He's never willingly letting you go, that's for sure.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

His last two serious relationships left a huge psychological scar on Adam, one that he pretends doesn't exist by being a huge ass. Since his last wife left him, he hasn't fallen in love with anyone until he met you, or at least not in such an odd way. He hasn't been this happy since his time in the Garden of Eden! You sparked him back to life in such a way his previous relationships could never achieve, and he intends to keep it that way.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Instant internal panic. He hates seeing you like this, seeing you at your lowest really bothers him. You really bring out the humane part of him with how bad and guilty he feels seeing you in such a state. Which only makes the situation worse cause he has no idea what to do or how to help you. He'll do just about anything to get you to stop crying/screaming, put on a show for you, give you gifts, get your favorite snacks, try to gently calm you down, and even hug you if you let him. If you're isolating though, surprisingly he will give you some space for a bit, hoping you'll deal with whatever it is you're dealing with eventually. But if hours run by and you're still sulking in the corner, he's right by your side trying anything to cheer you up, and again, try to wrap his arms around you as he whispers sweet reassuring words into your ear and kisses your cheek. Adam at no point knows what he's doing or how to help you exactly, never been forced into a position of comforting someone, he just knows he hates seeing you like this and has to find a way to help you before he starts to get annoyed and potentially lash out at you, and lord knows he doesn't want that to happen.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He doesn't kill his ''competition''. You're both up in Heaven and he can't exactly harm or kill one of his fellow angels or winners just because he's jealous, it would only risk you two becoming fallen or worse, you being taken away from him. None of these options would ever happen, but if they did somehow come true, you better know Adam is fighting tooth and nail to get you back, even if it results in his own downfall.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Pretending to finally have fallen for him. While a little suspicious at first, if you play your cards right, you can easily fool him into believing you reciprocate his feelings. Adam is instantly over the moon the minute you say you finally love him, he has his arms wrapped around you in a second before kissing you all over. He feels like he's smitten for you all over again, instantly bending to your every call and whim. You can easily exploit him into letting you do whatever you want, like easily returning to whatever life you had before meeting Adam and pretending like you being kidnapped and forced to love him never happened. The only downside is that he's more clingy and affectionate than ever, never leaving you alone for long, and if you want to be able to have your old life back then be prepared to pretend to love him for the rest of your eternal days! Because once Adam catches on that you've been lying, your relationship is instantly brought back to how it used to be, except it's worse because whatever freedom you once had before this whole fiasco is gone. It feels like his past is back to haunt him, reliving does same scars both of his wives left him, instantly becoming colder and meaner toward you for some time, it will take a long time for Adam to forgive you and trust you again, if ever.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

No, absolutely not. Surprising isn't it? But with how highly he views you without you even realizing, he'd rather have the Exterminations be completely disbanded altogether if it means him never purposefully harming you. Sure, he may be a little too forceful with you sometimes or accidentally go too far but he never means to, he even immediately jumps away from you like a scared cat if he even hears you let out a pained sound from the way he's holding you. Adam sucks at apologizing or feeling empathy in general, but with you, it's a whole different story. His apologies still come off as somewhat forced or like he doesn't mean them, but he truly does and will do and say just about anything if it means you forgiving him and letting him hold you again.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

You are his sole purpose and the only thing he cares and thinks about 24/7. Of course, he worships you! Well, not openly at least. He's just scared that if anyone else catches on to how he really feels about you his reputation would go down the drain and he can't let that happen! That's why you'll only see this worshipping side of him in private, only then will you experience Adam sitting on his knees in front of you, begging for you to finally let him in and let him love you, showering you with endless praise while doing so. He'll do and say just about anything to finally win you over. He's a closeted simp is what I'm getting at.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A week at most before he decides he should just steal you away to have you all to himself. I say this cause at the beginning Adam does try to court you like he did his previous dates before deciding you're different and matter so much more to him than anyone ever could or did. He can't even comprehend not living without you and letting you slip away so might as well just speed up the process of you living in his home with him like the happy couple you are! Not.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Depending on your tolerance of his general bullshit self, maybe??? I'm more inclined to say no though. Adam would never strive to break you on purpose, heck the more you refuse his love the faster he'll be the one to break in the relationship. But seriously, I don't think it's possible to break being with Adam, at most you're always annoyed with him and hate life but that's about it.

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