#silently making an army of tiny men

[yoongsisbae]

Run Run Run - Seoul Close (Part 5)

A zombie apocalypse breaks out and you’re stuck on a plane with none other than…BTS! Oh, you thought because you were an Army that would help you survive? Girl think again. OT7 BTS Zombie Apocalypse AU / BTS member x reader slow burn

WELL I'M NOT DEAD. MY CHARACTERS ON THE OTHER HAND...JUST KIDDING. LET ME COPE WITH HUMOR.

Warnings: death, monsters, blood, fighting, killing, gory details, some toxic nationalism, mention of SA-nothing graphic, angst, smut, handjob, fingering, bathtime shenanigans

Word Count: 21.5k (I actually got block limited for the first time on this chapter. I hope the long chapter makes up for the wait!)

---

Run.

Run.

Run.

Keep your back straight, your shoulders relaxed, move your arms, breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth, and most importantly, don’t trip!

AND RUN!!!

You look back. You expected to see a lot of them, but not this much...

‘It’s gonna okay it’s gonna okay it’s gonna okay,’ you repeat desperately, as long as you keep running!

No time to scream or even cry, you need that energy…

To run!

You hear the labored breaths of the men around you, such a stark contrast from the horrifying growls of the undead behind you, a group of zombies you all had accidently awakened from their mindless ambling.

But there is quite a distance, fortunately. And if you just keep ru-

“Ow,” you grunt. You collided into a back, knocking the wind out of you.

“Wh-” You are silenced at the sight in front of you. There is a hoard of zombies and fresh corpses, the monsters are crouched over the bodies, pulling apart and devouring what remains.

You all stare at the gruesome sight. No words are needed and you are too winded to form proper sentences anyways, so you push the closest person to your left into the grass, which so happened to be BTS leader, Kim Namjoon. 

You keep pushing him until he takes the hint. He yanks on who he can reach too, giving silent orders. ‘RUN THIS WAY!’

If you’re lucky, you can create enough distance between you and the monsters behind you that have already caught a scent of your blood before the preoccupied ones begin to notice you. And if you were really lucky, the former might just give up once they smelled the scraps of someone else’s meal.

Too bad luck is rarely on your side.

The feasting zombies smell a new meal instantly.

Dammit! 

Keep running! 

Run for cover, run into the woods, run as far as you can away from them.

Hongcheon is a fraction of the size of Seoul and yet there are already so many more of them than you had expected. 

So many lives gone. So many families torn apart, hearts broken, young lives cut short…

A city destroyed. 

You don’t have time to cry over it now. Maybe later, when you’re safe, you can think of the children you saw, thirsty for blood, eyes sunken in, tiny bodies brutalized into monstrosities. Later you can agonize over their stolen youth, wonder where their parents are, if they remained a family, feasting together even in death.

Right now, you have to…

Run.

-

“Run over there!”

It hurts to move, to breathe. Your head hurts, your chest hurts, you’re terrified, worried sick, barely able to think, running on adrenaline. Hoseok grabs your hand and pulls you along. It makes you grateful, yet it makes you worry more. He should run ahead of you, you feel like a burden, you feel your heart clench when he squeezes your hand. 

You can’t help but think about the others, even now, you should have cherished those moments more, the smiles and laughter and banter and good times. Taehyung’s jokes, Jungkook’s bored singing, an infectious melody that had the others and even you humming along. Hoseok’s animated retelling of the events at Sutasa temple that the leader and eldest two had missed, making you and the others laugh along, the leader’s slightly impressed and very dismayed expressions and Seokjin whining over his sore feet.  

How wonderful it was when sore feet were the only thing to complain about.

You should have enjoyed those days leading up to reaching Hongcheon city more. When killing zombies felt like a team building exercise. Remember that? Tallying up your kills. Like it was a game, like it wasn’t the worst thing imaginable you had to do to another person, because they were people at one point... 

You look at the scared tired faces of the men around you and think how easy it could be to lose them to the same fate, a tally in a game strangers play not knowing how much love that growling decaying body once held… the jokes they told, the songs they sung, the stories they experienced, the sacrifices they endured…

You should have taken life more seriously, maybe now it wouldn’t feel so abysmal, karma for your blase us vs. them mentality. How stupid, you of all people should know better.

No, it wasn’t you and them, it was you and your future staring back with yellow clouded eyes. You stare back and feel nothing but regret.

And guilt.

And fear.

So you run faster, gulp down hot air, let it burn your lungs and let it sting your belly, because you now know the pain of living is always better than death, always!

You follow the others into the first house you come across where you quickly barricade yourselves in.

One two three four five six…No. 

Namjoon pats you on the shoulder. You almost scream in surprise, but you were trained now to only scream into pillows or under water, places it would be hard for them to hear you, not when you actually wanted to. 

Seokjin is behind him. Seven, eight. 

You all made it. Even Dev. Fuck, you’re actually relieved.

You relax only a little. Everyone looks beyond exhausted. You all need food, you need water. You doubt this small abandoned house has enough of anything for all of you.

There’s black blood on your arms and clothes from where you had to defend yourself from the zombies who came too close. The others have blood on them, and you wished there was more light so you could properly make sure the blood wasn’t theirs. 

“Is everyone okay?” you whisper. No one is just ‘okay,’ but they knew what you meant.

They pull at their clothes, checking their bodies. They all nod. You glare at Dev, and then eye Taehyung who nods again. Now that you’re stationary you realize how sweaty you are, how tired. You fall to your knees, finally able to rest.

Namjoon walks cautiously through the house, making sure the coast is clear and there are no residents remaining, alive or otherwise.

As you rest you listen to doors sliding open, Namjoon’s footsteps as he makes his way through the house. The others are quiet, catching their breaths, holding their bodies against doors, coughing quietly, rubbing their muscles, and of course, listening intently to the sounds outside…

The scratching, clawing, growling…

“Clear. Two Beds.” Namjoon returns.

“I’ll check for food.” Yoongi stands up, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“I’ll take first watch,” Namjoon says solemnly.

“Me too,” you add. He doesn’t argue with you, even if he does look like he wants to tell you to rest instead.

“Second.” Jimin and Taehyung say in unison.

It’s safe for now. What will it be like once the sun is high again? Better, worse? How long can you keep this up? 

Going through the city might have taken a couple of hours tops in the car, but you didn’t have that now, not even the horses…Those poor horses…

How many days will it take to get out now that you are on foot, you wonder. You can’t even bring yourself to look forward to it either, already imagining how much worse Seoul will be. 

You can’t help but think the situation you’ve put yourselves in is looking rather helpless.

You keep your eyes locked on a small divot in the flooring, trying to stay calm. Even if you had the time now, becoming emotional in this moment would be too dangerous. You have to focus and be ready for anything.

“We made it,” Namjoon whispers, placing his hand on your shoulder. You’re impressed with his optimism, you try not to feel worried, but it's for that exact reason you are so worried. You made it this time, but what about next time? What if something happens to him, what if you never hear those words again? Namjoon just might be all the optimism you have left.

You eat cold portions of canned food Yoongi prepares. 

You’re not mad at him anymore, almost dying has always had that kind of effect on relationships, but when he hands you your portion you still can’t meet his eyes, thinking of the conversation you had before entering the city.

---

“Why did you kiss me?”

“Huh?” Yoongi looks anywhere but in your direction.

Now you’re feeling even more wary. It took Herculean courage for you to even ask, now he’s going to make you ask again?

“Nevermind.”

You walk away from the rapper, back to tending to your horse while the large animals rest. You couldn’t help but notice the rapper has been rather aloof around you, more than usual, since kissing you. You tried not to take it personally, to not feel hurt every time he seemed to quickly shut down any conversation you start with him, but ugh, why did he go and kiss you then if he was just going to act like this?! 

It takes you all morning, right before the group is about to start your travels again, when you confront Yoongi one last time.

“Why did you kiss me?” You mutter, hoping he would respond this time. ‘Just say it was the heat of the moment,’ you think, so you can both move on, get over it. So you can accept it was just a one time thing, a moment of weakness, you would never hold it against Yoongi, but this, the way he’s acting now, you definitely do have a problem with!

Unfortunately, ears whom you hadn’t intended to hear perked up at the new information.

“You kissed y/n?” Hoseok crashes in between the pair of you.

“No, I didn’t!” Yoongi hisses immediately.

“You didn’t?” Hoseok tilts his head.

“He didn’t.” You repeat quietly.

“But you just said-”

“I didn't say that!” you laugh incredulously. “You misheard me. I asked why did he pick me… PICK me, is what I meant.”

“Pick you for what?” Hoseok looks between both of you in disbelief.

“Uhh…” you hesitate, trying to come up with something credible while Yoongi takes the opportunity to scurry away. “Pick me for the um next night shift-”

“He picked you? But you always volunteer,” Hoseok says accusingly.

“Okay, well, this time, I didn’t. And so uh I wanted the night off. Anyways, it doesn’t matter anymore! I don’t care! forget it!” you ramble angrily, making Hoseok back away this time. 

Yoongi waits by the car while you glare at him. He’s definitely ignoring you now, like you’re some deranged saesang, and it’s annoying as hell! He kissed you, didn’t he? Yes, you might have kissed him back, and…

You remember the way you melted into him, Yoongi’s body pressed against yours, the way you chased his lips, how you wanted more. You shouldn’t have done that. You shouldn’t have…liked it so much…dammit! Why did he kiss you?!

Yoongi answers you the next day. “It was a mistake. I’m sorry,” Yoongi whispers to you, bumping into your shoulder. 

You wince. “So you kissed me, by accident?” you ask.

“I shouldn’t have done it. I thought you had died, and, I…I don’t know…” Yoongi looks around anxiously, gaze stopping on Seokjin who is animatedly giving reasons why he shouldn’t have to sit in the back of the car this time.

You grind your teeth. This is the answer you wanted, why do you feel so crestfallen? “I understand.”

“You do?”

You look over at Yoongi. “Yes,” you smile wearily. “How do I say this? I get it, you wouldn’t normally have done that under normal circumstances with someone like me, I just wanted to make sure...” you pause. “So you want to forget it? Okay!” you say resolutely, “I’ll pretend it never happened.” You give him a more confident grin.

Your smile falls when you notice his red ears and tinged cheeks. “Yoongi?”

Yoongi looks like he’s holding his breath, holding something in for sure. “That’s not-” Yoongi cautiously lifts his arm up, knuckles touching the side of your face.

“Yoongi?” you repeat, holding your breath.

He almost looks like he might kiss you again, almost…but he turns his heel and walks back to the car, taking a seat in the back and settling an argument between Jin and Taehyung.

You frown, crossing your arms, you guess he is going to expect you to forget that just happened as well, you sigh, frown deepening. 

Maybe you are being delusional, he answered your question, you should just leave it at that, you think. You have bigger things to worry about.

-

You spent days pushing the car, hoping to find an exit to a gas station. All that energy wasted.

“You’ve been ignoring me.” Yoongi accuses under his breath.

You have not not been doing anything of the sort! You still acknowledge Yoongi’s presence, just like you do that asshole Dev, yeah.

You frown. “You have been acting weird,” you cross your arms. All day every day you can feel Yoongi’s eyes boring into the back of your head when you talk to the others, and yet he refuses to even look in your direction when you get anywhere near him! 

“I have not!”

“Well then I haven’t been ignoring you!”

Yoongi sighs. “Well it's clear to the others something is up between us and that is exactly what I was trying to avoid.”

You narrow your eyes on him. You think you finally understand him, Yoongi was ashamed of kissing you. You want to yell at him, but you can’t…not when you feel something akin to disappointment clawing at your insides, a small voice inside you confirming all your insecurities.

“Why would there be something up? Nothing is up, absolutely nothing,” you frown. 

“Stop.”

“I can’t stop because I haven’t started.”

“You are so annoying sometimes.” His hand holds your jaw, thumb rubbing the dirt away from your face tenderly.

You flinch away, “Is that why you didn’t kiss me?”

“Listen, I just don’t want to burden you-”

“Well, I’m very unburdened, can’t you tell? I mean, what could burden me? I have all the food I could want,” you say sarcastically, “I’m not running from monsters that want to eat me alive and I certainly don't care that you did not kiss me!” you hiss.

Yoongi covers your mouth. “Are you guys okay?” Jungkook says hesitantly, walking up to the pair of you.

Yoongi pulls his hands away as if he were burned. You roll your eyes at him, trying to not focus on the sharp pain in your chest, daggers embedding themselves inside you, each one confirming your worst insecurities. 

“Everything is great, Kookie,” you say, acting sweeter than your usual self, grabbing the youngest and leading him away before either man notices your watery eyes. 

---

“You can rest against me,” Namjoon murmurs, watching as you sway and try to keep your head up as the others sleep.

You laugh softly, “If I do that, I will definitely fall asleep. When I’m close to you, you make me feel safe. And I get sleepy,” you add, yawning. You rest your head on the wall, smiling back when he smiles. “Ahh, see, I can’t look at you,” you shake your head, trying to shake away your tiredness too.

“So you’re not all the way over there because I smell?” Namjoon pulls at your sleeve, trying to coax you closer.

“You smell? Damn, I must smell horrible then.” You sniff your worn and tattered clothes. 

“I saw a well outside, we can take advantage of it tomorrow, get some water to clean ourselves up.”

“A bath?” you wonder out loud, unable to hide your excitement. “Finally,” you sigh.

“Well err it’s gonna have to be a cold bath-”

“Mhm. A bath.” You ignore his warning, nothing can change your excitement. Let it be freezing cold, you will happily soak yourself until your fingers shrivel up.

After a while Namjoon speaks up again. “I think maybe we should stay here for a bit. Once the zombies disperse, we can go out for supplies, maybe scout for a better house to crash.”

“Here, in the city? For how long?”

“Maybe,” he hesitates. “A couple weeks? Or…a couple…months?”

“M-Months?!” you gasp, surprised.

“Look at them.” He gestures to the bodies sleeping on the floor around you, none of them wanted to leave the room for the beds, no one wanted to lose sight of each other. “We need to rest, we need supplies…we need to build ourselves back up.”

“Shouldn’t we, um, get out of Hongcheon first?” you ask worriedly. “I feel like…these monsters here are…different. They seem more relentless, don’t you feel?” you groan, thinking aloud. “Why are they so energetic? We’re the live ones! Shouldn’t it be the other way around?” They seem…well fed, you think, grimacing. “You think it’s a good idea to stay?”

“I don’t know.” Namjoon looks around anxiously at his friends, worried for their safety. “I don’t know.”

“Okay,” you whisper, reaching for his hand, you stroke his knuckles soothingly, deciding to follow Namjoon’s plan. “We’ll stay here for a while, and take it day by day. As long as we’re together, that’s what is most important, right?”

Namjoon lets out the breath he was holding, relaxing now that he had your support. In truth, he was too scared to move forward right now. He just needs some time, and Namjoon feels the whole group might do well with some rest too. You have all been in flight mode since first entering Hongcheon. Even you have chosen to forgo fighting, overwhelmed by the hoards of zombies and responsibilities to your friends.

-

Namjoon shakes Taehyung awake as second shift starts. Jimin rubs his tired eyes, sitting next to you, ready to take your place. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you whisper.

He nods his head to the group cuddled together like sardines, “Go rest, I got it from here.”

You hesitate. It’s becoming harder and harder to sleep. You dreaded the moments where you weren’t awake and alert for danger. Jimin sees your hesitation, he opens up his arms, “Do you want to stay with me until you’re ready to fall asleep?” You nod, relaxing slightly. 

Jimin is too good to you, it just makes you worry more, it just adds another dagger full of guilt sticking out from your chest. It all feels so heavy. You sink into Jimin, sorry to him for everything you’ve put him through. He hugs you back so tenderly you want to cry.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Jimin smiles, enjoying your warmth against him. You cling onto him, cuddled to his side, keeping your head buried into your chest, scared if you look at Jimin you’ll do something you regret, already so desperate to make him happy. But you can’t give into your feelings. You cannot bear to think how frightened you would become then.

---

“Is it true? Is it true? You…you…YOU’RE SO BEAUTIFUL THAT I’M SCARED.”

The road was abandoned, everything around you was at a standstill since that fateful day, only the trees danced with you, swaying in the wind. You let your bike zig and zag as you hummed one of your favorite songs happily. 

There were cars still on the road but the engines had long ago stalled out, the drivers ran away. 

It was so quiet. It was calm…peaceful even, serene…

And if there was a noise, it would likely be a member of the undead gurgling for brains. Noise now only served as a warning. 

You bike slowly, looking around at the bright landscape in awe. It had been too long since you saw green, trees, grass, flowers... 

Stuck in the airport for months you had become used to dirt and tarmac, withered plants in pots and only weeds surviving. But now you realized, lots of things survived. It was so beautiful, mesmerizing.

And you were about to be even more mesmerized.

“Oh my god, oh my god!” you laugh, biking fast before coming to a complete stop. “Y-You’re alive!”

The stranger looks at you, mouth agape. 

You kick your bike stand out, running up to him. “Oh! You don’t understand me!” you quickly switch to Korean. “Sorry! Hi, good afternoon! I didn’t mean to frighten you! I’m just– wow– I’m surprised! I haven’t seen another person in...I just...hi!” You resist the urge to hug him, noticing how skittish he already seems, instead bowing ninety degrees. “My name is y/n. Are you okay?”

“You…you speak Korean.”

“You do too, lucky us,” you laugh awkwardly. 

He looks around, shuffling from side to side. “Where did you come from, foreigner? Are you alone? Do you have any food?”

Your smile slowly falls. You had gotten too excited, you hadn’t paid attention, hadn’t noticed his dirty clothes hanging off his very thin frame, the shiftiness in his attitude, the strange look in his eyes, he didn’t seem…well. 

“N-No, I, uh…I came from the airport.” You look behind you, back in the direction you came from.

It only took a second for you to take your eyes off him, and in that second the man decided to attack.

“Hey!” You stumble backward as he tries to pull off your backpack. “Get off! Stop!”

You were used to zombies attacking you, trying to bite you. If it had been a zombie, you would have yanked out your knife before even thinking, stopped the monster immediately and been on your way. 

But a human attacking you? Someone living? 

It caught you so off guard you couldn’t react. You fall on the ground trying to get away.

The stranger lunges at your bike instead, still standing abandoned by you. You scramble to your feet, grabbing on to the handle bars as he tries to mount your bike. 

You start hitting him with your fist, yanking on the bike in between punches to get it away from him. 

‘Is this really happening?!’ you think. You just met and he’s trying to steal your bike?!’

He starts hitting you back, yelling in his weakened efforts. That noise was too similar, and you were bitterly reminded of the airport. You grunt, getting winded from your fighting. Yanking hard on your bike, you maneuver it out of his grasp, only for him to attack you again. 

Even in his weakened state, his adrenaline had managed to make him strong and combative. If you’re not careful, you could get seriously injured, probably left for dead, without your bike, without anyone, dying alone and abandoned…

Again?! Fuck this, fuck him!

You put your knife against his throat and he finally stops trying to attack you. You tried to sound threatening when you told him to stop. But the truth was you were terrified, more terrified than you had ever been at the airport. What if he decided to not listen to you? You didn’t think you could go through with it, you couldn’t kill this man.

“Stop! Get away!” you plead, screaming.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so hungry, I’m sorry! I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He bows his head, wailing.

You try to steady your hand, but the knife shakes in your grasp. You’ve stopped fighting each other but you can’t seem to catch your breath.

You roll the bike further away from him, arm still outstretched, pointing the knife at him in warning. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, wanting to cry.

You’re sorry too. 

---

You startle, even when Namjoon whispers your name, squeezing your shivering body. “Huh?” You’re lying next to him, you cannot remember when you’ve moved here.

“You were crying in your sleep,” Namjoon says in a concerned hushed voice.

You rub your eyes in your tiredness. It was true, your eyes felt puffy, your cheeks sticky with tears.

You turn your head to look at him, and he looks back at you, concern etched across his brows. Twilight has begun and soon the sun will be up. You sigh, you felt safer in the dark and safest next to Namjoon and the others.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just had a bad dream.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I was dreaming about my bike,” you laugh half-heartedly.

But Namjoon doesn’t laugh. “We all…have them, the nightmares-”

“I know.”

“So you can talk to me..us about it. You don’t have to always keep everything in. It’s not healthy.”

“Okay Doctor Kim.”

Namjoon sighs. He’s too cute when his brows furrow, his hair sticking up from sleeping, you can’t help but giggle. “The monsters I dream about aren’t the dead kind,” you whisper. “Sometimes, I just-” you sigh, “-feel like running away.”

“Run away from us? I would track you down,” Namjoon says.

You can’t help but smile, closing your eyes. “I won’t, I’d be too worried you’ll get yourselves killed without me.” 

He reaches for your cheek, lying his tired arm against you. “I’m scared,” you mumble.

“Why?”

“We’re going to run into more people eventually, what if next time…something horrible happens? Sometimes I feel like I made a mistake. I should have stayed away.” You think back to the first time you encountered him again. “At the time I wanted to hurt you, I wanted revenge, and then…” you mumble, reaching for him in the darkness. “People..are dangerous. You were safer with Kanhgo on the farm.” ‘Maybe everything about this was a mistake, not just Yoongi kissing you,’ you want to tell him.

“I think we met at the right time. You don’t know how it was before, we were all...too close to death, too friendly to the idea, to dying. It was in that house, sitting with us, all the time. Do you understand? You saved m– us.”

You don’t hear what he says next, already falling under sleep, too content next to Namjoon despite the looming danger outside. 

Namjoon stares at your closed eyelids and relaxes, scooting closer to your sleeping frame.

---

You wake up out of breath, body shaking. You couldn’t remember your dream, but from your pounding heart rate, your sweat drenched clothes, and the dread you feel lifting away, you suspect it was awful. You jump when arms grab you, pull you in and hug you tightly. 

“You’re okay.” You hear Jimin mumble against your shoulder, soft and soothing.

You see Namjoon still asleep next to you. The day is out. It’s only the four of you left asleep, the others already awake and going through the house.

“Go back to sleep,” Jimin murmurs. But you can’t, not with all that adrenaline coursing through you now, so you watch Namjoon’s peaceful sleeping face, so close to you. You start memorizing his frown lines and birthmarks and cuts still healing, calming yourself down. 

You make a promise to yourself that when you reach Seoul, when Namjoon finds his family, when you eventually go your separate ways, you’re never going to forget him just like this, your friend and your idol trusting you enough to sleep peacefully while death now stands outside.

---

You raid the town’s fire department in the morning. 

No firetruck anymore to your disappointment. 

But there was an axe left behind in haste, some canned food, bandages and antiseptic; incredibly valuable finds. You grab as many helmets as you can carry, intent on sticking them on a few members’ heads. 

“Hobi!” you call out, “Come here!” Hoseok finds you and lets you dress him up in your newly acquired gear. 

It is just as you suspected, you sigh, head in your palms as you watch Hoseok clog around in heavy boots, rolling up the jacket sleeves.

Hoseok would make the. hottest. firefighter.

 Man, you wish selfies were still a thing.

“What are you guys doing?

You drop a helmet onto Taehyung’s head. “Nothing,” you smile. 

“Alright, enough playing around.” Namjoon says, coming back with a full backpack. You pout, pulling off the huge firefighter jacket you found and offering it to Namjoon, hopeful. He eyes the jacket. “C’mon, it’s definitely your size!” 

“Firefighters your thing, eh?” Seokjin rounds a corner. He looks so dashing decked out in uniform. 

“...Maybe.” you tease. 

“Help!” That’s Jungkook’s voice.

He’s stuck in a corner, fighting off two of the largest zombies you’ve ever seen.

These particular zombies, not only look massive and strong, they are also wearing helmets, protecting their most vulnerable spot, and the exact area you need to access to stop their attack.

How the hell are you going to kill them?!

The axe! Namjoon swings it into one of the zombie’s shoulders, completely dislocating the entire arm, while Jungkook keeps his bat lodged in the zombies’ mouths. 

Namjoon brings the axe down again and again, as if he were hacking at a tree. You grimace, you definitely could not use what came off as firewood. “This is so gross.” You look down at what remains, two heads still animatedly trying to bite your shins.

“Sorry,” you wince, stabbing the heads through the eye quickly.

As you sneak your way back to the house, Taehyung decides to ask you, “Why do you always do that?”

You massage your neck, “Do what?”

“Say you’re sorry. You always do it.”

You smile sadly. “Because I am sorry. It’s not their fault, you know. I am sure a man like that always wanted to help people, not eat them.”

‘Man,’ Taehyung certainly did not consider what that firefighter was reduced to, to be anything close to man. “Well I don’t think they understand you.” 

“Hey! My Korean is not that bad!”

Taehyung bumps your shoulder, “You know what I mean!” he laughs.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you sigh. “Their ears are still there, why wouldn’t they understand? Do you think they aren’t in there anymore?”

“I hope not.” Taehyung shudders.

“I guess we’ll never know until we become one…” you hum.

“Kill me before then.” Taehyung mutters.

You offer him your hand, “Deal.”

“If I become a zombie, put a muzzle on me and keep me as a pet.” Seokjin drapes his arms over you and Taehyung.

“Deal!”

“No way!”

“What about you, y/n?”

“If I become a zombie?” You catch Namjoon staring at you. “I don’t know,” you think back to the airport. “I like to think I would be able to you know, but when it comes down to it, I don’t think I could kill myself…” you shrug. “But if I try to eat you, you do have my permission to-” you swing your arm back and forth, aiming for Seokjin’s head, laughing when he yells at you.

---

“What if we go this way? Closer to the river? That might be safer?”

“What about the school?”

“No, that’s usually where the town would find shelter. If just one of them was bitten…I think we should avoid this whole area.”

“What’s this word?” you point to the character on the small map. You, Namjoon, and Yoongi are looking over the withered piece of paper, trying to find the best place to find shelter before night.

“That’s like a, ‘Government Building.’” Namjoon answers in English. “A town hall.”

“What about that church?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea either.”

“What about this street, with all the stores? We could find a place to stay there. Close to supplies? And close to water!”

“Look! Military base.” Yoongi points to the map.

“That’s so far.”

“Tire shop? We could find a running car?”

“Y/n, can we talk?”

“Jimin, just wait,” Namjoon answers for you, stepping closer to you as you study the map.

You rub your temples. Your head hurts trying to decipher the map, speaking Korean rather than reading it has always been easier for you. “Wherever you want to go, I’ll go.” you massage Namjoon’s shoulder, stepping away. You switch positions with Jin as you make your way to Jimin.

-

“Where’s Jungkook and Tae?”

“Working on the well.”

“Should we go watch them? Stand guard?”

Jimin pulls you back, “They got it, we already made sure it’s safe.”

“Oh, alright,” you tilt your head at him, he’s acting a bit impatient. “Are you okay?”

“I just…you’re always– it’s hard to get your attention,” Jimin swallows.

“What? Well, I’m here now,” you say softly, running your hand down Jimin’s arm until you reach his hand, squeezing it with your own.

Jimin squeezes your hand back. “Come with me,” he says more confidently. Jimin leads you back into the house, inside a bedroom, and then inside…the closet? You stumble into boxes full of someone else’s treasured memories.

“Well the closet wouldn’t have been my first choice.”

“I just wanted uninterrupted time with you.” In this small house, hiding away might be the only way Jimin could be with you alone. “I just want to make sure we definitely won’t be bothered,” Jimin sighs, leaning into clothes.

Clothes! You lean against him, picking a shirt off the hanger. You’re so excited by your find, you don’t notice how tense Jimin gets when your body presses up against him. “This would look good on you!” you hold up the shirt you chose.

Jimin takes a deep breath. “Y/n…”

You freeze when you catch his eyes. “Jimin…”

Oh god, why did you say his name like that? All breathy and high pitched and…needy…oh no, why does he have to look at you like that?!

“Don’t look at me like that,” Jimin murmurs, smirking.

Wait, how are you looking at him? You didn’t have very much of a poker face, despite what you thought. “Huh?”

Why does his lips have to be so soft when he kisses you? How does his tongue do that thing-

“Jimin, we can’t,” you step back.

You definitely did not mean to pull him back with you.

He chuckles against your lips, kissing you deeper.

“Wait.” You are suddenly very aware of how hot and cramped you were. You find the door knob, grateful for the new space to clear your head. “W-We really can’t. We should– We shouldn’t! We shouldn’t-” Why can’t you catch your breath?!

“We definitely shouldn’t,” he jokes, resting his hand on the bed’s post.

You exhale, looking at the empty bed. Not doing things with Jimin sounds very appealing. But you can’t! Why “can’t” you again? Oh yeah-

You sit on the bed, looking up at Jimin.

Jimin who is looking down at you with that tiny pleased smirk he can’t stop showing.

You stand up abruptly. No, a relationship was too risky, even if the threat of being eaten didn’t loom over your heads. And what if...

What if Jimin got tired of you, came to his senses once he reached Seoul and had more options? 

“I thought we agreed to wait until Seoul-”

Waiting looks like the very last thing Jimin wants to do. “What if I don't make it to Seoul?!”

“Don’t say that!” you hiss. Why did he have to say that? Now you feel like crying. You must have looked upset, because Jimin is now looking at you with a mixture of confusion and worry. 

Jimin hugs you close, arms wrapped around you tightly, like he knows you will fall apart if he doesn’t. His lips are trembling against your neck, you can feel your own body trembling against his. 

You are not strong enough to resist him. 

“Please Jimin, all I’m saying is you might feel differently once we get to Seoul-”

“I won’t-”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

It’s easier to speak when you are looking away from Jimin. “Everything that’s happened…that is happening, it’s easy to, you know, want to feel something other than fear or loneliness,” you swallow. “And I’m convenient to do that with,” you let your hands drop away from his embrace. “I feel like we’re just using each other, and once it’s not convenient, you won’t want me anymore. That’s why I wanted to wait.” 

“I’m not using you, y/n!”

You look up at the ceiling to keep from crying. You weren’t from a rich family, or famous, you weren’t gifted, you weren’t special. You would have never been more than a fan to them had the world not gone to shit…

They left you alone.

You don't forget that, that nagging feeling always in the pit of your stomach, always tight around your chest when you notice one of them giving you that look, the one Jimin is giving you right now. The look Yoongi gave you after he said what a “mistake” it was kissing you.

And if you let Jimin kiss you again, have you on this bed, could you handle it if he tells you someday later, those exact words? You’re overcome with a weird feeling. Are you okay with that? 

He’s looking at your lips.

Maybe you should. Fuck it. Yolo. Or whatever.

Can you push away those feelings?

Is...that what Yoongi did to you?

“Is everything okay?”

“Go away Namjoon!” Jimin yells as you pull away from one another as the bedroom door opens.

“What? Excuse me, Park Jimin?” Namjoon is staring at your distressed anxious expression. “What the hell is going on?”

“It’s fine. I-I’m fine. I…I need some air.”

Jimin grabbed your arm. He didn’t want to let you go, he knew you had a penchant for being reckless, and especially if you were about to go outside, he was definitely going to put a stop to it. 

It probably sounded like a whimper, the sound you made when Jimin held you again, the way Namjoon was right by your side in an instant. “Let her go, Jimin!” He warns, holding both yours and Jimin’s arms.

“Kim Namjoon, why do you let her put herself in danger all the time?!”

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME, PARK JIMIN?”

You wince at Namjoon’s booming voice so close to your ear. You hear footsteps rushing towards the room, so you rip yourself away from both men’s grasp.

Well, you just locked yourself in the closet. You just did that.

The men stare at the closed door for a while. They hear your muffled voice yell back, “I’m fine! I just need some time alone…in here. I won't go outside, I promise!”

---

You finally leave the closet when Seokjin knocks softly on the door telling you dinner is ready. You carry a box full of clothes, shirts and pants for each man to try on, and a new outlook on things after shifting through old keepsakes, a collection of items that told a story of a couple who must have been together for decades. You want that. But that kind of life, like old movie tickets, developed film, and festival prizes, that kind of blissful happiness was not possible for anyone anymore.

“Do we have water?” you ask Jungkook. He looks exhausted.

“Drinking water, yes.”

“What about…cleaning water?” you ask, hopeful. 

“What about soap?” Jungkook asks.

You smile wide, clapping your hands together, pulling out everything you found and setting it up in a neatly filed line in front of Jungkook. “You have first pick, of course, if you get me that water,” you smile deviously.

Jungkook grabs the shampoo and conditioner combo. “You will have it all set up for you tomorrow when you get back from scouting.”

“Yay!” You give the youngest the tightest biggest hug you could muster up. “Oh! Maybe I should wait until after I bathe to give you a hug-”

“No! Hug now, and hug tomorrow!” Jungkook squeezes the air out of you. You giggle, despite not being able to inhale.

---

“Are you still mad at me?” Yoongi asks wearily, finally speaking up. “I’m sorry-”

“You don’t have to apologize, Yoongi.” You dig through the neighboring house’s kitchen, handing Yoongi the cans of food you found. “I’ll just try not to act so irresistible next time,” you joke, in brighter spirits, winking at the idol.

Yoongi places the items in his pack, relieved you weren’t giving him the cold shoulder.

“Oh, thanks,” he says sarcastically. “You’ve been doing a pretty good job though with that smell.”

“Okay, mister! Oh look, I found some food for you!” You throw him some cat food, laughing.

“I expect a two course meal tonight,” you tease, after finding spam and more canned veggies.

“I’ll make sure to prepare a second course all for you with the cat food you found.”

“Ew!” You shove him playfully. “I guess I won’t share my dessert with you then.”

“What dessert?”

“You think these are still good?” You pull out a full box of chocopie from your pack. You smile in satisfaction at Yoongi’s stunned face. 

“I guess I will have to make you a three course meal then,” Yoongi says, making you smile wider.

A noise makes you jump, and Yoongi instinctively covers your body with his. You force your head under his arm, unwilling to let him sacrifice himself for you.

“Stay behind me!” Yoongi hisses.

“No, you stay behind me!”

Yoongi shoves you with all his strength away from the noise closing in. It catches you off guard as you stumble backward, you hadn’t expected Yoongi to use so much force.

So you jump on his back, sending him stumbling and crashing into a very nice looking cabinet...full of glass wear.

Two of the biggest racoons you’ve ever seen in your life scurry out of the shadows and past you and Yoongi, making you squeal and tighten your grip around the rapper.

Yoongi sighs, freezing against you when he realizes his hands are holding your thighs.

“Next time just get behind me,” you mumble.

“No fucking way.”

You should be mad at him, but you can’t help but smile.

Yoongi should be mad at you, but all his anger dissipates seeing your smile.

You pass by a record player on your way out. “Yoongi! Do you think we could make it work?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “It needs electricity.”

“You can’t just turn the record with your finger?” You sound so desperate to hear music.

“The speakers won’t work without electricity. Sorry, y/n.”

You nod, crestfallen. Yoongi hides his disappointment too, the rapper wishes most of all to hear music again. You grab a pile of records, “just in case,” you say, hoping one day to find a way to play them. It makes Yoongi sad and happy all at once. He wouldn’t have done that, had any hope like that to begin with. 

You both walk back to your new found home quietly, but now shoulder to shoulder.

You gasp, making Yoongi pause. “Oh! Look at that. The wall-”

Vine had grown all over the concrete fence. Between the two panels, vegetation had come in between them and on the sides, and now the gray that could still be seen resembled-

“It looks like the Army logo!” you laugh happily.

Yoongi looks at you. His eyes seem lost and far away and so reverent, and at the same time, he looks at you with that same reverence.

And Yoongi knows he shouldn’t. Not after Seokjin had confessed to him his growing feelings for you, or when Jimin looks at you so longingly during those moments you’re not looking.

Not after Yoongi had noticed the way his leader always gravitates to your side, and Jungkook’s red ears and wide smile when you give him your undivided attention. Yoongi knows there was already enough discontent in the group. He shouldn’t feel the same way.

But you’ve wound yourself around him like those branches. 

You’ve grown on the rapper, your attitude and your kindness and your strength and your smile. He feels it, that excitement when he looks at the hidden symbol, only for a second, only because of you, and he’s grateful to you. 

Your eyes follow his gaze, looking at him in excitement over such a small thing, a small sign that meant…still means so much to him…so much it hurts to remember. It hurts to think about what he had and what he lost. You mean so much to him. And he can’t lose you too.

Your eyes sparkle before they turn questioning, and before you can ask, Yoongi is already kissing you.

Your eyes widen, and your hand presses against his chest. Yoongi’s muscles are hard against your palm and makes you gasp how solid and warm he feels. He kisses you deeper, quickly, indulgently before he makes himself pull away.

You're both breathing hard, you look at him surprised, mouth agape, your lips still tingling from his contact.

He did it right in front of the house.

And right in front of his bandmates, waiting for both of you to return. 

Shit, he thinks. Where did all his control go?! He wishes he could blame you, after all the things you do to make his heart burst so much he bursts to feel you.

He makes a quick apology before turning away from you. He knows he’s fucked up again when he feels your grip on his shoulder as you try to pull him back unsuccessfully and your silence following.

Maybe somewhere deep down he wanted you to chase him, and somewhere deeper he was disappointed you didn’t.

---

“Someone kissed you, someone here kissed you?! One of my brothers kissed you?!”

“No! No, no.” You say rather unconvincingly in Jimin’s opinion. 

“...”

“Yes?”

“So? Who was it? I know it wasn’t Jungkook or Taehyung because they were the ones whispering about it.”

You groan inwardly. “Well it doesn’t really matter, because he didn’t mean to, but um, it was– and he regrets it! I think. Well he definitely regretted the first time-” you mumble, annoyed.

“First?! As in, this was the second time?!”

“Uhhhh…”

“Did you kiss him back?”

“...”

Jimin sighs, rubbing his eyes. “So that’s why you didn’t want to be with me,” he laughs bitterly.

“What! No! Well yes…but not for that reason! Ugh! Jimin please,” you inhale deeply, “Yoongi regretted it as soon as it happened. I just didn’t want you…if we had done more, I didn’t want you to feel stuck with me once we reached Seoul,” you sigh.

“YOONGI KISSED YOU? TWICE?!”

“Eh? No? Yes?”

“You do know zombies are attracted to noise, right?!”

“Shut up, Dev!”

Taehyung and Jungkook, the cause of this commotion (because it was definitely not you and Yoongi) pull Jimin away. 

“Maybe you should go check the bathroom, y/n,” Jungkook pleads.

You don’t have to be told twice. You nod, at a loss for words.

-

You stare at the half filled plastic tub situated in the middle of the bathroom, contemplating on drowning yourself. 

It would certainly make things easier for the group. You decide probably not the best thing to do at the moment and pull off your shirt.

The door opens mid undress, and you decide to just pull off the dirtied material anyways.

“Oh shit, sorry! I thought you might have been done already.”

“Oh, I was…preoccupied.” Interrogated, more like it, you sigh. You cover your chest with the dirtied shirt, staring at BTS leader, Kim Namjoon, who looks sheepishly at his feet. “You wanted to use the water?” you ask hesitantly.

“No,” he lies, “We already washed up.”

“You did a shit job.” You notice his hair is still a little bit greasy.

Namjoon laughs. “Well Jungkook is rationing water like a maniac, we were only allowed a bowl full each.”

You suddenly feel horrible looking at the tub full of water you were about to use. “I’m sorry, that’s not fair, you can use the water first.”

“No, no! You deserve it out of all of us.”

“What?! No I don’t!” you exclaim, pulling Namjoon to the tub and heading for the door.

“Hold up, Jungkook will murder me if you don’t use this water,” Namjoon laughs.

You pause. Grabbing a towel and soaking it, you squirt soap across it. “Well…you need it more,” you smile half heartedly, holding the towel out for him to take. “Please.”

Namjoon sighs, pausing at the door. 

He shuts it.

-

You sit on the closed toilet, suddenly realizing the situation you’ve put yourself in as Namjoon pulls off his shirt. He takes the towel from you, holding it to his face and sighing.

Where did your shirt go?! Should you go put a shirt back on? Should you leave and give him privacy? Or maybe you should stay very very still in hopes he forgets you’re still here. You glance over at Namjoon, trying not to stare as he wipes his chest.

Namjoon bends over your lap, wetting the towel again.

“Do you want help with your err back?” you ask.

Namjoon looks over at you. He hasn’t said a word since he’s closed the door. He simply nods, turning his back to you.

You notice all the scars littered across his torso and arms. It's sad what this new world does to you, you can’t escape it no matter who you are.

You wipe down his spine and across, over a particularly deep looking scar. It’s so close to his spleen, it must have been a scary situation. “How did you get that one?” 

“I think it was when we were running through the woods after our first lake run. We hadn’t anticipated so many of them. I fell down and got jabbed by a branch, went in pretty deep,” he grunts, remembering the pain and having to get back up and keep running even as blood seeped out of his gash.

“Clumsy,” you tsk. Namjoon chuckles, back to being silent. So you tell him to lean over the tub. You cup water in your palms to wet his hair and you grab some of your shampoo.

He sighs as your nails massage the soap into his scalp, his arm absentmindedly holding your leg. You tell yourself it's so his clumsy self stays steady.

You pick up a cup and let the water run through his hair. “Don’t tell the others I did that for you, they might get mad at me.” You wonder just how mad Jimin currently is.

He shakes his head, flinging water at you, nodding happily. You laugh, looking away. His pants are soaking. 

“Thank you.”

“I can leave, so you can finish cleaning your body,” you mumble.

“Or,” Namjoon says softly, “you could stay.”

That makes you look up. Namjoon stands upright, he looks so tense and wound up. You are faring no better, and this was supposed to be a relaxing experience! 

“Do you want me to stay?” you ask slowly.

“Yes.” Namjoon says without missing a beat.

“Okay. So, I’ll stay,” you swallow.

“I can help you too, wash your back.” 

You scoff. But he’s serious.

You have gotten very close to them, spending every waking minute with them, falling asleep in their arms, you’ve lost count how many times it’s happened. You try to always tell yourself it’s what you must do to survive, that’s all there is to it. That sort of familiarity was a kind of preservation.

This is probably the closest thing you’ve done with the leader. And the way he looks at you, with such a soft look in his eyes, making you second guess yourself, that mantra just doesn’t seem to fit this time. 

You decidedly turn around, reaching for your bra clasp. Namjoon undoes it quickly, easily, surprising you.

Now it's Namjoon’s turn to look over the scars littering your body. They look deep and painful.

He touches one in particular. It’s a miracle you lived. 

He holds his hand there, over the scar, palm resting on your side. Your heart feels like it’s pumping a thousand beats per minute.

He delicately runs the towel across your shoulder blades as you cross your arms over your chest.

You shiver when the cold cloth touches your skin. “I told you it was going to be cold,” Namjoon laughs. “You wanted to soak in that.”

“I’ll still do it,” you say stubbornly, getting used to the cool sensation.

You turn around once he seems to have gone over your back three times over. You were both topless, however you kept yourself covered with your arms. You didn’t protest when he wiped your neck and collar bone. You were concentrating on not making any noise at all actually, worried for the sounds that might come out.

Namjoon was taking deeper breaths, through and out his nose.

You wondered what kind of reaction he would have if you dropped your hands.

You also wondered how long it’s been since Namjoon has seen a woman’s body up close like this. You had already noticed how his eyes kept glancing down at your cleavage every other second. It’s been a long time since someone has seen you naked.

It would be like a thank you. 

Were you really thinking about flashing the idol?!

But Namjoon…has become more. Felt like more…he was more to you. He’s more special to you than you could have possibly imagined.

Also you just kind of want to see his reaction. You chuckle.

Namjoon quirks his head, a small smile surfacing. “What?”

Oh god, what’s wrong with you?! Was the thought of showing him your boobs that amusing to you?

“I just realized you’re the only person that can really see me like this.”

“Is that why you’re avoiding Jimin?” He asks.

“Part of the reason,” you mumble.

“The others will-”

“No.” You shut down whatever his suggestion might be. “You’re the only person I trust completely, Namjoon.”

He nods. “I trust you completely too.”

You shy away, turning back around. Hearing your words repeated back to you, you didn’t realize how…intimate it sounded.

You hear Namjoon unbuckling his belt. You didn’t know what to do, so you started unbuttoning your pants as well. For some reason, your brain thought if you were both naked, that would make it less awkward. The mind is a funny thing.

You let your pants drop. Your heart rate is now ringing inside your ears.

You stumble over to the small tub, standing in the middle, waiting, glancing over your shoulder to a very naked Namjoon, hands over his manhood.

“You’re not really gonna-”

“Oh, I definitely am.” You try to sound as confident as possible with your heart fully jumping outside your chest and your eyes staring directly at your toes. “You too?”

-

“How is it?”

“Freezing.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Whatever!” You cup some water and let it trickle down your front.

It’s cramped as hell, you’re trying very hard to ignore Namjoon’s naked member pressed up against your bum. The water is cold, but every place Namjoon's skin comes into contact with yours, warmth is radiating.

Namjoon smiles. You're spooned against his front, knees pulled to your chest. He has to reach down your legs to wet his towel again, running the damp cloth across his neck and shoulder. He relaxes against you, resting his head against the tub’s rim as you meticulously lather soap over your body and through your hair. He tries to remember what compelled him to do this with you. 

He wanted to be closer with you, and well now, he thinks there is no way he could possibly get any closer unless he jumped into your skin.

He didn’t want to leave you. Even though he knew he should have gone the moment he saw your shirt over your arms and your cleavage on display. He knew you were just being nice offering him your bath, but you looked at him eyes so pleadingly, half naked too, Namjoon wanted to stay with you, so he did.

He didn’t want you to leave him either. So he asked you to stay. He told himself, if you said no, then he wouldn’t push, he would accept that was going to be as close as he would be able to get for now. But then you stayed. He got what he wanted.

And now you were naked in his lap, happily splashing around while his balls froze, and Namjoon was exactly where he wanted to be. He probably shouldn’t feel so satisfied about it, but he’s been having to quietly deal with not being able to do what he truly wanted for so long…

“Well I’m having fun,” you laugh.

“Me too.”

“Y/n is that you?”

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

“Yeah, yeah it’s me. I’ll be out in a bit. I'm, um, busy!” You try to stand, but you have no footing.

“Oh okay!” Taehyung yells back. You listen for any sounds of movement. 

“I can’t find Hobi or Joon, do you know where they went?”

“No um no, I don’t know where Hobi OR JOON is! I don’t know, I’ll uhh help you look after I’m done…go away now– Close the bedroom door when you leave! I need to grab my clothes.”

Taehyung sees two large shirts on the bed. He likes the color of one. “You want them now?”

“NO! No no, I’m busy, you should leave. I can’t um concentrate with you there.”

“Okay okay.” Jeez. Taehyung pouts. It’s not like he hasn’t heard it all before. But women are touchy with things like that so he lets you have your privacy.

You had floundered like a fish, leaning over to make sure Taehyung could hear you, arm outstretched in case you needed to throw the door closed. You had completely forgotten your, very naked, predicament.

Two of those predicaments pressed right against Namjoon’s cheeks. 

Now you are very much understanding what you’ve done, and how rigid Namjoon is, trying not to think about you pressed up against him. And you notice how rigid something else is…..

You freeze in shock.

That doesn’t help Namjoon’s current situation.

“I can’t leave now. It will be too obvious,” Joon says, fighting every mortal urge inside him at this point.

You peel your breasts off him, falling out of the tub and onto slippery tile.

“I’ll leave!” Shit. Your own self restraint is hanging on by threads. You need alone time. How are you gonna get it here?

Fuck, it’s cold now, you’re missing Namjoon’s body against yours, you’re really missing it.

“Stay.”

“Namjoon, listen– oh,” you had intended to tell him the same thing you told Jimin, you hadn’t expected him to see him so...exposed.

Namjoo stood one foot out of the tub, skin wet and glistening, hand not so much covering much of anything as he gripped his very very erect cock.

Your mind goes blank. This was the first time you’ve seen him…that. Not in quick shy glances at the lake, not in unfocused looks, eyes downcast or upcast or anywhere but his fucking sexy body cast. You were shamelessly staring at the man in front of you, eyes wide open.

Namjoon looks so goddamn hot, so big. And you made him that hard, you can’t even bother to cover yourself, noticing his eyes looking hungrily at your bare chest as he runs his hand down his cock, gripping it tight. 

You look up at him, panting. Goddammit, he’s so goddamn hot, touching himself to your body. You might just hyperventilate right in front of him, but that would be super unsexy of you.

Namjoon runs his tongue across his bottom lip, grunting. Or was that a moan?!

You feel so wet, so burning up, you’re surprised the water hasn’t evaporated off your skin.

“If we…if we…we’re just helping each other. Like friends. We’re just…”

Namjoon nods, too horny to think straight anyways he’d agree to anything you said.

Namjoon doesn’t say anything, just bends down, laying his body over yours so you can feel his warmth against you again.

It was your first kiss with Namjoon. Previously, there were moments at night when his lips grazed your shoulder, a couple times against the crook of your neck, that you chose to believe was something sort of a reflex he would do half asleep, probably remembering someone who was not you, an action he never mentioned once morning came. But this kiss was so desperate, full of passion and want. His lips were strong and rough, his mouth was devouring you.

You reach between your legs, gripping his length finally. “Fuck, you’re so hard,” you moan, impressed. “I am so wet right now.”

“Oh fuck,” Namjoon whimpers.

Fuck! He whimpered! 

Yep. You’re gonna do it. There is no fucking way you’re gonna leave here without cuming. 

You arch your back into him, hand now moving furiously up and down his cock. He kisses you, tongue licking into your open mouth. His fingers meet yours as he reaches for your center. You bite back moans, closing your eyes as his digits dig into your thigh, hiking up one leg to open you up for his skilled fingers.

You gasp, catching his eyes, the way his brows furrow and his intense gaze, so very different from when he’s half asleep. His fingers reach in deep inside you, a sensation you haven’t felt in so long. You try to focus on his pleasure, running your hand up and down his length, finding a speed he responds to the most and trying your best to keep it up as you fall apart under his own ministrations.

You finally lose your very intense very sexy staring match when he curls his fingers into you, your eyes rolling back. “Fuck…yes…yes,” you groan.

Namjoon is close, kissing you when he finally reaches his high, silencing himself against your lips as you shudder against him.

He breathes heavily against you. He wanted to do more with you, it was too quick, he was too quick, he thinks cursing himself, even though he should have anticipated that kind of reaction to finally being touched by another person in so long. But time, like everything now, is scarce.

You stare up at the ceiling, post orgasm clarity hitting you like a ton of bricks. Did you just really do that?! It just all happened so fast, and now Namjoon is laying over you so heavy you can't move. Namjoon lifts himself up after catching his breath and you stare at each other.

You wonder what he’s thinking. You’re too embarrassed to ask. At least you’re in the perfect place to clean yourselves up.

---

You’ve all decided to move tonight, closer to the river, closer to Seoul. Everything is packed! You’re all ready, well fed, prepared. You should all be feeling pretty confident at this point. But everyone’s in a bad mood, tense, well almost everyone.

Taehyung is staring at Namjoon’s new shirt suspiciously and the way he seems way too relaxed about things, the way he stands right behind you, extremely close, bodies touching like...no way...

‘No, definitely not.’ Taehyung thinks...he hopes not. Damn, he should have taken that shirt when he had the chance! You catch Taehyung’s narrowed stare and immediately look away like you are hiding something. “How did you like it?” Jungkook walks up to you, staring at your freshly cleaned face, you are glowing.

“It was perfect, thank you so so much,” you whisper.

“Do you still have some of the soap you used? You smell good.” You giggle when his nose tickles the crook of your neck as he sniffs you, knocking him away playfully.

“Mhmm it’s not soap,” you say happily, “It’s lotion!”

Jungkook holds his hand out expectantly. “Boy, your skin is perfect, you do not need it, I do!”

“Noona, share!” Jungkook whines.

“Finders keepers! Fine, I’ll let you borrow some later, remind me,” you laugh.

Taehyung stares at Namjoon, who is cracking his knuckles, his jaw tensing as he watches Jungkook touch you playfully. Taehyung notices the way his leader’s eyes immediately soften when you look over your shoulder and call his name asking if he was ready, smiling. He smiles too.

‘Oh my god,’ Taehyung thinks.

-

The group decides to break up into pairs and one trio. Normally you would have said, hell no, that’s being-chased-by-monsters rule number one, never split up the group! 

But it was easier to move around this way, to hide quickly.

The first pair would make sure they had the second always in their sights and it would go down the line like that, so it was easy to alert the closest pair to any signs of danger and the message could get to the whole group no matter how far spread out.

And it was strategic, one pair could lure monsters away while the others slipped through. Another pair could help you escape. And if it came to the worst, at least it would only be a few, and not all of you…

Taehyung decides to step in when you and Namjoon want to be paired together, so that’s why you are currently holding hands with the baritone singer, crab walking behind a fence.

You pass by shops with Taehyung, looking through the store windows. You want to explore, you would have if you were alone. But now you were part of a group, with a group objective, and group members who were counting on you, so you move steadily forward. That would have been a cute outfit though.

Every once in a while the pair in front of you stops, sends you and Taehyung a series of hand gestures to translate. This time, you learn there are nine zombies at your ten o’clock. 

Taehyung lets Jin and Yoongi know, telling them to follow you and him to the right while Namjoon and Hoseok throw rocks, leading the monsters away.

Taehyung has been unusually quiet. You suspect he’s probably mad at you on behalf of Jimin, so you don’t push him to make small talk. Grudges become trivial in these kinds of situations anyways. 

You turn a corner and notice three zombies hunched near the remains of a food stall. 

You wonder, were they customers at some point in their lives? They don’t notice you and they are pretty far away, but could definitely become a problem later. You and Taehyung exchange looks. “I’ll handle it,” you say.

“I got your back,” he whispers, signaling for the others to wait and hide.

One, down, a middle aged woman missing a huge chunk of her calf, her eyes so clouded she couldn’t see anymore, just smelled you too late.

Two, down, a business man still wearing his work suit, a hole in his jacket and his intestines falling out, his jaw crooked, a limp in his walk, he was already falling apart before you destroyed him completely.

The third one, he only had one bite mark on his neck. His clothes were grimy, like everything else in this new world, but his skin still had a lively color. He looks like he was turned not even a day ago, and he’s fast. 

You fall down. Taehyung sinks his knife into the undead’s neck when he jumps on you, but the angle doesn’t hit where it needs to and the zombie turns his body to attack the idol. You grab the zombie at his ankles, giving Taehyung enough time to strike where it counts. Taehyung is shaken but okay. You are winded but okay.

You see the two eldest running towards your location and you hold up your hand to tell them not to worry. But they don’t stop, instead signaling you to hide. Taehyung pulls you up by the elbow and you run towards the empty stall.

“Grab that guy!”

“What?!”

“Hurry!” you hiss, yanking the now fully dead woman across the pavement.

One, Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, you count. Did you hear that right? Ten different pairs of feet dragging across pavement, ten different tones, growling, passing by you and Taehyung, currently lying under a broken stall table, with two corpses covering you. They drag around you, bodies shadowed on the red plastic table cloth covering you and Taehyung.

You both stay hidden, taking short breaths, listening intently, fingers numb from holding each other. The plastic tablecloth keeps you hidden but also traps the heat in and doesn't give you any field of vision. God, it smells horrible, the smell of death. You squeeze Taehyung’s hand tighter, letting the pain take your mind off the stench. You notice sweat roll down his forehead as Taehyung scrunches up his nose, trying not to inhale the smell.

Taehyung looks at you, telling you to wait, because he already knows that you’re itching to leave, to run, to fight. He tightens his already crushing grip. 

“You remember what you promised me?” You promised Taehyung something? You look at him questioningly. “Before I become like them, kill me, so I don’t hurt my brothers.”

“We’re going to get out of here, okay?” Taehyung nods, very unconvinced. “Hobi and Joon, did you see where they ran?” Taehyung nods again, very not ready to leave. “I know you’re mad at me, but do you trust me?” Taehyung’s eyes go wide.

“I’m not mad at you.” 

The growls can no longer be heard. You pull a corner of the table cloth up, looking around, seeing the undead group dispersed and in the distance, only moving shadows in the night now. “So you got my back, right?” Taehyung nods, eyes focused. “We’re gonna go really slow, clear the area as much as possible. If we see one, and they’re a slow one too, we’re gonna let them come to us.”

“And if it’s like him?” Taehyung gestures to the corpse next to him. 

You smile, “We’re gonna let them come to me. You take them down. We just have to last until the others get to us. I trust you, Tae.”

You’re breaking your second rule on being-chased-by-monsters. Always run from newly turned zombies. But you’re doing it for Taehyung, for the group. 

Also, you can’t deny that you and Taehyung have both gotten very good at defending yourselves. Of course every zombie encounter is life or death, of course it’s a terrifying experience to fight one, one Taehyung would rather avoid, but he hasn’t lost yet! The odds are in your favor.

This so happens to be just another night out in post apocalyptic times. And as you hold Taehyung’s hand, now standing in the middle of the unlit street, watching a few ambling monsters start ambling your way, you and Taehyung start to walk as if you were just out on a stroll, and you think, this is not the most horrible night out you’ve had post apocalypse, and you might even go far as to say pre-apocalypse either, thinking about that night you ended up in the ER. 

Twelve more, down, you and Taehyung have stopped. You stand back to back, looking around for any signs of life. 

“Should we just call out for help?” Taehyung suggests, looking around for any signals to where his brother’s have gone.

It’s so quiet now, you can only hear Taehyung, maybe the others are being quiet on purpose. “Not yet. Which way did you see Hobi and Joon go?”

“I think we should go back and find Jin and Yoongi.”

“Oh? Okay...” you let Taehyung lead you away. “W-Wait! Do you hear that?”

It sounds like a ticking, no, more like a pounding. Something heavy bumping into glass. You situate yourself against Taehyng’s back again. “What is that?”

“I don’t know, do you see where it’s coming from?” you whisper, looking at the buildings around you. Could it be the others? Are they in trouble?

Taehyung holds your hand, bracing himself, “Yeah.” He sees a young woman, banging on the glass in an abandoned store. It is fairly far, at first Taehyung thought she was signaling for help…

…but she’s banging on the door with her head.

There’s so much blood, but Taehyung can clearly see the way she bares her teeth. And in the shadows, Taehyung can just make out some movement, something else, coming closer. “We need to hide. Now!”

You look over your shoulder, to see what Taehyung sees, just in time to witness the glass break. Taehyung is leading you away before you can respond, running faster than you can keep up in the opposite direction. You stumble into an alleyway, looking for a place to hide. “WHY IS IT BLOCKED?!” 

You have found yourselves at a dead end, a car jammed in the narrowest alleyway, turned over on its side, probably trying to escape the exact kind of monsters chasing after you now. 

The monsters find you as you and Taehyung are desperately trying to climb over the car. “Wait wait wait!” Taehyung holds his hands up, knife ready to stab.

The zombie actually stops.

“Did you just speak zombie to her?” you ask incredulously.

It was probably a coincidence as the monster starts running towards you and Taehyung again. “Stop!”

“It’s not stopping, Taehyung! Just run!”

“It was worth another try.”

The zombie is catching up, not caring how badly damaged its body becomes as it catapults itself over the car. Taehyung trips, pulling you down with him. You’re sure to have cuts across your palms and elbows as you crawl away on the hard pavement.

Now the distance is closed, and there’s two more crawling over the top of the car like ants over a hill looking for something sweet to devour.

But before you can defend yourself, her head is already gone. “Get up!” An older man yells at you. Taehyung pulls you up as a strange group takes down the remaining zombies.

The stranger runs to the backdoor of a store, opening it with a key, ushering everyone inside until the last man joins you, and the old man locks the door again. “Thank you,” Taehyung says, winded.

The man introduces himself and the group. “We saw you outside, on the street,” he says. “It was impressive,” he adds. The pair of you seemed fearless taking on so many zombies, so he thought…

You stay quiet as Taehyung and the man talk. You look around, counting four other men and two women. You notice each woman clinging onto a man, presumably their boyfriend, and you glance down at your own hand, fingers still interlaced with Taehyung.

“Is it just you two?”

“Yes.” Taehyung says. There was another reason you broke off into groups, so if you ran into anyone living, depending on your situation, you could make sure they wouldn’t know about the others. “We’re trying to get to Seoul.” You hear soft laughter. Why is it always so funny?!

You haven’t spoken up, only stared at the group, trying to gauge their level of hostility. They seem curious about you and they don’t seem to have recognized Taehyung. “I don’t think there will be much left when you get there,” one of the men speaks up. “I escaped Seoul.”

They always say that too…

“What happened in Seoul?” Taehyung asks. “What do you remember?”

“What I remember? I think I blocked most of it out now,” he laughs bitterly. “The first day, it must have been half…half of everyone changed into biters by that night..” A few others nod their head in agreement. “We were told to stay in our homes, shelter in place, so we thought, ‘that’s good news,’ right? Someone would come and save us, bring us food and supplies at least, but there was...nothing. We had internet, we could contact our friends and family for a while. But power stopped eventually, and then we were really fucked to hell. No one came to help us, only to try to break down our doors to get inside. Once we finally left, it was completely changed, I’ve never seen anything like it. Seoul wasn’t Seoul anymore.”

“What about the military?”

“They tried their damndest from what I heard, but they were all overrun by those things, even the American base,” he eyes you up and down, wondering where you came from and if you understood him, your impassive face not giving anything away, He also questioned…bitterly…why a foreigner managed to survive all this time when his friends, his family, hadn’t. 

“It can’t all be destroyed,” Taehyung says, choking on his words.

The man clears his throat, “There were rumors of certain communities in Gangnam and in Itaewon that created a good enough fortification, what’s left of the military now fends off the biters for them. But we also heard they would shoot anyone who came close to their buildings, living or not really.”

Taehyung seems to light up at that new information regardless. If rumors and half truths were anything to go by, that meant there still might be some hope someone he knew survived. Taehyung turns to you, “That’s good news, right?” You nod. Well, if you were to ignore the shooting on sight part.

“T-That’s not– Did you listen to me? If you go to Seoul you will die.” The man interrupts. 

“You said there were survivors-”

“Yeah, they got the important people up in there, in their damn billion won penthouses, ready to kill off anyone who even tries to get close. It was rumored even the president ended up there. Or escaped to North Korea, some say. But it doesn’t matter, because they killed everyone else! They’re not going to let you in, even if you manage to get there. And the rest of the city is hell on earth. Trust me, you don’t want to take her there.”

Oh shit. You study the two women, do they recognize Taehyung? What will they do once they find out? Take out their anger on one of those billion won penthouse owners? Thank god it’s dark in here, only a few rays of light from the moon shine through the windows and everything else is in the shadows, you and Taehyung included.

“And you have a place here, if you want it.” The old man interjects. “It was impressive, what you did, both of you,” he repeats. He needs more people like you here, he needs more fighters. There’s already so many factions in Hongcheon, it’s a miracle his tiny group has survived up until now.

“Can we…think about it? We still need to get supplies, that’s why we came out in the first place. We’ll go out and come back here, now that we know this place is safe.” Taehyung says.

“Okay, go and help him.” The older man asks another.

“I can show you where we sleep,” one of the women walks up to you, putting her head on her hands in case you didn’t understand her.

“No, she’s coming with me,” Taehyung interjects. He hasn’t let go of your hand this entire time.

“I know you want to protect her.” The older man adds, noticing the way you stayed glued to each other, even when you fought the monsters you always held onto each other's hands unless you absolutely had to let go, only for moments at a time. “It would be safer for her to stay here.”

You look at Taehyung with wide eyes, trying to convey to him all the things you want to say. Like, hell fucking no! There is no fucking way you are letting him out of your sight! Who the fuck cares whatever place they have to sleep looks like?! They’ve got to be kidding-

“Uh, let me talk to her, to explain!” Taehyung pulls you away, deeper into the store.

“Taehyung, you can’t be seriously thin-”

“I noticed the front door is barricaded, there might be a window in the bathroom, no, that’s not gonna work-”

“Oh-”

“We need to leave, y/n. Right now.”

You nod. “Do you think they recognize who you are? We need to be careful.”

“Yeah.” Even if it’s been awhile, Taehyung knows better than anyone, he still can spot a fan just by the way they look at him, the way they act, or pretend to act.

“How are we going to leave without them noticing?” You glance over to the strangers, trying to see if they are talking amongst themselves, if they are being told about Taehyung.

He pulls you further away, eyeing the shelves, glancing over his shoulder at the group. Taehyung sighs. “I think we’re gonna have to break one of our rules-”

Oh great, there goes rule number three on being-chased-by-monsters, out the window.

-

“We know all the places that have been already cleared of biters, there might be a few stranglers, but nothing like what you just went through.”

“Okay,” Taehyung eyes the way you visibly frown as one of the women tries talking to you about the roles the men and women accomplish day by day, and he tries not to laugh. 

The more of these “chores” she goes through, the more it’s sounding like they want to turn you into a 1950s housewife. And she might be all too content to sweep the post apocalyptic dust around the store so it can settle into another corner for the next day, but you certainly are not!

And why is Taehyung smiling at you?! “Okay, I’ll be right back.” Taehyung gives you a hug, and touches your cheek softly, looking into your eyes like he’s about to kiss you.

And then he kisses you. 

What. You close your eyes and just go with it, trying not to look too surprised or too awkward.

And then he bends down and kisses your stomach, smiling, before giving you one last kiss on your forehead. “Just wait and remember to let them come to you,” he whispers against your temple.

Eh? Did Taehyung just Peeta you? You get he’s trying to protect you, but you think you might actually murder him after this. You look around, grinning as wide as you can pretend to, seeing everyone’s surprised faces.

“Wait,” you tug on Taehyung’s sleeve. Actually, you really hate this, you don’t want him to leave you here! So much has changed since you last broke rule number three: never go out at night on your own. You hold his head in your hands. Somehow holding him like this, with your foreheads and noses touching, feels more intimate than when your lips touched.

“Please, be careful…for the baby,” you add. Taehyung nods, smiling. He hugs you tight and you’re both reluctant to let each other go.

If they had any doubts you and Taehyung were together, they didn’t anymore.

-

“So, you’re pregnant?” The woman makes an arch over her stomach with her arm, “Baby?”

“Yep,” you fake smile, holding your belly and inwardly groaning. 

You walk aimlessly around the store, most of the shelves are empty now, apart from things like a row of pastel phone cases, this plastic thing that you can’t figure out what its supposed to be, hmm, it seems collapsible, but even the smaller size doesn’t make sense to you! And, ironically, you find a row of baby powder. Damn, even in the apocalypse people don’t forget how bad it is for you.

There’s the older gentleman, two women, and one of their boyfriend’s who stays behind in the store. Just wait, y/n. Wait. Did Taehyung forget how impatient you are?

“Bathroom?” you ask.

“Oh, it’s outside but we can’t go now. Wait. Later. Outside,” the woman, whom you learn is named Jinyoung, says, hoping you understand.

You sigh, you could make a fuss, you know pregnant women and their bladders, but you really don’t want to pee in a bucket somewhere inside here to prove a point. You flick the crumpled remains of some food packaging, sifting through the junk. Everything is empty apart from what you found, which Jinyoung promptly grabs from your grasp. “Oh, no, no good,” Jinyoung speaks up, “baby powder causes cancer.” You smile at her, laughing awkwardly.

The couple seems preoccupied at least, you think, they are all looking at you, however. You catch their eyes peering at you every so often. You feel like a caged animal putting on a show. This is an act in a way. 

The store is pretty clean despite having been ransacked. You could try and run upstairs to the living quarters, but you had no idea what was waiting up there for you. The front door is indeed blocked. The glass windows look thick, probably won’t break unless you throw something really heavy at it, and even if you want to escape, you won’t destroy their home to do it. The old man is standing guard by the back door, blocking your only exit. Ugh. 

It’s been awhile, at least a couple of hours now. You listen to the women whisper to one another while you try not to run head first into the glass like that zombie woman just so you can escape this place and search for Taehyung and the others.

“I knew there had to be a reason why he was with her.”

“He’s a good man, watching over her. They really care about each other.”

“Because she’s carrying his child, obviously.”

“That’s exciting though. A small Taehyungie, She’s so lucky.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be more people to feed.”

“It’s going to be the most beautiful baby, oh! You know, if she survives.”

“She definitely won’t.”

Mmm don’t think murderous thoughts, y/n. It’s bad for “the baby.” ‘It’s been too long, they should be here by now,’ you think. ‘Ok, screw this plan,’ you think, finding something you thought you’d never see again: a jar of gochujang paste.

“Hey old man, please will you move and open the door, I need to leave.”

“It’s not safe to go out alone, young lady. Your boyfriend should be back soon, don’t worry.”

“Are you holding me prisoner?”

“Of course not,” he says, flabbergasted not only by your accusation but your ability to speak fluently, “but I also will not allow you to put yourself in danger under my watch. I know we are strangers to you, for now, but we should still look out for one another-”

“Let her go if she wants to go!” one of the women says.

“I appreciate you saved my life, I really do. So this is a courtesy to you, I’m protecting you, from me.”

“What is she saying? She doesn’t make any sense.”

Ugh. “I’m bitten. I got bitten, and I’m going to turn, so let me out!”

“What?!” 

You lift up your shirt, “I didn’t want to say anything before, not in front of my…partner. But see, I have to go! You’re in danger the longer I’m in here!” You show him a scar on your side, where you have strategically placed the dark red paste to look like a bleeding bite mark.

“Kill her!”

“Or just let me leave?!”

“Oh my god, can we save the baby?”

“She’s not even showing! What are we gonna save?”

The younger man runs up to you, chasing you through the aisles. “Just let me go outside, damn.”

“Your Korean is so good!” Jinyoung exclaims.

“Thank you,” you say, barely dodging the man’s fist.

Suddenly, there is a pounding on the door, scaring everyone into silence. “Open the door!” Jinyoung exclaims.

“There’s a code,” the man waits. The pounding gets louder and quicker, rattling the door.

“What if they are in trouble! Open it!” you yell.

“What if it’s those biters?! We can’t let them in!”

“Hello, did you forget about me?!” you whine.

“OPEN IT!”

“Please, hurry!”

The older man relents, unlocking the door. And in bursts-

“Jin!” you cry out.

“OH MY GOD, OH MY GOD.” Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi are right behind him. Someone, you can’t tell if it’s Jinyoung or the other woman, screams. 

Namjoon holds out his knife, pointing it at the old man. “We’re not going to hurt you, we just came to get our friend.” You run towards the singers as fast as your legs can take you.

There is another reason why you broke into pairs, so you could save each other. Namjoon grabs you first, pulling you into a hug. 

“She’s bitten, stay away from her!”

You pull out the gochujang from your pack, “Oh, I lied, sorry, I just really wanted to leave.”

“But t-the bite-”

“Fooled you, didn’t I? It does look like blood if you dilute it enough.”

“Oh my god, you found this?!” Seokjin asks excitedly.

“Let’s go!” Yoongi grunts.

-

“Where’s Taehyung?!” You jog up to the leader. 

“We’re getting there,” he says. You haven’t stopped running since leaving the store. 

Finally you see that moppy headed menace, running towards your group. “Next time YOU wait!”

“But my plan worked, didn’t it?”

“You really just had to tell them I’m pregnant?”

“Hey, I was doing it to protect you! I didn’t know if they might hurt you because of who you were.” Taehyung says, and the irony is not lost on you.

“How did you get away from those men?”

“It was pretty easy, I just said I was bit-”

“No way, me too!”

“How much longer do we have to run? My legs hurt!” Seokjin yells.

“Pace yourselves because it’s gonna be a while,” Hoseok says.

“Next thing we look for are some better shoes,” you whine.

A zombie runs towards your group, and you use the opportunity to take out your frustrations of the night, piercing through the monster’s jaw and up. The blood goes all over your clothes. Now you look just as dirty as the day before. “I just took a bath. UGH.”

“Don’t upset the baby!” Taehyung laughs, running away from you.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it!” you run. You turn the corner and find Jungkook, Jimin and Dev waiting for you. The group is now all together again, running into the night.

“So, anything new happen? How's the weather?” you ask Dev.

“Those zombies that were following us are taken care of,” Hoseok speaks up.

“We might have more than zombies following us now,” Taehyung adds. “Like living zombies, what are those called again?” he jokes.

“We ran into people too!” Jungkook says, running past you with ease. 

“Yeah?”

“They’re trying to get to Jeju!”

“Jeju, why?” Namjoon asks

“They said that’s the place with no zombies.”

“How do they know?” you ask, intrigued.

“Well they don’t, but that’s what others have told them and they sound pretty convinced.”

“Any news that’s not a rumor?”

“Y/n is pregnant with my child!”

“Yeah, that’s just a lie.”

Taehyung then goes into all the details you’ve learned about Seoul.

“So, we just have to figure out how to not get shot, convince them to let us in, and hope our families are somewhere inside?”

“I don’t think they would shoot BTS.” you say, confident.

“And we have no idea if any other place, if Big Hit, is a safe area or not.” Jin asks.

“I mean, it could be?”

“The odds are not great, but it’s not horrible odds, aye!”

“We’re gonna die.”

“Ugh shut up, Dev. We’re in Hongcheon and we’re doing…okay. I even found gochujang!”

“I can’t have spicy food.”

“UGH DEV PLEASE. It’s not even that spicy!”

“Damn, if only we had meat,” Jungkook sighs.

“Shhh Shh don’t do this to me now, I am running on fumes, literally.” Jin says.

“I want K-BBQ. Please god don’t let me die until I can have K-BBQ again,” Jungkook wails.

“Why are you laughing, y/n?”

“Nothing, it’s a bad joke. You don’t wanna know…also what are the odds a zombie has eaten a person that has been recently caught on fire?”

“Y/n!”

“BAHAHA.”

---

You wake up crying again.

Even in the bright daylight, your tired bodies were fast asleep. You ran all night, finally finding a suitable house that didn’t smell like death, and hid yourselves inside. You look over at the sleeping bodies around you, reflexively counting each head. Wait, what? Someone is missing!

You see the final head, leaning against the open door frame, looking outside. You move quietly and make your way over to him. “Yoongi?”

“Go back to sleep.”

“You should go back to sleep, you look exhausted,” you whisper.

“It was hard to sleep.”

“If you’re worried about someone standing guard, I can stay here.”

“It’s too sunny to sleep now.”

You sigh, giving up arguing with the rapper, sitting in silence with him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks, curious.

“I don’t know,” you laugh. “Sometimes I can remember the dreams, but most of the time I can’t, I just know it was probably something horrible.”

Yoongi has noticed the way you cry in your sleep, shake and whimper until someone holds you, only then will you calm down a bit, so the members take turns making sure you always have someone next to you when you’re resting. “I was thinking, once we get you guys to Seoul, I might try to go to Jeju,” you say wistfully.

“What about the Embassy?” he asks.

“What are they gonna do if they are still even there? How would they get me out of the country? I’m…not as confident that my family is still around.” You give Yoongi a sad smile.

“What about your family here?” You tilt your head, surprised by his words. “You’re gonna leave us?” he asks.

You bite your lip in thought. “I don’t know.” With the way everything changes so quickly, you had no idea what to anticipate. There are so many things that could happen before you reach Seoul and then after, you can’t even begin to figure out your future. “Do you want me to stay?”

Yoongi stays quiet. With you forever, is the implication. “Jeju is nice, I might go to Jeju too,” he says, not looking at you.

You smile at the thought. It’s nice to imagine what a trip there would have been like before the world turned upside down. You hold out your palm to him. “I promise to forget,” you tease.

He puts his fingers in between yours, holding your hand. “I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, thumb making circles into your skin when you rest your head on his shoulder. It’s pretty outside, in its own special way, how the trees and vines have covered everything now, how everything that’s abandoned sits still and serene. There’s even flowers, sprouting in the most unlikely places.

“Jimin’s mad at me.”

“He’s mad at me too.”

“He’s not mad at you,” Yoongi sighs. “I think he’s in love with you.” You freeze. “And I think you should give him a chance-” he continues. 

“Yoongi. It’s not that I don’t want to give Jimin a chance– Do you really think he’s in love with me?”

“Yea-”

“And if I wasn’t the only woman here do you think he would still be ‘in love’ with me?” you frown.

“Is that why-”

“I just don’t know, Yoongi, I don’t know if I can believe that. I don’t know if he really believes it, or just wants it to be true because I…I am-”

“The only woman here?” Yoongi finishes for you. You hum.

“That’s why you kissed me, right? And Namjoon, nevermind.”

Yoongi stays quiet, until finally asking, “And what do you feel?”

“I can’t, I can’t, I’m scared,” you start to laugh despite your welling eyes. “We almost died, again, last night, how can I let myself fall in love, if something happens, how can I survive that? I can’t.”

“And here I thought you were fearless,” Yoongi smirks, wiping away a stray tear.

You snort. “I’ve never been more scared.”

“You are my family,” you say, answering his previous question. “You are everything I have left. That’s how I feel.”

“Even Dev?”

You laugh, “Yes, even him…maybe.”

Yoongi watches you smile. He understands your fear, he’s felt it, let it consume him, weigh him down until he’s stuck inside himself, frozen by that fear. But this kind of new world forces you to face your demons. You can try to hide, alone, too scared to go outside and too scared to move, but he’s learned hiding in bed under the covers won’t keep you safe, won’t keep the people you love safe either. 

“It’s scary to put yourself out there. It was scary even before the world went to shit.”

“So did you have someone, before?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “No, not really. I was always so damn busy, it was hard to have anything serious. I would go into the studio, work all day, losing track of everything else, I told myself I had plenty of time to settle down. Funny now that I think about it.”

“After?” Yoongi sighs. He looks like he’s in pain, in thought. You hold his hand a little tighter out of reflex. “I’m sorry.” You assume, like most everyone else, the person he cared about is gone.

“To be honest, I can’t believe we made it this far,” you laugh, changing the subject. “You’ve got to have some new songs about all of this. Some, survivor-you-can’t-stop-me type song you’ve got.”

“Writing lyrics is not on the top of my to-do list right now.”

“Mhmm, you’re just collecting pens because you like them, right?”

“I have a few raps,” Yoongi confesses. “No music, no way to make a beat even if I want to.” You make a silent note to try to find Yoongi some kind of an instrument. “Music is gone.” 

“That’s a good song title. But I have to disagree, it’s not gone. I think there are songs everywhere just waiting to be written. This moment? There’s a song,” you look out at the landscape. “Hear it?” You hum a tune you feel.

Yoongi laughs. “You sound like Namjoon.” Namjoon. You can’t think about him without thinking about what happened. How did that even happen?! It was like some horny demon possessed both of you. 

You thought it would be awkward afterwards, but it wasn’t. You put on the clothes you laid out, handed him one of the shirts you found and you laughed when he tripped over his pants leg. Namjoon shoved you playfully, knocking you onto the bed. He looked at you without shying away and told you to put on some pants in a way that sounded like, “I like seeing you without any pants,” and then you both walked outside and acted like nothing ever happened.

But for some reason you can’t act like that with Yoongi, his kisses are haunting you still, his touch is still burning across your lips when you remember (even though you promised him you wouldn’t). You never really got a real answer from him.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You sit in comfortable silence. The others haven’t stirred awake yet, and you’re content to sit here with Yoongi until they do. You wonder about him, though. Is he happy you’re keeping him company or feeling burdened? Yet he hasn’t let go of your hand.

“You guys are close to one another, you and Joon,” Yoongi says in sort of a questioning way.

“Yeah, I guess. He takes on everyone’s burdens, even my own,” you sigh.

Yoongi nods. He should let go of you. You hum that tune again, looking outside, holding Yoongi’s hand tightly. Instead he clicks his tongue to the beat, making you laugh loudly. “Sorry, sorry.” You look back at the others who thankfully haven’t woken up from your outburst. “That’s good! So you can hear it too then, the song out there,” you joke.

He feels stuck, knowing his brothers want you, and knowing how it feels to kiss you, knowing how soft your lips are, and knowing he can’t kiss you again, he just can’t.

“You’re beautiful.”

You stop laughing.

Yoongi said it in English. 

When you know two languages, it’s hard to explain the differences in the words and how they make you feel. You’ve been called yeppeun. You’ve seen the word in textbooks, heard it in lyrics and Korean shows. 

But beautiful is what your first boyfriend called you right before he kissed you, what your childhood best friend called the butterfly that landed on your knee when you were playing together, what your mom said when she looked at you before you left the house on your first date, what your grandmother called you as a kid so many times when she consoled you and held you in her arms as you cried. “My beautiful girl.”

You’ve been speaking Korean for so long now. It just feels different being called beautiful. Beautiful is what you haven’t felt like in a long time...

“I’m sorry!” you pull away from Yoongi after surprising him with a kiss. 

Yoongi nods. He had wanted to kiss you in that moment so badly he hadn’t expected you would kiss him. It was too quick, it was barely a kiss. Is that really going to be his last kiss with you? “I can’t kiss you anymore.”

“I know, fuck, I’m sorry.” You pull away further, but can’t go far with Yoongi’s vice grip around your fingers.

“I can’t-”

“I’m sorr-”

“I’m sorry.” And he takes the opportunity to kiss you one last time, letting all his unspoken emotions flow through his lips, his tight embrace. He feels your soft lips one last time, he lets his fingertips run across your cheek, your neck, rolls his tongue inside his mouth just once more. He finally breaks away and lets his thumb run across your lip, just to feel one last time.

That should have been the end, yet your eyes start shining, glassy as tears start forming, and you close the gap between you again.

Until you hear something off in the distance. “Did you see that?”

Yoongi looks in the direction you’re studying. “No?” He looks for any sign of life or, well, animated death.

“I swear I saw something,” You both stand up, searching for any movement for a while until you give up. And now kissing Yoongi seems to be left in the past, another thing you can’t get back.

---

One last supply run in the city before you move again.

Everything is empty, this run is not looking very fruitful. You’ve gone to three restaurant already and have managed to find only one tiny can of edible food. You’ve just entered the fourth restaurant and it doesn’t look like this place has anything to offer either.

So far you haven’t encountered any undead, which is the only good thing about this run, until you hear a noise coming from the kitchen of a restaurant you, Jimin, Jungkook and Namjoon are currently searching through.

“Yo RM, come here.”

“What’s up? 

“I thought I heard something over there.”

You make your way through the kitchen. Everything is either gone or moldy. You sigh, “I don’t know if we’re gonna find anything here either.”

“This part of town seems completely empty.”

“What are we gonna do? We need to eat.” You go through another cabinet, finding nothing.

“We still have some food leftover. We can keep trying, stay here for a few more days and check the other streets.”

You nod. This restaurant looks like it specialized in fried chicken, the oil smells putrid now. What’s left in the freezer would probably kill you if you tried to eat it.

“Man, this sucks,” you wipe the sweat accumulating off your forehead.

“Can we do anything with this?”

“Flour? Mmm we could make the blandest pancakes you’ll ever eat,” you laugh.

Namjoon pouts. He pulls off his jacket. It’s safer to wear layers when out, but the days are getting hotter, and no aircon inside makes certain spaces really unbearable.

“You should keep that on,” you eye the way his muscles flex.

“I’m burning up.” You cover his forehead with your palm, checking his temperature. “Not like that-” and Namjoon uses a word you don’t understand.

“What does that mean?”

“Genius.” By the way Namjoon is smiling at you, you just know it means the opposite. “Ow!” he winces when you hit him, looking so accosted you start to giggle. Namjoon hugs you from behind, and the big towering giant he is decides to lift you off your feet, making you squeal.

“N-Namjoon, Y/n!” Jimin sounds scared.

The kitchen door opens. “Sorry to break up whatever this is, but it’s time to come out now and join the others. Oh, you know she was kissing Yoongi the other day, looks like I was right. You’ve got your own groupie whore.”

You knew you felt eyes on you. “Hey Minho.”

“Hey bitch.” He points a gun at you and Namjoon. 

Who the fuck gave this man a gun?

Minho ushers you both out into the eating area, where they are several men with various weapons all aimed at your friends. Minho is the only one with a gun, though.

“I told you I would make you regret choosing her,” he says to Namjoon, sneering at you.

Minho looks possibly even more buff than you remember.  “I made new friends,” he smirks. His new friends look very unfriendly. They lounge around, overly confident, looking amused by the situation. 

“Of course you did,” you grunt. He pushes Namjoon towards Jungkook and Jimin and separates you from the others. 

“I just needed to have been an idol, then you would have given it up, yeah?” he whispers in your ear, grabbing the knives from your pockets and throwing them on the ground.

You roll your eyes. “You’re following us? That’s not creepy at all.”

“Where are the others?” Minho asks Namjoon. He grabs the back of your neck and holds the gun to your temple when Namjoon doesn’t speak. “Where are they?”

“Searching the restaurant next door. We’re only staying a couple more days, then we’ll leave this city.”

“Still believe you can make it to Seoul, huh?”

“Just let us go.”

“We will, after you give us your backpacks. Hurry up now.” The three men glare at him but relent, handing the thieves their packs.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you ask him.

“Nope,” Minho smirks. “Okay, you can leave now,” he points his gun at the leader.

“Wait, him too.” One of the men speaks up, pointing at Jimin.

“No. The deal was her.”

“Well the deal has changed, I want him too,” he eyes Jimin up and down. Namjoon and Jungkook instantly hide Jimin with their bodies.

You struggle in Minho’s hold. “Minho, what are you doing? What deal did you make with them?!”

Minho stares at Jimin. “Anyone else but him.”

The man looks between the singers. “He’s the prettiest, I want him.”

Minho pauses. Even if he wanted to hurt Namjoon, he still felt a sense to protect Jimin. It had been his job for so many years, and then it had been his decision to keep protecting the singers even after his position wasn’t official any longer. You, he didn’t care about you. But Jimin, deep down, he still cared about him. He couldn’t let something horrible happen to him, not when Minho could stop it.

Minho exhales exasperatedly. “Not him,” he says, pointing the gun at the thief.

“Minho, come on now, you and I both know there’s no bullets in that gun.” What? You elbow Minho in the stomach, running towards the kitchen when he doubles over in pain.

“Grab her!” one of the thieves yells.

Namjoon punches one of the men too distracted by you. Jungkook lunges for your knives on the ground and unleashes all the pent up fury he’s felt on the unlucky few who had tried to hold down the singer. Namjoon and Jimin exchange looks with Minho.

They charge the thieves.

---

“Leave me alone!” You swing a pan in the thief’s face as he swings his knife and both metal pieces clang together. You fall hard on the kitchen tile as he lunges at you. There’s more men, all armed, all coming for you, and the only weapon you have is a stupid pan!

-

You feel like you’re hyperventilating, trapped in such a small space. You bang on the door, crying. It finally opens and someone is shoved inside with you. He’s cut, bruised, thoroughly beat up.

“Piss off your new friends?”

“Not really, we’re going to finish what we started, yeah?”

“Touch me and I'll kill you.”

“I would like to see you try.”

“What happened? They didn’t take Jimin, did they?!” you ask, horrified.

“No, they escaped,” Minho grunts, thumb running over his cut lip.

“Oh. Good,” you say, relieved.

Minho laughs. “And you? Did you forget you’re their prisoner? They are going to do whatever they want to you?”

“If the others escaped, they’ll come for me.”

“You’ve got them whipped for you, must be really good pussy.”

“Ugh, maybe I’m more to them than just a hole, you fuck?”

“You really think they would give you a second glance under normal circumstances?”

“No! I don’t!” you scream. God, he pisses you off. “I thought you would have, that’s why I kissed you! Big mistake that fucking was.”

“So what, you kissed me because you thought I would lower my standards for you?” he jabs. 

Oh, this fucker! He says that like he wasn’t flirting with you for months on end before you kissed him. “You know what?” you cross your arms, “Yeah, I did, Minho. I thought maybe, just maybe, it would be nice to try and have something more with you so we wouldn’t have to, you know, die alone in an apocalypse. But then you ended up being the most vile despicable jackass-”

Minho throws your body against the door, arm pressed against your throat. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! This is all your fault! You ruined everything!”

The door opens just in time for you to catch in oxygen before you pass out. “Will you two shut the hell up! Take her to my room,” he says to one of his men, “Minho, you had your turn, now it’s mine.” It’s that thief, the one who wanted Jimin, the one who seems to be in charge. You scream until the wind is kicked out of you. “Don’t hit her face.”

You crumble inward, trying to cover your body from their kicks until one lifts you up, carrying you over his shoulder while you scream and cry.

-

Shit, the windows are boarded up. The bed, like everything in this building, looks disgusting. Everything else, you notice grimacing, is barren, like this room only had one purpose.

The door slides open.

“Okay girl, we can do this the hard way or the easy way.”

“I’m not easy.” You move to the furthest corner, pressing yourself up against the filing cabinet. You just had to wait, you are an expert at waiting, you tell yourself. You can do this, whatever happens, you can move past this, you tell yourself. Horrible things happen to you all the time, you’re just gonna have to add this to the tally.

“Good, I prefer the hard way.”

Please, god, let them find you soon.

You’ve met men like this before, men that think you owe them something just because you’re a woman. “Smile more,” men who think your body is for their eyes, created for their hands and their mouths and their-

You bite down on his hand, digging your nails into his face. He hits you, hard, but not hard enough to knock you out thankfully. He’s not that kind of man, at least, you think bitterly. He is the kind of man who has no qualms making you know how much stronger he is than you, making it hurt, wants you pretty but also will give you a black eye for daring to go against him. There’s so many men like that now. You feel lucky knowing you have men around you that don’t act like that.

You scream again.

---

Jungkook leaps up the stairs, taking two at a time. He’s in the lead. He’s always been fast, but this time, after months of running from monsters, and an insane amount of stamina, he’s like lightning.

This office building is small, but there are so many floors, and they’ve already cleared the first two without finding you. But Jungkook has a suspicion the men he’s searching for are on the top floor, so he trusts his gut and he races to find you.

Jungkook is the first to open the door to a group full of men surprised to have a visitor. He stays in the stair well, he’s not crazy enough to run in there alone yet, since the others haven’t caught up to him. He still has to keep a level head, let them come to him, let him knock each one of those bastards out. He grabs another and throws him over his back and down the stairs where his brothers are about to arrive.

Maybe Jungkook is a little crazy at this point, he throws someone over the railing into the open space between stairwells and the man screams as he falls five flights down, body clanging onto metal as his bones break. Jungkook uses his arms to defend from knives and gets his jacket and skin sliced in the process, yet he keeps on swinging while blood drips down his fists. Yeah, Jungkook is a bit crazed, but he has good reason to be as he hears you scream again for help.

He runs inside once he has his brothers behind him. He runs towards the sound of your screaming, knocking away anyone who gets in his way. He feels his restraint slipping, he feels like he might enjoy killing whoever is hurting you. It’s already been too long, your voice sounds small and broken. He throws his full weight into the locked door, knocking into the wood with his shoulder until the lock busts.

“Don’t even think about it.” You have a knife to your neck, your body shielding the man who has you captive, just another way he’s found to use your body. “Let me go and I won’t kill her.”

“Let her go or I will kill you.” The fighting has stopped. It’s clear to both men who won as Namjoon and Seokjin arrive to help Jungkook. The man holds onto you a bit tighter, he realizes he might be the only one left and by the look in his eyes he’s planning on surviving until the very end. He shuffles your bodies closer to the door, closer to his escape.

It’s an achingly slow pace as he makes sure no one can attack him from behind. He looks at the bodies of his men on the ground, realizing just how dangerous this group of yours is, he should have never made a deal with that damn Minho, he should have let him fight his own battles, now he’s standing in a graveyard of his own men.

You pass by each member and you can’t make eye contact, you let your tears silently fall, let your body be pulled in hopes it will all be over soon. He finally makes it to the stairwell, relieved. “Give me your word you won’t follow me and I’ll let you have her.”

“Fine,” Namjoon speaks for the group.

He presses his knife into your neck. “That doesn’t sound too convincing.”

Suddenly, his grip lessens. He drops his knife and, finally, you can get away. You turn around and see his surprised wide eyes. You feel just as shocked as he looks when he makes a gurgling noise instead of speaking.

And suddenly Dev’s equally shocked face pops up from behind the man’s shoulder.

He had been too scared to enter the office room, but looks like he hadn’t been too scared to stab the man holding you in the back of the neck. “I did it. I killed him,” he says, equally excited and petrified as the man falls onto the ground.

You look at him in shock. “Yeah.”

---

“He’s bleeding!”

“Taehyung, no…”

“Shit, I’ve never been stabbed before, this hurts.” Taehyung winces.

“Oh god, how do we stop the bleeding,” Jimin asks, panic rising in hiss voice.

Namjoon answers, “There’s one way, we have to burn it with something hot. Find a small knife-” 

“I’m going to be stabbed twice?!”

“Wouldn’t it be better to, like, stitch it, with a needle or something?” Taehyung grimaces, the thought of being sewn together without any pain medicine is making him feel sick.

“What about the internal bleeding?”

“Oh god.”

“You’re going to be fine, your body just needs to heal...someone start a fire!”

“OH GOD.”

“Jungkook, I’m fine, go help them,” you tell him. Jungkook doesn’t believe you are fine at all. Your eye is swollen, your shirt is missing buttons, your neck is bruised and who knows what else he can’t see is bruised. 

“You’re bleeding too?!”

“Oh,” Hoseok winces, clutching his side. “Yeah, it’s not as bad as Taehyung.” Except it does look as bad as Taehyung’s wound. Hoseok's whole left side is covered in blood. You start to cry again, feeling responsible. 

Jin is the one who cauterizes the wounds. Namjoon and Jungkook holds the members down. Hoseoks passes out but Taehyung somehow stays conscious, screaming bloody murder the entire time. It’s going to be another memory that will have you up at night, crying and shaking when you remember his shrieking. This safe house you’re in has a fair amount of supplies and an excessive amount of alcohol. They use it to sanitize the wounds as best they can. 

“You helped us escape. I’m not going to kill you,” Namjoon tells Minho, who sits on the floor, hands duct taped.

“I’m going to kill him!” Jungkook yells.

“No, you won’t,” Namjoon says, calming the youngest down. He turns to Minho. “What do you know about this place? Is there a pharmacy around.” He stays defiantly silent. “Minho!” The leader looks ready to kill, even after his promise not to.

“They won’t be anything left.”

“We have to try, let’s go. Get up!” He yanks the former bodyguard up.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Jungkook says to you. “I’ll look for something for you too,” he says, so softly. You just nod, worried if you were to open your mouth you might start wailing.

Jin is left with Jimin and Yoongi to take care of the two wounded members and you. “I’m so sorry,” you cry, holding onto Taehyung’s hand. 

“This isn’t your fault, don’t blame yourself. You’ve saved me more times than I can remember, I’m sorry we didn’t find you sooner,” he winces.

Jimin holds Taehyung’s other hand. “You’re going to get better, don’t worry, and then you’ll have a cool scar.” Jin and Yoongi are tending to Hoseok who thankfully hasn’t woken up from the pain yet. Yoongi brushes the hair out of Hoseok’s face, cleaning up the blood he finds on his skin. He’s meticulous and careful about it. Jin asks you if you want help cleaning the blood off you too. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Let him help you,” Jimin says.

“We can do it later, I don’t want to be…touched right now.” You mumble. 

“Were you-”

“Don’t push her right now, Jin.” Jimin speaks up for you. 

Jimin holds out his free hand to you, letting you take it if you want. You do. He makes you feel grounded and safe. And you feel small and weak and tired at the same time. You lie down next to Taehyung, bringing your knees into your body, you hug yourself into his side, crying.

Jimin mirrors your actions, resting for now. As long as he holds both your hands, and he can keep an eye on both of you, he can allow himself to relax and recover just for the moment.

Seokjin rubs his face, exhausted. Yet his body still feels wound up and anxious, he can’t relax just yet. He works to clean the space of death. He drags the bodies left inside and heaves them over the railing, creating a pile of corpses at the bottom, hoping it will become a deterrent for any other hostile strangers and then works to make food for when you all wake up, doing what he can to help. He tries to remain positive, he tells himself it could have been so much worse. 

“There was no penicillin. Nothing, not even Tylenol.”

You wake up hearing Namjoon’s voice but keep your eyes closed as the men talk. “And Hoseok has a fever,” Yoongi says.

“I’ve searched this place from top to bottom, they have enough liquor to drown a regiment and no damn medicine,” Jin says.

You stand up on shaky legs. “ I know where we might find medicine.”

---

“Maybe they’re not there.”

“No, there’s a code for knocking, I don’t know it.”

“Hey, we know you’re in there. Please open the door. We need your help, please! We’ll give you anything.”

You hear the door click, and you see the weary faces of the group you left. You explain to them the situation, hoping they have some medicine to trade you or at least know where you might find some medicine. “I have something that could help.” The woman who isn’t Jinyoung holds up half a bottle of pills. “This is amoxicillin I found a while ago.”

“We’ll trade you anything for it.”

The woman thinks for a bit and finally decides. “Seokjin.”

“WHAT?!”

“Just for the night.”

“WHAT?!”

“Fine. yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Wait a fucking a minute, no!” Her boyfriend speaks up. “Honey, are you crazy?!” He turns to your group. “You have food, don’t you? Give us that instead.”

“And Seokjin!”

“Have you lost your mind?!”

“Honey, stay out of this?”

“You’re really going to cheat on me?”

“Oh please, don’t act like you have been soo faithful to me! Before our city was attacked you would come home past midnight almost every night!”

“I was with my coworkers!!”

“Yeah, with Eunji, right? That slut you worked with!!”

You turn to Namjoon, Yoongi and Seokjin while the couple continues to argue, saying “That’s not enough medicine for both of them…”

“It’s better than nothing.”

“There is a house four blocks from here. A pharmacist used to live there. There might the medicine you’re looking for there,” Jinyoung speaks up. “I c-can take you!” She says, her face turning red.

“Okay, Namjoon, you and Yoongi go with her, and I’ll stay here with y/n and…get the other medicine.”

“Seokjin, y-you don’t have to do this,” you say incredulously. Namjoon and Yoongi agree.

“Stop. Yes I do! If this can save them, I will.” Seokjin glares at the three of you, already making up his mind.

Seokjin looks so serious. He looks angry, yet determined. He is putting on a brave face, you want to cry for him. “Jin…” 

“It’s okay, y/n.” He turns to the group. “Yeah, okay, deal. Food and me.” 

“I’ll help you look for the medicine too,” Jinyoung’s boyfriend says, looking over at the idols wearily.

“Hey young lady, I have something for your eye.” The old man says. You sit waiting, once more, in this store, waiting for Namjoon and Yoongi to return, for Jin and that horrible women to be done with whatever she is doing to him upstairs, waiting and hoping Taehyung and Hoseok are okay.

“It’s alright.” You sit with your knees pulled in, much less in the mood to talk than before, sick to your stomach, body aching. The four of you were so beaten and bruised, it’s taken you a couple days to find this place again, what if you get back and it’s already too late?

“I don’t expect anything in return for it, it’s in good faith, I promise you.”

You start to cry, your head buried in your knees.

He sighs, puts his hands on his knees to stand up and moves towards you hesitantly. “Look up for me.” He puts on some antiseptic gel from a tube that looks almost empty, carefully applying the gel to the cuts and bruises around your eye.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“I’m happy to help.”

Waiting for Seokjin to come downstairs feels like an eternity. The boyfriend sits in the corner away from you, completely dejected. You wish you had some kind words to give him, but you have nothing nice left to say, after everything you’ve went through.

Jin enters first, walking silently over to you and sitting down. The distance between you feels so far away. He’s clutching the bottle of pills so tightly the tips of his fingers are red.

You glare at the women when she finally comes downstairs. What the hell is wrong with her? How could she take advantage of the situation like that? How could she use Seokjin like that, what kind of fan is she?!

You move your body slightly so from where she’s sitting, now next to her miserable boyfriend, she can’t see Seokjin. You want to protect him from her. Just thinking about what she could have done to him makes you want to rip out her eyes, makes you think about what was done to you. She deserves the same fate as that man. 

You haven’t looked at Jin. You know if you do, and see his expression, see your own self in his eyes, you might really try to kill her. 

Namjoon and Yoongi come back looking accomplished and put you in hopeful spirits. You say goodbye one last time to the group. You hug Jinyoung, thanking her. Yoongi and Namjoon hug her goodbye too and she turns an even brighter shade of red, smiling happily and clutching a book to her chest, a medicinal plant book she found in the pharmacist's house that she shyly asked the rappers to sign when they were waking back to the store. They happily obliged, grateful because they found just what they were looking for thanks to her.

-

“Have you ever given someone a shot before?” you ask wearily.

“There’s a first time for everything,” Jin mumbles. The penicillin bottle has a few doses, so they decide to split it evenly amongst both members. The pills are being saved if they need more medicine.

Jungkook pulls you aside. “They found Tylenol for you and I found this if you need it.” He hands you a few Tylenol and another box of pills. You’ve never seen those Korean characters together. You ask him, “what is it?”

“It’s a pill to take if you, um, if you need it, if so, so they won’t be any pregnancies if you take it,” he stutters.

You nod, taking the Tylenol and pocketing the pills and glancing over to Jin who seems to be diligently looking over Taehyung and Hoseok, a hard frown etched across his face.

“I’m ready for help, if you want to help me. I can ask Namjoon, if you’re not feeling up to it anymore,” you ask Jin. Jin stands up, happy to do something to take his mind off things.

You didn’t want to go into any of the rooms on the top floor, so you and Seokjin walk quietly one flight down.

This office space looks like it used to be full of computers, there’s electrical pieces littered around the floor like someone came and used each one for target practice. You both sit in two beaten up office chairs. “I’ve never bathed myself with alcohol before,” you mutter, bemused. Pulling off your jacket. You notice there’s already bruises forming on your arms. 

Seokjin works to clean off the dried blood from your neck where the knife was pressed. “I’m sorry,” Seokjin says, looking over the bruises.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, trying to catch his eyes, but he won’t look up. “I wish I could take a shower, wash everything away.”

“Yeah,” Seokjin agrees. His eyes start to water, worrying you.

“Do you want a hug?” You ask. He nods. The plastic pieces crunch under your shoes as you move closer, hugging him gently, letting him decide if he wants more. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you tightly and you bite your tongue to keep yourself from yelping when he touches a bruise on your back. He pulls you into his lap. You feel safe and held together in his embrace. And Seokjin feels the chaos inside him finally settling. 

You were both taken advantage of differently, but in that moment it didn’t matter, you both felt the same kind of anger and injustice, for yourselves, and for one another. And in that moment you both just wanted to be held by someone you loved, hoping to erase the touches left by those before. 

You watch Jin break down the door to the break room inside this office. It only takes him three hits with his shoulder. You rush forward, your knife raised, worried you’ll find a monster inside. No monsters, only-“No way.”

“That’s a lot of ramen.”

You and Jin look at each other smiling. There’s enough snacks for days! This discovery might not equal all the pain you’ve both endured, but it was a nice shift, it only takes the slightest push to turn things around. Jin is smiling again now and that is worth celebrating. You make a silent promise to yourself that you’ll bring some to Jinyoung and the old man before leaving Hongcheon. Goodness still needs to be rewarded. Happiness still needs to be celebrated.

---

Looks like Taehyung and Hoseok are in the bottom of the poll. I decided readers will have more input into the story this way. Yoongi seems like a fan favorite (for now) so I hope you enjoyed his relationship progression with y/n, and poor Taehyung and Hoseok, well, I’ll let readers decide, what might happen next chapter? Go vote!

#bts fanfic #bts smut #bts zombie au #ot7 x reader #bts x reader #namjoon smut #bts apocalypse au #bts fantasy au #bts crack au #bts slow burn

[sherlockxreader]

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader 

Author: @proherogalahad (formerly realgreglestrade)

Words: 1,336

Warning: None

Author’s note: So it’s been a while, similar to my previous story post, I was going through my old drafts and found at the very end of the page. Figured I might as well upload it if there is still an audience for Sherlock fics ^^ This fic was based on a few prompts that were picked from a reader.

92. My kink is closing the fucking bathroom door because no one wants to see you pee!

95. Graduated top of my class from Hogwarts school of Bitchcraft and Misery

97. I’ll betray all of you in the Hunger Games

After a tough case and lots of drinking, you came to realize that drunk Sherlock was your favorite Sherlock. You’ve never seen the detective drink as much as he had the night after the case of the Dancing Men. He was the type to nurse a drink. 

Both John and Sherlock arrived home, Sherlock still in his post-case high and John more so with a long face. Their case seemed to have taken a toll on him. Sherlock, noticing this, decided to show John a prize he recently procured. A very expensive wine that Mycroft kept hidden in his office. The pair opened it and began drinking, one bottle led to two which ultimately continued with them ordering dinner and finishing up whatever alcohol they had found in the kitchen.

You watched as your best friends argued over which Hogwarts house they’d sort Mrs. Hudson in with a big smile on your face. It was previously decided that Sherlock would be in Slytherin for his cunning ways and ambitions and John in Gryffindor for his bravery and nerve. 

“Mrs. Hudson could scare the shit out of anybody,” John yelled in protest when Sherlock announced that she would be in Hufflepuff for her gentle nature. “You’ve known her better than I do, especially her past, and yet she’s placed in Hufflepuff? No! She’s in Gryffindor!”

Sherlock opened his mouth but didn’t say anything and raised his right hand with his pointer finger and thumb being pressed together, “but she’s so tiny!”

John raised both his arms and let out a loud sigh before turning to you. “(Y/N),” he slurred. You looked up from your phone as you sent a couple pictures to Greg and Molly. “You know a lot about Harry Potter. What do you think?”

“I don’t just ‘know a lot about Harry Potter’, I graduated top of my class at Hogwarts Bitchcraft and Misery.” Both John and Sherlock looked at you with weird expressions. 

You sighed. “Mrs. Hudson is in Slytherin. We took a test a few months ago when you both left us for a case. We got bored, and she got sorted.”

“Impossible.” Sherlock frowned. 

“It really isn’t.” 

“But she’s so tiny!” You laughed at Sherlock’s interjection. 

“(Y/N)! What about you? What house are you in?” Sherlock slurred. 

“I’m in (Your/Hogwarts/House).”

The living room was silent for a few seconds until John spoke. “That makes sense.”

~~~~~~

After three cups of tea and a half a bottle of whiskey, the pair of crime solvers continued with their bickering…

“I think I would win the hungerrrrsss game,” Sherlock hiccuped. “I mean, I’m smart.”

“I don’t think so, mate. I have military training.”

“Shut up! I know I would win. I’ll betray all of you in the hungerrss game. Tell him (Y/N).”

 “I’d take you both down, so shut up.”

-

“I’m not answering that, Sherlock.”

“Why not, Y/N? John answered.”

“I’m not John, I don’t want to.”

“John, have her answer.”

“Shut up, John.”

“Answer it.”

“No.”

“Y/N-”

“My kink is closing the fucking bathroom door because no one wants tO SEE YOU FUCKING PEE! Why do you do it so often, I don’t know, but you have to stop, it’s so gross!”

“No need to shout, Y/N.” Sherlock pouted. “It was a simple question. John, tell her to stop shouting.”

The pair finally grew tired.

You tried your best to stifle a giggle as Sherlock’s head lolled everytime he closed his eyes and woke up suddenly with a jolt. 

John sat opposite him, telling an old story from being in the army with his eyes dropping with sleep. You took pictures on your phone and sent them to your mutual friends. The time was nearing four in the morning and you knew you had to drag your friends to bed. 

John was the easiest. Yes, there were steps to tread up to get to his room, but John was a good sport and helped you help him to bed. He sang under his breath until you settled him onto his bed and covered him with a sheet. He was snoring right as you closed the door to his bedroom.

Sherlock was not as helpful. Being taller than you and John, it was a lot more difficult to carry him to his room. The detective muttered something unintelligent under his breath as you continued to try and drag him to bed. 

“Come on, Sherlock! Help me a little!” 

Sherlock leaned up slightly from your shoulder and lazily waved his free arm around the air before grabbing the doorknob that was attached to his bedroom door and jiggled it. 

“It’s locked,” he whined. You rolled your eyes and groaned as you freed your hand and opened the door. Pushing Sherlock inside, he flopped on the bed and continued to mumble into a pillow. His slurred words were muffled by the pillow he landed on, not that you tried to decipher his words. Sherlock giggled as you started to remove his shoes. A small smile crept up on your lips at how ridiculous the “serious” detective was being. 

After throwing the shoes in a corner, you adjusted Sherlock on his bed and threw a soft blanket over him. 

“Don’t gooo,” Sherlock mumbled, eyes closed and his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. 

“I want to sleep too, Sherlock,” you groaned.  

Sherlock gave your hand a sharp tug and pulled you onto the bed with him. You let out a soft yelp as you landed half on Sherlock and the empty space next to him. You wiggled yourself into a comfortable position, not fighting Sherlock because you were extremely tired to do so. 

“Ssssleep.” Your body relaxed under the blanket you covered yourself with and your heavy eyelids fell shut on their own accord. The last sounds you hear before falling asleep were the soft snores that came from Sherlock. 

~

John woke up with a sudden jolt as the rays of the sun peeked through from behind his curtains and blinded his eyes. The pounding of his head was evidence enough to regret the previous night’s drinks. He looked at his night stand and saw a glass of water with a few pills and a note. 

Mrs. Hudson was a saint.

Drinking the refreshing water and pills, the ex-army doctor managed to crawl out of bed. He managed to find clean clothes that didn’t smell of the previous night's drinking activities, and went to take a shower with his head pounding with a little less vigor. 

It was past noon when John stepped out of the shower feeling clean and 40% more like himself. Images of the previous night flashed through his mind but thinking back made his head hurt. It was best to just leave those memories in the past. John’s stomach rumbled in hunger as he finished drying his hair with a towel. He shuffled into the kitchen and placed a few pieces of bread in the toaster then set the kettle to boil. John sat at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of tea. The sounds of London entered through the open window, the flat was never this quiet when Sherlock was at home. The ex-army doctor relished the peace.

John heard the door to Sherlock’s room open and close and you appear from the hallway with your hair tousled and clothes disheveled.

You froze as you noticed John sitting at the table looking at you with wide eyes and half a piece of toast hanging from his mouth. 

“It’s not what it looks like.”

Right at that moment, Sherlock decided to emerge from his bedroom wrapped in only a white sheet. John’s toast fell from his hand as he watched his friend walk towards the kettle, his bare shoulders giving the emphasis of nakedness under this sheet. You looked in horror as a smile crept onto John’s face and Mrs. Hudson walked into the kitchen. 

“Sherlock! Shouldn’t you be wearing clothes?!”

“Not now, Hudders.” The detective muttered, sipping his tea with a satisfied smile. He headed back to his room but not before quickly kissing your cheek.

“Thank you.” Sherlock mumbled quietly for only you to hear. 

You felt your cheeks flush.

“‘Not what it looks like’ my ass!” 

#sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #john watson #kat writes #sherlock holmes x reader #bbc sherlock imagines

[namor-shuri]

After this post, I started to think: What would a “Talokan/Wakanda vs Common Enemy” playlist be like? What songs would come to mind during their glorious battle? Then this sprouted:

- - - - - - - - - - + - + - + - + V + - + - + - + - - - - - - - - - -

The day is finally upon them. Everyone has prepared for this very moment. Namor and Shuri stand firm, front and center, leading their army of Talokanil muscle, the Dora Milaje, the Jabari Tribe [with every Wakandan tribe], Bucky Barnes, and fellow allies who all stand in formation. This means war. There’s no going back. Namor flys high above, roaring his battle cry “Líik’ik Talokan!”. He raises his spear towards their enemy in the distance. Shuri looks forward and chants “Yibambe!”. Their people chant and follow suit. Namor and Shuri make brief eye contact with one another as he nods, an unspoken “ready when you are, Black Panther”. She nods, then stares back at their target. Shuri raises her arm, gives the official signal and snarls as she charges forward full speed ahead:

sᴄᴀʀʟxʀᴅ + ᴋᴏʀᴅᴇʟʟ - ᴍɪss ᴍᴇ / ᴋᴀɴʏᴇ ᴡᴇsᴛ - ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ / ᴋᴇɴᴅʀɪᴄᴋ ʟᴀᴍᴀʀ - ʜᴜᴍʙʟᴇ [sᴋʀɪʟʟᴇx ʀᴇᴍɪx] / ᴊᴀʙʙᴀʀ ʜᴀᴋᴇᴇᴍ - ᴘᴀɴᴅᴀ [ʀᴇᴍɪx] / 2ʟᴀᴅᴇ - ᴏᴀʜ ᴄᴜ̈ᴢ [ɪɴᴛʀᴏ] / ᴀᴅɴ ᴍᴀʏᴀ ᴄᴏʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴏ - ʟᴀᴀʏʟɪ’ᴋᴜxᴀ’ᴀɴᴏ’ᴏɴᴇ / x ᴀᴍʙᴀssᴀᴅᴏʀs - ᴊᴜɴɢʟᴇ / ᴄʜɪʟᴅɪsʜ ɢᴀᴍʙɪɴᴏ - sᴡᴇᴀᴛᴘᴀɴᴛs [ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴀᴘᴇs ʀᴇᴍɪx] / ᴅᴍx - x ɢᴏɴ’ ɢɪᴠᴇ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴀ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ sᴛʀɪᴘᴇs - sᴇᴠᴇɴ ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀʀᴍʏ [ᴛʜᴇ ɢʟɪᴛᴄʜ ᴍᴏʙ ʀᴇᴍɪx]

- + - + - + -

The scales of war begin to tilt less in their favor. What sick game is the universe playing now? Shuri puts pressure on her wound while she scans the battlefield, helplessly witnessing a massacre of her people. Talokanil and Wakandan men and women fall one by one at the hands of their rival. She stumbles over to a Talokanil warrior bleeding to death and urges her to “Get up! Please! This is no place for a soldier to die!” She cradles the woman while she slowly withers away, crying out for “K'uk'ulkan” one last time. Namor frantically surveys the terrain while he soars overhead, looking for Shuri in the carnage. He finally spots her, grateful she is alive. She stares up at him while tears stream down her face, silently questioning to herself, “have our gods abandoned us, my Ch'ah Toh?”:

sᴛᴇᴘʜᴇɴ - ᴄʀᴏssғɪʀᴇ / ᴛᴏʙʏ ғᴏx - ғᴀʟʟᴇɴ ᴅᴏᴡɴ (sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ) / ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇʙᴏ - ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʜɪʟʟ / ʀᴇᴅ - ᴘɪᴇᴄᴇs / ɢᴀʀʏ ᴊᴜʟᴇs - ᴍᴀᴅ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ [sᴘᴀɴɪsʜ ᴄᴏᴠᴇʀ] / ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ᴍᴀʟᴛᴇsᴇ - ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ᴄᴀᴠᴇs ɪɴ [ᴏʀᴄʜᴇsᴛʀᴀ ᴠᴇʀsɪᴏɴ - sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ] / ʟᴏʀɴ - ᴀᴄɪᴅ ʀᴀɪɴ / ᴢᴀɪᴀ - ᴡɪɴɢᴢ / ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʜᴀɴᴛᴏᴍs - ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴍᴀᴅ / ᴀᴅᴇʟᴇ - sᴋʏғᴀʟʟ

- + - + - + -

Namor lands hard, digging up earth as he tosses his spear aside and slides towards Shuri in a panic. He scans her body for signs of serious injury. Her emotions are indecipherable while he looks her over. She winces as he moves her. “I’m okay, I’m fine..I…I promise. Just check on the others.” “I can’t just leave you here Shuri!” Namor yells, furious at her stubbornness and selfless heart. She’s too tired to argue and takes in tiny sharp breaths at a time. Rage begins to fuel Namor, his disdain for the surface world coursing through his veins. He starts dissociating and breathing hard. He only hears his pulse through his ears, the environment growing quiet. He slowly stands up, with his wounds going numb. Shock takes over his system, bringing him into fight or flight mode. Perfect. Namor grabs his spear, wipes away his enemies’ bloodshed painted across his face and chest. It wasn’t personal before, but now it is. Namor shoots up and shouts across the skies “Líik’ik Talokan! We will be victorious, or die trying!” and rallies the remainder of his men and women as he storms forward, pupils blown. He smirks, with only murder on his mind:

ʟᴏʀᴅᴇ - ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ᴛᴏ ʀᴜʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ / ᴍʀ ᴋɪᴛᴛʏ - ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴅᴀʀᴋ [sʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ] / ᴄᴊ - ᴡʜᴏᴏᴘᴛʏ [ᴇʀs ʀᴇᴍɪx] / ғᴇᴠᴇʀ ʀᴀʏ - ɪғ ɪ ʜᴀᴅ ᴀ ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ / 2ᴡᴇɪ + ᴇᴅᴅᴀ ʜᴀʏᴇs - ᴡᴀʀʀɪᴏʀs / ᴋᴇɴᴅʀɪᴄᴋ ʟᴀᴍᴀʀ + ᴛʏʟᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴏʀ - ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ x ɴᴇᴡ ᴍᴀɢɪᴄ ᴡᴀɴᴅ [ᴍᴀsʜᴜᴘ] / ᴋʟᴇʀɢʏ - ᴡɪʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ᴍᴇ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ / sᴋʏʟᴀʀ ɢʀᴇʏ - ᴋɪʟʟ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ / sᴀᴍ sᴍɪᴛʜ - ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ’s ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟ / ʟɪɴᴋɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴋ - ɴᴇᴡ ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇ

- + - + - + -

Wakanda and Talokan eventually reign victorious, marking their first triumph together as a joint force. The fallen are laid to rest back in their respective homelands. Their alliance truly feels like a gift. Something orchestrated by a higher power. Fast forward: Shuri is seen in one of her labs, speaking with Griot and tinkering with her latest invention that will help strengthen her people and Talokan’s defenses. She feels her mother and brother’s presence in the room with her and it brings Shuri comfort. She giggles, imagining them peering over her shoulder while making jokes and remarks. A hand touches her shoulder and she jumps, turning around to find Namor. He grabs both of her arms and brings her in, closing the gap between them. They rest their foreheads together like the last piece of a puzzle and breath each other in. “I almost lost you once. I can’t risk that again, Princess, especially when the stakes are much greater now.” Namor caresses Shuri’s stomach over her lab coat. She places her hand over his. They both exhale:

ᴛᴇᴍs - ʜɪɢʜᴇʀ [ʟɪᴠᴇ] / ᴛᴇʀᴇɴᴄᴇ ʙʟᴀɴᴄʜᴀʀᴅ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ᴋɪɴɢ / ᴢᴏᴇ sᴀʟᴅᴀɴ̃ᴀ - ᴛʜᴇ sᴏɴɢᴄᴏʀᴅ / ʏᴇ sᴏʟ ᴋɪᴍ - ᴡʜᴏ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏɴsᴛᴇʀ / ᴊᴀᴍᴇs ʜᴏᴍᴇʀ - ᴛʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴀᴄᴀᴍᴀ ᴅᴇsᴇʀᴛ / ʜᴀɴs ᴢɪᴍᴍᴇʀ - ᴛɪᴍᴇ / ɢᴏʏᴛᴇ - ʜᴇᴀʀᴛ’s ᴀ ᴍᴇss / ʟᴀᴜʀᴀ ғʏɢɪ - sᴀʙᴏʀ ᴀ ᴍɪ / ᴊᴜsᴛɪɴ ɴᴏᴢᴜᴋᴀ - sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀ / ʟɪɴᴋɪɴ ᴘᴀʀᴋ - ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇsᴛ

- - - - - - - - - - + - + - + - + V + - + - + - + - - - - - - - - - -

#I’m no writer or anything #but clearly I love pain ☠️ #jokes aside I’m super hyped for this movie even tho I know we won’t see it for another ten years 🥴 #tenoch huerta #letitia wright #namor #shuri #nashuri #bpwf #seaprincess #wakanda forever #black panther #namuri #black panther 3 #queen of wakanda #talokan trio #wakanda tribes #bucky barnes #the avengers #playlist #this means war #Nashuri kids if you squint #marvel hire me to make the soundtrack for bp3 pls #namor x shuri #marvel #enemies to lovers #talokan #marvel what if

[ancientcivilizationnonsense]

OCkiss24 day five: darkness

It was dark when little Antonia was picked up from her soft bed at the Palace. She didn’t stir as she was carried through the long moonlight filled halls. 

The stars twinkled as she was brought outside. An old man in a long tunic with a wagon was waiting at the bottom of the steps. 

“Here she is,” her brother said. “I’ve given her lots of valerian so she shouldn’t wake up for several more hours but do you want her tied up?”

“No, no,” the man said. “I can handle her.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I know she doesn’t look like it but she is quite strong.”

The man chuckled. “I’m sure. Put her in the back.”

She was placed on the hard wooden planks. She twitched but didn’t open her eyes. The cart jolted as the man snapped the reins. 

—

It was dark when she ate her first meal with Crispus. The nice old man had explained what happened to her. How her brother was in the marketplace advertising that he had a young servant girl for sale. There were cruel men there, he could tell by their smiles, so he placed a bid much higher than anyone else. 

She was not his slave, he wanted to make that very clear. He did not own her and she could leave any time she wanted. But if she wished to stay with him in the countryside, she would be expected to help with the farm work. 

She was upset, of course she was, and spent the afternoon crying and punching hay in his barn. As the sun set, she came back to the humble villa and shyly asked if she could stay with him. She didn’t want to go back to the Palace, she couldn’t stay with her brother anymore. He was mean. He scared her. 

Crispus smiled and invited her to eat with him. 

—

It was dark as she rolled over for the twentieth time on her bedroll. She had been with Crispus for three months now and she still hadn’t gotten used to the thinness of her new bed. The hardness of the floor hurt her back. Crispus had a few more pillows she desperately wanted but he was old and scolded her, saying he needed them more. 

She signed and rolled over again, desperately trying to get comfortable. It’s not like she slept much nowadays anyway. The noises of the countryside were very different from that of the Palace. A hooting owl, the barn creaking in the wind, the animals shuffling. Every tiny sound made her jump and pull the blanket higher. What if it was her brother coming to snatch her away again? What if he found her and was going to rip her away from her new life like he did before? There were no guards, walls, or watchful eyes to stop him. 

She crawled over and nudged Crispus’ side. “Crispus… Crispus…”

He opened an eye with a groan and looked at her. “What?”

“I… I can’t sleep,” she mumbled. 

He turned his back to her. “If you lay there a little longer it’ll come.”

“No, I— I don’t—" She let out a huff, frustrated with her fear. She chewed her bottom lip for a second before bursting out, “What if my brother finds me?”

Crispus turned to her and sat up. 

Antonia continued; the floodgates had opened. “What if he comes to get me? What if he gives me to somebody mean? What if he breaks in and— and— he takes me away, but you try to stop him and there's a fight and he destroys the house and kills y—"

She slapped a hand over her mouth. She couldn't bear to hear it out loud. Silent tears ran down her cheeks before she could stop them. 

“Come here,” Crispus whispered. She crawled onto his bedroll and snuggled up against his side. He ran a soothing hand through her long hair as she hiccupped with tears. 

“I’m not scared of a silly prince,” Crispus said. “He may be younger and fitter than me, but I was a Centurian in the Imperial Army before I retired.”

Antonia sniffed. “Really?”

“Yes. I was quite good at it too but… the glory couldn’t outweigh the stress and toll of killing so I disappeared and settled here. I find I enjoy it much more. Your brother is not coming to get you, Antonia, you’re safe, but if he does, I will cut him down where he stands.”

Antonia mulled that over. She wiped her eyes and whispered, “I’ve never had someone offer to kill for me before.”

Crispus chuckled. 

“But… What if he finds me when you’re not there?" Her bleary tear-stained face slowly split into a smile. "…I need to disappear too.”

Crispus frowned. “What do you mean?”

Antonia looked up at him. “I want to cut my hair so I look like a boy. You'll call me a different name and I’ll be your son!”

“Are… are you sure?”

“Yes! And then I won’t have to worry anymore and you can teach me how to fight like they do in the army!” 

Crispus chuckled. “I don’t know about that last part but if disappearing will help you, we’ll do it. I will call you… Felix.”

Felix beamed up at him. He threw his arms around Crispus. “Thank you!!”

Crispus hugged him back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Welcome home, son.”

#how felix got her name. the gender-fuckery is strong in this one #this should be obvious but this is NOT romantic #felix antonia #ancient rome #oc #original character #historical fiction #ockiss24 #oc kiss week #found family

[spaghetti-explosion]

Today's performance will consist of four acts.

We begin with a duel. The stage, an open field at the edge of a tiny village.

A company of soldiers stands in formation, rifles and swords glittering in the sunset. The burnished crimson glow makes their silence all the more threatening.

At the front stand the dragoons, armored warriors, tall and terrible in full battle dress. Each is worth more in combat than the entire company behind them.

Their commander stands forth to address the village. His voice is clear and powerful, his words heavy with undisguised arrogance. ｨ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ 縲蓋e know that you are hiding a traitor, a fugitive from Kurakake's rebellion. Hand him over at once. If you refuse…縲・

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ 縲蓋e will tear your village apart to find him!縲・ ・ His words are directed at the throng of villagers that has formed a wall before their home.

Not one fails to understand the threat, nor doubts its sincerity. Nevertheless, few succumb to fear.

They are ruled first and foremost by anger. . Jackals… Ghouls… ｯ They have not the courage to shout these epithets at their targets. They must content themselves instead with hushed whispers, sharing their hate with those beside them. Rokuhara…! ｳ They speak the name like a curse.

Rokuhara. The leader of these men repeats his demand.

The villagers do not respond. Anger and hate still sizzle among them. > The Rokuhara officer delivers a final ultimatum. ｺ The soldiers train their rifles upon the villagers.

Now the villagers cease their muttering. Yet not one comes forward to comply.

Silent malice, met with silent defiance. ｺ The confrontation is at an impasse, with all parties tensed for the Rokuhara officer's command. Before he can give the order to fire, however, something changes.

The voices pick up again, louder than before, as the wall of villagers parts to reveal a new figure striding to the fore.

You mustn't! Go back! They'll kill you! The villagers call for the man to stop. In answer, he says only窶・ ｲ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ //縲御ｸ冶ｩｱ縺ｫ縺ｪ縺｣縺溘€・ "Thank you for your kindness." ・ The warrior strides toward the army. He, too, is clad in armor, the same as that worn by the Rokuhara warriors窶不ave in one respect. Their armor is as good as new, shining fresh from the polisher's stone. His, however, is beaten and worn, the damage enough to hinder its performance. It is a difference emblematic of his status as the remnant of a defeated rebellion.  The rebel warrior takes another step, but stops when a tiny hand seizes his steel fingers. He looks down to see a girl, perhaps nine or ten years old. She grips his hand with all her strength, refusing to let go. Without a word, he reaches out with his other hand and pats the girl's head, then gently frees himself from her grasp. Her eyes fill with tears, but the warrior does not look back. Leaving her behind, he advances on the Rokuhara formation. Several dragoons draw their swords upon seeing this, eager to claim the prize for themselves, but a gesture from their commander halts them. He alone strides forth to meet the fugitive warrior. 8 The two men square off at the center of the field. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "What are you doing here, Saginuma?" ﾛ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Merely paying my respects to my old commander, Major Kakei. Not that you deserve your rank." ｳ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "…Hmph. You will keep your promise to spare the village?" ﾈ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "If they hand you over, they will not be punished. I am a man of my word." d //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "Very well. So… what now? You cannot mean to challenge me yourself." //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "Perhaps you should ask your men for help." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "I fail to see the need." € //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "……" ﾕ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "As I recall, you have never been defeated in single combat. I'm afraid that I cannot allow you to take that fame with you to hell." //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Your legend dies with you! There can be no honor for one who has betrayed Rokuhara!" € //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "Oh…?" ﾙ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Your wings are clearly too damaged to fly. Out of respect, I will face you on the ground." ｰ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "You've learned to talk like a warrior, Saginuma. To think that a whelp like you would grow so bold." //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "I gladly accept your challenge. Your head will mount my mast as I sail to the underworld." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "It is your head that will fall today, Kakei. I look forward to drinking out of your wrinkled skull tonight." ・ Each having spoken his piece, the Rokuhara officer and the fugitive swordsman, two men with no small history between them, draw their swords and face off for the last time. The soldiers and villagers alike hold their breath. ・ Saginuma assumes the seigan position, the point of his sword held at eye level, ready to claim his enemy's life with a single lightning thrust. ・ Kakei assumes the raito position, sword held over his right shoulder, ready to cleave his foe in two with a single mighty stroke. { And there the warriors remain, motionless. Time rolls on, passing them by. Sweat drips from the villagers' clenched fists, and even most of the Rokuhara soldiers can only look on in amazement. A few among them, however, have grasped the meaning of this stillness. They tremble in anticipation of the exchange to come. The intent of both combatants is clear. ｪ Saginuma will thrust, aiming for the throat. Any slash from his current stance would require him first to pull back his sword, which would give the initiative to his enemy. The thrust is his only option. As strong as dragoon armor is, there are weak points that one can exploit. These are the joints whereby the warrior is able to move, and the most vulnerable of these is the throat. Hence this will be his target. ` Kakei will slash downward, aiming for the neck. This is another weak point in the armor. By tilting his sword slightly as he strikes, he can slide his blade through the gap where helmet meets shoulder and cut diagonally into the chest cavity. As with his opponent, he too would have to reposition his weapon before choosing any other attack. ・ Each has already chosen his strike. Yet neither moves. Why? Because each warrior has prepared a counter, and knows that his opponent has done the same. If Saginuma thrusts first, Kakei will turn his body to avoid the attack, then strike to claim victory before Saginuma can recover. If Kakei slashes first, Saginuma will take one step back to escape, then rebound with his thrust and slay his enemy. Each has a defense to go with his attack, the former no less deadly than the latter. Knowing that death awaits should they strike, the combatants have entered a stalemate. In such situations, the duel becomes a contest of endurance, physical and mental. For this stalemate to continue, both Saginuma and Kakei must hold their stances perfectly steady, while at the same time maintaining the intense focus needed to react to their enemy. This effort exacts a tremendous toll, like walking a tightrope across a chasm. Sooner or later, one will falter. The other, if he still has the strength, will seize that chance and strike. Saginuma, the Rokuhara commander. Kakei, the rebel warrior. Who will falter first remains to be seen. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "……" € //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "……" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "……" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "…ngh…" ﾅ Age has begun to tell the tale. Saginuma is in his physical prime. Kakei, however, is several years his senior, old enough to feel age creeping up on him. The difference is not great, but it is meaningful. If this continues, Kakei will eventually succumb to exhaustion and become fodder for Saginuma's blade. Should he wish to avoid that fate, he has no choice but to strike first and stake his remaining strength on the only hope of victory. It is a slim hope, however. Saginuma, who valiantly chose to face this veteran swordsman alone, shows no sign of overconfidence. His senses are trained on his former superior, ready to react to the slightest motion. Thus Kakei's fate would appear to be sealed. Death if he strikes first, and death if he waits. To an observer, the two warriors might seem as statues. Beneath the surface, however, the scales of victory and defeat, glory and disgrace, are already tipping in one side's favor. ﾓ Time flows on, carrying the silent battle to its end. Slowly but surely, the older warrior's breathing grows labored, and the trembling of his knees becomes ever more pronounced. A number of soldiers smile to see these signs of the tilting balance. Fortunately, none of the villagers has noticed窶冨et. Still, a sense of doom seems to have reached them. You can do it!窶・/I>one of them cries. Perhaps that cheer was what he needed. H Kakei strikes, launching his body forward with a sharp exhalation. , Saginuma responds without missing a beat, as calmly as if strolling along a beach. The battle is decided. No deity has intervened in Kakei's favor. He is committed to his attack, and now all that remains is for the inevitable sequence of events to play out. Saginuma will dodge Kakei's slash, and with his counterthrust, end the old warrior's life. There is no other way this can end. Unless, of course, one of the fundamental variables is not what it seems to be. For example… what if Kakei only繪・I>looks繪幼ommitted? ﾃ Rather than cleave the air before Saginuma's eyes, Kakei's sword suddenly shifts direction and reseats itself at his left side in preparation for a rising blow. Feign a downward slash to force Saginuma to retreat, then take him with the real slash窶付hrough the armpit or groin窶婦hile he defends. Kakei's plan is a simple one. However, if this had been his intent from the beginning, a seasoned swordsman like Saginuma would have read it. It is effective precisely because it was spontaneous, born in a flash of desperate hunger: Kakei's need to crush this繪兎nemy, though it will not change his ultimate fate. In a fraction of a second, the balance has shifted once again. q And now Kakei looses his true attack, slashing upward to cleave his enemy in two. The decisive stroke. € //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "……" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "……" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "…Saginuma…" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Heh. Heh heh… hahaha!" € //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "……" p //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "You knew that this was your last battle. Why not trade your life for mine?" //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "You set your sights too high, old man." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "Guh…!" ・ Blood spurts from the old warrior's mouth, seeping through the cracks in his armor. The villagers cry out in dismay. Kakei never completed his slash. Before his sword could reach its target, Saginuma's thrust had pierced his throat. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "I was prepared to join you in hell, if need be." //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "My plan was to strike the moment you moved, regardless繪弛f how you attacked." € //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "……" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "But you… you wanted a victory繪奏o take with you into death, so you resorted to cheap trickery!" //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "And now you end with nothing." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "Gurgh…" 2 //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Die, Kakei." //笳・◆縺・＠繧・≧繧翫ｇ縺・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "You are the last warrior who dares defy Rokuhara. At last, all Yamato will be united beneath Shogun Ashikaga Moriuji." //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Glory will be ours!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "Never…!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "……" g //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "Okabe… Lord Yoritsuna still lives! There are many brave heroes waiting to rise up!" //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ剰誠莠ｺ縲・ "You will never have your glory!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Okabe? He's an old man waiting to die. And do you seriously expect me to fear those too cowardly to face us?" //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Save a place for them in hell, Kakei!" X With that, Saginuma draws his wakizashi and strikes the head off his defeated foe. ｢ Kakei's torso falls away, landing with a dull thud. The villagers have no words to express their horror. They can only stare at the corpse of the man who for a short time had been their friend. On the other side of the field, however, excitement and awe are spreading through the ranks. One of the armored warriors steps forward and, bowing deeply, takes the severed head from his triumphant commander. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "Magnificent, sir." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Heh. It was nothing." ｢ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "Sir… what about the village?" ｳ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "I promised to spare them if they handed Kakei over." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "Sir." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Did they hand him over?" ｢ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "…No. He came forward on his own." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Then we have no choice, do we?" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "……" ｳ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "The seeds of rebellion must be torn from the field." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "Yes sir!" ` The dragoon signals to the rear of the army. A soldier lifts a horn to his lips and blows. ^ The rousing note echoes across the field, and the soldiers raise their voices in answer. O As one, they ready their rifles and advance. Here, at last, the villagers regain their senses窶病nd are overwhelmed by terror. They know what is about to happen. They know what their fate is to be. These expectations are not betrayed. And so the play enters its second act. The tragedy of this little village. ﾖ To the heavily armed soldiers, this is not a battle so much as a hunt, and an easy one at that. These prey are far less agile than the beasts of the wood, and in their terror have taken leave of their reason. m As villagers flee in panicked disarray, soldiers take aim at their backs and fire. One man goes down with a bullet in his spine, vomiting blood and tears as he convulses in the dirt. As villagers kneel and beg for mercy, soldiers lay into them with their swords. One old woman clutches her cloven head, screaming as brains scatter like pulp from a shattered melon. The soldiers kill. The villagers die. These roles are fixed, with no hope of reversal. This is no battle. Perhaps it is not even a hunt after all. At length, however, a handful of villagers find the strength to fight amid despair. 6 Knives, scythes, axes. Arming themselves with whatever they can find in their attics and sheds, they hide in the shadows and wait for careless soldiers to pass, then fall upon them from the rear. An old hunter with his trusty rifle proves particularly deadly, moving skillfully from cover to cover while sniping soldiers at every opportunity.

With each soldier who goes down beneath his crosshairs, the woodsman sinks deeper into a mad ecstasy. I'll kill you all, he thinks, enraptured.繪・I>I'll pay you back for what you've done.

Alas, his vengeance is not to be. A terrible demon, for whom the hunter is but an insect, has set its sights upon him.

The old sharpshooter's skill at concealment is the product of a lifetime's experience. From the ground, he is all but invisible. ﾂ From the air, however, his position is clear. To a warrior borne aloft on wings of steel, the hunter is not a force of nature to be feared, but a mouse caught in an inescapable trap. ・ Seeing the chaos the hunter is sowing, one dragoon dives straight for his head.

Some sixth sense lifts the hunter's gaze. There, plummeting from the sky, is a giant of steel. It is the last thing he will ever see. \ The dragoon's draw-and- slash splits the man from crown to groin and demolishes the shack he was using as cover.

When the dust clears, only a deep crevice in the hard earth remains. Such strength is beyond any man.

But these flying warriors are not merely men. The power granted to them by their armor has made them akin to gods.  Until this moment, they have only been observing from above. Now, spurred by their comrade's actions, the circling dragoons descend one after another, bringing with them such violence as to make all that has gone before seem a gentle spring breeze. ・ With each roar of a dragoon's sword, brave villagers die by the dozen. Bodies fill the streets, mangled beyond recognition. % //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Kill the old and sick, those who can't be used."

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Capture the strong men, young women, and children. Hamstring them so they can't run. They'll fetch a good price as slaves."

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Let not one villager escape! Death or servitude are the only fates that await them!"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ "Such is the end of all who defy Rokuhara!"  A storm has come to swallow the village, a whirlwind of fire and steel.

With infantry at their heels, the dragoons move from house to house, street to street, killing or capturing whomever they please. The villagers are powerless against them. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・｡縲・ "Damn you!" ・ One villager raises a rifle to his shoulder. Whether he found it in some hunter's chest or on the corpse of a soldier is unclear. Either way, it is a splendid weapon, the sort that can put a bullet through a man's eye at a hundred meters. ｸ The farmer is no marksman, but as luck would have it, all of his shots are on target: one deadly bullet for each of four dragoons.

It is a miracle. Albeit meaningless. M The first dragoon dodges his bullet with the smallest tilt of his head. 7 The second swats his from the air with his sword. ` The third catches the bullet in his metal fist.

The fourth does nothing at all. ﾟ With a dull thwack, the bullet bounces off his armored hide.

All four responses are equally detached, as though the bullets were but gnats or flies. And indeed they might as well be, for all the threat they pose. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・｡縲・ "!" ` The man's will to live, perhaps, deserves praise, though his next actions are hardly sane. % Throwing down the useless rifle, he races to the truck parked nearby窶付he only such vehicle in the village窶・br>leaps into the driver's seat, and stomps on the accelerator as though to drive his foot through the floor.

Perhaps he believes that the truck窶婦hose engine remains silent窶婦ill explode into motion with a screeching of tires and carry him far, far away from these devils. Perhaps he even believes that he will rescue his friends from the massacre.

Whatever the case, he is at least spared the knowledge of his failure. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｢縲・ "Heh!" v In a split second, a dragoon takes position overhead and strikes. The winged swordsman's weapon may be more primitive than the farmer's rifle, but it is also far more effective.

The blade plows through everything in its path, metal truck and fleshy human alike.

The villager has no time to feel pain. He must have been born under a good star indeed, for surely a quick end is better than dying窶賓r perhaps even living窶品n agony.

The halves of his face, split neatly down the middle, express no dissatisfaction with this end: a far cry from the wailing of his fellows being rounded up and hamstrung even now. ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・｢縲・ "No… No! NO!" & One villager takes off running, ・ knocking down friends and family in his desperate attempt to escape. There is no malice in this, only fear.

Pushing through the chaos, he makes for the open road.

If he keeps running, he will reach the neighboring village. There, he will surely be safe.

Don't look back,繪塗e tells himself.繪・I>Keep running, and before you know it, this will all be over. ] It takes thirty seconds for him to realize that safety will never be his. For those brief moments of blissful ignorance, he runs on, unable to grasp that he is not moving an inch.

At last, it dawns on him. One of the armored warriors has taken him by the collar and lifted him off the ground. His feet have been pumping air all this time. ｩ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲梧綾繧後€・ "Get back with the others." ｫ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・｢縲・ //縲後≠窶ｦ窶ｦ縺ゅ＝窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Ah… ahh…" ・ The dragoon throws him onto a pile of captured villagers, where a soldier seizes him and slices his ankle just enough to keep him from running again. ﾔ One by one, villagers are rounded up and reduced to worms. Now and then, a lucky one meets a human end窶品f such a thing exists.

Death or capture are the only fates available to them, just as the Rokuhara commander decreed. And even this choice is not theirs to make.

Whether they run or fight or huddle in fear, in the end their desires are inconsequential. Only the will of the armored has any authority here.

Absolute tyranny rules the village. b //縲€雜ｳ鬥悶ｒ蛻・ｉ繧後◆遶･螂ｳ縺ｯ諤昴≧縲・

//縲€窶補€輔↑縺懊□繧阪≧縲・ Why?窶・/I>wonders the girl who once held a doomed warrior's hand, now lying, ankles slashed, atop a pile of the damned.

Until yesterday, life was quiet and routine.

Her father, a lumberjack, would go out every morning and come back at sunset with bundles of wood. She would play with her friends, or help her mother attend to their daily chores.

Every day was peaceful, the same as the last.

And now it is ruined, shattered to pieces without warning. Why?

Why did these men destroy their village?

The schoolmaster said that bad deeds are punished. If you hurt someone, then you too will suffer.

Did I hurt someone?窶・/I>the little girl asks herself. Did her mother or father? What about the other villagers who died, or those lying nearby, ankles slashed like hers? Were they wrong to take in that man, Kakei, to give him food and a place to sleep? But he was nice. The adults all said they had never known a more honorable warrior. Was it that? Was it something else? t 縲€ And if the villagers are being punished for some crime… then what will happen to those who did this? Will the soldiers meet the same fate one day? They have to. Otherwise, the rules don't make sense. But… who? The soldiers are so strong. They wiped out this village in the blink of an eye. Who will do the same to them? Who can punish these titans of steel? Can anyone? If not, then the cycle ends here. The villagers alone will suffer, never knowing what it was they did wrong, and the demons who forced this suffering upon them will never have to answer for it. It's not right. It's not right! It's not right,繪田ries the girl who cannot stand, her voice lost amid gunfire and screams.

Someone, anyone. I won't ask you to help. Just please, please,繪・I>don't let it end with us.

Punish them too. Make them pay for their crimes. Let them suffer just as we have.

The girl prays.

She prays with the sorrow of one who has lost everything, and the anger of one who cannot fathom why.

Please,繪都he begs. This is wrong. Make it right. ｦ ...No. This is not wrong.

It is! If you do something bad, you get punished. That's how the world works!

No.

Then tell me. Tell me the truth.

Throw off your grief. Throw off your anger.

But I can't. Grief and anger are all I have.

You need no grief. You need no anger. You need no hate or malice.

I do!

You do not.

Why not!?

Heh. 4 縲€The girl hears a verse. Y And then she realizes that she has been talking to someone all along. The other voice is laughing. Its laughter is gentle, affectionate, as it recites a lullaby. Grieve not, rage not, hate not, it says. All are meaningless. Life has no need of such things. 縲€ The girl hears a verse. f Laugh, sing, clap your hands. Dance and dance with joy in your hearts. Throw off the foolish trappings of humanity. Live for the sake of life itself. Do this, and all shall be revelry. Sadness will no longer have a place in your heart. You cannot? Nonsense. Anyone can. You have merely forgotten. Remember! Your purpose is joy! ｻ 縲€ The girl hears a verse. And then she knows that she was mistaken all along. Yes! I see it now! The verse is a song, the song of life. I was worried about right and wrong, but that's not what life is about! It teaches her the truth. Where there is life, there is no sin to be punished.

Life should just繪礎e,繪・I>pure and true to its desires.

The girl joins her voice to the song. She sings of life and joy.

Ahh, if only we'd lived free from the beginning!

If only we'd known that life itself is joy!

Let us live pure and true, like the beasts we are.

・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・｣縲・ "Stop! Please! Spare me!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・｡縲・ "Nah." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・､縲・ "I don't want to die!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・｢縲・ "Too bad!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・･縲・ "I want to live…" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・｣縲・ "Die." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・ｦ縲・ "I'm gonna live…" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・､縲・ "Nope." I 縲・tis time to pose that eternal question: To be or not to be, we ask縲・ J 縲慨o let begin this comedy, on the stage where mad laughter does ring!縲・ ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "…?" ｮ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｢縲・ "What am I hearing? A kinchojo transmission?" ｽ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ "No… it's something else. It feels like it's inside my head." ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・､縲・ "Where's it coming from?" P 縲概hunder howls as the loyal dog sinks his teeth into the thief's soft flesh縲・ a 縲蟹n her warm nest, the chick calls for her mother, closed eyes blind to the slithering snake縲・ V 縲外n the wide savannah, the lion stalks his prey, golden mane puffed up with pride縲・ d 縲概he stream burbles softly as frolicking children crush the frog's eggs beneath their bare feet縲・ L 縲該ou who preach life's sacred meaning, heed the jester's heartfelt lies縲・ Y 縲該ou who fear death's cold embrace, know that his mask is but a mirror painted black縲・ J 縲害uestion life's purpose, and the jester and death shall lift a spoon縲・ P 縲界mbrace life's pleasures, and the jester and death shall doff their crowns縲・ L 縲崖un and dance, beasts of the plain, laugh and sing and feast and fight縲・ J 縲皆or now all chains and cages have crumbled to dust beneath your feet縲・ ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・｣縲・ "Ah… aughhh!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・｡縲・ "Ugh… guh, ahh…" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・､縲・ "Guhg… gah…" L //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "What the hell? There's something wrong with these people."

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ "Have they gone mad?" ｺ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ "No, the men are acting strange too. What's happening here?" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後〓縺・€ｦ窶ｦ・溘€・ "…?" K 縲概he man revered as God's messenger forsakes his faith, vomiting blood縲・ a 縲概he man hailed as the world's conqueror fails in his quest and drowns, still atop his horse縲・ b 縲概he princess chooses love over country and is led to the guillotine amid the stench of offal縲・ c 縲概he orphan seeks sustenance in the blood of worms and rots from within until no flesh remains縲・ j 縲貝isten, all who live, and I will sing your praises, offer forth the malice concealed by weary smiles縲・ u 縲貝isten, all who live, and I will pray for your souls, rest upon the joy which hatred and prejudice have birthed縲・ H 縲晦 life of a hundred years will hear the serenade of fire and steel縲・ F 縲晦 life of seven days will glimmer bright in the silence and dark縲・ //縲€謔ｲ蜉・・邨ゅｏ繧翫€・ //縲€邯壹＞縺ｦ隨ｬ荳牙ｹ輔€・

//縲€縺昴ｌ縺ｯ縺ゅｋ遞ｮ縺ｮ蝟懷括縺ｧ縺ゅｊ縲・ //縲€蜷梧凾縺ｫ蜊倡ｴ斐↑繧区Κ蜉・〒縺ゅｋ縲・ The tragedy ends, and we come to the third act.

It is a sort of comedy, and at the same time, pure horror. ｳ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後ご繝上ぃ繧｡繧｡繧｡繧｡繧｡繧｡!!縲・ "Gahhhhhhhhh!" ｺ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後↑縺｣窶ｦ窶ｦ //縲€雋ｴ讒倥€∬ｪｰ縺ｫ蜷代°縺｣縺ｦ謦・▲縺ｦ縺・ｋ!?縲・ "Wha窶・ Who do you think you're shooting at!?"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲悟渚騾・☆繧九▽繧ゅｊ縺具ｼ√€・ "Have you fools turned traitor!?" ﾀ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後げ繝・€√げ繝倥ャ縲√げ繝ｫ繧｡繧｡繧｡縲・ "Guh, geh, gurrrrr!" ﾃ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ丞・螢ｫ・｢縲・ //縲後え繧･繧･繧･窶ｦ窶ｦ繧｡繧｡繧｡繧｢繧｢窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Uhhhhaahaaahaha…" ﾔ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後″窶ｦ窶ｦ閨槭＞縺ｦ縺・ｋ縺ｮ縺九€∬ｲｴ讒倥ｉ繧｡!!縲・ "A- Are you even listening!?" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲悟ｾ・※縲√←縺・ｦ九※繧る険荵ｱ迥ｶ諷九□縺樞€ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Wait. These men have clearly lost their minds." ﾊ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｢縲・ //縲後＞縺｣縺溘＞菴輔□縺｣縺ｦ繧薙□!?縲・ "What the hell is going on here!?" ﾄ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・､縲・ //縲後→縺ｫ縺九￥縲∵ｭ｢繧√ｍ窶補€輔〓縺・?縲・ "Stop this at窶婦hoa!" ｨ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・･縲・ //縲後ぐ繧｣窶ｦ窶ｦ繧ｰ繧ｰ縲・ "Giii… guh!" ｲ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・ｦ縲・ //縲後け繝偵ャ縲√・繝上ぃ窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Kee! Kaahhhh!" ｷ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲後％縺・▽繧峨ｂ縺銀€ｦ窶ｦ・溘€・ "The villagers too?" ﾃ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後＆縲・ｷｺ豐ｼ谿ｿ窶ｦ窶ｦ縺薙ｌ縺ｯ窶ｦ窶ｦ!?縲・ "Sir! What is this!?" ｽ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後▲窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ //縲€縺ｨ縺ｫ縺九￥縲∵・縲・↓謚ｵ謚励☆繧玖€・ｒ谿ｺ縺幢ｼ√€・ "…Damn! Kill anyone who resists!"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲檎憾豕√・隗｣譏弱・蠕後〒濶ｯ縺・ｼ√€・ "We can sort it out afterward!" ｧ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後・窶ｦ窶ｦ縺ｯ繝・ｼ√€・ "Y- Yes sir!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｢縲・ //縲御ｺ・ｧ｣・・ //縲€菴輔ｒ繝医メ迢ゅ▲縺溘・縺狗衍繧峨ｓ縺碁未菫ゅ・縺医€・ "All right, you crazy bastards! I don't know what's gotten into you, and I don't care!"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｢縲・ //縲後←縺ｮ縺ｿ縺｡菫ｺ驕斐′雋縺代ｋ繧上￠縲√€・ "You don't stand a cha窶・ ･ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ螻ｱ蟠弱▲!?縲・ "Yamazaki!?" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後↑縺ｫ窶ｦ窶ｦ!?縲・ "What!?" ｴ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲後□縲∬ｪｰ縺後ｄ縺｣縺・?縲・ "Who shot him down!?" ｷ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲後←縺薙°繧俄€ｦ窶ｦ・√€・ "Where did it come from!?" ｮ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・ｦ縲・ //縲後％縺・▽繧俄€ｦ窶ｦ縺具ｼ溘€・ "Was it them?" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲後◎繧薙↑鬥ｬ鮖ｿ縺ｪ・√€€縺ｩ縺・ｄ縺｣縺ｦ窶補€輔€・ "Don't be stupid! These nutjobs couldn't窶・ ｱ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・､縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ縺寂€ｦ窶ｦ驫€濶ｲ窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "S- Silver…" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲梧ｴ･逕ｰ・溘€・ "Tsuda?" ﾏ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・､縲・ //縲碁橿縺・√€€莉翫・縺ｯ縲・橿濶ｲ縺ｮ窶補€包ｼ√€・ "Silver! I saw a flash of窶・ ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ繝・ｼ√€・ "!" ｦ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲後≠縺｣窶ｦ窶ｦ縺ゅ≠!!縲・ "L- Look!" ﾖ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲檎區驫€縺ｮ窶ｦ窶ｦ蜉泌・窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "A silver tsurugi…" ･ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲碁橿譏溷捷窶ｦ窶ｦ!?縲・ "Ginseigo!?" ﾊ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後％縲√％縺・▽縺娯€ｦ窶ｦ驫€譏溷捷縺九ャ!!縲・ "The繪敵inseigo!?" ｻ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲梧ｮｺ謌ｮ閠・橿譏溷捷窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "The Angel of Slaughter…" ｼ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲檎ｴ螢企ｭ秘橿譏溷捷窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "The Destroyer of Worlds…" ｶ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲梧ｭｻ縺ｮ髮ｨ驫€譏溷捷窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "The Rain of Death…" ｼ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・ｦ縲・ //縲檎區驫€縺ｮ謔ｪ鬲披€ｦ窶ｦ・√€・ "The Silver Star, Ginseigo!" L 縲・tis time to scorn that eternal question: To be or not to be, we laugh縲・ O 縲慨o let begin this comedy divine, on the stage where lamentations do ring!縲・ ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲檎ｩｺ荳ｭ縺ｫ窶ｦ窶ｦ髱呎ｭ｢縺励※縺・ｋ窶ｦ窶ｦ!?縲・ "It's… hovering!?" 6 //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲碁ｦｬ鮖ｿ縺ｪ窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ //縲€鬟幄｡瑚飴縺倥ｃ縺ｭ縺医ｓ縺縺槭€√◎繧薙↑縺薙→縺ｧ縺阪ｋ //繧上￠縺娯€ｦ窶ｦ繝・ｼ√€・ "It can't be! It's not an airship! Everyone knows tsurugi can't…" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "……" ﾌ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲碁嚏髟ｷ繝・ｼ√€€髫企聞谿ｿ・√€€驥・・繧抵ｼ√€・ "Captain! What do we do!?" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ縺九€∵寺縺九ｌ・・ //縲€諤ｯ繧€縺ｪ縺溘ｏ縺托ｼ√€€螂ｴ縺後＞縺九↓蜑帛ｼｷ繧偵ｂ縺｣縺ｦ //魑ｴ繧阪≧縺ｨ謇€隧ｮ縺ｯ荳€鬨弱€∵款縺怜桁繧薙〒險弱■蜿悶ｌ縺ｬ //縺ｯ縺壹′縺ゅｍ縺・°・√€・ "A- Attack! Stop your whining, fools! It's only one musha! If we attack together, there's no way we can lose!"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲梧寺縺九ｌ!! //縲€螂ｴ縺ｮ鬥悶ｒ荳翫￡繧後・螟ｧ蜉溘◇!!縲・ "Charge! Take its head and we'll be heroes!" ､ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後♀窶ｦ窶ｦ蠢懶ｼ√€・ "Y- Yes sir!" ｹ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲後↑窶ｦ窶ｦ豸医∴窶ｦ窶ｦ!?縲・ "Wha窶・ It disappeared!?" ｻ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後←縲∽ｽ募・縺!?縲€菴募・!?縲・ "Wh- Where did it go!?" ｦ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲碁ｦｬ鮖ｿ縲∽ｸ翫□・√€・ "Above you!" ｭ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・ｦ縲・ //縲碁€滄℃縺弱ｋ窶ｦ窶ｦ・√€・ "It's too fast!" //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後￥窶ｦ窶ｦ驫・□・・ //縲€驫・ｒ菴ｿ縺茨ｼ√€€雜ｳ繧呈ｭ｢繧√※謐輔∪縺医ｍ!!縲・ "Kuh…! Rifles! Use your rifles! Keep it pinned!" ﾍ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後￥縲∫ｳ橸ｼ√€€莉雁ｺｦ縺ｯ菴募・縺ｫ窶補€輔€・ "S- Shit! Now where did it窶・ ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲梧ｦ翫ャ!!縲・ "Sakaki!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後′縺ｯ繝・?縲・ "Gah!" ｻ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲梧ｦ奇ｼ√€€辟｡莠九°・√€・ "Sakaki! What's your status!?" ｺ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ螟ｧ荳亥､ｫ縺窶ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ //縲€縺上◎縲∬・縺ｨ窶ｦ窶ｦ豈崎｡｣繧偵ｄ繧峨ｌ縺滂ｼ√€・ "I'm alive… but my arm's busted! And it got my wings!"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲碁｣帙∋縺ｭ縺遺€ｦ窶ｦ・√€・ "I can't fly!" ｽ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ讎奇ｼ√€€騾・￡繧・!縲・ "Sakaki! Get out of there!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後≠窶ｦ窶ｦ・溘€・ "Huh?" ｦ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・｣縲・ //縲後ぐ窶ｦ窶ｦ繧ｰ繝輔€・ "Gii… guh…" ｳ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・､縲・ //縲後こ繧ｱ繧ｫ繧ｫ繧ｫ繧ｫ繧ｫ繧ｫ縲・ "Kaahahahahahahah!" ｰ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｡縲・ //縲後≧縺√＝縺√＝縺√▲!?縲・ "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" ･ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・･縲・ //縲後＆縲∵ｦ岩€ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "S- Sakaki…" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・｣縲・ //縲後♀縺・€∝漕縺代※繧句ｴ蜷医°・√€€蜑坂€補€輔€・ "Hey, get it together! It's coming straight for窶・ ｫ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・ｦ縲・ //縲後∴窶ｦ窶ｦ縺や€ｦ窶ｦ・溘€・ "What? Where?" ﾔ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城而螢ｫ・ｦ縲・ //縲後◆縲√◆縲・嚏髟ｷ・√€€鮃ｺ豐ｼ谿ｿ繝・ｼ√€€縺溘☆縺代€・ "C- Captain! Sir! Hel窶・ ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ繝・€・ "…kuh…" ' //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後♀窶ｦ窶ｦ縺翫・繧娯€ｦ窶ｦ・・ //縲€繧・▲縺ｦ縺上ｌ縺溘↑窶ｦ窶ｦ菫ｺ縺ｮ髫翫ｒ・√€€雋ｴ讒倥ぃ・√€・ "Damn you… Damn you! You destroyed my whole company, you monster!" ｭ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後が繧ｩ繧ｩ繧ｩ繧ｩ繧ｩ繧ｩ!!縲・ "OHHHHHHHHHH!" ・ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後＄縺｣窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Guh!" ' //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲後∪縲√∪繧九〒騾壹§縺ｬ窶ｦ窶ｦ縺縺ｨ窶ｦ窶ｦ!? //縲€菫ｺ縺ｮ蜑｣縺娯€ｦ窶ｦ謚€縺娯€ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Nothing works!? My techniques are useless… How!?"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ菴輔↑縺ｮ縺窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "…What are you?"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲悟・縺ｨ譚台ｺｺ縺ｯ蜚・｣ｰ縺ｧ迢ゅｏ縺帚€ｦ窶ｦ //縲€遶憺ｨ主・縺ｯ迚・焔縺ｧ縺ゅ＠繧峨＞窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "You drive men mad with your cursed song, and scatter dragoons like helpless children…"

//縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ城Κ髫企聞縲・ //縲瑚ｲｴ讒倥・荳€菴薙€∽ｽ輔↑縺ｮ縺繧｡!! //縲€逋ｽ驫€縺ｮ鬲皮視繝・ャ繝・!縲・ "What the hell are you!? Demon of silver!" ｴ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・･縲・ //縲後ぐ繝偵€√ヲ繧｣繝ｼ繝ｼ繝ｼ繝・!縲・ "Geeeeeeeeeee!" ｲ //縲撰ｽ・ｽ費ｽ・ｼ乗搗莠ｺ・ｦ縲・ //縲後≠縺ゅぃ繧｢縺・げ繧ｰ窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Auhughuguu…" 縲灰ust beneath your feet…縲・ t //縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲娯€補€補€補€輔€・ "……" k //縲仙・縲・ //縲娯€補€補€補€輔€・ "……" 5 //縲€窶補€穂ｺ梧擅縺ｮ豬∵弌縺ｯ螟ｩ繧帝ｧ・￠蟾｡繧贋ｺ､蟾ｮ縺励∪縺溷ｷ｡繧九€・ The two stars spiral into the heavens, meeting and parting and meeting again.

//縲€襍､縺ｮ譏溘・鬢鍋蕎繧√＞縺ｦ迯ｰ迪帙↓縲・ //縲€驫€縺ｮ譏溘・髮碁ｹｿ繧√＞縺ｦ霆ｽ繧・°縺ｫ縲・ The crimson star is a savage wolf, ravenous and frenzied. The silver star is a mountain doe, graceful and serene.

//縲€蜥・動縺悟､懃ｩｺ繧貞娼縺上€・ //縲€隨大｣ｰ縺悟､懃ｩｺ繧呈ｸ｡繧九€・ His terrible roars shake the firmament, while her laughter rings out like the music of the spheres.

//縲€襍､濶ｲ縺ｮ豁ｦ莠ｺ縺ｯ諷溷働縺ｮ髻ｿ縺阪〒螟ｪ蛻€繧堤ｹｰ繧雁・縺励€・ //縲€驫€濶ｲ縺ｮ豁ｦ莠ｺ縺ｯ謚ｱ謫√・譟斐ｉ縺九＆縺ｧ縺昴ｌ繧呈ｵ√☆縲・ Each time the crimson warrior strikes, sword howling in sadness and pain, the silver warrior brushes it aside with the soft touch of a mother cradling her babe.

//縲€諤偵ｊ繧偵€∵・諢ｧ繧偵€∫┌蠢ｵ繧偵€∵ご蝌・ｒ縲・ //縲€蝟懊・縺後€∵・謦ｫ縺後€∬ｨｱ螳ｹ縺後€∵ч謔ｦ縺瑚ｿ弱∴繧九€・ Rage, grief, guilt, and sorrow… met with joy, compassion, acceptance, and ecstasy.

//縲€隨ｬ蝗帛ｹ補€補€・ //縲€縺薙・螟懈怙蠕後・荳€蟷輔・縲∵怙蛻昴・蟷輔↓莠､諠・/RUBY>縲・

//縲€謌ｯ繧後〒縺ゅ▲縺溘€・ //縲€辟｡邊九↑逕ｷ縺ｨ縲∝ｽｼ繧偵≠縺励ｉ縺・ｫ倬寉縺ｪ蟋ｫ縺ｮ縲・ It is a mating ritual, a courtship dance, the elegant princess deflecting the advances of her boorish suitor. ・ //縲€逋ｽ驫€縺ｯ螟ｩ縺ｸ縺ｨ闊槭＞雕翫ｋ縲・ //縲€豺ｱ邏・ｂ霑ｽ縺｣縺ｦ鬧・￠譏・ｋ縲・ The silver flits among the clouds, climbing higher into the night, and the crimson races after.

//縲€譛医∈縲・ //縲€譛医ｒ逶ｮ謖・＠縺ｦ縲・ The moon shines before them, growing larger with each passing moment.

//縲€縺縺九ｉ縺九ｂ縺励ｌ縺ｪ縺・€・ //縲€螟ｩ讌ｼ縺ｮ蜀ｷ縺医◆霈昴″縺ｯ逶ｸ蠢懊＠縺・€・ｒ霑弱∴蜈･繧後€∫嶌螳ｹ繧・ //縺悶ｋ繧ゅ・繧定ｷｳ縺ｭ髯､縺代◆縺ｮ縺九ｂ縺励ｌ縺ｪ縺・€・ But only one is worthy of entrance into the coldly glittering halls of heaven. The other is turned away harshly at the door, his brutish ways disdained by the moon and its servants. ・ //縲€驫€縺ｮ螯也ｲｾ縺ｯ縺ｩ縺薙∪縺ｧ繧るｫ倥∩縺ｸ縲・ //縲€襍､縺ｮ鬯ｼ逾槭・蝨ｰ迯・↓蜻ｼ縺ｳ謌ｻ縺輔ｌ繧九°縺ｮ螯ゅ￥蠑輔″髮｢縺輔ｌ縲・ And so the silver fairy soars ever higher, while the crimson ogre falls away, called back, perhaps, to the hellfire that spawned him.

//縲€螟ｩ鬆ゅ∈閾ｳ繧狗區驫€縺ｮ蠖玲弌縲・ At the summit of heaven, the silver star blazes. With the moon a shining throne at her back, she gazes down at the avenger still struggling to reach her.

//縲€譛郁ｼｪ縺ｮ霈昴″繧偵≠縺溘°繧ら脂蠎ｧ縺ｮ繧医≧縺ｫ閭瑚ｲ縺・↑縺後ｉ縲・ //蟆壹ｂ鬧・￠荳翫′繧阪≧縺ｨ縺ゅ′縺乗ｷｱ邏・・鬯ｼ繧定ｦ倶ｸ九ｍ縺励※縲・

//縲€蜈懊・陬上↓蠕ｮ隨代・縺昴・蜿｣蜈・′縲∽ｸ€遽€縺ｮ隧ｩ繧貞売縺｣縺溘€・ She smiles softly beneath her mask, then speaks a single verse. Ladybug… Comet.  //縲仙・縲・ //縲€ //縲€縲€縲€縲€縲・RUBY text='繝輔か繝ｼ繝ｪ繝ｳ繝€繧ｦ繝ｳ'>螟ｩ蠎ｧ螟ｱ蠅・/RUBY>窶補€・RUBY text='繝ｬ繧､繝・ぅ繝舌げ'>蟆丞ｽ玲弌縲・ "Ladybug… Comet." ・ //縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ驫€譏溷捷窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "Ginseigo…" k //縲仙・縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "……" ｾ //縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲御ｿｺ縺ｮ驥主､ｪ蛻€窶ｦ窶ｦ・・ //縲€縺ｩ縺・☆繧九▽繧ゅｊ縺窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "My nodachi? What are you doing?" k //縲仙・縲・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ縲・ "……" ・ //縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ縲晏嵯縲溪€ｦ窶ｦ・√€・ "Eggs!"

//縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲後ｄ繧√ｍ窶ｦ窶ｦ縺ｾ縺溘◎繧後ｒ縺ｰ繧画鋳縺上▽繧ゅｊ縺具ｼ√€・ "No… You mean to spread more of those foul seeds!?"

//縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲悟ｯ・函菴薙ｒ逕溘∩蜃ｺ縺吶・縺具ｼ√€・ "How many will you infect with your madness!?" ・ //縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲悟ｾ・※・√€・ "Wait!"

//縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲悟ｾ・※窶ｦ窶ｦ縺舌・縺｣縲・ "Stop this窶蛭uh!"

//縲先勹譏弱€・ //縲娯€ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ蜈俄€ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ窶ｦ・√€・ "Hikaru…!"

[youryanderedaddy]

War prize

Summary: You get taken as a war prize once the barbarians take over your homeland.

Tw: nsfw, non - con, mentions of blood, slight corruption kink, size difference, slavery, deregatory language, degradation, possessive behavior, minor character death, spanking, mention of war

There is now part 2

Yoo guys, don’t worry if you voted for the other two options, I will write for them too soon enough. Anyways, enjoy.  

You weren’t supposed to be here right now with your legs covered in heavy metal chains and a dirty cloth shoved up in your mouth. Your friends weren’t supposed to be either captured or dead. Your side wasn’t supposed to lose against the barbaric tribe. So many things weren’t supposed to happen tonight and you were slowly getting used to the fact that your supreme leaders had failed, the army had raised the white flag high and you were currently in the enemy territory with slim chances of escape, with absolutely no memories of how you got there in the first place.

You could hear his heavy prolonged footsteps, the way the sharp heel of his boot dug into the rich soil and stomped all over the daisies and weeds just like he had done with your own people hours ago. He was getting closer to the tent by the minute and his shadow was growing bigger and bigger until the soldier finally pulled back the curtain-like fabric to the side and entered the tiny space you were forced into.

He was very tall, unnaturally so, nothing like the men in your tribe who, despite being strong and capable, were born on the shorter side. His face was rough and raw, his features symmetrical and fierce in their cold perfection, deep charcoal eyes, dark lips and a straight nose. The knight fancied his long black hair free and wild, letting it fall against his muscular shoulders softly, shiny, silky and healthy. In these territories the warriors wore very little clothing, finding anything covering their chest or ankles to be too distracting and suffocating during a battle. You tried to look away from his half – naked form but his upper body was sweaty and smooth, caramel in color, making it hard to look at anything else. In return the male simply stared at you for a few moments, grinning in amusement or maybe even satisfaction, and kneeled down next to the mat you laid on.  

“Hello, my little captive.” His voice was throaty and deep when he finally called out to you, a cunning smirk adorning his lips, giving him a sly foxy expression. The man reached out to cup your cheek and wipe away a tear slowly falling down, causing you to squirm away from his touch as if he held a hot iron against your face.

“Don’t touch me, you brute!” You shouted out before you had the chance to reconsider your poor choice of wording. The knight simply chuckled in respond and grabbed your hips roughly, making sure to dig his nails deep into the clothed skin before pulling you closer to his naked chest. You couldn’t help but turn red when forced to take in the warmth and firmness of his body – you had never been so close with a man before, much less your commune’s arch enemy.

“I will do so much more than that, sweet girl.” Raven whispered against your ear and kissed your neck softly, pulling your hair down so you would arch your back and whine miserably. “I won you fair and square, little slave.” He growled against your collarbone and bit down hard on the soft part of your throat. You couldn’t stand the hot wet sensations and you desperately wanted to get away from the warrior’s cruel grip, but you were helpless in your struggles, and even if you weren’t thoroughly tied up, you were still too scared to put up a fight against the barbaric male twice your size.

“You are so small and fragile, so vulnerable underneath me. I’ve always wanted something soft and pretty to warm my bed at night.” Raven admitted huskily as he tore apart your white satin robe, revealing your chest to the lingering glittering light coming from the gaslight above. Your pitiful whimpers were muffled by his lips slamming on yours and his wet slippery tongue forcing his way deep down your throat. The warrior was caressing your bosom, squeezing and fondling at it shamelessly, pinching and licking your nipples until they stood at attention red and swollen like cherries. “Such a pretty little slut, tied down at my mercy.” The knight moaned and slapped your breast lightly, enjoying the sheer look of horror on your beautiful face, twisted in panic. “I’m gonna make your tits bounce while I take you like a bitch in heat.” The man mumbled sadistically and slapped your other breast, this time using more force. “ I’m gonna make you my whore.” He cursed under his breath and lowered his head to suck on your neck once again.

Soon Raven got bored of playing with your tits and moved on to spread your legs wide open, pulling your panties down to your ankles. The sight of your sweet tight pussy exposed and displayed so wantonly was mouth-watering to the barbarian, and he could already feel his member harden painfully against your slit. You pleaded silently with your eyes to be spared, muttering quiet pleas, “no’s”, sobbing and clutching to the last bit of hope for mercy. Unfortunately, the warrior couldn’t hear a word, too fascinated by your luscious body and his own wild hunger.

“My beautiful little prize, all mine.” The man whispered almost affectionately, kissing you nice and slow this time, with his throbbing erection pressed on your entrance, inches away from your untouched virgin hole. “I saw you earlier today while you were tending to your parents’ wounds, pet.” He spoke suddenly, his length teasing your folds by slowly sliding in between your soft thighs. “You looked so precious in your desperate attempt to save them during the final fight.” The warrior continued, one hand coming up to stroke your hair in a sick yet comforting manner. “A sweet little thing like you shouldn’t be on the battlefield.” Raven kept going while rubbing slow circles on the palm he had forced you to open when you were clenching your fist tight. “You look so much better by my side, pretty girl.” The soldier placed a small peck on your temple, the lingering gentleness of his actions and the cruelty of his words making you sick to your core. You felt tired and overwhelmed yet the worst was still in store.

“I will tell you a little secret, slave.” The dark-haired male snarled at you and raised your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his cold black eyes. “I killed your father and took you all for myself.” He confessed in a low vicious voice, his scarred fingers tightening around your throat. The wet fury in your heart tangled together with the pain and grief of your loss, but the deadly grip around your neck forced you in place, still and lifeless like a doll. You wished you were dead just like your family so you wouldn’t have to suffer the humiliation of entertaining the enemy and his twisted desired any longer. “Now I am going to steal your innocence and make you mine, little bird.” Your face froze in terror and agony, having realized that, by the end of his words, the man had already pushed his manhood into your tight heat, piercing through your body, unprepared for the shock and the pain. “Sing for me, slave.” The barbarian hissed under his breath and moved roughly in and out of you, each new thrust sharper and deeper than the last one. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you broken down so easily, but you needed a way to cope with the harsh reality, so you cried out for him. You chocked on your pitiful sobs, screamed in pain and whimpered miserably just to survive another second of this meaningless torture.

Raven looked ecstatic, enticed by your lovely moans and whines, your sweet despair delicious on his tongue while he claimed your lips and explored your throat. Your tight pussy squeezed hard on his length, milking every bit of pleasure out of it. His eyes were blacker than the night sky, filled with lust and thirst for blood, unquenched even after hours of slaying the innocent souls determined to protect their land. Laying down on the cold ground, sweaty, violated and stripped of your pride, you wondered whether you were just another conquest to the warrior, perhaps ruining your purity was his way of proving that he and his people were the new rulers of the territory.

“What a sweet little virgin you were, and now you are bleeding on my cock while I take you, pet.” The barbarian cooed at you cruelly, choking you lightly, not tight enough to put your life in danger, but enough to keep you motionless and complacent, just a hole for him to fuck into. “I am going to cum in your cunt now, slave, and you are going to stay there and take it.” The man announced sternly and kept shoving his manhood down your channel roughly, pounding into you relentlessly until he came with a growl and released his seed deep inside you, painting your walls white. Your pussy felt raw and puffy, pulsating in pain around the cock still buried in. He wasn’t pulling out of you.

“Oh, little bird, did you really think that I would be satisfied with having you just once?” Raven taunted you gleefully, a sadistic gleam in his dark eyes as he took in the panic on your face, drinking it like a glass of honey mead. “I fought for you after all, precious.” The warrior muttered slowly, mere inches away from your swollen lips, bruised and red from all the biting and rough kisses. “I am going to savor you little by little.” He paused to catch your gaze and held it for a moment too long before focusing on your mouth again.

“You’re mine now, don’t you ever forget it.”

#yandere #male yandere x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere smut #male yandere #yancore #yandere oc #yandere male x reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompt

[allyouneedisbuck]

golden (you’re so golden)

summary // bucky is in louisiana with sam when he meets you, one of sam’s close friends, and immediately gets along with you. (bucky x fem!reader)

words // 3.5k

warnings // it’s fluff! some tiny insecure bucky but that’s about it. sam calls reader bubbles a couple times. use of y/n.

notes // 💞

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He enjoys being with Sam and his family in Louisiana. It’s slow and relaxed and everybody in town is so charming that he finds himself settling in easily.

There’s a level of trust Sam shows Bucky allowing him to help with the family boat and while he hadn’t said it, he did appreciate Sam’s unending kindness.

Perhaps Bucky has found the beginnings of a new home in Sam Wilson. A friendship based on respect and love helped Bucky. He was slowly but surely rebuilding himself into a better man.

“Word on the street is Sam Wilson was back in town.” A voice calls out from above the two men. Bucky looks at Sam and finds him smiling and shaking his head. There’s footsteps and then you’re standing in the doorway with a smirk. “I just had to see for myself.”

Sam lets go of the wrench in his hand and moves to meet you at the top of the stairs. Bucky watches curiously as Sam hugs you tightly. He had never mentioned a girlfriend, although Bucky wasn't particularly forthcoming about his personal life either.

“Hey, Bubbles.” Bucky scrunches his nose at the nickname and you roll your eyes and shove Sam off of you.

He laughs heartily clutching his stomach. “The nickname wasn’t funny in the seventh grade and it’s not funny now.”

Sam presses a kiss to your head and Bucky clears his throat. He feels like he’s interrupting a personal moment, but your smile is turned on him and then Bucky freezes because that’s a beautiful smile.

“Who’s your friend?” You nudge Sam with your elbow but your stare doesn’t waver. Bucky smiles nervously before lifting his hand up in an awkward wave.

“Bucky.” He introduces. You nod slowly. “Barnes.” He adds on and you laugh at him making Bucky deflate a little.

“Y/N.” You respond easily. “And don’t call me Bubbles, I hate it.” Your glare and he nods. “I just came to see if the rumors were true.” You shift your focus back to Sam. “I just couldn’t believe Sam Wilson was here, working on the boat, without telling me.”

Sam scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “Wasn’t sure how long I was gonna be here.”

You purse your lips and Bucky thinks that wasn’t the right thing to say. He’s so curious about what your relationship is because he can’t tell if it’s just friends or dating or maybe even exes. You’re affectionate and comfortable with one another, that much is obvious in the few seconds Bucky has been able to observe.

“Even if you were here for a day, I would like to see you.” You punch his shoulder. “But whatever, I’m not gonna hold a grudge.”

There’s a moment of silence between the three of you before you shrug. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you tonight, Sarah invited me for dinner.”

You give a quick hug to Sam before waving goodbye Bucky. He waves back with a smile and watches as you walk away.

He doesn’t even realize Sam’s staring at him until the man clears his throat. Bucky shuffles and adamantly ignores the fire he feels burning at his cheeks. “Who’s that?” He asks in a faux nonchalant tone.

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “We grew up together. Went to prom and all that.” Bucky nods and tries to think of how to ask his next question, but Sam beats him to it. “Not as my girlfriend or anything. She’s like a bonus sister.”

Bucky nods and looks back down at the pipe they had been working on. “Cool… We gonna finish this?”

Sam snorts, but Bucky can hear his footsteps come back down the stairs. “Let’s get it done. I just know Sarah’s gonna make something great for dinner if Y/N’s coming and I’m starving.”

Bucky nods, excited for some home cooked food. And maybe seeing more of your smile.

》

Bucky sits next to you at dinner. The kids across from the two of you with Sam and Sarah at the ends of the table.

He notices your eyes trail over the black and gold of his arm and tries to not to blush. “How’d this happen?” You nod to it after a moment of silence.

Bucky turns to you at the same moment Sam’s head shoots up to look at you. “Bubbles.” He hisses your nickname like you’re a child with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Sam.” You hiss back, eyes narrowed at the nickname. Bucky wonders if Sam would ever call you by your first name. “It’s okay.” He nods to Sam.

Bucky is sure that the kids sitting across from him had been wondering too, if Sam hadn’t already told them. He takes a sip of his beer before deciding on sharing a condensed version

“Lost it when I fell off a train in 1945.” He shrugs. You look him up and down. “Got this arm a few years ago.”

It’s silent as you process his words and your eyes move back to stare at the arm. His fingers twitch and your eyes snap to them.

“You don’t look like you fell off a train in 1945. You don’t even look forty.” You say skeptically. Sam runs a hand over his face while the kids laugh.

“Just eat.” Sam orders. “You don’t need to ask him all these questions. It’s rude.”

You turn to your food and roll your eyes at Sam. “I asked one question.” Then your eyes move to Bucky again and you smile apologetically. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable though. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head. “It’s cool. You can just google me for all the answers anyways. I’m pretty sure the Smithsonian has a webpage on me.”

You snort. “That’s a subtle brag.”

Bucky feels his cheeks flush and shakes his head. “No. I just meant… like, Howling Commandos and Steve-“

“She’s just messing with you, man.” Sam laughs as he reaches across the table for a biscuit. “She knows who you are.”

Bucky looks back at you and finds the teasing smile on your face. He flushes red and that only makes you laugh too. Bucky presses his lips together and nods slowly. “Nice.”

“Hey.” You nudge him with your elbow. “If it helps, I think you look pretty good for someone who fell off of a train, lost an arm, was brainwashed for decades and then fought an army of Titans.”

Sam’s shaking his head and Sarah is just staring at you with wide eyes, but Bucky’s lips quark up as he tries not to laugh. “Thanks.” His eyes move over you. “You look pretty good for someone who’s friends with Sam.”

“Hey!” Sam cuts in defensively. “You know, most people think I’m cool.” You and Bucky smirk at each other before both turning to Sam with open mouths, ready to tease him. “Nevermind.”

Bucky can’t help but watch as you throw your head back and let out one of the most beautiful laughs he’s ever heard.

》

“Boys!” You call from the dock with a bright smile. Bucky spins so fast he thinks he’s got whiplash until he sees your happy face. You’ve got your sunglasses hooked in the collar of your t-shirt and a tray of iced coffees in your hands. “I know I’m late, but I come with some refreshments.”

Sam scoffs from next to Bucky. “Coffee isn’t really all that good for rehydration.”

Your smile drops for a millisecond before you turn your attention to Bucky. He gestures awkwardly for a moment before his right hand lands on his hip and his left hand waves. “I like coffee.” He blurts.

You bite down a smile as Bucky ignores the blush he knows is on his cheeks. Maybe it’ll just pass off as a sunburn, or heat exhaustion.

“See, Sam.” You smile victoriously. “Bucky appreciates my gifts.”

Sam scoffs and Bucky just stares at you avoiding Sam’s glare. “He won’t when he tastes the sugar monstrosity you’ve probably brought him.”

You pout and step closer to the boat. You shakily try to step onto deck, but stumble at the last minute. Bucky’s hands shoot out to steady your waist and you look at him with a shy smile and grateful eyes.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You say softly as he helps you step onto the boat deck steadily. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you what I drink.”

You lift one of the iced drinks out of the carrier. Sam was right, it looks like a sugared disaster, more cream than coffee; Bucky has to force himself not to scrunch his nose up at the drink.

“Thank you.” Bucky takes the coffee from you and stares down at it. You hand one over to Sam and then finally pull your own out.

“If...If you don’t like it, don’t even worry.” You say as the three of you move back to the part of the deck the boys had been working on all morning.

Bucky takes a sip and well, it’s not awful. Nor is it even that bad. Definitely more sugar than he was used to, but he needed to get out of his comfort zone anyways.

“I like it.” He states. “I’d like anything you give me.” He smirks as you look down at your feet nervously. “You’ll have to tell me what you order so I know.”

Your smile brightens and you nod excitedly, pulling your phone out. “Give me your number, I’ll text it to you.”

“You can just write it down.” Sam says with a teasing smirk when Bucky looks up and glares over your shoulder. “I mean-“

“Ignore him.” You roll your eyes and hold the phone out, the contact page already cued up. As Bucky takes the phone and begins to type his number in, you spin around to face Sam. “I’m trying to make friends here, Wilson. Stop trying to discourage it because you’re afraid he and I could lead to world destruction together.”

Sam laughs loudly and Bucky hands the phone back to you. “I’m not worried about the world as much, I'm worried about me. I can already tell you two will be a pain in my ass together.”

You glance at Bucky and wink before slipping the phone back into your pocket. “Stop stalling Sam, we’ve got work to do.” You scoff as you begin to pull out tools.

Bucky looks at Sam with a smirk. “Yeah, Sam. We’re trying to get some work done while you’re just standing there.” Bucky sturdies the piece you had begun screwing in with his left hand.

Sam sighs and returns to his earlier position. “I’m so glad you two have met.” He mutters sarcastically.

》

The shield slips onto Bucky’s arm easily. “Looking good!” You wolf whistle as you make your way towards the boys in Sarah’s yard.

Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky puffs his chest out a little and smiles. “Hey!” He says as you come to a stop in front of them.

Bucky’s eyes trail over your figure. “Hey. I heard you were leaving today.” Your attention is solely on Bucky as Sam stands beside him with a knowing smile.

He nods apologetically. “I’ve got some stuff to do back home in Brooklyn. I uh-“ He looks down at his boots. “You have my number. I would love to keep in touch.”

You bite down on your lip as you nod. “Of course! Anybody who can handle Sam is someone I want in my life.”

“Are you two just gonna make fun of me everytime you’re together? Because I’ll cut this off right now.” He says jokingly.

You rock back and forth on your feet nervously before finally talking. “I’ll let you two get back to it. I just wanted to say bye!” You pull Sam into a tight hug before turning to Bucky. “Um, I’ll see you later. I hope?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah! Yeah, I mean. I hope so too.” He stands awkwardly in front of you, unsure of if he should hug you or just settle for a handshake.

Your hands land on his shoulders as you lift yourself onto your tippy toes and press a kiss to his cheek. His cheeks are burning red by the time you pull away and wonders if you’re as nervous as he is. “I’ll see you around, Bucky.” You say sweetly before spinning on your heel and walking off.

Bucky watches you go with soft eyes as Sam just stares at him incredulously.

》

Bucky doesn’t get to see much of you the next couple weeks, but he hears from you all the time. Text messages telling him to have a good day. Photos of animals you see around your hometown. Photos of you and your family or friends.

It always makes his day and you never seem to mind if it takes him a long time to reply.

“You gonna come down?” Sam asks as he and Bucky walk through the empty streets of Brooklyn. “Y/N has been asking about you. When you’ll be in Louisiana again.”

Bucky shrugs. “I don’t know. I... I might stay up here.” Bucky answers quietly. He wanted to see you. You had easily become one of his favorite people to talk to, even if you had barely seen each other in person.

Sam snorts. “Come on. The boys want to see you. Sarah. We all loved having you around.” He bumps his shoulder into Bucky’s.

“I won’t be intruding?” Bucky asks softly.

Sam shakes his head. “You know that you won’t, Bucky. I’m not gonna force your hand, but I know she would like to see you as much as you would her.”

“Really?” Bucky tries not to sound too excited by the idea of you asking Sam about Bucky and when he’d be back in Louisiana.

Sam rolls his eyes. “Yeah. She asks about you. Just… Come down for a few days?”

Bucky nods slowly. “Yeah… Okay. I will.”

》

The dock is packed with people. Bucky smiles at the laughter and cheerful screams of the people around him. Crowds weren’t normally his thing, but this town of people loved each other so much he couldn't help but relish in the warmth.

“Bucky! Bucky!” He slips his sunglasses off as Sam’s nephews come rushing towards him excitedly. They throw fake punches and kicks that Bucky dodges before they lead him to the food table.

He places his cake on the edge and stops to look around. He knows he’s searching for you, but he can at least try to be as nonchalant as possible about it.

“You went all out for your dish, huh?” Your voice makes him spin around. You’re behind him with crossed arms and an amused smile on your face. The sun is casting such a beautiful light over you that Bucky is speechless for a moment.

Bucky shrugs. “I didn’t… I’m not much of a chef and I didn’t want to come empty handed.” He explains sheepishly.

You shake your head before moving forward and wrapping your arms around his neck. Bucky immediately responds and wraps his arms around you tightly.

“I’m so happy you came down again.” You whisper to him and pull back to look at him. He smiles sweetly at you. “Me too. It’s nice to see you again.”

You pull completely away, but slide your arm through his and begin to walk with him. “Come meet everyone. I’ve been talking about you non-stop, everyone is so excited to meet you.”

You pull him around and introduce him to friends and family. Your arm never leaves his and that makes Bucky feel extremely warm on the inside. He’s positive he’s going to melt by the time you’re pulling him towards the food.

“Hey!” Sam is the last person you and Bucky find. He’s sitting with Sarah and his nephews as they all eat. “Sit! I’m sure you’re tired of introducing your boyfriend to everyone.”

You and Bucky look away from each other nervously as you take your seats. “Shut up, Sam.” You hiss as you take your seat next to him.

Sam rolls his eyes as he hands over food to you and Bucky. It’s not awkward, but everytime you and Bucky make eye contact he feels his cheeks get warm and you look away with a nervous smile.

“I should head out.” You finally say, picking up the plate in front of you to throw it away on your way out. “Thanks for all this, Sam. Sarah. It was so great to see everyone again.” They nod with bright smiles and your attention focuses on Bucky. “Will you be staying for a while?”

He shrugs, unsure of what to say. “I…I think so. Yeah.” You nod slowly and stand in front of him for a moment like you’re waiting for something before sighing. “Well, I’ll see you later.” You wave before turning and beginning to walk away.

Bucky watches you for a few seconds before turning back to look at the table. Everybody is staring at him with poorly concealed smirks.

“What?” He asks defensively. He takes a sip of his water and they continue to just stare. “Stop staring at me. It’s weird.”

“You better go after her!” Sam shoves his shoulder which makes Bucky choke a little on the water. “She just waited for you to walk her home!”

Bucky begins shaking his head vehemently. “No. No way! She was saying goodbye. To all of us.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Bucky!” Sarah chimes in. “She likes you! She literally introduced you to everyone she cares about today!” There’s a chorus of yeahs from Sam and the boys that has Bucky glaring playfully at them.

“Really? She wanted me to walk her home?” He asks Sam quietly. Sam scoffs. “Yeah, man. So you better start hustling to catch up with her!”

“Shit!” He pushes himself off of the bench. “Okay! I’ll see you guys later!” He calls out with a hasty wave before jogging away from the table.

You can’t have made it far, but if you’ve already left the dock entirely there’s no way he’ll find you. He had no clue where you live or even what direction he would have to go in to find you.

He stops at the entrance of the dock and looks around while huffing out breaths. His eyes catch on your sundress and he smiles. “Y/N!” He calls out, jogging to catch up with you.

“Hey! Wait up!” You pause and turn around to face him. Your eyes light up but you don’t say anything to him as he comes to a stop beside you. “Let me walk you home?” He asks nervously.

Surprise crosses your features before an excited smile takes place. “Okay.” You say softly. “I would love that.” You wrap your hand around his bicep and step closer as the two of you begin to walk.

Bucky appreciates that you seem to be comfortable with talking because the entire twenty minute walk passes quickly with your stories and jokes. By the time the two of you have reached your front door Bucky is trying to come up with a reason to go around the block one more time.

“Thank you for walking me home, Buck.” You say quietly. You cross your arms over your stomach and run one hand up and down the opposite arm. Bucky smiles at you as you speak. “I had a nice time talking to you.”

Bucky stuffs his hands into his pockets and nods. “Me too. I enjoy talking to you. You’re a breath of fresh air.” He admits. It was nice to talk to somebody who wasn’t a part of his old life, who was completely new and who only knew this him, not Bucky from the forties or the winter soldier. Maybe his therapist had been right about needing to talk to more people.

You bite your lip and look off to the side before your eyes find his again. “Thank you. You’re really sweet.”

“Well, I’ll let you go.” Bucky takes a step back from you and your house. The two of you watch one another and Bucky knows he should say something. Ask you on a date. Tell you you’re pretty. He just can’t get the words out.

“Oh, Bucky.” You sigh as your hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him back into you. His left hand immediately lands on your waist in order to steady himself. Before he can apologize or pull it away, you’re leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He doesn’t respond, unable to with how quickly you lean in and pull away, but you’re smiling sweetly at him. “Ask me out.” You demand softly.

Bucky chuckles. “Do you… Would you want to go on a date with me?” He asks, still a little nervous.

“I would love to.” You wrap your arms around his neck and Bucky lifts his other hand to rest on your waist too. “I can take you to some of my favorite places around town.” You offer and Bucky nods quickly.

Bucky enjoyed Louisiana.

He thinks he may have finally found a home outside of Brooklyn, which was a once upon a memory. Somewhere clean of Steve and a life Bucky would never get back. Somewhere with Sam forging a bond of brotherhood and you building something new with him too.

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

notes // i don’t know how some of you write only on your phones it stresses me out so much kudos to you lol hope you liked this short piece, keep an eye out for my other two requests this week!

reblogs and replies are always appreciated if you enjoyed this!

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes and reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes fic

[milliedazzledust]

I'll Come Back for You (Bucky Barnes imagine)

REQUEST: ANON - something where he is in winter soldier mode and protecting the scientist (y/n) where she is the only one who can sort of calm him down after a mission

ANON - winter soldier!bucky being protective over his scientist who’s forced to be take care of his health and she’s being kept there against his will too

ANON - Bucky Barnes request about how both reader and Bucky are each other support systems? It could be like a headcanon, how would the reader comfort him while how he comforts her so forth and so on

WORDS: 3506

A/N: So I don't know if I was inspired or if I just wrote too much, but I'm not sure this story's good. Anyway, feedback is really appreciated and I hope you'll like it :) (also don't forget to tell me if you want to be on my taglist ^^)

“What happened this time ?”

Her voice was only a whisper in the quiet room. The broken man silently sat on the examination table while she stuck a needle in his functioning arm. He didn’t speak, didn’t even flinch. This masquerade had started the moment she had set foot inside Hydra secret base. They had brought her against her will to take care of their most valuable soldier. It was always the same dance, rehearsed a million times since she had met him. After each mission, each murder, he’d come to her. She’d fix his physical wounds, take care of his arm and let him go.

More than often, she found herself feeling sorry for him. She knew what Hydra was doing to him, she’d heard the screams echoing in the distance. It would keep ringing in her ears for hours. Sometimes, the simple thought of picturing what he was going through was enough to bring her to tears. No one deserved to suffer this way.

The Winter Soldier was a cruel man, an assassin. She had seen him in action, had even been attacked the first time they were introduced. But despite being the necessary tool to take care of their valuable killer, she liked him. This wasn’t a place anyone could handle, not even him. And while she was aware of the danger Hydra represented, he was a different story. The man he once was had been trapped in a small corner of his mind, disconnected. His hands were his own, but his actions were dictated by an army that had invaded his head long ago. He was a machine turned on and off at will by the power of ten simple words.

“I was stabbed” Was his only answer. He didn’t give any detail, simply raised his shirt so she could inspect the injury.

“Do you feel any pain ?”

He blankly stared at an invisible point on the wall, avoiding looking at her. He was aware anyone could be listening.

“Soldier ?” She called him, stopping her movement and waiting for his response.

“I don’t feel anything” His voice was emotionless and a chill ran down her spine when he spoke. He was detached, impassive, a statue unaware he was capable of sentiment.

She cleared her throat, trying to stay focused on her task. She cleaned the wound, took his vitals, wrote down the conclusion of her examination and prepared what she needed to sew him up.

When she was about to administer the anesthetic, he suddenly grabbed her wrist. She caught her breath, frightened, but made no movement. For the first time that day, he turned his head to look at her. Whatever she saw in his eyes was enough to ease the tension in her shoulders and she relaxed.

“It’s okay” She whispered, a kind smile on her face. “This is propofol”

She knew he would recognize the name. She had spent countless hours explaining everything she was doing to him in detail so he wouldn’t be uncomfortable or scared. He was a super soldier that required extreme measures of treatment.

“No drugs,” He told her.

“You might regret that decision once I start to put the stitches in”

“I need to stay conscious,” He explicated, almost begging her. “Please”

She didn’t argue, only glanced at a camera behind her recording their interaction.

“Alright” She conceded. “I’ll switch to saline”

He nodded, grateful she wasn’t pushing. She turned her back carefully so her table was no longer in the camera’s field of view and he watched her emptying the needle and filling it with a harmless mixture of water and sodium chloride. Nothing that would put him to sleep.

“Have you ever been to Greece ?” She asked him out of the blue. He stared at her curiously. “I’ve always dreamed of visiting. It has the longest coastline in Europe, with so many islands between the blue Aegean Sea to the east, the Mediterranean Sea to the south, and the Ionian Sea to the west. Can you imagine how beautiful it must be ?”

She kept talking for a while about the country, the books she had read and the films she had seen about it. His eyes stayed on her the whole time, his head tilted to the side, wondering why she was telling him all this. Not that he minded, he loved listening to her. She had the power to calm him down. He was constantly on high alert, ready to fight whomever he was told to kill, prepared to endure whatever torture they had prepared, but this room and the woman inside were his only small moments of peace. Her voice was the music he desperately needed to sooth his soul.

“Why are you telling me this ?” He wondered out loud.

She smirked. “To take your mind somewhere else than here. Seems like it worked”

He glanced at his stomach and realized the stitches were already there. Too engrossed in her story, he hadn’t noticed or felt anything.

“How…”

“Funny how magical words can turn out to be, isn’t it ?”

She could swear she saw the flicker of an emotion on his face looking back between his wound and the woman, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

“Thank you, doc”

She hesitated a moment before gently taking his hand on her own.

“Be careful” She muttered. “There’s only so much I can fix”

“I will” He promised. “Are they … are they treating you right ?”

She shrugged. “If threatening to kill me is what you consider right, then I guess I’m a real princess in a castle”

He ran a jerky hand through his hair and seemed to be looking for the right words to say but never spoke.

“Can I ask …” She began, curiosity getting the best out of her. “What is your real name ?”

When his gaze fell on her, all she saw was pure panic. Her question, as simple as it may have been, had surprised him. He didn’t remember, didn’t even question anyone, because it hadn’t mattered. He didn’t need to be more than a ghost to be able to kill.

“I’m sorry” She apologized. “I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t mean to…”

“I don’t know” He admitted.

She gulped and looked away. His eyes held too much confusion and despair. Coming face to face with the enormity that was this man’s fate was sometimes undeniably heartbreaking.

“Can I call you Winter, then ?” She suggested.

He seemed to ponder for a while before offering her a small smile. “Yes, yes I’d like that”

It hurt to see a glimpse of happiness on his face for something as simple as a name and the woman didn’t realize that what she had just given him was the shred of an identity. A tiny piece he would hold onto. He was living inside a nightmare he had no idea he was trapped into, and if she dared to help, she would pay it with her life. So all she had the power to do was give him a name. Make him feel alive again.

The next time she saw him was only a couple of days after, carried by two agents, head hanging low and barely conscious. His clothes were stained in blood and his metal arm seemed dislocated.

“Patch him up” One of the men coldly ordered. They dropped the injured soldier on the ground like he was nothing more than an object, not even human.

She rushed to his side, checking his pupils first with a flashlight to rule out any intracranial damage to his brain. She did the same on his chest with a stethoscope, searching for any potential life threatening injury. When she moved to his shoulder to inspect the metal bones, he regained consciousness. Maybe it was the sight of yet another scientist above him or the touch of her fingers on his skin, but the man was quick to react and got on his feet in no time. His human hand wrapped around her neck tightly and he pushed her body with force against a wall, choking her. She tried to speak, but the action had been so sudden and violent that she was unable to move a muscle. He was in a trance, eyes filled with hatred that she knew was not directed toward her. Whatever he was picturing in his mind had awakened the assassin. She was the threat and he was in a game of survival.

She whispered his name several times but it was only after a minute, when she was on the verge of passing out, that he seemed to realize what he was doing. He stared at her with wide open eyes and released her from his grip. Her body fell on the floor before she started coughing, struggling to catch her breath.

“I’m…” He tried to speak, looking down at his hands in horror.

“Water” She managed to whisper.

He brought the woman a bottle and tried to help her on her feet. When he reached for her, she involuntarily flinched. A pure reflex. She didn’t miss the sadness on his face as he recoiled from her.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know. It’s alright”

“I could’ve killed you” He said it more to himself than to her.

“But you didn’t” She laid a hand on her chest, taking a deep breath to try and calm her heart rate. “What happened ?”

“You touched me,” He explained.

“I touch you all the time” When he smirked, she realized the double meaning behind what she had just said. “Hm … why would it be any different today ?” She immediately changed the subject.

“Usually, when I’m unconscious I can … sense them around me. Working on me. And I can’t move but I still feel the pain”

Once again she was at a loss of words against the heaviness that was the burden of his life.

“Are you sure you’re alright ?” He repeated almost in a childish voice.

“I’ll get over it, don’t worry” She tried to reassure him. It didn’t seem to work. He took a temptative step, making sure she wasn’t uncomfortable. He moved his hand toward her neck, deliberately going as slow as he could. His eyes stayed on hers, watching out for any sign of fear. “What are you doing ?” She said in a breath, a different kind of shiver rolling down her spine.

“I need to make sure I didn’t hurt you” The sincerity and concern she heard in his voice were unsettling. She stared back in disbelief, but didn’t move. This was the closest they had ever been and it almost felt unreal for both of them. Too good to be true, especially in a place of nightmare like this.

He tilted her head to the back, still looking at her, and softly brushed his thumb over her skin. A bruise was already starting to appear. She saw the change in his eyes, the regret and sadness when he lowered his gaze. He kept inspecting her from all angles possible, making her chuckle in the process.

“Are you done, doctor ?” She joked.

He tried not to smile but miserably failed. “Almost. Haven’t found a diagnosis yet”

This time she laughed.

“C’mon, I’m not the real patient here. I need to take a look at you” She glanced at his metal arm, still dislocated. He was avoiding using it and she had noticed.

He sighed but didn’t remove his hand from her neck. Instead, his thumb slowly reached her cheek and he gently stroked her skin.

“I wish I could get you out of here” He whispered. “You don’t deserve any of this”

“Neither do you”

He clenched his jaw and plastered a tight smile, refusing to acknowledge what she had just said. He lowered his arm and sat on the examination table without saying anything.

“I’m gonna … hm … I’m gonna need to cut your shirt open” She gulped, trying to keep her cheeks from getting any warmer.

The man smirked and grabbed a pair of scissors nearby that he handed to her. She took it but didn’t dare to look at him, too uncomfortable by the situation. As she cut his shirt higher and higher, her hands started to shake. He could see her shifting her weight from side to side and desperately avoiding any eye contact. She was embarrassed and he was enjoying every second of it.

When finally she had taken it carefully off his body, she huffed in frustration. There was no denying that he had beyond toned muscle structure, verged into defined and well built curves.

“Is it… is it alright if I touch you ?” She allowed herself to take a glance at him, and rolled her eyes when she saw the smirk on his face.

“More than alright, doc” He teased her.

The moment her hands came in contact with his skin, he involuntarily flexed his muscles. She took a sharp breath, trying not to lose focus when she cleaned his wounds. She looked up at him to make sure he wasn’t in any pain, only to realize he was already staring. What should have been a quick glance turned into something more, a moment that lasted a little too long. When he leaned in toward her, she suddenly seemed to notice the lack of space between them. She cleared her throat and took a step back.

“Quit flirting, Winter” She reprimanded him with a playful grin.

He laughed. It was the first time she heard that sound and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her mouth. He looked so carefree and alive, so human. She was finally meeting the man behind the assassin, and he troubled her even more than the silent killer.

“I kinda like to see you flustered, doc”

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to hide her obvious nervousness.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” She pursed her lips to keep from smiling.

“Sure you don’t” He sniggered.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m gonna need to put that shoulder into place”

Instead of talking, he grabbed her hips and considerably shortened the distance she had put between them. Her eyes widened from both the sudden gesture and the feeling of his fingers on her body.

“Go right ahead, doc”

She leaned in toward him to have a better access to the injury, ignoring the unexpected shudder. She was practically over him, a hand on his shoulder, the other on his broad back. If he felt any pain when she pushed the bones back into place, he didn’t show.

“All good ?” He muttered, heavily breathing. She was about to ask if he was okay but the words stayed stuck when she realized how close their faces were. He wasn’t hurt, no, he was perturbed by her presence. He could smell her perfume and see the hair raising on her neck. Whatever he was feeling, she felt it too.

“Do I make you nervous, soldier ?” She said, a smile building on her full lips.

“You have no idea, doctor”

She turned to face him. They locked eyes and, for a moment, none of them moved. The atmosphere instantly changed when he bit his lips. He bent closer and closer, and this time she didn’t push back. When finally he kissed her, she froze in place. He was about to draw back when she grabbed his neck, deepening the kiss. A sensation she couldn’t comprehend took over her whole body. He didn’t rush, took his sweet time lingering his lips over hers. She could swore her knees would have given out if he wasn’t holding her in place. Her chest was fluttering and she lost all sense of time. He pulled back from the lack of oxygen, but not before caressing her mouth one last time.

“Too much?” He inquired quietly.

She shook her head, laughing. “No. Just enough”

“I’ve been dreaming of doing that for a while” He admitted.

“Quite the change of attitude. I could’ve sworn you wanted me dead only ten minutes ago” She joked.

He pouted, not particularly happy she was reminding him of his previous outburst.

“You’re all set up, Winter” She announced after one last look over his chest. “No major damage”

“Have you checked my heart ?” He joked with a smirk. “I think it’s beating a little fast”

She coughed to try and hide her laugh.

“I’m afraid that’s not fixable” She started to write her report, ignoring his lingering gaze on her. Her brain was still fuzzy from the kiss they shared. “Unless I stay away, which would probably ease your … discomfort”

“Who said anything about discomfort ? That’s a kind of pain I’d rather enjoy”

She raised an eyebrow, not missing the way her own heart palpitated.

“Don’t play with fire, soldier”

He smirked. “Between us, I’m trying to delay the moment I’ll have to go through that door again”

This time she lost all joy and raised her head from what she was writing on her report to look at him.

“You’re strong enough to leave this place, you know”

“Leave where ?” He asked.

“Somewhere you’ll find who you really are”

“Does that somewhere include you ? ‘Cause you should know I won’t go without you”

She walked up to him and took his hands.

“Save yourself while you still can, Winter” She sadly replied.

“What about you ?”

“I’m just … collateral damage” She exhaled.

He gently pressed his forehead to hers.

“I promise I’ll come back for you after that last mission”

“I’ll hold you onto that”

He planted a soft kiss on her lips, making her forget once again where they were and what their reality was.

“I’ll take you to Greece” He whispered. “Just the two of us. Wouldn’t that be great ?”

“It’s a date” She grinned, making him laugh.

“You’ve got yourself a deal. We’ll get out of here” He swore. “And I’ll take you dancing under the stars of Mykonos”

He didn’t know then that he would never have the occasion to keep that promise. They would have more moments, stolen from the chaos of this place, but nothing more. Weeks later, he would hear rumors about treason and compromising positions. He would understand too late they meant her. She was his weak point, and the Winter Soldier couldn’t have any weaknesses. She was disposable, he was an assassin with superpowers. All the recordings they had proved he no longer could be operational so long as she was still breathing.

“Buck, you alright ?” A voice suddenly spoke in the agonizing silence.

He turned around to his friend, brushing the tears he didn’t realize had started to fall. Standing in the empty room, he couldn’t move away from the dried patch of blood on the floor.

“Yeah, I just need a minute” He shook his head, trying to make the painful memories disappear.

The man behind him began to inspect the place, searching through scattered papers around a desk.

“Dr. Y/N Y/L/N” He read.

Bucky closed his eyes, clenching his jaw. The simple sound of her name was enough to widen the open wound inside his chest. He sat on the examination table one last time, without her. Forgetting he wasn’t alone, he let himself wander into his most precious memories. He remembered the taste of her lips, the smell of her perfume and the touch of her skin. Every detail engraved in his head forever.

“Did you know her ?” The person asked.

“Yeah”

The man stopped what he was doing and observed the former assassin for a solid minute. He looked heartbroken.

“Bad memories ?” He inquired.

“Not in this room” Bucky sadly smiled.

“What happened ?”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Steve”

The Captain hesitated for a moment but didn’t push. He was aware his friend was still healing and whatever the place was, it was part of his pain.

“Is she dead ?” He only questioned.

He gulped and tilted his head backward to keep the tears at bay. “They took her away from me” His voice cracked when he spoke. He was not able to stop the violent sob that escaped his mouth. He wanted to say so much more but the lump in his throat was far too heavy.

“I was too late,” He whispered. “I promised I’d come back for her but I was … too …”

His shoulders started to shake as tears ran down his bloodshot eyes. Steve rapidly closed the distance between them and hugged his friend, letting him express his sadness. They stayed there until he was calm enough to take a deep breath.

“You ready ?” The Captain inquired.

The broken soldier silently nodded.

“Where to now ?” Steve asked him. “You’re free to go anywhere you'd like”

“Greece. I have a date in Greece”

Taglist below the cut

@partypoisonsblog - @tylard-blog1

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #the winter solider x reader #the winter soldier imagine #the winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier fanfiction #tfatws #fatws

[apas-95]

Norman Bethune, "Wounds"

The kerosene lamp overhead makes a steady buzzing sound like an incandescent hive of bees. Mud walls. Mud floor. Mud bed. White paper windows. Smell of blood and chloroform. Cold. Three o'clock in the morning, December 1, North China, near Lin Chu, with the 8th Route Army. Men with wounds. Wounds like little dried pools, caked with blackbrown earth; wounds with torn edges frilled with black gangrene; neat wounds, concealing beneath the abscess in their depths, burrowing into and around the great firm muscles like a dammed-back river, running around and between the muscles like a hot stream; wounds, expanding outward, decaying orchids or crushed carnations, terrible flowers of flesh; wounds from which the dark blood is spewed out in clots, mixed with the ominous gas bubbles, floating on the fresh flood of the still-continuing secondary haemorrhage.

Old filthy bandages stuck to the skin with blood-glue. Careful. Belief moisten first. Through the thigh. Pick the leg up. Why it's like a bag, a long, loose red stocking. What kind of stocking? A Christmas stocking. Where's that find strong rod of bone now? In a dozen pieces. Pick them out with your fingers; white as a dog's teeth, sharp and jagged. Now feel. Any more left? Yes, here. All? Yes; no, here's another piece. Is this muscle dead? Pinch it. Yes, it's dead, Cut it out. How can that heal? How can those muscles, once so strong, now so torn, so devastated, so ruined, resume their proud tension? Pull, relax. Pull, relax. What fun it was! Now that is finished. Now that's done. Now we are destroyed. Now what will we do with ourselves?

Next. What an infant! Seventeen. Shot through the belly. Chloroform. Ready? Gas rushes out of the opened peritoneal cavity. Odour of feces. Pink coils of distended intestine. Four perforations. Close them. Purse string suture. Sponge out the pelvis. Tube. Three tubes. Hard to close. Keep him warm. How? Dip those bricks into hot water.

Gangrene is a cunning, creeping fellow. Is this one alive? Yes, he lives. Technically speaking, he is alive. Give him saline intravenously. Perhaps the innumerable tiny cells of his body will remember. They may remember the hot salty sea, their ancestral home, their first food. With the memory of a million years, they may remember other tides, other oceans, and life being born of the sea and sun. It may make them raise their tired little heads, drink deep and struggle back into life again. It may do that.

And this one. Will he run along the road beside his mule at another harvest, with cries of pleasure and happiness? No, that one will never run again. How can you run with one leg? What will he do? Why, he'll sit and watch the other boys run. What will he think? He'll think what you and I would think. What's the good of pity? Don't pity him! Pity would diminish his sacrifice. He did this for the defence of China. Help him. Lift him off the table. Carry him in your arms. Why, he's as light as a child! Yes, your child, my child.

How beautiful the body is: how perfect its pads; with what precision it moves; how obedient, proud and strong. How terrible when torn. The little flame of life sinks lower and lower, and with a flicker, goes out. It goes out like a candle goes out. Quietly and gently. It makes its protest at extinction, then submits. It has its day, then is silent.

Any more? Four Japanese prisoners. Bring them in. In this community of pain, there are no enemies. Cut away that blood-stained uniform. Stop that haemorrhage. Lay them beside the others. Why, they're alike as brothers! Are these soldiers professional man-killers? No, these are amateurs-in-arms. Workman's hands. These are workers-in-uniform.

No more. Six o'clock in the morning. God, it's cold in this room. Open the door. Over the distant, dark-blue mountains, a pale, faint line of light appears in the east. In an hour the sun will be up. To bed and sleep.

But sleep will not come. What is the cause of this cruelty, this stupidity? A million workmen come from Japan to kill or mutilate a million Chinese workmen. Why should the Japanese worker attack his brother worker, who is forced merely to defend himself. Will the Japanese worker benefit by the death of the Chinese? No, how can he gain? Then, in God's name, who will gain? Who is responsible for sending these Japanese workmen on this murderous mission? Who will profit from it? How was it possible to persuade the Japanese workmen to attack the Chinese Workman -- his brother in poverty; his companion in misery?

Is it possible that a few rich men, a small class of men, have persuaded a million men to attack, and attempt to destroy, another million men as poor as they? So that these rich may be richer still? Terrible thought! How did they persuade these poor men to come to China? By telling them the truth? No, they would never have cone if they had known the truth, Did they dare to tell these workmen that the rich only wanted cheaper raw materials, more markets and more profit? No, they told them that this brutal war was "The Destiny of the Race," it was for the "Glory of the Emperor," it was for the "Honour of the State," it was for their "King and Country."

False. False as hell!

The agents of a criminal war of aggression, such as this, must be looked for like the agents of other crimes, such as murder, among those who are likely to benefit from those crimes. Will the 80,000,000 workers of Japan, the poor farmers, the unemployed industrial workers -- will they gain? In the entire history of the wars of aggression, from the conquest of Mexico by Spain, the capture of India by England, the rape of Ethiopia by Italy, have the workers of those "victorious" countries ever been known to benefit? No, these never benefit by such wars. Does the Japanese workman benefit by the natural resources of even his own country, by the gold, the silver, the iron, the coal, the oil? Long ago he ceased to possess that natural wealth. It belongs to the rich, the ruling class. The millions who work those mines live in poverty. So how is he likely to benefit by the armed robbery of the gold, silver, iron, coal and oil from China? Will not the rich owners of the one retain for their own profit the wealth of the other? Have they not always done so?

It would seem inescapable that the militarists and the capitalists of Japan are the only class likely to gain by this mass murder, this authorized madness, this sanctified butchery. That ruling class, the true state, stands accused.

Are wars of aggression, wars for the conquest of colonies, then, just big business? Yes, it would seem so, however much the perpetrators of such national crimes seek to hide their true purpose under banners of high-sounding abstractions and ideals. They make war to capture markets by murder; raw materials by rape. They find it cheaper to steal than to exchange; easier to butcher than to buy. This is the secret of war. This is the secret of all wars. Profit. Business. Profit. Blood money.

Behind all stands that terrible, implacable God of Business and Blood, whose name is Profit. Money, like an insatiable Moloch, demands its interest, its return, and will stop at nothing, not even the murder of millions, to satisfy its greed. Behind the army stand the militarists. Behind the militarists stand finance capital and the capitalist. Brothers in blood; companions in crime.

What do these enemies of the human race look like? Do they wear on their foreheads a sign so that they may be told, shunned and condemned as criminals? No. On the contrary. they are the respectable ones. They are honoured. They call themselves, and are called, gentlemen. What a travesty on the name, Gentlemen! They are the pillars of the state, of the church, of society. They support private and public charity out of the excess of their wealth. they endow institutions. In their private lives they are kind and considerate. they obey the law, their law, the law of property. But there is one sign by which these gentle gunmen can be told. Threaten a reduction on the profit of their money and the beast in them awakes with a snarl. They become ruthless as savages, brutal as madmen, remorseless as executioners. Such men as these must perish if the human race is to continue. There can be no permanent peace in the world while they live. Such an organization of human society as permits them to exist must be abolished.

These men make the wounds.

#china #norman bethune

[earlgreydream]

war.

| 1940s!bucky x reader | angst |

warnings: mentions of blood, violence, war, etc... general angst 

Your feet smacked the pavement as you ran. Your muscles felt like they were burning in fire, but you kept going, terrified. Bombs crashed all around you, buildings crumbled, and the ground shook as if it were going to open up and swallow you. You almost wished it would. 

Gunshots popped and bullets whizzed past your ears. You made it to a rocky staircase, and you tried to run down when you tripped. You tumbled down the stone stairs, smacking against the ground, blood rising to the surface of your hands and knees. You swore, and before you could stand up again, the soldiers surrounded you. 

You screamed as your ankles were grabbed, and you were flipped onto your back. 

“Stop! it’s a woman!” A soldier called as your cloak was ripped from your body. You were hyperventilating, panic seizing you as you stared up at the American soldiers. The dagger sheathed in your belt was confiscated, and the men stared down at you. 

“Please!” you begged for mercy, your accent thickening in your desperation. 

“Sergeant Barnes?” The soldiers looked to their leader, the man who had yelled for them to stop attacking you. 

“We are not going to kill her!” He sounded angry.

“What if she’s a spy?”

“I’m not, I swear. My home was bombed, I was running in fear!” You cried, pleading with him for mercy. 

“We cannot leave her in the streets-”

“Of course not.” The Sergeant spoke to his soldier, wearing a uniform different than the others. You winced at a sharp pain in your side, and you looked down to see blood soaking through your dress. You began to feel lightheaded, but you were terrified to black out and be left at the mercy of the likely sex-deprived soldiers that were invading your country.

Your eyes grew heavy and you moaned in pain, gripping the wound on your side from hitting a rock in your fall down the stairs. 

“We need to get her to the medbay, come on!” 

The words echoed in your head as you were lifted by the leader, carried in his arms. You wanted to struggle and try to make a run for it, but you were far too weak and you had nowhere to go. 

“You’re safe, doll, I’m going to protect you.”

Your head dropped as you slipped into unconsciousness, limp in his arms.

Bucky stood over your unconscious body as the best medic treated your wounds. She wrapped your hands and stitched the gash on your side, and Bucky winced as he watched. 

“Will she be alright?” he asked the medic anxiously.

“Yes, she’ll be fine. I think she’s asleep from the shock.” The medic nodded, and he breathed a sigh of relief. 

She wrapped the wound on your side and left Bucky with some morphine to give you when you needed it, instructing him to monitor you. 

“Do you think she’s a spy, or a soldier?”

“No, there’s nothing that would suggest that. I think she really was just a victim-- collateral damage.” 

Bucky was alone with you, then. He sat beside his bed that you were currently sleeping on, in his private chambers, away from the men who wouldn’t be able to keep their hands to themselves with a pretty young girl unconscious. 

Your eyes opened slowly, and you looked around, disoriented. You tried to sit up, but weakly sank back against the pillows. You noticed him sitting beside you, and you looked down. You were now wearing loose pants, and an oversized t shirt-- an army green, from a soldier. 

“Did you-?!” You cried in horror. 

“No, no. The medic cleaned your wounds and changed you. She said you’re going to be fine!” Bucky assured you quickly, and you relaxed a bit. 

“Are you going to kill me? Or keep me as a prisoner of war?” You asked, turning your head to look at him. 

“No. You’re not a captive, or a war criminal.” He shook his head. He handed you a glass of water, and a piece of buttered bread and some blackberries. You accepted them with a quiet thanks, and he sat back, giving you space.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

A small smile pulled at his lips, and you gazed down at your lap.

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes.” 

You spent two weeks recovering in his quarters, while he slept on a cot, guarding you and making sure you slept and had plenty to eat and drink. He’d opened up to you in that time, telling you about growing up in Brooklyn, New York. He had been drafted into the war, not really wanting to go overseas and kill people, and hurt innocents in the process-- innocents like you. Bucky was consumed with guilt, and was growing fond of you. 

He wished that he could just leave, go back to America and take you with him.  He had learned that you weren’t any kind of enemy like others suspected. You were orphaned by the war, by your own people. Almost everyone you knew and loved had been lost in the bloodbath, and now you were alone, struggling for survival in what felt like an apocalypse. 

Bucky convinced you to get some fresh air, and go outside. You’d stayed hidden under his protection, feeling safer with him than you had in years, since the war started. 

“James...” 

“It will be fine.” 

You took a walk with him, holding his hand as you walked through the soft grass. You giggled as he picked a daisy, handing it to you with a smile. 

“Are you trying to impress me?” You asked, blushing as you looked into sweet grey eyes.

“Is it working?” He grinned boyishly at you, and you saw a glimpse of the real James, not the soldier. He leaned down and kissed you, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, squeezing him tightly. 

“I love you, Y/N” He smiled at the bright spot in the misery, the girl he began to wake up for. His gaze was filled with adoration as he looked at you, a rescue from the streets of a war-torn village.

“You’re not bringing that nazi bitch with us!” A soldier shouted, and Bucky was at his throat immediately. 

“Don’t ever speak about her that way!” Bucky yelled, pinning him to the wall by the throat, a gun pressed against his chest. 

“Stop!” You cried, trying to pull Bucky off, not wanting him to murder the soldier in front of you, and all his troops. 

“Sergeant Barnes, you cannot seriously think of bringing Y/N to the Danish border with us.” Steve, Bucky’s loyal friend asked, giving you a pathetic look.

“Shut up, of course she’s coming with us!” Bucky wrapped an arm around you, trying to calm your shaking.

“Sergeant, she’s a nazi.”

“She’s NOT!” Bucky fired off a shot, and you winced against him. The bullet sank into the wall, but you were sobbing with fear, memories of being shot at flooding your mind and taking over your ability to think. 

“Ever since she came, you’re not the leader you were. You’re not thinking clearly!” Steve argued with him as if you weren’t there. 

You already knew what everybody thought of you. There was no hiding it. To the Americans, you were just a nazi whore that Bucky kept around for sex, and nothing more. They didn’t know the way he kissed you, the way your eyes sparkled with joy at even the slightest bit of attention from him. When you had nightmares, Bucky read to you from one of his books, or sang a song softly from Ella Fitzgerald. 

There was no one else. Every day, every night, all Bucky could think about was you. Leaving the war, taking you back to America, and building a life with you. He thought of a brownstone in Brooklyn, buying you dresses and making a family with you. He wanted to spin you around and dance with you to records in your living room, and take you on dates to a drive-in-movie. He wanted you to be the last thing he saw at night and the first thing in the morning. He was in love with you. And you were in love with him.

But you couldn’t escape the slurs and hate of his colleagues, and dearest friends. You knew it would be nothing like what you would receive in Brooklyn, your accent and broken English giving you away. It would make Bucky an outcast too-- a former soldier who left the war for an enemy girl. He would be a disgrace. 

You knew you could receive asylum in Denmark, a country not plagued by the war like elsewhere. You’d be a refugee, but you could join their society safely, and build a real life there. You traveled with the soldiers, transported there safely. 

You laid in bed with Bucky, kissing him sweetly. He ran his fingers through your hair, your head on his chest. He talked about New York pizza, and you smiled, tracing shapes on his skin with your fingertips. His voice sounded so happy when he talked about a future with you, you felt like your heart was going to shatter. 

“I love you, James.” 

“I love you more than the stars, Y/N.”

You pretended to sleep, but fear and nausea kept you up all night. You didn’t stir as Bucky got up for an early meeting with an officer at the American Embassy in Denmark. 

As soon as he was gone, you were on your feet. You got dressed silently, slipping money and a knife into your clothes and pulling a coat on over it. Tears blinded you and made it more difficult, as well as struggling to be quiet in the dark so you didn’t catch the attention of Bucky’s soldiers. 

The sun had barely peaked above the horizon, the sky still mostly dark, and the world asleep. You broke into a run, escaping out the window in the back. You ran from the base, getting as far away as you could. Your heart shattered into a million tiny pieces, pain shooting through your chest. 

Nightfall, you made it to a home for female refugees, women left alone by the war. You were dirty and exhausted, and barely able to breathe. You had sobbed the entire day as you traveled, making it nearly to Århus. 

“Welcome. You’re safe now.” A danish woman said, embracing you as you were taken inside the safehouse. You broke down in her arms, screams of heartache ripping through your chest.

“Y/N! I’m home, doll!” Bucky called, opening the door. His brow furrowed in confusion upon finding an empty room. He went to the bathroom, checking to see if you were in the shower. He couldn’t find you, and he walked through the halls. 

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” He asked every soldier desperately, all of them shaking their heads. 

He went back to his room, finding a note written inside of the book cover on his bedside, left open. 

I love you. more than the stars. I hope you understand.

He screamed your name, dropping down to his knees, his head falling into his hands as he rocked back and forth. Steve ran in, dropping down and wrapping his arms around Bucky as he fell apart. Sobs wracked his body, his dreams falling apart, his lover slipping through his fingers. He had just gotten news that he could be honorably discharged in three months, to start a family with you. He came home to tell you that you just had to stick it out a little longer. The flowers he brought were discarded and littered amongst the floorboards. 

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan bucky barnes #marvel #marvel au #winter soldier #winter solider fanfiction #the falcon and the winter soldier #the winter soldier #the winter solider fanfiction #1940s!bucky #40s!bucky #soldier!bucky #everyone shut up I'm crying #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #bucky x y/n #earl grey bucky

[feralrunaway]

w-what if Sy shaves and his baby girl doesn't recognize him without the beard,,,she just cries and screams and hides behind your leg n your bear doesn't know what to do 🥺

LISTEN I'M SORRY OKAY.

I was gonna write this up as a separate something-or-other but then you sent this prompt and I guess it was time for us all to suffer.

Word Count: 774

Warnings: You’re gonna cry.

*unbeta’d, unedited*

“NO!”

“Come on out, pumpkin. It’s just daddy,” you coaxed.

You hadn’t expected this reaction. Yes, you knew she hadn’t seen him without his beard before, but this was a little extreme.

“Nooo! Want daddy back!”

To his credit, Sy remained a few steps back, not pushing for his baby girl to come out of her hiding spot under the dining room table, although he looked a little crestfallen. He hated shaving. You would prefer he never did too, but today he had no choice. He had to appear in regulations.

Today was deployment day.

“Listen Sunshine, we have to go soon, and I know daddy would really like some cuddles before we leave.”

At that, a tiny set of tear-filled eyes peaked out from under the tablecloth, only to be set upon Sy and his smooth face, causing the tears to start anew.

“Let it go darlin’,” he said with some sadness coloring his tone, “Don’t force it. We’ve gotta get packed up.”

And so you did, helping him gather what small things he needed into his beige duffel. You slipped a small photo album filled with new pictures alongside his pared-down collection of CD’s. All the while his eyes kept drifting to the tiny feet visible under the table.

Before the time came to load up, he gave one last attempt. He crouched down, his voice low and soothing.

“Listen baby bear, I got you something. Daddy sure is gonna miss you. I know you aren’t a big fan of my face right now, but can I give you this?” He held out a small stuffed bear wearing an Army uniform. “I want you to have a little somethin’ to remember me by while I’m gone workin’.”

Your little girl didn’t shy away this time, but she didn’t make an attempt to come forward either. She simply eyed Sy up and down, as though she was trying to determine if it was really him.

————

By the time you had managed to coax her out of hiding, strapped her into her seat, and driven to the deployment site, she was fast asleep. You held her over your shoulder as you gave Sy the last kisses he would receive for the next 9 months. Already a teary mess, your heart wrenched as he pressed a kiss to her cheek, your little girl blissfully unaware of the smooth-cheeked Captain doing his best to enjoy the sight of her before he left.

Goodbyes given, you made your way over to the small stands set up for families and joined some of the other wives you knew from his company. You laid your daughter down on the bench where she continued sleeping, bear tucked tightly in the crook of her arm.

The sound of attention being called drew all eyes to the neatly organized band of soldiers ready to proceed to their next assignment. One of the ladies next to you grabbed your hand and squeezed in support.

With your attention fixed on your husband as he stood in front of his men, stiff-backed and stoic, it took you a moment to notice the small streak of red and blue darting across the grass. A few murmurs and gasps broke out around you as you realized your little girl had snuck away and was now barreling full speed toward her father.

Unable to break attention, none of the uniformed soldiers tried to stop her as she reached him, grabbing for his hand and sobbing.

“Daddy pwease don’t go. I’m sowwy I didn’t wike your face. Daddy stay.”

Sy gripped her hand back, as tears immediately leapt to his eyes. To his credit, he didn’t further break attention, but the grief in his eyes shone through brightly. Your own tears dripped down your chin as you watched the exchange and you heard sniffles from all around you.

Realizing her daddy couldn’t talk to her right now, your little girl stood next to him, never letting go of his hand as the ceremony was completed. She didn’t say any more words. Just stood next to him in silent support until the time came for the soldiers to march away.

As he turned, he brushed a hand down her hair, tears falling freely along with many of his men, despite their need to remain stoic. And finally, as they stepped out, he allowed her hand to fall from his and down to her side.

The company then marched away, not to return for the next 9 months, leaving the field empty with the exception of one small, heartbroken little girl.

#tw: angst #captain syverson #big sads #cw: military #picture from military.com

[light-yaers]

Fools in the Darkness: Chapter Three

Darkling x Reader

Warnings: Death, violence, drugs (Parem), NSFW and sexual content. This content is explicit and 18+ at some points.

A/N: I keep saying to expect a slow down soon and I MEAN IT. I can’t sustain this any longer and to be honest, be ready for fic writing to come to a halt for a few weeks time in the next months-- I have a university dissertation to be writing, but instead I’m doing this! PRIORITIES. Thank you all for reading, fr.

Fic Masterpost

Word Count - 3.6k

Chapter Three

“I thought he was a respectable General,” Inej whispered, finishing the last of her whiskey with a small frown.

“He plays the role well,” You replied sadly, before looking at Brekker. He was deep in thought, a scowl constantly present on his thin lips. “I’m only one person who knows the truth,”

“Then why tell us?” Kaz spoke suddenly. “Why share this with people you’ve just met?”

You took a moment to ponder your reply. Why were you telling the lackies at the Crow Club? The Dregs of the Barrel? Kaz Brekker and his band of un-merry men and women? Growing up in Kerch meant you already knew their names, despite not living in the country for most of your adult life. News travelled fast, especially when it concerned Ketterdam.

Maybe it was intentional that Inej found you that night, wandering the lush establishments at Fifth Harbour and riling up bouncers because of your appearance and obvious lack of kruge—or maybe it’d been fate.

“Why do you believe it?” You asked in return. “Why do you believe the word of a woman you’ve just met?” Kaz’s jaw clenched in response. He looked down at his desk, probably beating himself up over his prior question, even though it was a good one.

“Your Kefta,” Inej spoke up softly. “From afar, it looks like common dress, but up close, behind the mud and dirt, you can see the intricate embroidery,” She raised her tiny hands to your Kefta, placing her fingers on the stitched details—the winding winds of a Squaller, white threads against a deep black.

“You said you weren’t Second Army,” Kaz spoke up once more. “Yet you were in the Little Palace, being trained by the Darkling himself,”

“I never went on an army mission in the many months I was at the Little Palace,” You replied. “I was grateful at first, until I realised it was simply another way for me to eventually trust Kirigan, to worry about him,” Inej frowned at you then, showing you large and caring eyes. Kaz, however—he looked pained.

“But, what about—,”

“Do you wish for me to continue, Mr. Brekker?” You interrupted him, hearing the want and confusion in his voice. He swallowed down his words, forcing his gaze onto your eyes. He nodded once. You smiled slightly, readying yourself. “My sister’s funeral was held two days later...”

The Little Palace, 1 Year Later

The flames licked at her skin at first, until she was a light—bright, a star, burning so ferociously in a way that mimicked her personality when she was alive. Your sister, your last remaining family, the last love of your life.

She was burning. And there was nothing you could do but watch.

The funeral was a silent and small affair, but you hadn’t expected it to be anything more. If you were still out in the cold, harshness of Fjerda, it would have been even smaller than the reception she had at the Little Palace—

You stood on your own, closer to her burning flames. Behind you stood two Inferni; twins, a brother and sister. They looked at your sister solemnly, despite not knowing you or her. Maybe they felt your pain. Maybe they didn’t want to ever feel your pain. Beyond them stood the Heartrender, Ivan, the one who’d put you into a death state two days prior. And finally, behind him—

General Kirigan of the Second Army.

He donned his Kefta today; a menacing black and grey that only emphasised the broadness of his shoulders. His hands were clasped in front of him, his expression blunt and eyes reflecting the raging flames of your sister’s pyre. As much as you didn’t trust him, refused to trust him, he’d put all of this together.

He’d brought her back from those frozen wastelands. He’d arranged for her body to be cleaned and donned with lavish silks. He’d gathered the Inferni to light her pyre, after you’d denied wanting to light it yourself with a torch.

You stayed perfectly still as you watched her burn, too afraid that moving would only cause you to fully break down. You didn’t want that; you didn’t want another reason for those here to look at you oddly. Kirigan strolled forward then, slowly, gently, as you stayed facing the pyre.

“Let us leave you, now,” He whispered into your ear, so close it made you shiver. You nodded once, but not at him; at your sister. Slowly, one by one, the Grisha left you and your sister, until you were completely alone.

You don’t know how long you stayed out in that acre for, watching the acrid smoke rise into the air and the flames begin to die down, searching for her face within piles of ashes.

It was hours, most likely. The sun had been high in the sky when the pyre was lit, but now it was descending down, down, down the horizon, casting a pink glow over the lavishness of the Little Palace grounds.

And then, the fire went out.

The flames dissipated into nothing more than black smoke.

Then, it seemed almost pointless to stay standing there, frozen like a statue and looking at the last remaining substances of who your sister was. You glanced up at the sky for the first time in hours, indulging in the glorious sunset on the last eve of your sister’s presence on this Earth.

You kissed two of your fingers, placing them above the once flaming pyre. It was still incredibly hot, her ashes retaining the heat of the fire. And then, you left. You didn’t cry, you didn’t collapse, you simply walked back to the Little Palace, entered through the main doors, and then stopped—

And when you stopped, you almost couldn’t take it. You almost couldn’t stand the quiet, the air, the feeling of eyes watching you wherever you went, so close to falling to the ground where you stood and just giving up—

General Kirigan’s door clicked open as you stared at the floor. He rounded the corner of the frame, landing his eyes upon your slumped shoulders and laboured breaths. He took a few timid steps forward, but you hadn’t even noticed him yet, not until he cleared his throat.

You flinched immediately, hitting his eyes as a spike of anxiety was rammed through your heart. He’d scared you, and it seemed he knew he had. He frowned at your reaction, stepping forward once more. “It was a beautiful ceremony,”

You didn’t know what to say to him, nor did you have the energy or will to want to speak to the Darkling that stood before you. But there was a part of you that was grateful for his words—for his company amongst the winding corridors and scowling faces of the Grisha here at the Little Palace.

The only thing you were holding onto was Kirigan’s earlier promise.

“Tea?” He spoke again, this time prompting you to scoff involuntarily. You looked at him with an odd expression, one that was trying to work out his motives. From the small glimpses you’d got of Kirigan around other Grisha, you knew it wasn’t customary for the General to share tea with them.

“I could go for something stronger,” You said breathily, though you weren’t being entirely serious. Kirigan didn’t seem to get your joke, however, as he gestured to his chambers.

“Will Ravkan rum suffice?”

You’d lost count at the fifth, or maybe it was the sixth, but it was easy to just keep topping up your glass when Kirigan placed the bottle on the table between you. Sometimes it was him refilling the glasses and sometimes it was you, but neither of you particularly cared.

You were on the brink of being too drunk to stand, too drunk to know what you were saying, but perhaps—too drunk to care. It was the perfect relaxation tactic after the funeral. You’d almost needed this, even if General Kirigan wasn’t the person you’d imagined being sat opposite you.

“Where do you go all day?” You asked, your words not yet slurring, but getting close. “A few Grisha have said it’s unusual for you to attend training,” He smiled at your question, tapping his rum glass.

You’d had one day of training so far, put on hold for the funeral today. Kirigan had attended, but it’d been obvious that other Grisha were on edge by his presence. All except one—a Sqauller like yourself, by the name of Zoya.

“I don’t just oversee training. I’m in charge of many aspects of the army. Tactics, movements, squadrons,” He sipped his drink. “But you already know my reasoning for wanting to shadow your training,”

You nodded once, humming to yourself without realising. You looked at your hands then, twisting them out in front of you and pinpointing the various lines and indents, the length of your fingers, the curve of your nails.

“You didn’t wear your Kefta today,” Kirigan said, almost in a whisper. You flicked your gaze to his eyes. You’d woken that morning to a knock upon your door—a guard had handed you the intricately designed blue Kefta and then left, leaving you almost speechless.

You’d decided against wearing it, however, sticking to your usual clothes of a blouse and woven trousers, kept up with braces.

“I don’t feel like a Squaller yet,” You replied. “Not a proper one,” It was sad, the way that Kirigan looked at you. It almost made you move your gaze away from his deep eyes, but you couldn’t make yourself do it after alcohol was swimming in your system.

“It’s the blue, isn’t it?” He said, and the smile on his lips was an indication of his joke. You reciprocated his expression, feeling a small bubble of giggles in your gut.

“The blue is lovely,” You replied sarcastically, causing a laugh to burst from the General’s lips. You didn’t realise this man could laugh, could chuckle, could—well—feel.

A comfortable silence fluttered over Kirigan’s chambers. This was the second time you’d been in his room. His décor was so much different than the cream and gold walls of the Little Palace itself; with all dark wood furniture and stained walls. In the centre of his office sat a large circular table, topped with a map of the countries. In the middle—the Fold was indicated with an intricate wooden structure, painted a matte black.

You fluttered your eyes around the room, taking everything in. You inhaled, smelling the wooden scent of the furniture and the musty leather of the chair you sat in, mixed with something sweet that resembled an aftershave. You stared at the paintings and skimmed over his trinkets. Everything seemed to suit him perfectly.

When you turned back, the General was already looking at you.

“I’ll commission you a different Kefta design,” He said it so smoothly that you were reminded of the annoyance it had given you before, but with rum running through your veins all you felt was relaxed. “One that’s more suited to you,”

“You don’t have to do that,” You replied, feeling small under his colossal gaze. He smiled at your reddening cheeks.

“A glorious Kefta for a glorious storm summoner,”

Saints, the way he looked at you was almost too much. His eyes skimmed your skin, traversing your jaw, your nose, your lips, before falling back to your wide eyes. He was regarding you openly and you weren’t looking away—you were taking it full on, perhaps spurring him on to continue.

This was just the rum, it had to be. This wasn’t the General Kirigan you’d ever imagined.

Saints, stop.

“I should go,” You said then, rising yourself from the leather armchair. Kirigan copied you, exhaling at the same time he dragged his eyes off of you.

Your goodbye was as unceremonious as the walk back to your chambers. You staggered a few times, needing to clutch onto the spiral staircase for dear life, but by the time you were back at your room, you were ready to fall asleep immediately.

You lay in bed, your eyelids prepped for immediate rest, but your mind wouldn’t be quiet. In fact, it was yelling at you—screaming, crying, pelting you with warnings—

Stay away from General Kirigan. Do not indulge him.

All you could was laugh at your cautious mind, telling it that it was overreacting, before you were drifting off into much needed sleep.

You still didn’t don the Kefta the next day, sliding down to the training courtyard silently, as if hoping that no one would notice you being there. It was useless to want that, however, considering you were a face that Grisha here didn’t recognise, dressed in clothes instead of your respective Kefta.

You stood to the side while everyone gathered, chatting away before the instructor came forward. “Hand to hand combat is just as important as your abilities,” He said bluntly, flicking his eyes around the colourful group. “We’ll focus on that today. On strengthening your hits, your blocks, your stances,”

You almost smiled to yourself—you knew hand to hand combat. Very well, if you said so yourself. Growing up in Novyi Zem, defenceless and out in the open, you’d adapted quickly to being stealthy, as well as having a mean hit. Hand to hand was something you knew better than your own Grisha abilities.

“Get in pairs,” He continued, and that’s when your face dropped. You glanced around helplessly when everyone started pairing off, giggling and chatting and knowing each other after so long. You felt like a sore thumb; someone who wasn’t wanted.

Suddenly, she bombarded before you—Zoya Nazyalensky. She’d made herself known on your first day, most notably with her dirty looks and the scowl on her jaw, but now? She was beaming, smiling so wide and happily that you almost didn’t recognise her. She gripped your bicep excitedly. “Let’s pair up together, two Squaller’s against the World,”

You had a feeling Zoya wasn’t usually this chipper, but you had no choice but to accept her as your partner.

“Zoya,” The instructor prompted. “You and your partner, front and centre,”

Oh. So, that’s what she wanted.

There was no way to back out now, as Zoya dragged you to the centre of the courtyard. She removed herself to stand opposite you, and that’s when her face changed—back to the dirty looks she’d given you before, the obvious dislike and want to crush you just for funzies. You got the feeling that Zoya felt she was the only Squaller worthy for the Little Palace.

You simply had to prove yourself, then, in front of the other Grisha.

“Fight to defend yourselves, not to attack,” The instructor said, his eyes mostly on Zoya. She dipped into a stance and you followed suit.

Saints, please make this fight the least amount of humiliating that it needs to be.

Within seconds, she was moving. Her first swung through the air swiftly, but you jutted your elbow up to stop her forearm, whacking back with all of your force. Zoya gasped from the interruption, but it allowed you to jab your knuckles into her ribs.

You punched forward, hitting her right in her ribs and causing her to stagger back slightly from the hit. Her brows only furrowed more as you continued your back and forth, a hit—a block—a stance—a hit—a block—it was endless and incredibly draining, but the more you fought, the more Zoya became frustrated.

She’d been wanting a quick fight; something to show that she was superior. Little had she known that you were a fighter, more so with your fists than the winds.

You stepped back to the edge of the circle, breathing deeply, arms out in front of you ready to block her hits. Your hair was in your eyeline, the braces of your trousers slipping from your shoulders, but you wouldn’t stop for a second to pull them back up.

Zoya’s cheeks were blotched with colour, her mouth ajar as she inhaled and exhaled deep, long breaths, trying to get oxygen back into her system. You could see the anger creeping onto her face with every second that passed. You were reluctant to storm forward to hit her, knowing that that would give her the blocking advantage, so you stayed put, counting down the seconds until you’d be free of this pointless and embarrassing fight.

At that second, the doors to the Little Palace were pulled open. Zoya and yourself took a few seconds to peer towards the creaking doors, as General Kirigan strolled towards the training session strongly, with a purpose, no hint of a hangover on his stubborn jaw.

Zoya’s face upturned into a smile at his arrival, but you were a few seconds too late at returning to the fight. Zoya’s hands were brought together immediately, summoning her power as you were helplessly bombarded backwards by winds—

You landed on your back with a thud, hearing the subtle laughs and chuckles of the observing Grisha. You didn’t care though; if you cared about every small battle, every time you fell, then you would have died of humiliation by now. You simply got yourself up again, glancing upon the questioning face of Kirigan as he stared at Zoya—

Then you brought your hands together—

And you summoned the storms that you were used to summoning. Maybe it was overkill, as the entire courtyard was encased in circling winds, or maybe it was needed, just to get Grisha like Zoya off of your fucking back. You spurred the winds on, tightening the funnel and tensing your muscles to keep it contained, even if it was large.

Zoya’s hair whipped around her as she watched your storm appear from nothing. Her eyes landed upon your own, sending you a clear and precise message—fear. She’d never seen a storm such a this, not even by her own hand.

“How?” She yelled, frustration laced within her words. But, you weren’t done with her yet.

You attempted a move you’d never done before, summoning the winds to your hands instead of the surrounding courtyard—you struggled against their power, but when you felt confident in your aim and execution, you let them loose.

Winds rushed forward, hitting Zoya directly in her gut and slamming her backwards; just as she’d done to you. She hit the floor harshly, laying there for a few moments as she fought against her winded lungs.

You allowed your storm to dissipate then, flicking your eyes over the shocked faces of the other Grisha, before allowing yourself to land upon the face of General Kirigan—

He was already staring at you, the way he’d done the night before. His lips were curled into a small smile, his eyes peering into yours and only yours, as if he didn’t care about the ruckus that you’d just created during the training session. He looked just as speechless as your fellow Grisha, but with a higher level of understanding and appreciation—

He looked like he’d never tire from seeing you summon these storms.

Zoya curled herself up from the floor painfully, grunting through the discomfort as she forced herself to standing once more. She went to storm forward, her face twisted with red rage, but the instructor came between her and yourself.

“Enough,” He said, eyes skimming over the prying gaze of the General.

“Do that again and I’ll send you above the cloud-line without a parachute,” Zoya threatened openly, but you couldn’t help but smile.

“I don’t think Squaller threats work on other Squallers,” You replied, gaining a few scoffs and huffs from the Grisha who surrounded you. You weren’t expecting one of them to be Kirigan, however, as his gently bobbing chest hit your peripheral. He was silently chuckling, moving his gaze between yourself and Zoya like a tennis match.

Zoya was wounded, that much was obvious. You would have felt bad if she hadn’t effectively asked for it. She’d been looking for a fight, and that’s exactly what she’d got—it wasn’t your fault that you fought better than she thought you would.

Kirigan regarded you then, getting your attention by raising his hand out before him. He motioned you over with two curling fingers. You shot a look at Zoya and the instructor once, before obeying the General’s orders. He tilted his head down as you approached him, keeping his expression light and soft.

“I see you’ve met Zoya,” He said, amusement certainly on his lips. You stared at him bluntly.

“We’re the best of friends. Can’t you tell?” You replied, but you kept your voice quieter. You were all too aware of the prying eyes of the Grisha in the courtyard, muttering to each other as to why the General had made another appearance at training.

He smiled wider, glancing back at the Squaller and then back to you, letting out a small huff of laughter. You were once again astounded that this man could laugh; every time he chuckled or the bob of his shoulders was shown, you found yourself paying too much attention to the boyish way he sounded, the soft curve of his jaw as he was smiling, the carefree way his hands flinched as he chuckled.

“Can you ride?” He asked then, changing the subject. You nodded at him once. “Good. We ride tomorrow, together. I want to show you something,”  

He strolled off then, without giving you a chance to reply. You watched as his arms draped by his sides and his broad shoulders were even broader as they arched across his back. You swallowed to cut off your thoughts, choosing to focus too closely on the sound of your heartbeat beneath your ribs and the subtle ache of your limbs after fighting Zoya, instead.

You watched until the General was back inside the Little Palace, the black glint of his uniform still etched in your peripheral— even when he wasn’t around.

Tag list: @callitdreamland @bxnnywxtts @elleatrixlestrange @stargirl76 @tartiflvtte @musicconversedance @eprilin @luminous-99 @brynthebulldozer @katedrexel @blackbirddaredevil23 @auggie2000 @not-so-quite-human @notawritergettingtherethough @thinkingth0ts @gabbien @tarkanelima-blog @hxgreeves @super-nannai @epistrofh-twn-ypogeiwn-poihtwn @sonnensplitter @fire-in-her-veinz​

Once again, I’m sorry if your tag doesn’t work-- I really don’t know why they don’t work!

#darkling x reader #darkling x you #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader #the darkling #general kirigan #ben barnes #shadow and bone #six of crows #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #x reader #reader insert #wattpad #ao3 #archive of our own #lightyaers #update #smut and angst #hurt and comfort #smut #aleksander morozova

[you1gnorant5lut]

"Wish I'd Died"

just a quick peek at what I'm currently working on.

Salim stared at his hands and wrists, bound together in cold, steel chains on the rusted metal table. The tiny, concrete room was silent, except for the screams coming from somewhere down the block. Salim had been down here long enough to recognize the sound and the voice of the man behind it. They called him Howlin' Hank, but his real name was John. He'd been locked up in this hellish place for months. The others said that he had abandoned his brigade in the dead of night in the middle of enemy territory. They'd been under fire and outnumbered 10 to 1. Every last one of his men had died, and he had narrowly escaped with his own life. The men who locked him down here claimed that there were no enemies. They claimed that he had broken psychologically and that he slaughtered his men in cold blood. 

Salim didn't know what to believe. He hadn't been there. Still, John was scheduled for court marshal in the morning. Tonight would be his last night. Once he was gone, there would be nothing but silence in Block C, cell 11108.

The iron-barred door squealed in protest as it slowly opened, and Salim heard the thud of heavy footsteps as a man in a pitch-black suit walked purposefully into Salim's cell. Salim continued to hang his head, staring at the raw, reddened skin of his wrists as the chair across from him scraped against the floor, and the suited man sat down, intertwining his long, boney fingers and placing his folded hands upon the table in front of him.

Salim could feel him staring, feel him pondering him, and he swallowed, the same old sense of humiliation and fear making his stomach knot with dread.

"You know why I'm here?" The man asked for the 100th time in a low, clear voice.

"Yes," Salim mumbled back, his shoulders sinking from exhaustion as he anticipated what was coming. "I know."

"Do you know who I am?"

"No. You never told me."

"Do you know who you are?"

"Lieutenant Salim Othman, Iraqi Army."

"Why are you here?"

"Simply put, I am a prisoner of war."

The suited man leaned back comfortably in his chair, his dark, beady eyes still fixed on Salim's face. "Good. Very good." he mused. "Shall we continue?"

Salim finally reared his head, the dim, fluorescent light from the singular bare bulb dangling above him exposing the skeletal outline of his low cheekbones and the dark circles rimming the outer edges of his sunken eyes. The faintest of smiles pulled at the bitter corners of his lips as he responded, in a low, gravelly voice, "If you'd like. I won't stop you."

"Very well, then. I see you haven't lost your spirit." The suited man said, offering a small smile in return as if he hadn't sensed Salim's passive hostility. "Alright then. Let's return to the subject at hand, the reason you landed yourself in this . . . fine establishment. Let's go back to May 2003, when you, alongside Captain Dar and a troop of your fellow soldiers, attacked Colonel King and his men on the outskirts of the Zagros Mountains. You, along with countless others and the aforementioned Colonel, fell through the ground and found yourselves . . . Hm, where did you find yourselves exactly?"

"The House of Ashes."

"What was that?"

Salim growled. "The House of Ashes."

"I'm sorry," The suited man chuckled lightly, "I'm not one for myths. I like facts. So, I'll ask you again. Where were you?"

"A Sumerian Temple."

"Yes! Yes, thank you. A lost temple, buried beneath the earth on which you stood, lost to humanity for what would seem to be a millennium. Until you rediscovered it, that is. But, out of all the men who were trapped down there, you, Salim Othman, were the only survivor. Now, that right there just tickles me the wrong way. Something doesn't add up. And that, my friend, is the real reason you are here. Right?"

Salim held his tongue. He'd heard this conversation before, at least a hundred times, and he knew where it was going. It was headed towards the same dark places that it had gone before, and Salim could feel his chest tightening, his heart burning as the torture-fogged memories began to reemerge, just like they always did.

(Sorry for this weird gap I don't know how to fix it)

The suited man stood, the chair grating against the floor again as he looked down at Salim with small, cold eyes. He circled the table, his hands folded behind his back, and Salim listened to the thud of his polished black loafers against the concrete floor.

"Out of all those men trapped down there with you, you were the lone survivor. All of them, trained soldiers," he paused purposefully, leaning down to hiss into Salim's ear, "Marines."

Salim felt a pang through his chest, and his eyes stung, tears pricking them as his throat tightened.

The suited man continued walking, still circling the table like a vulture over a carcass. "Nick Kay. Joey Gomez. Nathan Merwin. Oh, am I forgetting someone? Hm. Ah, yes! The best of the best, Lieutenant Jason Kolchek. From what I've gleaned from your story over the past few months, you two, well," he chuckled, "you two were pretty close. Inseparable really. You were friends, right? Or was it something more? Well? What do you think it was?"

Salim swallowed past the lump in his throat, his voice tight as he answered, "We didn't know each other for very long."

"So? What difference does that make? It's not like you're calling it 'love at first sight,' right? Now that would be a long shot." The suited man mocked him, a devilish grin tugging at the thin corners of his lips.

"We talked. We were little more than acquaintances. Alright? How many times must I tell you this?"

"Well," the man began menacingly. "I know there's something you're keeping from me. Something related to Kolchek, and if I have to beat it out of you, I will. You said the cavern caved. My men had to dig you out, so we can attest to that part of your little story, but what we don't know is what happened in that quaint little rock bubble. So, I'd like for you to tell me. Are we going to do this the easy way or the hard way, Lieutenant?"

"It's not important what happened."

There was a loud thud as the suited man slammed his fists down on the metal table. Salim jumped slightly, his breath catching in his throat.

"Not important?!" The suit yelled, his voice hoarse as it filled the dreary, concrete room. "We found you sitting next to Lieutenant Kolchek's corpse, the latter with a bullet through his skull and a stake through his chest, so you say that again. I dare you. Say it to my fucking face!"

"He was turning!" Salim shouted back, tears burning his cheeks as they began to pour down his face. "He told me to do it!"

"Bullshit!"

"He begged me!"

"You're a goddamn liar!"

Salim felt knuckles collide with his face, and he threw his head back, closing his eyes as he felt the blood pooling in his nostrils, the pain slowly receding to a dull ache as the seconds ticked by in a dread-filled silence.

"Liar."

#jason kolchek #house of ashes #salim othman #dark pictures house of ashes #jalim #sorry...

[moralesispunk]

Content

Frankie Morales x Female Reader (no name, use of Y/N or physical description) Summary: On Will’s wedding day, Frankie reflects on his perfect, little family with you.

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: I am back from my holiday! I will be back to posting more regularly now and have started on my fisherman! Frankie fic which will begin soon while also working on the next caramel latte chapter!

Man, stop fixing your tie, it's fine!

Has anyone seen my cufflinks?

Do you have the rings?

I thought you had them?

What? I told you to lift them!

Wait... yeah they're in my pocket.

There was an organised chaos humming around the large hotel room that was suddenly feeling a lot smaller with the four men ransaking around as they prepared for the day ahead. Black tux jackets being swapped from man to man, hands reaching to straighten ties and bow-ties, the occasional hand running down a face when someone shouts out the time.

To be completely honest, none of them, least of all Will, thought this day would arrive. That somehow after all the shit that went down in South America he would end up in the same supermarket as his ex-fiance who caught him standing in front of the cereal aisle for five minutes, his head the noisiest yet quietest it had ever been. She took him to a coffee shop and listened as he told her everything that had gone wrong before giving him her number should he need to talk again. After seeing her it was the kick he needed to go to therapy and reevaluate his life, eventually finding the confidence to pick up the phone and ask her on a date.

Now, just over a year later, he was standing in a hotel room with his brothers in arms and  preparing to wait at the end of the aisle for the love of his life. He was surprisingly panicked, something the rest of the guys had never seen before even on the toughest missions. Pope was trying to lighten the mood as he poured some of those tiny bottles of whiskey and tequila into glasses before passing them out while Benny had lost and found the rings three times now. But Frankie?

Frankie was watching silently from the corner, texting you to check that you and the kids were ready and on your way. After the text had been delivered he placed his phone inside his tux pocket, sighing when his eyes locked on his panicked friend. He pushed off from the wall and walked over to Will, placing steady hands on his friend’s shaking shoulders.

“I’m going to tell you what you told me the morning of my wedding,” Frankie’s unwavering voice suddenly quietened the room, “do you deserve that woman who will be walking down the aisle to you in less than an hour? Probably not. But does she love you more than anyone else in the world despite all the fucked up shit you’ve seen and done? Hell yeah. And do you love her?”

“More than anything,” Will sighed.

“Yeah you do,” Frankie took his hands from his friend’s shoulders and patted him on the back, “so let’s finish getting ready and then you can go make her your wife so you can be the best goddamn husband.”

The now calm room was a lot easier to get ready in, all four men looking in the mirror for one last check before heading to the door. As they walked to the elevator Frankie’s phone pinged and he took it out of the pocket to silence it before checking the text.

Just at the church now. Sofia was finally convinced to swap the Cinderella dress for the flower girl one and baby girl is still asleep, let’s hope it stays that way for the ceremony.

Frankie smiled down at his phone, leaning forward to press the elevator button for the ground floor before texting back.

My Mom will pick them up later and then we can enjoy the free bar:)

The text bubbles were already popping up and he waited for your response.

Are you trying to get me drunk Mr Morales?

Well, while I’m sure you look beautiful in that dress I will tell you I can’t wait to get it off you tonight ;)

Frankie! I’m in a church!

Frankie chuckled as the elevator bell rang again and it opened to the hotel lobby, now a lot quieter than it had been with all the guests already at the church that was attached to the side of the hotel.

Just heading over now, baby. See you soon.

It was barely a two minute walk to the church, quiet as the other three men let their friend sort his head up before the most important day of his life. The peace was disrupted with the church doors opening, the chatter halting for a moment as the heads turned and landed on Will and they followed him down the aisle. 

Frankie’s eyes immediately landed on you, one of your hands balancing your eldest daughter who was bouncing on the pew seat while the other held your youngest to your chest. He paused as he reached your row, leaning across and giving a kiss to Sofia’s cheek and the top of baby girl’s head before finding your lips.

“You look... beautiful,” he whispered.

“And you look very handsome,” you whispered back as he stood up.

Frankie winked at you before following his brothers to the front of the church. It was a quick blur as they settled and the music began, notifying everyone of the bride’s soon to be arrival. At some point not long after the ceremony began, Frankie’s mind wandered back to his own wedding day four years ago.

He remembered how sick with nerves he felt the morning of until you started your walk down the aisle to him. You looked beautiful as you do everyday but now, with the air an official of commitment between you both, his heart faltered. He remembers every single word shared between you both, how you wiped his tears away with your thumb as he stuttered through his vows, how wide you smiled when you were pronounced husband and wife before biting your lip and leaning forward for your first kiss as a married couple.

His eyes moved up to find you again. You were whispering something in Sofia’s ear, your arm around her shoulder and keeping her close against your side with the baby tight against your chest and your arm slightly rocking to keep her asleep. 

It was at this moment that a wave of contentness washed over him; looking at his perfect, little family that had brought him back from the darkest point in his life. His wife still looked at him with the same love and adoration as she did on their own wedding day. His eldest daughter looked at him like he could slay every monster and dragon like the ones in her storybooks, and he would if it meant she would be safe. His youngest always settled quickly in his arms, like those same hands hadn’t killed and hurt before.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, a small smile finding your lips. You mouthed those three words that you say to each other every day, which he returned knowing no one in the church was focused on him.

He had never felt the calmness that he was feeling in this moment before. For the first time he felt that somehow he maybe deserved the life that he had because no matter what he had done, in the army or on the grey legal area missions him and the guys had done since retirement, he loved the three of you more than anyone else would and he could protect you better than anyone else could. 

Now, with his three beautiful girls happy and healthy and safe, he knew what real contentness felt like.

//

Permanent tag // @phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @dihra-vesa @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday

#frankie morales #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales x you #frankie catfish morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie catfish morales x reader #Frankie Morales x female reader #fic #fanfic #headcannon #oneshot

[multific]

Project Winter (Part 3/3)

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping, Blood, Unwanted pregnancy

Project Winter Masterlist

Summary: Project Winter was Hydra’s great plan to success. The plan was to gather one of their best soldiers and replicate them in order to create the perfect army. And what better way to replicate than to reproduce?

You and Bucky managed to be unnoticed for a couple of weeks now. You two moved from city to city, slept in the car many times, or if you were lucky you found an abandoned place to spend the night in.

Just as now. 

Day after day, you were getting closer to New York. Today, Bucky brought you to an apartment complex and you broke into an empty apartment. You managed to bring your blankets along, so now, you were sleeping on those as Bucky was looking out the window, his rifle by his side. 

Morning sickness started to take a toll on you as it slowed both of you down. You could tell Bucky was very worried every time he found you in the bathroom. He also managed to get some normal food for you, since cans started to make you sicker. Bucky was very caring although he was a trained assassin. 

You knew you needed to get to a doctor to check up on you, but Bucky was not sure Hydra wouldn't have people everywhere, he told you, a doctor would check up on you once you are in New York with Steve and his team.

You heard so many good things about Steve, you were very curious now. He even shared with you some information about himself when you couldn't sleep.

Last night he told you the story of how he remembered his friend and the war. You cried your eyes out for the poor man. And you thought you had it bad. A few hours after you have fallen asleep, a very loud noise woke you up. 

Bucky now had his rifle in hand, pointed out the window.

"They found us," he said before he started firing.

As you gathered your things quickly, you heard Bucky fire more shots. You also noticed that no one from the other side was firing any shots.

"Get to the car," Bucky said as he covered you as you run out of the house back to the Jeep Bucky got last week. 

You heard fires being shot behind you but you didn't stop.

You were not going to let them take your baby. You got into the car just as everything went quiet. You watched as Bucky stood outside of the car, looking around for more enemies. You watched as he quickly rushed to a body and got the equipment off of them. He then rushed to you and into the car.

They almost got you, and you were already so close to New York. Bucky started the car and immediately drove off. 

"We will stop halfway and change the car. Tomorrow we will be in New York," he said as you placed your hand on his arm, silently thanking him.

The two of you were strangers, yes, but neither of you could deny the tiny life in you, made out of the two of you. Yes, the baby was a cruel experiment of an organization, yes, you had no choice in this. But at least it was with Bucky.

And yes, during the last month you managed to develop a crush on the soldier. After finding a new car, you were soon in New York. The large city was always on your list of cities to visit. Arriving in New York filled you with relief. You spent the last weeks running, hiding, and fighting. 

Things happened so fast, one moment you were in front of a very tall building, next, you were inside in a room with other people, you remembered the women's name but not the men's. Natasha and Wanda. 

They were both very kind to you and they brought you food and drinks. Bucky explained everything to them. All of it.

And they took you in right away. 

You got so much from them, you were sure you didn't deserve it. They gave you a room which had an amazing view, you were finally able to take a long bath in hot water and wash your hair properly. You were finally clean, and happy. Steve was just as Bucky painted him to be, kind, heroic, selfless, and handsome.

Of course, not as handsome as Bucky, but he was still a sight to behold. When Bucky told you about New York and his plan to bring you there you thought you won't be welcomed. But it was the complete opposite. You felt so welcomed and cared for, but that could also be due to the baby inside you, but you didn't mind. They were all good people. 

It was late at night, everyone was in bed, sleeping as they should, but you just couldn't fall asleep.

After the last weeks, you felt so alone. Bucky was always by your side, and now, he was sleeping on a completely different floor and room.

You got used to his closeness.

He was always by your side, keeping you and the baby safe as he promised. And you could talk only so much to your baby before you started to feel alone again.

About an hour later, you gathered your courage and decided to head to Bucky's room.

You got out of the bed and was about to pull the blanket with you when the door to your room opened, as you looked up in the dark first you saw metal shimmer in the moonlight.

"S-Sorry," he said as he took a step in and closed the door behind himself. "I just wanted to check on you, to be sure you are okay, didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay. You didn't,"

Silence.

Complete silence filled the room.

And this wasn't the normal, comfortable one, oh no, this was awkward and you were unsure what to do. 

"Do you want to... sleep here?" you ended up asking. Like a switch was turned on in him, he nodded and moved to the small couch next to your bed. "I meant... Here. But only if you want," you motioned for the space beside you. "I think the baby is missing you," 

Of course, using your baby as an excuse to get closer to Bucky might not be ethical. And you might miss him more than the little bean did, but who cares. It was a good excuse, and you were going to roll with it.

Bucky didn't need to be told twice. He rolled into the space beside you as he faced you. You could tell that he was on guard. Even if the Avenger's tower was safe, he couldn't relax.

You grabbed his hand and placed it on your belly. You offered him a smile which he reciprocated. 

Both of you slowly fell asleep like that.

***

You let out a long sigh before you pushed the person sleeping beside you.

"Your turn," you simply said as you heard the man groan, annoyed that his sleep was interrupted.

You fell right back to sleep after turning to your other side.

Bucky got out of the bed, and only when he was in the hallway did he woke up enough to hear the cries coming from the room next door.

He entered the little nursery.

"Darling, it's okay, daddy's here," he said, eyes still heavy with sleep. 

Bucky got his daughter out of her crib and started to calm her. Rubbing her back just as she liked it. 

But the barely three-month-old little girl didn't stop crying. So, with her in his arms, he headed to the kitchen for a bottle of milk.

However, when he opened the fridge, he found none. 

"Looks like we will have to wake mommy,"

You were in deep sleep when Bucky came into the room, but the cries of your little girl woke you up.

"We don't have any bottles," came the explanation and you knew what you needed to do.

Bucky handed her to you after you sat up against the headboard. 

"All that fuss for a little milk," you said as you stroked her cheeks. Bucky moved to sit next to you on the bed, with his night lamp on, he was watching the scene play in front of him.

Such an intimate moment and he enjoyed every second of it. Seeing his beautiful daughter with their mother was truly something the dangerous assassin never imagined he could see.

You turned your head and ran your hand down Bucky's cheek mimicking what you just did with your daughter. 

"I love it that she has your beautiful blue eyes," you said making Bucky laugh a little.

"You talk nonsense when you are sleepy, Honey."

You only smiled before your focus was back on your daughter. 

"You can go back to sleep, I've got her," you said but Bucky shook his head.

Not long after you arrived at the Avenger's tower, you and Bucky confessed your feelings to one another. Of course, a little push from Tony was there, after he saw you and Bucky get out of your room together one morning.

Tony was kind enough to give you and Bucky an apartment as your gift for the baby shower. Of course, it was too much and you couldn't possibly accept but he was adamant.

"For the young couple," he said obviously joking with Bucky's age. 

If someone would have told you a year ago that you would be taken by this organization, impregnated with a super soldier's baby, and then you would fall in love with the very same soldier, live in an apartment Tony Stark gave you, and you'd be planning your wedding because said super soldier asked you to be his wife in the hospital while you were giving birth,  you'd say they are crazy.

But this was your reality now. 

You had a beautiful daughter who you named after Bucky's sister, Rebecca, kindly nicknamed Becca. 

Bucky placed a kiss on your temple as he pulled you closer to him. Sure it was 3 am, sure you were in the middle of feeding your baby when you should have been asleep, but you were happy and that is all that mattered. 

Project Winter was an undeniable success, just not the kind Hydra wanted it to be.

The End...

Project Winter Masterlist

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​ v-2bucky ehsebastian crunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow​ ablogbypeteparker liamssmiler smexylemony @greenarrowhead​ feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace​ @sincerelyfan​ @theoneanna​ @aestheticsandmarvel​ @rororo06​ @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster​ celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll​ snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch​ @puknow​ crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith​​ @soleil-dor​ @alex12948​ scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred​

Project Winter Taglist: 1000heartbeats @piggyinthesea @vicmc624 @purplekitten30 @jessyballet @kooafraid​ @bluemoon-icecream-blog​ @aniia-x3​ @leyannrae​ @ironmansuucks​ @jamielovesbucky​ @intothesoul​ @pastel-boy-sungjae​ @gloryekaterina​ @itsybittsyhobbit

  ~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

My taglist is open!

Feedback is greatly appreciated. Thank You for reading my story!~

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes headcanon #daddy bucky #barnes x #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes preference #the falcon and the winter solider spoilers #winter solider x reader #winter solider imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #the winter soldier imagine #marvel #marvel headcanons #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #bucky imagines #bucky imagine #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x female reader

[anyoneseenadam]

That fenrys fic was divine 😭🔥 can I request something for him having a nightmare for the first time since he found his mate and she comforts him and reassure him ?a tiny bit of angst maybe 💔🤧

pairing: Fenrys x reader (throne of glass)

warnings: blood, violence, nightmares, character death (kinda), mainly fluff with a lil bit of angst

a/n: I completely stole the first half of this from a short story I wrote about Achilles lmao, also THANK YOU FENRYS IS AN ICON AND DESERVES ALL THE LOVE WHICH I AM HAPPY TO GIVE, hope u enjoy <3

(I did not proof read this because I am tired :))

——————————————————————————

Fenrys hands shook as they refrained from touching her, from pulling her in and wrapping himself around her, drowning in her hair, her skin, her clothes, her laugh, eyes, smile. She turned with a smirk and a cheeky eyebrow raise, beckoning him in. He lunged, grabbing her, ready to make true on his wish, staring in wonder as her solid form turned to mist in his hands as she moved further away. Her laugh drawing him in. And of course, he followed like the lost puppy he was, begging, and whining to return to comfort, home, safety. She was his home, and he would follow her to the ends of the world if it meant she stayed that way.

 She had moved again, this time into a series of winding corridors, the maze he called his heart, a maze she owned. He chased after her, but she was quick, twisting and turning through corridors and secret doors, the map laid bare for her to see as he stumbled blinding, led only be the light she left in her path and her infectious laughter. Finally, she reached a dead end, casually bracing herself against the cold walls, releasing an exhale of laughter through her nose. He slowed his pace to a walk as she smiled up at him through curling lashes, nothing but the faint smudge of rouge high on her cheeks concealing her natural face to him, which he proceeded to wipe with his thumb when he reached her, his build towering over hers.

 “Finished running, are you?” he mused quietly,

 “I knew you wouldn’t let me get too far,” she whispered back, lips tracing his jaw.

 “That’s because you hold my leash,” he allowed himself to concede, “always have, always will my darling.”

 She let out a sigh of agreement, before leaning to his ear, their bodies pressed so tightly together he could feel her heart beating in his own chest, as if they had swapped hearts giving the other all they were, all they could be.

 “There is no me without you.” She uttered the vows they had made that beautiful day, where she dressed as the angel he was sure she was. He leaned down to express his love, but she did not allow him to rest in her arms for long, pulling away with a giggle.

 “What?” he asked with a smirk, but she was already gone giggling behind him, the chase beginning again.

 But as he turned, blessed by the smile she gave him, all pearly white teeth and rosy cheeks, the warning shout he cried was not quick enough as a wash of deep red replaced the once pure and untainted white of her smile. Her mouth filling with blood, the sword protruding from her stomach like a handle. She stared at him questions not asked soon enough as she splutters up blood onto her previously fresh clothes, eyes full of fear, splitting his heart in half, the ground crumbling beneath his feet.

 He tried to run to her, hands grasping at air as he fell through the cracks in his own heart, a scream tearing from his throat as she was pulled from him, skin draining of colour and eyes turning black, full of hatred and contempt as she stared him down.

 His own scream woke him up, sweat and tears blending on his face like paint on a pallet, as he gripped her pillow and sobbed on their bed. He herded himself into the far corner of the bed, afraid when he realised she was not lying next to him, comforting words, and gentle hands ready to lull him back to sleep. Fear and sadness battled in his heart, the heart he had given her during the war, the heart she had held safely as she cut her way through armies to reach him again. The heart she had put back together with soft kisses and words of undying love. The heart she had tied to her own the day they wed and had kept pressed safely in her chest since.

 He looked now, tears blurring the image he was presented with, bookshelves filled with stories you promised you would read eventually, tubes of lipstick on the floor next to the frame of their mirror, tea left to go cold in mugs dotted around the room, sketches left to be forgotten on desks and ribbons tied haphazardly around bed posts.

 He saw all these signs of you, the clues you left him as he navigated your shared life. His eyes darted around the room, breath picking up when he couldn’t see you, pressing a hand to your side of the bed and finding it warm, his breathing only slowing a little.

 He stood, pulling on a pair of boxers, and grabbing two daggers he kept next to the bed as his mind filled with the worst possible scenarios. He slowly padded out the room, moving silently through the house and thinking of a million different ways to torture whoever had dared to touch you. The tears on his face had dried uncomfortably but it was the least of his worries as he stalked through his own home, fear clouding his judgement that argued you were probably safe.

 He heard movement in the kitchen and walked that way, footsteps light as he rounded to corner to a beautiful sight. His arms dropped as he took in the sight of you in nothing but his shirt, sipping from a glass of water, illuminated by the moons glow. You turned when he walked in, smiling at his but furrowing your eyebrows when you saw his facial expression and the knives in his hands.

 “Fenrys, what happened?” you asked, moving over to him as he threw his daggers down, arms encircling your waist as he breathed in your scent. “Fenrys please, you’re scaring me.”

 He pulled away from you and you reached up, stroking a hand down his face and looking up at him with nothing but concern in your eyes, eyes that were searching his for any clues of why he was acting this way.

“I though you were- I thought someone had,” he struggled to get the words out, pulling you even closer, one hand tangling itself in your hair as you furrowed your eyebrows at him, kissing his sharp jaw.

 “Slow down love, tell me what happened,” your soothing voice calmed him, his breath coming easier as you moved a hand to his shoulder, your loving grip grounding him.

 “I had a dream, then I woke up and you weren’t hear and I- I thought someone had taken you,” he whispered, eyes filling with tears as he pictured your lifeless eyes and limp body.

 “Oh my love, I’m sorry,” you pulled away from him, clasping his large hand in your smaller one and pulling him to your shared bedroom, “But you know I’m not easy to kidnap, I make too much noise.”  You joked, holding his hand to your mouth, and kissing it lightly as you walked over to your bed.

 He sat down first, and you stood between his legs, his arms wrapping tightly around you again. “Don’t joke about that,” he muttered into your stomach, but he couldn’t resist the smile forming.

 You pushed his head back and climbed into his lap, arms resting on his shoulders. “I mean honestly, if I ever got taken hostage I’m pretty sure I’d annoy them into letting me go, I’d just start explaining my top three reasons why every Jane Austen novel contains gay subtext.”

 “Or you could explain to them the tier list you and Aelin made of all the men you know.” Fenrys laughed as your eyes lit up.

 “I forgot about that!” you exclaimed and Fenrys laughed, lying down, and pulling you with him as he tickled your sides, revelling in your squeals as you batted your hands at him.

 When you calmed down, breathing quickly you rolled off Fenrys as he nestled himself between your breasts, holding you close.

 “Please never leave me,” he whispered into your chest as he listened to the steady beat of your heart as it created a song just for him. The vulnerability in his voice broke you and you moved a hand to his head, stroking lightly.

“Never.” You spoke with such surety that Fenrys let out the exhale he had been holding in. “I am never going to leave you, I’m always going to be by your side.”

“I love you so much, so much when I thought you were gone, I felt sick. I can’t do this without you.” He whispered into your skin. “Sometimes I’m scared that one day I’ll wake up and all this will have been a dream. And I’ll have to lie with Maeve again and kill for her and watch her hurt Conall and it will be so much worse, because I’ll remember this softness, I’ll remember you and maybe one day I’d find you and you wouldn’t recognise me, and for the rest of my life I’d think of you, of the woman I never got to love.”

“This is real.” You whispered, kissing his head, and ignoring the tears welling in your eyes, “I’m real, you’re real. We’re real Fenrys.”

He didn’t reply, just buried his face deeper into your chest, addicted to the feel of your heartbeat. The constant reminder that you were here, you were alive. After he lost his brother you noticed Fenrys had become clingier, you initially presumed it was just because he was in mourning and needed comfort but one night he had drunkenly confessed his biggest fear to you. The nightmares he would have where you left him, told him you hated him, and the worst of all, the nightmares in which he watched your life be cruelly ripped from you. He could live with you hating him and leaving him, knowing that somewhere in the world you were safe and breathing, but everyday he feared your death.

The mornings he would wake up and find you wincing, a hot water bottle pressed into your lower stomach, the thought of you in any form of pain ripping into him, making his heartbeat faster and his palms sweat. The powerful warrior brought to his knees for you, but you were always quick to reassure him with kisses and promises of staying in bed all day.

As he breathed in your scent now and listened to your heartbeat, happily surrounded by you and only you, he allowed himself to relax under you soft touch, his own heart slowing to beat with yours as the fear slowly melted from him.

He needn’t fear your death, as he knew that he would never let you die. No, instead he would always fall before you, sacrifice his own life, any life if it meant you survived. You were a Goddess sent to bless him and he would fall to worship before you, always.

#acofas #acomaf #acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #acowar #acofs #acosf