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vilsoo · 25 days

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CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, SPIDER

⸻ 🕷️‧₊˚ ⋅ spiderman!gojo satoru x black cat!reader obsessed with the hunt more than the prey, you love making satoru chase you. maybe one day you’ll let him catch you…

TAGS. robbery, theft, chase scene, sexual tension, teasing, dirty talk, flirting, eventual rough smut, slight stalking, use of petnames (cat, kitty, etc), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, switchy!gojo, switchy!reader, WC: 3,670

gojo has never met anyone as reckless as you.

it was always in your nature to be so cunning, playful, and whimsical just to get what you want. but there was much more about you that he’ll forever admire; your intelligence, proficiency, skills, and agility as his partner alongside. you used to work together professionally, taking down criminals and carrying out missions while also having an intimate relationship together.

but aside your flirtatious, provocative side that gojo also had a thing for, you were still a criminal deep down.

he strongly believed that he could have a positive influence on you and not live the rest of your life as a thief. but your criminal instincts always got the best of you; you valued your independence and desires more than anything, enjoying your luxurious life of crime as a relentless and manipulative burglar. when gojo caught you stealing from the criminals you both fought, everything had to end that day from such betrayal. your mistrust and moral ambiguity was too much for him to handle as spiderman.

as the years gone by of working alone and saving the city millions of times now, you still come and go across gojo’s mind. you were nowhere to be found and unable to track no matter how hard he looked. as badly as he misses you alongside with him, he just couldn’t handle the conflicting loyalties, trust issues, and moral differences between you two. but there was no doubt that he still has love for you deep down… he’d often wonder what were to happen if you were to ever cross paths again.

“there’s been suspicious activity going down at the art museums and large bank corporations in tokyo and shibuya. many valuable art pieces have gone missing along with over 70 million yen robbed in just a blink of an eye…”

it was currently 12:07am in tokyo. gojo made his way inside the tokyo national museum while it was closed, checking if every art piece were still intact including the security protocols. he knew he wasn’t really supposed to be sneaking inside here, but he’s dedicated on catching this thief, even if it’ll piss the police off for stealing their job (like he always dowes) and taking care of things in his own way. but that’s how gojo rolls— technically considered as a vigilante, he’ll always be a menace to some people in the city, even the ones in authority. if only he wasn’t so whimsical and cocky about being better than the cops at doing their jobs sometimes…

as gojo was scanning the museum, nothing seemed out of place. even his spidey-sense couldn’t recognize any kind of movement, danger, or threat nearby. the showcase room with tokyo’s national treasures all looked perfectly fine— but it wasn’t until he passed by the katana displays.

a tiny black cat figure was sitting on the silk drape where the 10th-century crescent moon blade was supposed to be. though he was alert that an artifact was already missing, he couldn’t help but wonder what kind of trick this was. but when a click from the black cat went off, a demure voice recording started playing.

“hey, spider. been thinking about you a lot lately. it’s just boring living alone in this new house… maybe some new decorations wouldn’t hurt. like the crescent moon katana, one the five swords under heaven. i think it’d look lovely on my shelves, don’t you think?”

your voice heightened every nerve of his body as if his inhibitions were tossed out the window. his head darted at every corner of the showcase room, looking for cameras or even a sign of you lurking in the shadows. every thought of his was consumed by flashbacks of you; your scent that drives him crazy, your touch that drives him wild, your flirtatious side that gojo just couldn’t get enough of… all of your memories flooded right back into his head.

“black cat,” gojo marveled, suddenly coming back to his senses after realizing you were alive this whole time. “i should’ve known— 70 million yen in just one night? i didn’t think there’d be anyone that skilled to pull that off better than you can. still been a bad kitty, haven’t you?”

“aw. are you flirting with me already? seems like you missed me,” you teased through the speaker on the black cat toy.

“you ghosted me for months and here i find you again; catching you stealing art or starting your own heist,” he exasperated. “what’s it gonna take for you to actually stop stealing art?”

you couldn’t help but admire gojo through the security cameras; he still looked as good as the last time you left him. “you already know me, spider. my morals aren’t ever aligned with yours. now, you gonna get out of there and catch me or wait until the security system gets triggered?”

suddenly, the alarm went off right after you already made your escape out of the museum. cursing under his suit, gojo had to find a way out and avoid the red flashing lights and cameras. from the window, he can see you swinging with your grappling hook out from the museum and into the city.

“quick! check everything,” a man’s voice echoed down the hall when a rush of dozen security guards scurried into the showcase room.

gojo had to immediately attach onto the ceiling and hide in plain sight, looking for any nearby exits as quick as he could before you could get away this time. when he found a sunroof window that can be pushed open, he made his way out and started swinging towards the direction you were going.

it didn’t even take long for him to find you; he knew exactly what you were doing; making your way through the cityscape and pretending that he wasn’t following right behind you from a distance. you really wanted to get caught. or maybe you were luring him right where you wanted him to be…

“oh, you’re still with me!” you pretend to act shocked as you looked behind your shoulder, hauling yourself onto a crane and staying higher above him. you wanted to keep him at a distance where he can’t reach you, but he can follow you until you reached your hideout.

gojo grunted, remembering the fact that you can swing a little faster than him. “i can go all night if that’s what it takes!” he shouts.

“all night with me? is that a promise, satoru?”

“you naughty girl. still trying to flatter your way out of this?”

“oh, but you love when i do that!”

the two of you kept swinging through the city, through the streets, and even underground where all the train stations were busy. as exhausted as he was, he was still dedicated to reach you. maybe even capture you and pin you down with his webs for running away from him. as you swung through a darkened alleyway, gojo managed to draw closer and was preparing to shoot a web to temporarily stop you. but at the end of the alleyway, you suddenly disappeared. he landed on a window with a loud thud and panted heavily, looking everywhere for you.

“damnit,” he cursed under his breath. “where’d she go?”

as gojo crawled across the building’s windows and was about to haul himself over onto the rooftop, he peaked over and instantly recognized your shoes. you were heading through the doors of the building that appeared to be the balcony of a fancy penthouse, looking behind your shoulder with a smirk on your face before heading inside.

you were a naughty, yet clever girl in gojo’s eyes.

as quiet and sneaky he could be, he landed on the balcony and swung on top of your penthouse’s windows to not be seen. gojo had a sense that you knew he was watching— but then again, this is exactly you wanted. purposely discarding what you stole from today’s heist, you knew there was something else that you desired besides all that money and fancy artifacts you stole. you feigned oblivious about gojo literally stalking you. it made you want to spice things up a bit…

you whirled around to face your body mirror and slowly zipped down your latex black suit. slowly stripping down for him, as if you were throwing a little show— even the neighbors across the building could also enjoy. but you took pleasure and thrill from teasing gojo like this, always from a distance where it’ll tempt him to draw closer to you. he loved how coy you tried to play for him. maybe he wanted to get you back and give you the attention you were wanting. as he crawled on your large windows and made his way on the rooftop, he entered through your open sunroof window and landed in the middle of your living room with a loud thud.

but as he scanned the inside of your penthouse, you were gone. nowhere to be found in the last place he saw you. of course, you were wildly unpredictable to him. always pulling your own tricks and surprising him off guard. it wasn’t until it was too late before his spidey-sense could warn him that you were attacking him from his peripheral vision— before he could pull a move and defend himself from you jump attacking him, you grab his arm and flip him over on his back, straddling him as he grunted in pain.

“woah. breaking and entering now, spider?” you huffed as you hovered your masked face above his. “i don’t think it’s fair that i get in trouble for it but you don’t.”

“trouble?” gojo scoffed. “you’ve caused enough trouble for me tonight, sweetheart. i played your little game and chased you down the whole city. and now i finally caught you just like you wanted me to.”

your lips curl into a smirk as your gloved hand slowly caresses his chest. your suit wasn’t even zipped down all the way, only revealing more of your cleavage that gojo definitely couldn’t take his eyes off of.

“technically you didn’t catch me. i caught you— stalking me through my windows and watching me undress myself? maybe i’m not the only naughty one here…”

“oh, please. what exactly did you gain from stealing and making me chase you all the way to your penthouse? ‘cause i know exactly what you’re doing right now…”

the tone in gojo’s voice falls from stern to sultry, feeling your heartbeat grow rapid in just a fleeting moment. there was this unexplainable affect that gojo had on you when you two were together. he’d evoke such strong sensations that you never knew you were capable of feeling, like tempting you to go straight and become a hero like him to fight alongside with. as a thief and wanted criminal, it’s palpable that good boys like gojo satoru were your type… you may have loved him, but you couldn’t love anything more than the hunt and the luxury.

your faces were just mere inches away from each other; you still memorize his prominent features that you adorned like how you memorized dozens of safe codes. but as gojo fixates his gaze onto you underneath his mask, you have eroded his senses once again, the way your dark mystery drizzles into his skin. he couldn’t fight nor deny how effortlessly you beguile him, wrapping him in some sort of spell. he fumbled several missions in the past just to kiss your pretty face, to sneak away on rooftops and get down to business from how crazy you make him, and developing serious romantic feelings for you that he was willing to make you more than just his girlfriend and partner— if only you had not betrayed him…

“don’t you miss this, satoru?” you cooed to his ear as your hand makes its way to the neckline of his mask. he can feel the way your fingers slipped underneath, gently caressing his neck and wanting to lift it just to reveal lips.

gojo would be lying if he said he didn’t. hot flashbacks of all the times you two made love and fucked each other hard in the past started running through his mind it was impossible to evade. he missed you deeply; he could never fight off the irresistible effect you have on him.

“you brought me all the way here for a reason. might as well make the most of it, right?”

suddenly, gojo pushes your body off his and hovered above you now, snatching his mask off and tossing it away in urgency as he kisses you. he can feel the way your lips stretch into a smile as you kiss back, immediately wrapping your legs around him and running your fingers through his snow-white hair. your body falls weak from his knee pressing between your legs, remembering your ultimate weakness.

gojo’s mouth made its way from your lips to the side of your neck, holding back from kissing your collarbone to get one good look at you one more time. his ultimate weakness was your luscious, expensive scent— whatever perfume you had was like a strong pheromone to him, sending his mind into a haze. but he still managed to remain in control, no matter how dominant you tried to act towards him.

“if you’re gonna strip for me, why didn’t you finish, hm? you wanted me rip your suit off for you or what?”

“do it, spider. i dare you,” you taunt, subtly biting your lip.

gojo chuckled, shaking his head in response to not giving you what you want. “nah… i don’t think i should ruin it. do what you did earlier and strip for me while i watch you.”

even if you wanted to act all defiant and bratty towards him and not give him what he wants, there was a part of you that wanted to throw a little show for him. gojo sat down on your sofa with his arms propped on the back cushions, slightly manspreading. you always knew how truly perverted he was underneath that “hero” facade he has for the public, which is why you fell for him.

as you stood in front of him with a smirk, you slowly pulled down the zipper to your suit. gojo watched in silent amusement watching the sleeves fall from your shoulders, slowly revealing your tits and your laced thong, all the way until your black leather suit pools around your ankles.

“‘atta girl,” he says, shifting himself on the sofa from how uncomfortable his boner was under his spider suit. “not so hard following directions, am i right?”

“following directions is not the only thing hard for me right now…” your gaze lands on his crotch, prompting you to get on your knees and crawl right between his open legs, making him nervous. “poor spider. looks like there’s something else that needs to be taken care of.”

now you were back in control of gojo, who had to hide his face flushing red from your hands caressing his inner thighs. you looked so fucking sexy to him, even when you’re teasing him on your knees right in your penthouse living room with the police probably on the search for both of you right now. he lets you pull down the lower seam of his suit as he slips off the top part and discards everything on your floor, finally taking in his heavenly body and strong physique that you admired for the longest. it felt like old times, with both of you half-naked and craving deep intimacy one last time.

“i really did miss you, cat,” gojo murmured, peering deep into your eyes.

you get up off your knees and straddled him, feeling his soft hands glide down your bare back and caressing your waist. “i missed you too, satoru.”

he lets out a sigh when he feels the wet spot on your panties subtly rub on his aching cock poking through his briefs. “if i make you come multiple times tonight… will you promise to be a good girl and stop stealing?”

“is that another way of telling me you want to fuck my brains out right now?” you teased, subtly grinding your hips on him. “fine, i’ll oblige. you did promise to go all night with me.”

and as the night went on, gojo really fulfilled his promise of fucking you multiple rounds, multiple positions, and multiple orgasms. hell, you lost count that it was probably way more than him. it astounded you that he was lasting this long with you compared to when you two were together; always this sweet, shy, and submissive boy for you that couldn’t last two rounds because of how you were always in control. sure, after he was bitten by the radioactive spider that gives him his strength and super powers, he was still sensitive and more prone to orgasms because of his heightened senses. but now that time has passed and you haven’t seen each other in a long time, it seems that his stamina has increased dramatically.

your orgasms were way more intensified that you lost all coherence from how mindblowing gojo kept fucking into you much further and faster, wrapping his large hand around your throat from behind and slightly choking you. never have you been so turned on you couldn’t see straight.

“you can take it all, cockslut,” he huffed in your ear. “just can’t stop coming all over my cock, eh? you miss when i turn you into my dumb little whore?”

you tried to reply, but your words slurred and your thoughts were mush. all you could do was moan pathetically as lust speared through you from his words. your head grew so hazy with intensity that the world around you started spinning. you looked like you were in a daze, your face all glossy and sweaty from him fucking your throat so roughly and coming all over your face earlier.

gojo chuckles, harshly slapping your ass and pulling your hips back and forth on his cock. you could hear his animalistic groans and growls filling your ears from how fucking good you felt clenching around him. “i need to hear you say yes. c’mon, kitty. be an obedient slut for me.”

“y— yes, satoru,” you whined, almost squirming in his grasp when he started playing with your clit from behind. “i like— i like being your dumb… little whore…”

gojo can feel his orgasm building inside you as well that he had the urge to pin your head down on the cushions while roughly slapping his hips onto your ass. he loved the way your ass was rippling with every harsh thrust and every harsh slap.

“fuck, cat. i’m gonna come inside your cunt if you keep throbbing on me like that,” he grunted. “will you promise to stop stealing from now on? i’ll give you one more orgasm if you promise for me…”

your back was arched all the way as your moans were muffled by your cushions. you couldn’t stop drooling either that it left a few marks. “i— i promise…! please, please come with me, satoru. come inside me again, i need it…”

the way you kept begging and became so feral had gojo immediately lose himself, shooting hot, sticky white strings of cum into your womb. your cunt couldn’t stop flexing and tightening all over his cock as if you were trying to push him out from such an intense orgasm. sweat was trickling down the both of your skins, bodies flashing hotter than ever as you both collapsed on your cool sofa. gojo laid down on top of you, feeling the rapid beating of his heart and hearing him catching his breath. he looked so adorable that you ran your fingers through his hair, wanting nothing but to indulge in this sweet, intimate moment of cuddling just like old times.

“do you really mean it?” he suddenly murmurs.

“…mean what?”

“you promise you won’t ever steal again?” gojo hovered above you, his expression so profound as he peered deeply into your eyes, like there really was a chance of hope and redemption for you. that was all he ever really wanted; for you to be his partner alongside again, to make you a hero again and utilize your talents for helping people other than yourself.

but then again, you were unpredictable to the spider. there was nothing you loved more than the chase.

“hm. and what if i break that promise?” you smirked. “what are you gonna do if i steal again?”

“then… i��ll just have to tie you up next time and teach you a lesson,” he mirrored your smirk. “but i bet you’d love that, so… maybe i’d have to turn you in, then.”

“i’m kidding satoru. i don’t ever break promises,” you confide, softly caressing his face. “i promise to be by your side and not steal. we can be together just like old times… but only one condition.”

“…which is?”

“spend the nights with me here, satoru,” you whispered fondly. “i don’t wanna be alone every night again.”

gojo planted sweet kisses on your forehead, on both sides of your face, and on your lips, slowly turning into a passionate make-out session. “if that’s what it takes for you to never steal again… i’ll stay with you. promise.”

it was a shame, though. how gullible that spiderman, gojo satoru, could be sometimes. because that following morning when gojo was still sound asleep on your bed, you had to take your leave before the police arrived right at your location where all the missing stuff were hiding. you left a kiss mark on the side of his face with black lipstick and another black cat toy right beside him. as quiet and sneaky you could be, you escaped through your sunroof with a smirk on your face, not looking back on gojo who was soon to be framed for stealing.

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #spiderman!gojo satoru #black cat!reader #spiderman fic #black cat spiderman

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cinnamoodles · 2 months

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what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever.

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !

#🐋 . . . charlotte speaks !#anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton netflix #anthony bridgerton x you #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton fic rec #bridgerton fics

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peterman-spideyparker · 4 months

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Drunk on You (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Court, aka @chvoswxtch, is a talented genius amazing superstar talent whose fic "ours." has consumed my mind all week and has inspired me. I hope I've done you proud, and I hope you like it! :)

Summary: Yours and Matt's relationship is still relatively new, but it's different in every conceivable way, and it's amazing. His plans for a nice romantic night in, however, get thrown for a loop before you arrive, and all he can think of is you.

Warnings: Fluff, Foggy and Karen being Foggy and Karen, shameless smut (talk of birth control and side effects, f!receiving oral, fingering, m!receiving oral, protected p in v sex, failed attempt at bondage, dirty talk, praise), swearing, these guys are basically soulmates, okay, they're in love and have thought about a future together and there's a whole detailed world for them in my head

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page

Word Count: 3,586

Matt’s hands slide over his watch face for the time. “Do you guys think you can handle things here for the rest of the day?” he asks his friends.

“I think we can handle it,” Foggy hums, taking in the quiet office space around them. “You have a date with that girl, don’t you? Or is it a different one?”

“Nope, it should be the same girl,” Karen says. “It’s still within the time frame.”

Matt furrows his brows as he turns toward his friends. “Time frame?”

“Do we really need to go over this again, Mr. Serial Dater?” Foggy sighs. “How many girls did you see last year alone?”

“I don’t—.”

“Ten,” Karen supplements. “I mean, technically, it was nine because you dated the same girl twice, but they all fizzled out just as soon as they started. None of them lasted over two months.”

“And that’s not counting hookups we don’t know about. If my math is right, we’re almost at the two month mark in—.” Foggy turns to look at the calendar hanging on the wall to confirm. “—about a half of a week.”

“Thank you for the countdown, Father Time, but I don’t see that happening with her. She’s different.”

“Do we at least get her name? Since she’s so different than the others, that is,” Karen tries hopefully, and Matt can tell she’s eagerly biting her lip.

“(Y/N),” he concedes. “Her name is (Y/N). (Y/N/N).”

“Ooh, full name and a nickname. Are you treating (Y/N) to a fancy night out?” Foggy asks.

“Nope,” Matt grins, sliding on his jacket.

“Oh?” Karen hums. “Finally going to bring her to Josie’s?”

“So you guys can just happen to stroll in? No,” Matt continues to smile. “Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s where we met.”

“So, no fancy restaurant, no Josie’s . . .”

“I’m cooking for her at my place tonight. Happy now?”

Foggy and Karen ooh at him like a bunch of fifth graders.

“Well, here’s hoping she’s a heavy sleeper in case you hear a bank robbery across town and need to suit up.”

“Well, she knows.”

He can tell the way that they look at him, absolutely stunned. “Knows?” Karen repeats.

Matt puts his fingers up by his head to mimic his devil horns.

“EXCUSE ME?” Foggy shouts.

“It’s a long story, guys, and I have a dinner to prepare.”

“Let us know when the wedding is!” Foggy shouts as Matt leaves the office. “Knows . . . She knows! . . .”

Matt finishes plating the food before lighting the candles on the table, blowing out the match as he freezes in his tracks. His senses are good—he can always tell when you’re near, even though you haven’t been seeing one another long. But this time, even though you’re about a block away, it feels like you’re so much closer. Your scent is much stronger than usual. It’s not perfume, shampoo, or detergent clinging to your dress—it’s you. Matt can practically taste you on his tongue when he lets out a deep breath through his mouth, and it drives him wild. His thoughts are fuzzy, and all he can think of is how he wants his hands on you, dragging over every dip and curve of your body right until he’s between—.

Matt practically jumps out of his skin when you rap at his door. With one more deep breath and a quick adjustment to his pants, he makes his way to the door, swinging it open and greeting you with a warm smile. As soon as the door is even open a crack, you drown his senses. He feels almost drunk, and he just wants you.

“Hi,” he smiles, leaning in for a kiss. You meet him halfway, pressing your front flush against his, resting a gentle hand on his waist. He pulls you in even further, desperately trying to deepen the kiss. You smile and giggle into the embrace before you lean back and look up at him.

“Hello to you, too,” you smile. “It smells really good in here, and you look like quite the chef with your sleeves all rolled up and a towel over your shoulder.”

“You like the look, hm?” he teases, closing the door close and kissing your neck some more as he walks you into the loft.

“I do. I like it so much, I almost dropped the bottle of wine I brought, especially if you keep kissing that spot.”

He pulls back and kisses the top of your head. “Well, I’m glad you’ve both survived this far.” Matt, on the other hand, is barely holding on. Every second that you’ve been here—the whole 90 of them—he’s had to restrain himself from jumping on you the way he so desperately wants.

“How about we sit first?” Matt hums, giving your arm a squeeze.

“You’ve plated everything. I’d hate for the food to get cold. This looks lovely.” You lean over, kissing his cheek. As your lips leave his skin, he turns into you, kissing you deeply before dragging his embraces down your neck and up to the sweet spot behind your ear, humming in delight as he takes you in and kisses your skin. You let out a soft moan, your knees buckling slightly as you lean into him and hold onto his body.

“‘m pretty sure that this is supposed to happen after dinner,” you swallow, your fingers desperately holding onto his arms.

“Dinner can wait. You smell too good,” he murmurs into your skin, taking the wine from your hand and putting it on the island.

“I—!”

You suck in a breath in surprise when his hands travel low and squeeze at your hips.

“You smell good,” he repeats, his voice dipping low. “Better than dinner—better than it tastes.”

Your hands have a mind of their own, moving up his arms, letting your fingers rake through his hair.

“Matt . . .” you breathe. He can sense how your heart races as you hold him close.

“I can stop if you want to,” he hums, dragging his kisses down along your collarbone. “But I really don’t want to angel.”

You let out a sigh that goes straight to his cock. “I-I don’t have anything,” you tremble, and Matt notices a slight edge of something else in your voice. You sound a little nervous, but it’s not like the two of you haven’t had sex before. There’s been a few times where you’ve done just this—throw your date plans out the window to just spend the night exploring one another’s bodies over and over until you’re both so worn you turn into a tangled mess of limbs in bedsheets. And then it clicks for him. Your smell being extra strong, your elevated temperature, your racing heart, and now the slight nervous tremble in your voice. You’ve been together for two months, and he’s been with you around the time of your period, and even during your period, but as he wracks his brain to work on timelines, he’s positive there’s only one solution.

You’re ovulating.

And you know it.

Matt pulls back slowly, his hands still on your hips as you face him. He desperately works to find your eyes, even though he knows he’ll never be able to, not in the way he wants.

“And you’re . . . you’re not on . . .?” He doesn’t want to finish the sentence—it makes him feel slimy asking that, but he wants to hear you say it rather than conclude based on assumption, even if that assumption is rooted in everything your body is telling him.

“I-I’m not,” you confirm. “The side effects and stories I’ve heard from friends . . .” You shrug. “It didn’t seem worth it. As contraception or a way to help with periods.” He senses another shift in you, but this one is different. You’re embarrassed, ashamed even.

“Hey,” Matt says softly, kissing you tenderly. “It’s your body. You need to do what’s best for it.”

You nuzzle into his touch, and he lets out a little hum. “I just hate to have killed the mood. Especially since I smell so irresistible, apparently. And those kisses were pretty damn nice.”

Matt can hear how you smile while you speak when an idea comes to his mind.

“What’s that face?” you smirk, holding onto him adoringly.

“We can still keep the mood going. I mean, I have condoms, but, if you don’t want to use them, I have another idea. All you have to do is sit down and look pretty for me.”

You eagerly bite your lip, making Matt chuckle. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips before leading you to his bedroom.

“Sit down for me, angel,” he hums. “And spread your legs nice and wide for me.”

With a smile, you do as he asks as he softly kisses up your thighs, moving back and forth between each leg until he’s the apex, pressing a large open-mouthed kiss to your covered core. You take in a sharp breath as he slowly kisses and licks at you. For just how badly Matt wants you, he’s surprised and impressed with the restraint he’s showing. You whimper and moan as he begins to set his pace, one of your hands moving to his head and tugging on his hair, urging him to get closer. Between your arousal and his mouth, your panties are absolutely soaked within minutes.

“Hey,” you whine as he removes his mouth from you. “I was enjoying that.”

“I know,” he grins, sliding his hands up your legs until his thumbs hook around your panties and slide them down your legs before tossing them up behind you on the bed. “Those are mine, now.”

You chuckle, your laughs turning into a moan when he reattaches his lips to your dripping core. Your sounds are louder, more unrestrained now that his lips are on your dripping ones. The way you squirm against Matt’s face only eggs him on, the rotations of your hips are only helping drive your scent further into his nose, injecting pure you into his body. Wet sounds fill the room, even with his face as buried deep as it is, and he can sense the way you lean back more and more until you’re flat on your back on the mattress, still managing to pull at his hair while he eats you out. You’re done for as soon as he slips two fingers in you. You tremble with an intense orgasm as you cry out so hard, Matt can tell it hurts your lungs a little. You squeeze his head with your thighs, and Matt uses his free hand to grip onto your hip and hold you closer, bringing him on the verge of suffocation by pussy—which wouldn’t be the worst way to go, if he’s being honest.

Matt continues to lick and slurp up your juices, pushing you into overstimulation territory, your mews still music to his ears but with a tinge of discomfort, but not before you cum again and coat his face with your delicious release. Moving his lips off of your clit, he gently licks up your mess, pressing kisses all over your pelvis before lifting his head up above the skirt of your dress.

“Better than anything I could’ve cooked,” he grins as he proudly wears your slick on his face. “So good, I want to go back for seconds.”

“You gotta give me a second, tiger,” you breathily laugh, caressing the side of his face, and he desperately turns his head to kiss your palm. “Maybe while I recoop, you can get some condoms? Or at least put the dinner in the fridge so we don’t get poisoned when we get around to actually eating it.”

Matt smiles and pounces on you, caging your body beneath his before holding your face in his hands as he kisses you. You giggle and chase his lips happily, and Matt slips his tongue into your mouth to let you taste yourself even better. You squeal in delight as he presses you into the mattress, and he feels like a giddy teenager in love.

Shit. He loves you.

He was pretty sure he did—from the moment he met you, he didn’t want to even think about dating anyone else. And call it the pheromones he’s undoubtedly drunk on right now, but he doesn’t see himself being with anyone but you for the rest of his life.

“What’s on your mind, pretty boy?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, and he can tell you’re looking at him as if he’s all the stars in the sky.

Yeah, he loves you.

“You,” he hums. “I got lucky, getting you in my life.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.” This time, it’s your turn to pull him down for a sweet kiss, and Matt feels as if his heart might explode.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmurs against your lips. “Stay just like this.”

“Kay,” you hum.

Matt presses one more kiss to your lips before he scurries out of his room, blowing out the candles, putting the plates in the fridge, and grabbing a box of condoms from his bathroom. When he comes back into his room, he finds you in the same spot he let you, pure relaxation covering you from your head to your toes.

“You’ve got the stuff,” you smirk, and Matt can’t help but do the same.

“I do,” he hums as he walks back to you, sitting on the mattress, leaning you up to snuggle into his side. “Are you sure you want to do this tonight? Because trust me, as much as I want to do this with you right now, I can wait until a better time. I don’t mind sticking my head back down between your legs and spending the rest of the night there. I’ll be just as happy there.”

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning into his body and kissing him. “I’m sure. And trust me, if that’s what you eat pussy like when I’m ovulating, I can’t wait to feel how you fuck me. No way I’m waiting to experience that.”

The last part seems to slip out past your lips before you can realize it, and you both know what it implies. A small smile pulls at the corners of Matt’s lips, and he leans forward to kiss you again before you have a chance to feel embarrassed, resting his forehead on yours. That’s not a conversation for tonight, but he’s touched that you’ve even considered it. “Alright, if you’re sure,” he whispers. “But you need to open the package.”

“I will, but first . . .” You straddle his lap and push him down on the mattress. “I think I need to take care of that painful looking bulge in your pants.”

Matt licks his lips in anticipation, listening to how you work yourself over him. You lean over, kissing and sucking a little mark into his neck before you unknot his tie and unbutton his shirt.

“Do you trust me, Matt?” you ask.

“Completely,” he smiles.

Taking his tie, you gently move his hands up above his head and begin to knot his fabric around his wrists.

“Is it too tight?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face as if you’re clearing his line of sight.

“‘s perfect,” he assures. “So are you.”

He can sense how you blush before you lean down and kiss him, softly dragging embraces down his exposed skin until you get to his pants, undoing his belt and sliding it off, and taking care of his pants, sliding it off his hips, leaving him exposed. He’s painfully hard—he’s surprised he didn’t cum in his pants while he was up to his eyeballs in (Y/N). He sucks in a breath between his teeth when your hand wraps around him, giving him some gentle pumps before you lean down and start to use your mouth. You press feather-light kisses on the underside of his shaft, licking his frenulum and gently caressing his balls. You get the tip of him in your mouth, so warm and wet, he swallows hard.

“Wait,” he begs. “‘m not gonna last if you keep going like that.”

You smirk as you bring your mouth down toward his base before you let your hot breath spread over him.

“We both know that this isn’t the first time you’ll be cumming tonight, Matty,” you hum.

You lick along the vein in his shaft until you’re back at the tip, opening your mouth and going down on him. Matt cries out at the top of his lungs, his hips bucking up as he lets out his release. He breaks out of the satin restraint, his hands moving to the sides of your face, not to force you down, but just to have his hands on you. When you finish sucking him dry, you pull off, licking your lips before you swallow.

“I’m offended. You broke out of my knot,” you chuckle.

“Sorry,” he says with a blissed, dopey smirk.

“No, don’t apologize. It was hot. Like, really hot. Like, we’re going to have to do something like that in the future hot.”

“Are we now?”

“Mmm. Now, where’d you put that box of condoms?”

Leaning over, you grab the box and pull out the foil package, tearing it open while he gets up and takes off the rest of his clothes before you carefully slide on the latex.

“Sweetheart, I think you’re a little overdressed,” he hums as his hands slide up under your dress.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” you grin.

His hands grip the zipper, pulling it down the track before sliding it off of your body, his hands then deftly moving to remove your bra.

“There we go,” he smiles before leaning in and taking one of your breasts into his mouth, letting himself get lost in the soft, supple flesh. You both roll around in the bed until you’re under him, Matt sliding into you.

“Aah!” you cry out, your fingers grabbing a bruising grip onto his shoulders. It gets stronger the further that he pushes into you. Even with two orgasms and plenty of your arousal dripping from between your legs, you’re still so tight.

“That’s it,” he hums. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, sweetheart.”

“Fuck!” you cry out, throwing your head back as you scratch angry red lines down his back.

“A little more, angel, you can do it. You can do it . . . Good girl, just like that.”

You both let out a grunt when he bottoms out in you, taking a moment to adjust.

“Just say the word for me, and I’ll start moving.”

“I-I need you,” you say almost immediately. “Matt, please, start moving. D-Don’t hold back.”

He takes your face in his hands, kissing you deeply before he starts thrusting. He does as you ask, not starting slow like he has in your past sexual encounters. Your moans and cries are music to his ears, spurring him on to go even faster, making you cry out louder.

“Matt!” you cry with a guttural moan. “Yes! You’re so deep!”

“Made f’me,” Matt growls as he throws your legs up over his shoulders and folding you in half. “Mine.”

“Yours! I’m yours!”

Matt slithers a hand up your body, mapping out your soft skin with his touch until his hand is around your neck, holding your jaw, fingers spread before giving it a light squeeze. He listens to how your body reacts immediately, your warm, wet, tight cunt squeezing his cock as a response as you moan and bite your lip.

Matt’s going to have fun with that fact.

“Are you ready to cum, sweetheart?” he coos as he slams into you so hard, he’s pretty sure that your cunt might be permanently stretched and remolded to match the shape of his cock. “Can you cum around my cock for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper, one of your hands dropping to his forearm, giving it a squeeze. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop! Make me cum—make me cum hard! Just don’t stop!”

Matt lowers himself to kiss you deeply, your bodies a tangled, squished mess as he keeps pounding into you. You hold onto his face desperately, deepening the connection and the kiss until you open your mouth to let out an unbridled cry of pleasure. It hurts his ears, but what a sound to go deaf to. His hand slides from your neck, moving to higher up on your waist as he kisses you through your high, his sweaty forehead eventually falling to the crook of your neck as he experiences his own release.

The two of you are a panting, sweaty mess, tangled together and coming back to your senses while he softens inside of you. A few minutes pass, and he finally musters the energy to pull out of you, tying off the condom and throwing it in the trash by his bed.

“If you’re gonna fuck me like that every time I ovulate,” you pant, kissing his cheek before resting your forehead on his temple. “I’m in for a real treat.”

Matt chuckles, enjoying the taste of your skin and how it mixes with your sweat. In that moment, everything is calm, quiet . . . everything makes sense.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he hums, his hands roaming your body. “We’re not done yet.”

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Matt Murdock Taglist: @two-unbeatable-beaters @loves0phelia

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spdrvyn · 11 months

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full stomachs, fuller hearts — MIGUEL O'HARA

SUMMARY: miguel has gotten used to eating dinner by himself so you decide to change his nightly routine.

THIS FIC CONTAINS: literally nothing but pure unaldulterated fluff. gender neutral terms mostly but querido is used once.

NOTES: OKAY so this was actually a request for someone but i was a dumbass and accidentally POSTED the draft when i meant to save it for later, i panicked and deleted the post so now i lost the request from my inbox forever 💔 whoever that dude was i hope you find this and i hope you enjoy

Lonely dinners were always a common occurence for Miguel.

That was just how things are. After a long and drawn out day of protecting the multiverse, protecting the city, protecting everything that he's built up and coming home to a desolate penthouse.

It was the norm for him, he had grown accustomed to it. Being isolated in general wasn't a foreign concept to him, but you brought more change to his life that he thought he would hate.

He loves you a lot. You two had been in a committed relationship for a few months now but haven't moved in yet. The every few hours during a day that you would get to visit him or perhaps he could swing by to your apartment were the only times he felt some sense of warmth in his cold, silent life.

It's not like he didn't want to ask you to move in, he does. Oh, so badly. It's just that the constant fear that he's going too fast or getting too excited over this newfound love. He doesn't want to scare you away.

There was also just a small part of him that was getting too used to being around you. It's gone to the fact that whenever he ate dinner, he'd always imagine you on the other side of that table, laughing and sharing stories about how you're day went.

When he snapped out of it, the sight of the empty chair across him brought his spirits down even more.

You were aware of this too.

Which was why you were up at the wee hours of the night, trying to watch an online video recipe for making empanadas. You knew how to cook enough meals to get by but you wanted to try something different for Miguel.

The bar was set a little bit higher this time. You've been over at Miguel's place before and he has cooked for you and every single time you've tried his dishes they were utterly delectable.

You didn't only want to make all of this food for him just because he's constantly eating alone but because he's really expanded your tastebuds ever since you two developed a much more intimate relationship. You could at least owe him one homecooked dinner.

Reminders to yourself, thank Lyla for letting you in and don't blow up Miguel's penthouse.

As you followed the tutorial step-by-step, you couldn't help but let your mind wander a little further. You wondered how Miguel was doing right now.

Yes, he's strong and agile in an almost inhuman way but at the same time you still worried for him. If only he could be here right now, you'd love to have the opportunity to cook with him.

He was grateful that you weren't in the present moment with him right now, his stomach growl in anticipation for it's next meal as he was running and swinging from rooftop to rooftop to get back to his penthouse.

There were many obstacles that he encountered on the way back. The classic old lady getting her purse snatched which gave him severe déjà vu, a bank robbery, and a cat stuck in a tree.

He grew progressively exhausted with each stop, not forgetting that he had his actual duties at the headquarters that he just left from. Sore muscles and a throbbing head, a painful combo for Miguel.

Maybe he should just skip dinner altogether and opt to immediately pass out on his bed, showering in the morning and having a very heavy breakfast. Yeah, that would work...

He glares into the window of his penthouse, not because he was hesitant to make the jump but because the lights were open. He was sure that he left all of his rooms in complete darkness before leaving.

With one final jump, his claws dig into the edge of his window as he pulls himself up. His eyes narrow, in attempts of getting a good peek of what exactly was going on.

An intruder, a home invasion, Lyla having a party without telling him were all of his possible theories.

What he didn't expect was to see you setting up his plate on his kitchen island, plates of delicious smelling food prepared as well.

There was an intrusion, that's for sure. The intrusion of blush on his cheeks, which he quickly had to shake as he took his mask off.

However, as quickly as it disappeared, it came back once he saw the look on your face the moment you noticed his presence.

Pure glee and warmth is how he'd describe it. It's also how he'd describe the embrace that you immediately pull him into, throwing the silverware that you were readying.

It's not like he hesitated to touch you either, he wrapped his arms around you. So glad that he gets to bask in your existence again, bask in you.

"What's all this, querido?"

You separate from Miguel for a brief moment before walking over to the kitchen counter, proudly showing off your creations. "Empanadas and menudo!"

It was like stars clouded Miguel's vision as it all goes through his mind. You came to his house, fixed up a whole meal for him, and for what? He doesn't remember getting you any gifts recently.

So why?

"Are you just going to stare or are you going to try one?" chuckled you, at least it got Miguel to snap out of his daze. His hands reaches out to one of the empanadas and he takes a bite.

Okay, if he was being honest, he's tasted much better before.

But you put so much thought, so much time, and so much care into making this for him. All of those qualities overshadowed the taste and dryness of it, filling his stomach with something else entirely.

This was probably one of the best empanadas he's ever tasted.

"It's really good." He says, swallowing the last of his food, "Best that one I've ever tasted, mi cielo." Then leaning in to press a small kiss to your forehead, warm hand cupping your cheek.

"You're just saying that, Miguel. I tasted them before you got here and they're really dry."

"Still the best I've ever tasted."

He continues to plant kisses on you, trailing from your forehead to the bridge of your nose to your cheek then boarding at your lips, you giggle into the kiss but before it progresses any further, he stops and pulls away.

"Do you want to move in with me?"

request rules here, masterlist here

#spiderman: across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #atsv #miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara fluff #gender neutral reader #gn reader #reader insert #x reader #fluff #romance #cute #domestic

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studioghibelli · 2 days

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leather & lace- a joel miller x reader series

chapter one: the silver stallion.

summary: an untamed cowboy and the sheriff's daughter. an outlaw and a goodie two shoes. a hardened piece of leather and a perfect cut of lace. at first glance, you and joel miller are polar opposites, yet somehow fate has managed to tangle you both up in the same spool of yarn.

“You're saying I'm fragile, I try not to be. I search only for something I can't see. I have my own life, and I am stronger than you know.”

warnings: violence (guns, blood, death.) enemies to lovers, an unspoken companionship of convenience, this is sort of a soulmate au? in a very thematic and metaphorical sense, age gap (50’s Joel, 20s reader), themes of guilt and betrayal, domestic abuse. if i missed any, please kindly let me know. thank you!

A silver stallion was galloping across the vast canopy of the dusty sky, illuminating the distant mountains with a sheen of gentle moonlight. It had been a harsh, dry summer, followed by an uninspired autumn, but soon the loving hand of winter would blanket the land in her snowy glory.

The town of Ruby Springs stood glimmering at the base of a mountain, the golden light of dingy hotels and busy saloons flickering in the darkening air.

It was warm, inviting-and there was nothing he wanted more than a pint of beer and a place to rest his aching feet.

How long had it been? Days? Weeks?

The time didn’t matter when his back ached like this. His crooked spine had not felt the plush feathers of a pillow in many moons, his lips had gone too long without a tender kiss from a pretty stranger.

Every inch, every bone, every breath of Joel Miller hurt.

He was getting too old for this, too lousy, too grumpy, too much of everything to keep up with it all. The train robberies, the kidnapping, the late night bank runs. If it were up to him, he would have stopped years ago.

But he was an indebted man, and Joel knew he’d have to sleep with one eye open if he tried to run away from it all. He was reminded constantly of his duties, of the promise he swore to her years ago.

Tess.

His boss, his warden, his burden. She saved a life for him, and in turn, he owed his entire world to her. Every penny, every breath, every move- Joel did so to appease Tess.

And now this.

He had done many things in his life. Cruel, unspeakable things. He had watched skin turn purple and eyes roll blank. He had watched men hang for their crimes and horses die for their loyalty. War, famine, anger, cruelty- Joel had seen his share of the world, of the vast and indescribable horrors of man.

But this. Something about this made his stomach churn. Something deep, intrinsic, something that had been determined by fate many moons before. Something he didn’t quite understand.

The letter detailing his current orders were in the pocket of his worn coat, burning a hole straight through the leather and deep in to his chest.

Joel,

The girl. The boy. Their father. In that order. This sheriff’s been sniffing out our plans for too long, and we can’t have him ringing any alarm bells. Get it done and dusted, and report back to me in Jackson.

He could turn his strawberry roan mustang right around and run off, far into the desert. Where he would go, what exactly he would do- well, he wasn’t quite sure.

But he had ideas. Options. Dreams.

He could ride alongside the screaming eagles through the valleys of mesa rock, make camp beside a Montana stream rich with salmon. He could trade meat with the Apache down in New Mexico and drink moonshine beneath the stars.

He could choose to do anything but that.

No.

He couldn’t, could he?

What was more innocent blood on his hands? Joel had killed before, and he knew he would kill again.

Patting the ivory handled Colt that sat glued to his holster, he guided his steed towards Ruby Springs, stomach tight with the promise of what he was about to do.

The powder room was the color of eggshells with pink satin pillows thrown about, piles of gowns that needed to be washed and trays of powder that were fading had been littered throughout various places. It was pretty. Delicate. Feminine. A room fit for a city girl who had never known a days work. A city girl who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

A city girl Joel felt inextricably fond of, without ever knowing intimately.

The room he had found himself camped in smelled faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and framed photos of a pretty thing and her loyal steed were hung about the walls.

You.

The woman he was sent to kill.

Joel sat behind the bed, careful not to lean back on any loose floor boards. If he made any noise, he know he was screwed. In his gloved hands was a small, circular photo frame, a photo of your face beaming up at him, his target, staring back. Your eyes were full of light, face full of promise. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen someone so beautiful, someone so fragile.

He wondered what you smelled like. He wondered what your voice sounded like, if you snorted when you laughed. When he looked at your photo, he saw hope. He saw a shadow of someone he once was.

An outline of a little boy with a heart, with a soul, with a dream. A little boy who prayed and laughed and played outside beneath the heat of the sun. A boy who kissed his mamma and brushed his dog and shook the sand from his boots before walking inside the house.

Where had he gone? What had he turned in to?

Down the hall, he could hear footsteps. Heavy and booted, hushed whispers accompanying them.

“Shit.” He muttered, grabbing his pistol and peering over the meticulously made bed.

The doorknob was rattling.

Joel glanced down at the fading picture. He really did think you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. A confident smile, pretty hair, dazzling eyes- you were so young, you looked so pure.

And your blood was about to be all over the palms of his hands.

His ribcage felt as though it was going to break, his whole body full of the whistling pressure of what must be done. Before he could even think or mourn, he heard a hiss of pain.

“Get off me, Wyatt!”

Wyatt. Your brother. The boy he was meant to kill.

“You gon’ tell daddy? Betcha’ not gonna do shit about it.” There was venom in his words, it dripped from each syllable.

Joel sat quiet. His curiosity outweighed his allegiance to Tess, and he wanted to see where this was headed.

“You killed him, Wyatt.” Your voice was hushed on that forbidden middle word, killed sounded so foreign when it came out of your mouth. It was as though your tongue wouldn’t dare hold on to the verb anymore than it had to.

“So? Don’t matter. When you’re the sheriff’s kid, you can do anythin’ you want. You should try it sometime.”

“No. I won’t. I’m going to tell him.”

“You wouldn’t.” A challenge. There was the ruffling of a leather strap, followed by the clicking of a gun. Not only a challenge, a death sentence.

Although Joel couldn’t see, the air grew thick with tension, like a beach before a storm. He could hear your little breath of air, he could smell your annoyance. Quietly, Joel peered over the mattress.

Something stirred deep within him. He wanted to protect you, and the thought made him angry.

Wyatt stood tall and dumb, buck toothed and freckled like a growling hound dog. His pistol was pointed right at you, and he wore a mask of pure anger. That’s all he was. An angry little boy with no real reason to be.

And Joel knew how to deal with angry little boys.

You couldn’t remember when it started.

The rage.

It ran unbridled through you, like a stream trickling downwards towards the edge of a mountain. You could feel it in your veins, like the stinger of a wasp, stuck with nowhere left to go.

You knew, ever since you were a young child, that one day the band that held it all together was going to snap. And one day, sweet, innocent, “Oh no sir, I could never!” little old you would snap. You would sink your teeth in the neck of a handsy man, or drive a bullet straight through a gossipy woman’s stomach.

One day that band would break. And one day your perfect socialite image would come crashing down.

Today, spoiler alert, was that day.

That morning, when you had awoken, your thighs were sticky with your own blood, and your skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. Winter was approaching, but the wooden walls of your family home held in the heat from the furnace like no other.

You were hot. You were angry. You were a woman on the edge, standing at the precipice of a ravine full of hatred and violence. One little gust of wind, and you’d be pushed over the edge.

Enter: Wyatt.

Your big brother. Nasty, incompetent, spoiled rotten by your overly doting mother who never, over her now dead body, treated you the same.

Wyatt could get away with whatever he wanted. Why? He was daddy’s favorite. The crown jewel of Ruby Springs. Next in line to be the town’s newest, gluttonous, and corrupt Sheriff.

Wyatt was a pig. A fucking pig you would send to the slaughterhouse if you could. You could do a lot of damage with a nail gun to his forehead, you thought.

When he had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you in to your room to snarl his line of profanities, you were already knee deep in the rotted mud of a shitty day.

One little gust of wind.

“-You wouldn’t.” Wyatt’s tone was full of that disgusting self-righteous attitude he always carried around with him, full of the thought that nothing could ever harm him, full of the thought that there was no one who could put him in his place. When he pulled his pistol out on you, no fear coursed through you.

Why would it?

You had been spanked as a child, damn near shot by your own father when you were twelve and accidentally dropped a bucket of hot water on his feet. When he grabbed you by the throat and threatened to spill your life blood, you felt it for the first time.

That rage. That deep, bitter, heavy rage.

One little gust of wind.

“What are you doing, Wyatt?” You asked nonchalantly, eyes flickering down to his gun.

“Protectin’ myself.”

“From what?”

“You.”

You couldn’t help but scoff. “You’re such a fucking coward. You know that?”

Wyatt held the barrel of his gun against your chin. It was cold. It was… inviting, like a hug from a distant family member. There was a feeling to that frigid metal against your skin that felt familiar, a yearning deep within you that had always been there but never awoken.

Not until now.

“Don’t test me, girl.”

“No, Wyatt.” Your voice was low, like the growl of a cougar. Your dumb brother didn’t notice you reaching towards your vanity, to the pointed hair pic resting gently on the edge. It wasn’t a knife, but it would do.

They say poison was the weapon of women, but you figured anything could work if you gritted your teeth hard enough.

So grit your teeth you did. So hard you could hear them heaving and grinding against another, like the metal cogs of a train engine.

“You don’t test me.”

Wyatt took a step back. A floorboard creaked, from what- or who- you weren’t sure. All you knew was your red tinted vision, the thrumming pound drumming at the back of your head, was filling your mind with the promise of a fight.

“I have put up with you for so long. Your incessant bitching, your stupid fucking crocodile tears. I’ve put up with the abuse- from you and papa- and I’m sick of it. I’m sick of you. You know what doctor’s do when a sickness starts spreading? They get rid of it. And I’m going to get rid of you. You’re a fucking pain in my ass. A disease.”

You had never seen Wyatt go so wide eyed before, like a doe stuck at the end of a bowie knife, a rabbit lost in the woods. There was a bead of sweat forming at his temple, crinkles scrunching at the side of his dark eyes as he squinted, trying to make sense of what was going on in the world around him.

“You-….” He stood up straighter, cleared his throat louder. Wyatt’s eyebrows knitted tightly together as he gained his arrogance back again. “You on your period or something?” The chiding tone of his voice was enough to break that band.

One little gust of wind.

“That’s it!” You screamed out as your legs carried you, your mind completely on auto-pilot as your instincts guided you. In a matter of seconds Wyatt was on the floor, and the hair pic was lodged deep into the flesh of his cheek.

He cried out, a string of curses soon following. “You crazy bitch! You fuckin’ stabbed me!” He spit, a loose molar tumbling to the floor.

“I said don’t mess with me!”

“You’re fuckin’ crazy!” Wyatt easily wrestled you to the ground, shuffling around for his pistol as you struggled against his grasp. Unfortunately he was much stronger, and you held no power over him while he had the high ground.

You felt the cold barrel of his Colt on the temple of your eye, and for a moment you accepted your fate. At least you went out with a bang.

And there was indeed a bang, followed by a thud, and before you knew it, you were being suffocated with the body of your lifeless brother, your neck and face painted with the crimson of his blood.

Joel had no clue what had come over him.

He hadn’t felt protective like this for a very long time.

Not since her.

As he perched behind the cushy mattress, listening to you two bicker like a pair of angry birds, a wave of emotion rushed over him. A bit of fear, an unforeseen amount of admiration, and a twinge of…. well, something he didn’t really know the word for. Interest?

Interest? Joel shook his head to himself quietly. He wouldn’t. And even worse than that- he couldn’t.

Interest. In his line of work? Not a safe option, not a safe feeling.

Joel held his gun steady, ears perked like an alert dog, waiting for an opportunity. An opportunity for what exactly, well, he wasn’t quite sure.

When he heard your bodies tackle to the ground, he knew he had to do something about it. Before he could think about his next move, his mind shut off, and his gun was pointed right at Wyatt’s head.

Something within him could hardly stand it, seeing you there, wide eyed and covered in blood. His ears were ringing, the echo of the shot bouncing off the wooden walls of the house. It had been drowned out by the old church bells right across the street, signaling the turn of midnight, the noisy commotion of the late night saloon bustling about outside the frosted windows.

“Up.” Was all he could manage to get out, extending a gloved hand your way.

Fuck Tess. Fuck it all. He wasn’t going to kill you.

Because God above, were you even more breathtaking in person. He felt his stomach twist and knot around itself, his organs rearranging themselves at the mere sight of you. His palms grew sweaty behind his gloves, his heart slammed against his ribcage, begging for a prison escape.

He didn’t know what to do with all the emotion fluttering about behind his skin.

It was in that moment that Joel Miller decided he hated you.

The weight of a dead body was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Your mouth was full with the taste of metal and gunpowder, your eyelashes cracking with drying viscera. It smelled like searing flesh, and your nostrils flared at the intrusion.

The strange man stood towering above you. Strong, capable, eyes hidden behind the brim of his dark Stetson.

“Up.”

It was a simple command. Covered in the previous life of your brother who easily wrestled you in to submission, you decided to take both his hand and his offer. It was one of the kinder interaction you had had today.

While rising to your feet, your eyes caught his own.

His eyes.

You had never seen a shade of umber so alluring before. Honeyed spheres full of coffee tinted orbs, his pupils wide and dilated with the rush of taking another man’s life. There was something dangerous about his eyes, something dark and distant, as though he had seen and partaken in unspeakable horrors, as though he had carried the entire weight of the world on his shoulders and survived to tell the tale.

He was a broken man, you knew it right off the bat. A broken man with nowhere else to go, or nothing else to do, except shoot people with bounties on their head.

Oh, you weren’t naive. It wasn’t the first time a man had been found hiding in your room, ready to take you. Why, kidnapping the Sheriff’s daughter for ransom would give them a pretty penny, wouldn’t it? But you have a murderous brother- correction, had- who didn’t mind hunting men down and killing them. Not because he cared about you, of course not, but because he loved the feeling of murder, he danced with the illustrious shadow of death.

That shadow came back to bite him in the ass, and you relished in watching him die.

Fuck Wyatt. Fuck that tool. He had tormented you your entire life and now he was gone.

You shook those thoughts away, returning to the gaze of the man before you. Something rumbled deep in your soul, something you had never felt before. A tug, a pull, towards the person who stood tall in front of you. You had never felt something so intense, so deep, in all your life. It’s like you were stuck in the waves of a tempestuous ocean, with no escape in sight and a mouthful of sea water clawing at the back of your throat.

You were drowning in those honeyed orbs, a gust of wind pulled you back down to reality.

Finally, you could speak. “I’m-”

“I know who you are.” His voice was raw and deep. You watched him wipe his bloodied gloves off on the denim of his pants, and you winced.

“Are you taking me somewhere?”

“Yes.”

For a moment you stopped. You could run out the door, it was three feet away. You could also pounce and grab Wyatt’s gun, it was right at your feet.

Or…. you could go with him. You could run away from the abuse, the suffocating town, the disgusting standards, the burden of having a social life in the public eye. You could prove a point to your father.

You could be your own person.

In that moment you decided that this man was going to be your ticket out of Ruby Springs.

“Can I change?”

“What?” Joel looked at you like you were crazy, a thick eyebrow raising with incredulousness at the sound of your statement.

“Can I change? I’m covered in blood. I want to put on a clean dress, it reeks of Wyatt.”

The unnamed cowboy sighed. “Fine. But be quick.”

You began the tedious process of stripping out of your layers, starting with the buttons on your sleeves. “And don’t think about looking.”

“I ain’t lookin’.” His voice was tired with annoyance, an echo of the man he once was. He turned around on his heel, staying true to his word with his broad back turned to you.

“What’s your name anyways, mister?”

“Why should I tell you?”

“I reckon you and I are going to be spending a bit of time together.”

He snorted, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “Miller. Joel Miller.”

Your fingers stopped in their tracks, your body short circuiting as the name replayed in your mind, again and again.

Joel Miller.

The Joel Miller.

He was as famous as Billy the Kid, as notorious as Jesse James- he was an outlaw that everyone, even those fancy pants on the East Coast, knew of. And he was standing in your room.

Joel let out a sigh. “Your silence is loud, girl.”

“I just…” You paused for a moment as you flicked through your wardrobe. “I just…. my dad used to tell us stories about you when we were kids. He…. well-”

“Hates me?”

“Damn straight. Made it his life mission to hunt you down.”

“Well he ain’t that good at it. Considering I walked right in to his town.”

You laughed, slipping in to a chemise. “He’s gotten a bit stupid in his old age. Should I go and tell him you’re here? Give him a head start?”

You could have sworn you heard Joel chuckle, but a quick clearing of the throat masked whatever sound of amusement he could have made.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“You don’t know? That’s not how ransoms work, you know. This isn’t my first time being snatched up.” You held your head up high, buttoning up the front of your blouse.

“Doesn’t surprise me. Lot’s of hunters like your type.”

“My type?”

“Naive little girls with rich daddies. The kind that pay well.”

“Naive? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice. You’re definitely not naive. You put up a good fight with your brother.”

You had to learn to defend yourself at an early age. You had to hold your own. There were days you would walk back home from school with swollen eyes and cracked knuckles. By the time you hit puberty, your mother started dressing you up in the attire that good little girls from rich little families inside snooty little social circles wore. Dresses the color of poppies, shoes made from silk- it was all lovely, and you grew to love it all, but deep down you knew it wasn’t where you belonged.

You didn’t respond to Joel. You threw on your overskirt, slipping on your tired leather boots. “Ready.” You chirped.

Joel turned around on his heel, looking at you through his eyelashes. There was a short moment of silence before he picked your brother up and tossed him on your bed.

You winced. “Come on. Those sheets were clean.”

He ignored you, patting through his pockets. A few stray bullets and some loose change later, and you were sneaking out the back of your house.

“Can I go grab my horse?”

“That would defeat the purpose of a kidnappin’, girl.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please? I don’t want to leave Fritz here.”

“Fritz?” Joel scoffed at the name, staring you down.

“Please?”

Joel gritted his teeth, hissing out a shot of hot air. “Fine. But be quick or I’m shootin’ you too.”

You smiled a toothy grin, running off to the stables. You had appeared just as quick as you left, an all black stallion standing tall and proud. His mane was braided, and his soft nose was pink. He was a handsome specimen, standing out like a sore thumb beside the strawberry coated mustang.

“What’s her name?” You asked, following him closely on the path that lead out of the town. You noticed you were headed for the mountains.

“My horse?”

You nodded, before realizing he couldn’t see you. “Uh, yeah.”

Joel sniffed a bit. “She doesn’t have one.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s just a damn horse.”

You rolled your eyes, running your fingers down Fritz’s soft neck. “She’s your companion. She trusts you more than anything, you know. She’s bonded to you, completely at your service, and you can’t even give her a name?”

“Will you just shut up? You’re yapping my ear off, woman. Kidnapee’s ain’t supposed to talk this damn much.”

“Well you ain’t never kidnapped someone like me, Joel Miller.”

As you rode in silence, the early morning thickness hanging in the air, the sound of cicadas lulled you deeper in to your thoughts. Thoughts of Wyatt, thoughts of the strange man riding in front of you.

The strange man who seemed so cold, so mean. And what kind of dick didn’t name their horse?

It was in that moment that you decided you hated Joel Miller.

tag list: @loliwrites @persephone-girl @ilovepedro @noisynightmarepoetry @moel-jiller @bensonispunk @obvitsclaire @redb1cpen @paanchusblog @joelalorian @dragonsanddragons @ashleyfilm @kungfucapslock

#studioghibelli #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #joel miller the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller tlou #tlou au #joel tlou #tlou fic #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fanfiction #cowboy au #western au

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ieatstarsforaliving · 8 months

Text

The Origin (1)

Summary: How you and Hazel and the fight club started. Also Hazel's Spider-Woman. But you don't know that.

Pairing: Spider-Woman!Hazel Callahan x Classmate!Reader

Warnings: Mature language, use of (Y/N), mentions of bruises and cuts, Idk what else

Word Count: 1508

Note: It's literally my first post. It may suck. I don't care. I don't get paid for this. I hope you do enjoy though, cause there's not enough Spider-Woman Hazel Callahan fics out here. Love yall - Bia <3

“You got paired up with (Y/N) for the ‘women murdered in history’ project?”

Hazel nodded at Josie’s question. She had just left Mr. G’s class with PJ and Josie where he had introduced a new project to create a diorama based on a famous woman who was murdered. The partners were chosen by random, and to Hazel’s horror, she was paired up with you.

Who just happened to be Hazel’s crush for 4. fucking. years.

Hazel had many moments of crises in her 18 years of life, which included getting bitten by a radioactive spider during sophomore year at a school field trip to the science fair, getting caught by Josie and PJ’s spider-trap (Where PJ wanted to catch Spider-Woman for her youtube channel with a net, and she actually managed to?) and Hazel had to reveal her secret identity, and her mother’s recent divorce with her minor-fucking, emotionally unavailable father.

But none of them made Hazel as frantic as being paired with you for a school project.

“Thats fucking amazing,” PJ said in jealousy. “How come that never happens with me and Brittany? I got paired up with that one emo kid who probably wants to blow up the school.”

Hazel groaned, leaning her head against her locker. She was already tired from last night’s fight with a local bank robbery, which led to her face scratched and bandaged up today. She couldn’t stop thinking about how she was going to impress you.

“Okay, well, you don’t look very happy considering you’re like, obsessed with her,” Josie commented. She was well used to Hazel’s constant remarks about how pretty you looked during class or how you made eye contact with her for 2 seconds.

“I’m fucked. I just get so nervous around her,” Hazel replied, anxiety seeping out from her voice. “I have never really had a conversation with her other than, ‘hello’. If I can’t even talk to her properly, how am I going to do a whole project with her?”

PJ rolled her eyes. “Hazel, why are you so worried? You literally swing down tall ass buildings and beat up tall ass criminals, and you can’t even talk to a girl that you like? Didn’t your spider powers give you like, enhanced everything?”

“I’m pretty sure the whole point of Hazel’s secret identity is for you to not talk about it out in the open, PJ.”

“I’m just saying, if I saved the neighborhood every night wearing a red and blue spandex lady gaga suit, I’d be getting so much puss right now.”

The two continued to bicker as Hazel sighed. PJ was right. It was just a project. It wasn’t a big deal, it was only for a week, and she was certain you were straight anyways. All she had to do was just man up and talk to—

“Hazel?”

Hazel jumped, turning around from her locker to see you standing with an alluring smile on your face. You wanted to talk to your project partner before the start of next class, who seemed to be very stunned at the sight of you. She looked like a puppy, with her widened blue eyes and her tousled brown hair.

Hazel blinked rapidly and clutched her notebook, barely managing to reply with a small, “Hi.”

“I don’t know if you remember me. I’m (Y/N),” You introduced yourself, starting to offer your hand but retracting immediately because you realized that you’re a high schooler and that it’s probably lame to shake hands in this day and age. “I’m partnered up with you for Mr. G’s class—”

“-Yeah, I know who you are. (Y/N),” Hazel said, almost too quickly, causing her friends to hold in their laughter. “Mr. G’s project. Yeah– I can work on it. All of it, if you want.”

“No, of course not, we can work on it together,” You laughed, before recognizing all the injuries on Hazel’s face. “By the way, you’re pretty bruised up. Are you okay?”

Hazel instantly touched her bandages, feeling a bit embarrassed at her state.

“’m fine. I just fell.”

You frowned, staring intensely at Hazel’s face. “I don’t think you can get these cuts from falling.”

“Well, some of them are from falling and some of them aren’t...” Hazel trailed off as you came closer, your face filled with genuine worry. You knew Hazel wasn't exactly popular, but you didn’t know she was bullied. Hazel slowly backed away, her heart beating out of her chest as her back made contact with her locker.

Hazel's Face started to burn up, turning to Josie for help. Josie stuttered, “This is nothing, she just– she’s part of this— this club, and—”

“A club? What kind of club fucks up her face like this?” You interrupted, your hands reaching out and brushing Hazel’s bangs out of the way, carefully examining the bandages. “Is it like a fight club?”

“Yes!”

“No–”

“-More like a women’s self defense club?”

You looked at the three girls who’ve provided different answers all at the same time.

PJ spoke up first.

“Yes, we absolutely do have this club where girls fucking beat each other up and shit for… feminism. So that we can teach girls how to protect themselves from the evil male football players.”

“You know how to fight?” You asked, staring at PJ who barely had any muscles.

“Yes. Because, We… went… to… juvie over the summer.”

You blinked.

“...There’s also a serious lack of female solidarity in this school,” Hazel stiffly added.

“Right. Okay, that’s fine, I guess,” You accepted. “Could I join?”

“Yes. Absolutely!” PJ exclaimed, her face lighting up immediately. “You could bring your friends too. You know. Specifically your cheerleader friends. Specifically Brittany and Isabel.”

Before you could question why specifically Brittany and Isabel, the bell rang to inform the students for the start of next class.

“Okay, here—” You took the notebook Hazel was holding and quickly scribbled your number on one of the pages. “Message me so we can talk about the project. And the club. Is that okay?”

You handed the notebook back as Hazel nodded, in denial that you just gave her your fucking phone number. You waved before running off to your next class, feeling happy that you had made a new friend. (haha friend…)

Meanwhile, Josie was losing her mind.

“PJ, what the fuck are you doing?”

“This is absolutely perfect!”

“No, it’s not, PJ— we don’t have a feminist women’s self-defense fight club. You also don’t care about feminism. Your favorite movie is Entourage.”

“Okay, first of all, shut up, and second, we can just make the club now, obviously. Come on– I just created the perfect opportunity for all of us to talk to Brittany, Isabel, and (Y/N)!”

“Hazel, please tell PJ that she’s insane,” Josie turned to Hazel.

Hazel grinned and said;

“She gave me her number.”

Josie groaned. “Congratulations! But we have a bigger problem now. We don’t know how to defend ourselves!”

“Self-defense is common sense. You try to punch me in the face. I stop it from happening. Whatever, I don’t care, it’s easy,” PJ shrugged, holding a MMA fighter stance and started throwing air punches.

“Yeah, maybe for Hazel, who literally has the… spider tingles? Hazel tingles?”

“Please do not start calling it Hazel tingles.”

“And let’s not forget, you literally have superhuman strength,” Josie cautioned. “If we do this— very big if, we just run the biggest risk of exposing you and your spider identity. One wrong punch and you’ll send a girl to the hospital.”

PJ turned to Hazel and grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Hazel, listen to me. We teach a bunch of girls how to defend themselves against the evil high school fuckboys. They are grateful to us. Adrenaline is flowing— next thing you know, Isabel, Brittany, and (Y/N) are kissing us on the mouths!”

Hazel paused. “I don’t know. Like Josie said, it’s a huge risk. The last thing I’d want to do is put (Y/N) in danger.”

A sardonic smile played on PJ’s lips. She tapped on Hazel’s notebook.

“Hazel, she gave you her number.”

Hazel stood, her mind racing once again. PJ’s idea of starting a self-defense club was dangerous, she knew that. She would be gaining attention all while showing off her fighting skills, which is what she had been hiding for years. Josie’s warning echoed in her mind. But then she remembered the way you had looked at her, with darling concern in your eyes when you asked about her injuries. She hadn’t had anyone worry for her like that in a while.

Hazel took a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Josie cried.

“She said okay! It's an okay! We’re doing this!” PJ screamed, grabbing Hazel’s hand and pulling her towards the school’s office to create the club. “We’re going to lose our virginities this year! This is the year!”

“Okay, but who’s going to be crazy enough to even advise this club?” Josie yelled after them, but the two were long gone.

Next Chapter: The Fucking Fight Club

#bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan fluff #hazel callahan x reader #josie bottoms #pj bottoms #hazel callahan spiderwoman #hazel callahan x you #bottoms (2023)

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upon-a-starry-night · 1 month

Text

Love Favors The Misfortunate

Natasha Romanoff x Gender-Neutral Reader

Natasha Masterlist Main Masterlist

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Minor Violence

Summary: Misfortune always seems to follow you no matter what you do. But where there’s trouble, Nat often follows, maybe love was on your side after all?

Disclaimer: This was part of a writing exercise I did so it’s kind of silly and unedited but enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow you always managed to wind up in the worst situations that Earth could possibly experience. You wondered if you were just cursed or something considering last week you were present for not one but two bank robberies.

Maybe that was just the life of a delivery driver?

You hoped the lady behind the bank counters Caesar salad tasted better after death threats and salty tears of desperation.

This time, however, in the middle of checking the GPS during a stoplight, the sound of screams alerts you to the number of people ditching their cars and running past your motorcycle in fear.

Looking up you see the giant rip in Earth's atmosphere, monster-looking creatures spilling out of the hole.

Oh, Good.

You immediately kick your motorcycle into gear, walking the bike through the crowds of people until you can manage to make a U-turn and speed off, weaving your way through the panic.

You spare a few glances into your mirrors as more flying monsters spill out of the sky and it's during one of these glances that you fail to notice the giant alien who has just landed in the street a few feet ahead of you. By the time you notice him you only have enough time to attempt a full stop which results in your bike sliding from under you and skidding across the pavement. Ouch.

Much to your luck, however, the bike collides directly with the monster and sends it straight into its own spear. A weird purple liquid oozing slowly from underneath the unconscious body.

You frown, it was going to cost a pretty penny to get your bike fixed if it was even salvageable and now you definitely weren’t getting paid for the hamburger and fries that were probably still warm in your delivery bag.

Maybe you could see if french fries taste better after near-death and motorcycle debt.

Wincing, you feel your arms already bruising and your jeans have ripped through to your thigh, you're not bleeding as much as you probably should be from that slide but it still hurts like hell. Thank god you were wearing all your safety equipment.

A hand is extended out to you and you graciously take it, looking up to meet eyes with the prettiest redhead you’ve ever seen. She’s giving you an impressed smile and you feel like you could melt right then and there. Although that might also be from the burning pain in your leg.

You probably need to find a hospital. Or maybe you were dead and this was an angel.

You always figured they’d look like the horrendous abomination of eyes and wings that they were described as, not as pretty redheads with striking green eyes but you weren’t complaining.

“That was a good move” There are still people running past you screaming but it feels like time stops when she speaks to you.

“Yep. that was definitely something I did on purpose” Drumming your fingers on your thighs you watch her chuckle and give you a look that tells you she knows you did not, in fact, do that on purpose.

You glance between your bike and the woman in front of you, screaming civilians making the moment almost comical. You felt like you were in some kind of rom-com apocalypse.

Despite it being the last thing you should probably do, you extend your hand out to her and tell her your name. She gives you a very amused look and you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘Why not? We’re here aren’t we?’

She chuckles again as she takes your hand, introducing herself.

Natasha. Derived from the Russian name Anastasia, which means resurrection. Maybe she was an angel. Damn.

Natasha nods her head in the direction of the crowd and smirks “Shouldn’t you be joining them?” You shrug. “Unless you know more moves like that?” She gestures toward your beat-up bike and you shake your head

“No. Unfortunately, I haven't mastered the art of more than one motorcycle trick yet” Not that you could get that thing to start back up again after that anyway.

She shakes her head with a laugh, glancing over her shoulder at the mess the city is becoming before turning back to you. “ Well I guess until you learn you should probably get running”

You nod, a little dejected, your calmness in relativity to the situation was likely the result of a concussion but you weren’t worried. Unless Nat was not real, in that case, you should be worried. Very Worried.

“Will we meet again?” it’s cliche and you immediately feel like a protagonist in a Disney movie but it’s a genuine question.

She smirks and looks around at the city again, gesturing to the absolute clusterfuck that New York had become “For your sake, I hope we don't”

You know she doesn’t mean anything bad by it and it’s your turn to smirk when you say “Knowing my luck, we will” You hope she finds herself near a few banks in the upcoming months…

She smiles at you and nods her head in the direction of the crowd and you understand what she’s trying to tell you. With one final wave and a small “good luck” you run in the direction of your fellow New Yorkers, occasionally glancing back to see her running in the direction of the main battle.

You didn't know who she was but Damn did you want to.

~~~

The next time you find yourself in a particularly unfavorable situation is not for months later. Minus that one time you witnessed two old ladies get mugged and that time you almost got hit by an ice-cream truck. But you got free ice cream from the second one so you weren't counting it.

You’d taken up a job in a small pizza place to pay for your bike repairs. It didn’t pay much but you didn’t have that many options after New York got attacked by aliens and half the businesses were destroyed or temporarily shut down. This is one of the few places still open which means on Friday nights you were busy as hell.

It was not a Friday night. It was a Tuesday afternoon and your coworker who was supposed to be on shift with you called out sick which meant you were manning the shop by yourself. Your stupid coworker was probably just off cheating on his girlfriend again but you didn’t care because the shop was empty which meant you could play games on your phone without his judgmental stare.

You’re struggling through level 5 of Candy Crush when the sound of breaking glass comes from the front of the shop and you sigh. You would be surprised but it was New York, more specifically it was your life in New York.

What you are surprised by, however, is the sight of familiar red hair covered in glass in the entryway, and you really want to rub your eyes with the squeaking sound effect like in the cartoons but the amount of microfibers that just got released into the air would suggest not doing that.

“Well well well” You realize you sound more like a supervillain than you intended and you freeze when she stands and sharply turns in your direction, gun pointed directly at you. You throw your hands up in surrender immediately. Goddamn supervillain catchphrases always making pretty girls turn their guns on you.

When she seems to recognize you she relaxes only for a man to jump through the already broken glass window and tackle her to the ground again. You want to help but considering you still haven't learned any more motorcycle tricks(or any tricks in general) you figure you would probably be useless.

You watch helplessly as she disarms and renders the guy unconscious in a matter of seconds and then stands and dusts herself off. The guy on the ground looks like some old-timey variation of Hitler and you're pretty glad she knocked him unconscious before he could even notice you.

You focus back on Nat who's looking at you like a wounded animal that could run away at any moment and It’s then that you realize that most people are not quite used to these kinds of situations. Clearly, you weren’t like most people. You point to the body in a trenchcoat on the ground as you crinkle your nose

“Are you taking that guy with you when you leave?” She huffs out a laugh and you feel yourself smile at successfully getting her to laugh again.

You, one.

Hitlerman, zero.

At least you were winning one game. Stupid Candy Crush.

She looks around the shabby pizza place and then zones in on your nametag, only them seeming to realize you worked there. She tilts her head, nodding to your flimsy little name pinned to your T-shirt.

“Why are you working here? Where’s the bike?” You sigh, you knew the question was coming but it’s still a sore subject for you. You internally punch a wall but on the outside, you frown just a little. It’s the saddest expression Nat’s seen on your face so far.

“She’s in the shop. Repairs are taking longer than I thought and now I’m forced to conform to my least favorite type of work just to get her back” Nat gives an understanding nod and then cringes a little, walking towards you until she’s right in front of you. She places a hand on your head and you inhale sharply.

A small frown forms on Nat’s face “You’re bleeding”

The feeling of her hand on your face confirms that she’s not an angel or a figment of your imagination and you don’t realize you’ve voiced that thought out loud until you hear Nat barking out a laugh.

“I’m flattered but, well-” She glances up, then behind her, then back towards you “I wouldn’t be so sure just yet” She smirks and removes her hand just as a ceiling panel falls from the roof. Dust flies into the air and you cover your face to avoid getting more shit in your eyes.

When the room finally settles Natasha is nowhere in sight but there’s a Captain America band-aid on the serving counter and you feel a small smile across your face. What a dramatic exit. Now who was the supervillain?

You take great notice of the fact that Hitlerman is also gone and you wonder how the fuck she managed to do that. But more importantly, you hoped this wasn’t coming out of your paycheck.

~~~

You can’t emphasize enough to most people how much you’re not even trying to be in the situations you get caught in. In fact, the one time you stayed home for a week you ended up catching the Flu. How the hell do you catch the flu from staying home? After that, you just accepted that you were a magnet for misfortune and there was nothing you could do about it.

Although, after meeting Nat you found yourself a little excited anytime something misfortunate happened and that was probably psychotic and you should definitely check yourself into a psych ward but you’d probably end up choking on a crayon and getting deemed a risk to those around you so what was the use?

Still, of all the robberies you’d been a witness to you’d never been a part of a hostage situation. Until now. Stupid Banks!

Usually, you’d assume that the police would handle a situation like this and you’d be stuck in this bank for hours until someone grew a dick and negotiated something but this time circumstances were a little different. To start, the guy who was currently robbing the bank was holding some type of gun that was the equivalent of real-life freeze tag.

Anyone who got zapped by the oddly blue glowing gun was frozen in place, which led you to problem number two.

The police had shown up nearly half an hour ago and someone must not have briefed them on this wacko holding you hostage because the second one of them snuck in the back door with a gun he was frozen in place looking like the idiot that he probably was.

You would attempt to grab his gun but you didn’t feel like doing that shit. Who were you to risk your life and try to be a hero for some money that this poor fellow probably needed considering New York's rent cost.

Maybe if the stupid fucker hadn’t frozen the one lady who knew the code to the very comically large bank safe he wouldn’t be stuck making stupid negotiations and holding people hostage.

Instead, you settled against a wall near a bunch of crying civilians and attempted once again to beat level 10 of Candy Crush. You give up after ten minutes and delete the app. Really you were just trying to kill the time until you-know-who showed up.

She and her band of merry men had grown a reputation for taking care of situations that the regular authorities couldn’t and that’s why you weren’t the least bit surprised when the room began to fill with a cloudy white smoke.

Others began panicking, fearing that it was some sort of poisonous gas and you rolled your eyes. This was not poisonous gas, you’d seen poisonous gas and this was not it.

This was a very dramatic entrance formulated by your absolute favorite redhead. God, you felt like you were in a spy movie. Any second now you’d see a faint figure slowly descending from the ceiling in all black with a gas mask on and spy music would start playing.

Any second now.

Aaaaaany second now-

A scream from beside you makes you jolt and you find the sobbing woman next to you with a hand over her mouth. A gruff-looking man is telling her to keep quiet and your eyes widen for a second as you think ‘Oh shit. Double robbery.’ But from behind the gruff-looking man walks a familiar figure and she pats him on the shoulder as she passes him.

You squint your eyes, what an oddly metal-looking shoulder. Perhaps you were hallucinating. Stress and all that.

By this point, enough white smoke has filled the room that the bank robber is wildly swinging around in fear as he squints to see. He’s probably more on edge after that woman's scream as well. Yeeeeah more of a horror movie than a spy movie now.

The reason you can see everyone so well is due to your superior eyesight and definitely not the science lab goggles that you had in your bag for no suspicious reasons. Hey, you had to be prepared for literally anything considering your luck.

Nat’s wearing some kind of night vision-looking goggles and a mask and when she passes you you poke her leg. She jumps a little, glaring at you until she seems to recognize you despite your flawless Lab Scientist disguise and her eyes widen. Her eyes seem to scream ‘What are you doing here’ but you feel it’s too obvious of a question to bother answering.

Instead, you give her the biggest smile you can muster and a friendly wave, mouthing “Hiiii Nat!”

She rolls her eyes but you can see the smile she’s hiding under her mask and you mentally fist pump. Three for three.

You point to the man wielding the gun and mouth to her “Go! Team go!”

She shakes her head, exasperated by your lack of fear and self-preservation but holds her finger up to her mouth telling you to be silent as she turns to sneak up on the man.

Your body does so love disobeying orders though, so it chooses that moment to sneeze, which has the man pointing the gun in your direction (not that he can see as his eyes are practically watering now) and Nat turns to you with a glare.

You raise your hands up in surrender and in an attempt to help, you throw the nearest object on the floor across the room. Oh, that was your phone- well, okay. Either way, it helps, the man swings back in that direction, blasting his gun in the air and Nat takes the moment to attack him from behind.

She disarms him easily, taking him to the ground and placing him in handcuffs. She inspects the device carefully, flipping a switch and aiming it at the closest frozen person. With a bolt of light, they unfreeze and gasp for breath. Good, at least the idiot had created some sort of Ctrl-Shift Undo button.

You're part of the first few escorted out of the building considering you weren’t frozen or in hysterics and the paramedics look at you a little funny but wrap a shock blanket around your shoulders.

Yes, shock. That's what you were experiencing. Normal people things. You twist back and forth and watch the shock blanket sway as you wait for Nat to be done with her serious business. God, serious business was boring and took forever.

When she finally emerges from the building she ignores the press and police that come up to talk to her and heads straight for you. Ha! Eat shit losers.

She doesn’t bother with formalities, why would she? It's you. Instead, she hands you a small black box as she takes in the shock blanket you’ve tied around your neck to look like a cape.

“Here’s your phone” You take the object from her hands and inspect it.

Oh wow, No cracks, that's great. Wait- “This is not my phone” You turn it over and inspect the Stark logo on the back of it. Yeeeeah definitely not yours.

“No, it’s not” She doesn't bother lying to you at least, and you hum in acknowledgment. Well, you weren’t one to pass up a free upgrade. You pocket the phone and stick your hands in your front pockets, flashing her a smile

“So… you come around here often?” She rolls her eyes at your stupid attempt at a joke. Or flirting. Either one works.

“How do you keep ending up in these situations?”

It’s your turn to smirk “Maybe it’s just an excuse to see you?”

She gives you a look that says ‘It better not be’ and you just shrug, your shock blanket falling to the ground. Fucker. Making you look uncool. You refuse to bend down and pick it up. Recovery blankets were for losers anyway.

Still, she smiles at you anyway and crosses her arms “I’m beginning to think the only way to keep you safe is to keep you with me”

Your heart leaps but you pretend to be nonchalant. You're only blushing because of shock or whatever. Play it cool “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea” A stupid smile forces its way onto your face despite your best attempts to repress it and Nat laughs at your stubbornness.

“But first I think we’ve got to teach you some self-defense” She nods her head indicating for you to follow her and you both begin walking in step to an unmarked black car.

Kidnapper car.

Cameras are flashing around you and you think about how cool you’ll look with Lab goggles atop your head and white smoke in your hair on the news tomorrow morning. The media was going to love you.

Turning to Nat on your way to the car, you have a question that’s been itching at you that you feel the need to ask

“Do you think your sugar daddy can help me fix my bike?”

She punches you in the arm.

A/n: This was initially a writing exercise to write the silliest short story I could think of, but I thought it was cute so I decided to post it~ Starry

179 notes · View notes

ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Note

Hello! First of all I love your stories so much💖 and hope you're having an amazing day. I wanted to ask if you could write something with this, feel free to decline if not 😊

I have this idea of Daryl and the reader being a thing before the apocalypse, Merle hated his girl and left her closed in a place with loads of walkers around without D knowing(something similar to what happens to him in Atlanta) but she manages to escape and survive thanks to what D has taught her. The group at the prison helps her after finding her tiredly fighting some walkers close to there. D and M are in the woods and the scene of D's back comes and says that the reader was his saviour for staying with him even after that and that they were planning to escape and get married. They arrive at the prison and she punches M in the face and well says to D everything that happened. M gets to see how D gets around Reader and before leaving the prison says to reader to take care of his bro and "sacrifices" himself going to fight the governor, D and r found him already turned and they both cry, promising to take care of each other.

I love the detail here! Plz forgive me, this turned out way longer than I intended. Nearly 5k words! I hope I did your vision justice! It was getting pretty long so I had to cut and tweak some things but I tried make sure to include all your key details!

Separated

Summary: You and the Dixon brothers are on your way to Atlanta to find that refugee center you heard about on the radio before they stopped broadcasting. When your journey is interrupted and you and Merle get separated from Daryl, Merle impulsively leaves you trapped and stranded in fear Daryl would choose you over him if it came down to it. When you're reunited with your love, you face tragedy together.

Note: There are some time jumps here. They're labeled to hopefully avoid confusion. Also some canon dialogue <3 A lot of your backstory with the Dixons wasn't totally necessary but I was trying to create a ~vibe~

18+ MDNI || Warnings: profanity, TWD typical violence, canonically moral deficient character, death and dying, mentions of alcohol and pills

the way he cowers and shrinks away from Merle's walker makes me cry every time omg

Then:

Things went south so fast. The three of you were traveling relatively trouble free. The guys could hunt, and Daryl had taught you a thing or two yourself, so food was never an issue. Finding water wasn't as hard as it would be later down the line. All the supplies left in homes and stores hadn't been completely ransacked yet. It was the beginning of the outbreak. With Merle's truck, Daryl's bike, some weapons and supplies, and the general survival skills you were learning from the two of them, fleeing to the city to find that refugee center had been as easy as something like that could get, until the water ran out.

It should have been an easy pit stop. The town was small. Your grandma would have called it a 'blink of an eye' town, because when you passed towns so small on a trip they'd fly by in the blink of an eye. There was a general store right on the corner, so that was where you decided to start the search. Just some water, maybe first aide and booze. Who knew what you'd find? The truck was parked right outside the store. Daryl wanted a smoke. He said he'd meet you and Merle inside. Then the growls started. Daryl could hear them from a distance, so he knew it was a big herd.

None of you had had much trouble with the big groups of them yet. So far, maybe ten or fifteen at a time. You killed the ones that got too close and fled as fast as you could. No unnecessary risks, that was the rule. Merle always said if he died it would be from something cool like a police shootout or a bank robbery. He refused to go out the way those things took people out. Daryl always said he'd shoot himself before he let them get the chance to eat him alive or turn him. He'd never be a walking corpse. You? Daryl always said you were too pretty to die. You just said you were too much of a badass.

Daryl popped his head inside. There were only two freaks inside and they were easy enough to take down, so you and Merle were just looting by then.

"Incoming. We gotta head out." Daryl announced.

"Just a second, baby brother. I'm lookin' for the whiskey." Merle said.

"Ain't got time for that. I can hear 'em comin'." Daryl insisted. You zipped your bag up with everything you had found so far, including the water, and walked toward your broody boyfriend with a half smile.

"There were exactly three waters left. How's that for good luck?" You said to him.

"Why'd'ya think I keep ya 'round? You're my good luck charm." He winked before slapping the window to get Merle's attention. "C'mon, man! No unnecessary risks!"

You slipped past Daryl and stepped outside, throwing your bag in the bed of the truck. You could hear the moans and groans. You turned your attention in the direction of the noise and you could see the heads peeking up over a hill. Your eyes grew wide as your heart sped up.

"Uh... Guys? We gotta go!" You called out, not taking your eyes off the herd that was slowly coming into view. You had never seen so many of them.

"Merle, come on!" Daryl was growing more aggravated and impatient as the seconds ticked by.

Daryl jogged back to the truck just as Merle was emerging from the little shop. With no sense of urgency in sight, Merle just looked over the bottle of Jack he had found as he casually strolled over to the driver's side. You scooted into the middle seat and Daryl hopped in the passenger spot and slammed his door shut.

"Hurry up, man!" Daryl urged his brother.

Merle grumbled some smartass remark about being afraid of 'a few dead bodies' as he cranked the engine and hit the gas, speeding away.

Now

You were so sore. So exhausted. So ready to just give in, but you couldn't. You refused to give in that easy. Someone told you once that you were too pretty to die, and you took that to heart.

You kept swinging your machete at them as they closed in on you. You were cornered between a building and a fence. What the hell were you supposed to do now? You had no idea, but you were determined to figure it out. You had gotten yourself out of worse situations.

Then

"Gon' have to circle back somewhere to get back on the interstate." Daryl informed, looking at the map.

"I don't need a second driver." Merle waved him off. You rolled your eyes. You were glad to be surviving something so scary with the man you loved, but the third wheel was getting hard to live with.

"Whatever, man." Daryl huffed, turning his attention to the window instead of paying his brother any mind.

You kept your attention on the rearview mirror, relieved to see the herd fading away as the truck rolled forward. Those things really freaked you out, especially when they were all together like that, stumbling and bumping into each other carelessly.

A mile or so down the road, you heard a loud pop and the engine started to sputter. "Ah, hell." Merle sighed.

"What?" Daryl asked, leaning forward to see his brother.

"Gas is empty." He replied, looking down at the dash.

"Are you kiddin' me?" Daryl asked incredulously. "Ya didn't think to check before?"

"I did check, but I thought we'd be back on the interstate by now. Plenty o' cars to siphon a li'l fuel from back there." Merle defended.

"Hate to raise the stakes even higher here," you interrupted. "But, that herd is gonna be catching up soon, so we need to figure something out."

Merle shot you a sideways glance. If it was up to him he would have just left you back home and fled with his brother, but Daryl insisted on picking you up. Now, he couldn't even hop on his bike with his baby brother and sail away to safety because there wouldn't be room for you and Daryl would never agree. He wasn't the greatest brother, but he wouldn't leave Daryl behind either.

"Wha's that?" Daryl suddenly asked, breaking the tense silence as the three of you considered your pressing circumstances.

You both turned your attention to what the archer was pointing out. Just beyond the treeline was a small wooden structure. Some kind of shack.

"A house?" You wondered.

"Nah. Shed or somethin'." Daryl figured.

"Maybe we can hide there and let the freaks pass by. They're pretty stupid, right? Maybe they'll just keep going straight if we don't draw their attention." You suggested.

"Won't even know we're there." Daryl agreed.

"Well then let's quit the yappin' and get over there before they see us." Merle drawled as he pushed his door open. Daryl got out and offered you a hand while you stepped out of the truck. Your posh parents never liked him much, but they never saw what a gentlemen he could really be. You had cut ties with them long before the dead started roaming.

Now

You were beginning to think maybe this was really the end. It really wasn't that many. Seven at the most. But you were just so tired. You lazily swung the blade into a skull and struggled to yank it out. You had climbed on top of a dumpster, so at least they couldn't reach you, but you were still trapped until you could get rid of them. You wondered how stupid it would be to take a quick nap. Surely one of them would reach you eventually. You decided against it.

Then

Without any spoken agreement, the three of you grabbed any supplies you thought you'd need and jogged over to the dilapidated structure. It was vacant and smelled faintly of mildew and rotting wood.

"It'll do." Merle sighed.

"Do? This is a mansion compared to the truck." You remarked, stretching your body. You were stiff from so much sitting.

The three of you watched silently through the cracks in the door as the herd stumbled by with their swinging arms and dragging feet. The smell was something you couldn't get used to, and with so many of them, it was strong. You gagged quietly. Daryl rubbed a hand up and down your back when he noticed.

The three of you really thought you were fine. You outsmarted the dead ones and soon you'd be on your way again. You had never been so wrong about anything before.

Merle got a little too comfortable given the situation. He went and dug through his duffel for his whiskey. He had been drinking so much you wondered if his piss could get someone drunk. The entire time you'd been on the road with them, the man had managed to find liquor everywhere he went. There wasn't a single day he hadn't been drunk, and if there had been, you were sure he'd have a stash of pills to keep him feeling nice. You guessed you couldn't blame him. Shit was rough nowadays.

When Merle found the bottle he dropped it and it shattered. After giving Merle a look that could kill, Daryl turned his attention back to the herd. A few of them were veering off. The sound had caught their attention. Only a few heard, but as they started walking toward the shed, more followed.

"Shit." You whispered.

"This place ain't gon' hold." Daryl added.

"My Jack." Merle complained.

"Hell with your booze, man." Daryl scoffed as some of the dead started to claw at the outside. "We gotta go."

"Go where, baby brother?"

"We could take down the few that are at the door and break for the truck." You thought.

"Nah, too many on the road. But we can run off that way." Daryl nodded toward the back of the shed.

"Okay." You nodded, throwing your bag over your shoulders and readying your machete.

Merle haphazardly hooked his duffel and cocked his pistol.

"No guns. Too loud." Daryl reminded him.

"Relax. It's a last resort." Daryl shrugged, tucking it unto his belt. With a nod to each other, you and Daryl kicked the door open and took down two walkers. Merle was right behind you.

Now

Tires screeched from ahead. You looked up and saw a car. A woman and a man got out of the vehicle and rushed over, taking down the walkers with ease and precision. Gee, you thought. Bet it's nice to have someone that has your back.

The couple walked over to the dumpster and eyed you cautiously, glancing at each other. "You okay?" The man finally asked.

"Could use an espresso." You quipped.

"What's your name?" The woman inquired.

"(Y/N)."

"I'm Maggie." She introduced. "This is Glenn."

Then

Only using your energy on the ones closest, the three of you darted deeper into the woods. They followed, because they saw you and now they wanted you.

Only, there were more in the trees than you anticipated. Usually the woods were pretty clear save for a few stragglers here and there. These woods were not. You wondered why, but there was no time to guess. You just kept running.

Eventually there were just too many. Daryl got pushed further and further away as more and more emerged from behind trees. When you realized you couldn't see him anymore you called for him.

"Quiet girl! He can take care o' himself. You're drawin' more to us!" Merle hissed. You reluctantly obeyed, because you knew he was right. Daryl probably evaded them somewhere and would meet you both back at the truck.

When the running began to take its toll and your chest started to burn, you put more of a focus on searching for somewhere to hide. To your advantage, there was an overgrown cabin not too far ahead. erle peered over his shoulder.

"We're losin' em. Let's get inside an' wait 'em out. Daryl 'll meet us back at the truck when it passes." He strategized well for his inebriated state.

"Okay." You breathed, just grateful for a chance to stop and rest.

Now

"Need some help? Maggie asked, offering you a hand as you slid off the edge of the dumpster.

"Thanks."

"You have a group?" Glenn wondered. Maggie gave him an unsure look. You noticed Glenn looked pretty beat up. You wondered what happened.

"No." You said lowly. You did have people, but you were left behind.

"Well.." Glenn trailed off, looking to Maggie as if to silently ask what they should do with you.

"You can come with us. Can't promise you can stay though." She spoke up.

Then

The cabin had been vacant for a long time. Some of the old dusty furniture remained so you both sat down and just breathed. You handed him a water bottle and sipped on one for yourself while you waited. It felt like hours had gone by. It had grown dark out. Merle peeked out of the window. There were a bunch of them all around, but they had no idea the two of you were in there. It seemed like they lost their lead and just stopped, staggering around in the same spot.

"There's a lot of 'em, but they ain't payin' attention. I say we leave out the back an' sneak back toward the road." Merle suggested. You thought for a second.

"Yeah," you nodded. "Okay."

Just as you passed it by, Merle suddenly shoved you in a closet and shut it behind you.

"Merle, what the fuck, man?" You complained, banging at the door. It wouldn't budge.

"Quiet, now. Don't wanna draw in any unwanted attention." He taunted. You sighed.

"Merle, c'mon this isn't funny."

"'Fraid it ain't a joke, Darlin. Truck's outta gas an' my bike only carries two."

Your heart sank.

"Daryl isn't just gonna leave without me." You reminded.

"He won't have a choice when I tell 'im 'bout how them dead ones took ya down." He mockingly lamented. "It was just terrible, ya know? They grabbed her. I couldn't pull'er away in time before they got to chompin'."

"The hell, dude? Don't do this!" You begged, banging at the door again.

"Look. Ya got your bag in there, got your weapon, got your wits. You'll figure it out." He reasoned.

"Not if I'm trapped!"

"I'm sure you can kick that slab o' wood down if ya try hard enough." He was getting further away by the sounds of it. "Jus' try not to be too loud. Don't want 'em hearin' ya."

Now

"I'd be grateful." You admitted. "I haven't had anywhere to rest in a while. I have some medicine here I'd be happy to share in exchange for a good night of rest."

"Watcha got?" Maggie asked.

"We actually came out her for medicine." Glenn added.

"Some antibiotics, some Benadryl, some stuff for pain. Oh, and I found an EpiPen. I'm allergic to bees, so."

"Antibiotics is what we need." Maggie said.

"Yeah, whatever you need. Thanks again."

They still hit a few stores while you rested in their car. Maggie made sure to grab the keys just in case you tried anything, but you were too tired to try even if you wanted to. When they had found everything they thought they'd need for the prison, they drove you back. Rick and the others were apprehensive, with everything happening with Woodbury and recently losing one of their best fighters. Daryl was also their hunter, their tracker, and generally someone they all relied on.

You explained to them that you were traveling with some people to Atlanta but they left you behind and you'd been on the move ever since. "I'd be glad to sleep outside if it makes you more comfortable." You said to Rick. "I can leave in the morning. I just really need somewhere to sleep."

Rick studied you for an uncomfortably long time before he asked, "How many walkers have you killed?"

"Walkers?" You asked. You'd never heard that term before.

"The dead." He clarified.

"Oh... I don't know, really. A lot."

"How many people have you killed?"

"None." You said honestly. "But there is one person I might beat to death if I ever see him again."

"Why?"

"He left me stranded, surrounded by the dead."

The Next Morning

Rick let you sleep in a separate cell block. He let you know you'd be locked in for a the night but that he'd come get you in the morning to talk. You didn't really care. You just wanted rest.

When he came and got you that morning you were offered a warm meal, which you gladly accepted. You made sure to give them the majority of your antibiotics as a show of gratitude.

Meanwhile, deep in the woods, two rednecks were hashing it out. Name calling, shoving, whatever it took to unleash all the pent up frustrations they had between each other.

See, in all that time Daryl spent with Rick and their group, he began to find a side of himself that was suppressed with his brother around. The only person to ever make him believe he could be good was taken from him before they made it to the quarry. Merle, on the other hand, only represented everything that Daryl was trying to put behind him. Merle was capable of hurting good people or looking the other way instead of helping someone in danger. If only Daryl knew some of the things Merle had really done.

"There was a baby!" Daryl defended as Merle laid into him for risking his own ass to save a family on a bridge.

"Oh, otherwise ya woulda just left 'em to the biters." Merle retorted.

"Man, I went back for ya. Ya weren't there. I didn't cut off your hand, neither. You did that. Way before they locked you up on that roof. You asked for it."

"You know what's funny to me? Hmm? You and Sheriff Rick are like this now." Merle said, locking his two fingers together. "I bet you a penny and a fiddle o' gold you never told him that we were plannin' on robbin' that camp blind."

"It didn't happen!" Daryl snapped. "And we woulda never had to if ya didn't let the truck run out o' gas! And my girlfriend wouldn't be dead!" Daryl's chest was heaving as his eyes stung, threatening to spill fresh tears at the thought of her. Merles eyes flashed something Daryl couldn't quite decipher.

"It didn't happen 'cause I wasn't there to help you!"

"When we were kids.. Who left who then, huh?" Daryl frowned.

"What? Huh, is that why I lost my hand?" Merle rasped.

"You lost your hand 'cause you're a simple-minded piece o' shit!"

"Yeah?!" Merle lost it. He grabbed Daryl by the shirt. "You don't know!"

When Daryl fell to the ground, his shirt ripped down the back. Merle froze. His chest felt tight as he stared down at the gruesome scene left on Daryl's back from years of abuse at the hands of their father. "I -- I didn't know --"

"Yeah, ya did." Daryl's voice cracked as he pushed himself to his feet. "That's why ya left. But (Y/N), she never left. She was always there, man. Always. She was the one who saved me. She protected me. Not you, man!" He wiped a tear as he took a breath between heated words. "We were gon' run away, gon' get the hell outta that town and get married, maybe start a family. I don't know, and I never will thanks to you!"

He did blame his big brother for the loss of his love, but not in the way that he should have. He blamed Merle's clumsiness, carelessness, and negligence. He had no idea that Merle trapped and abandoned you.

Later

Daryl went back home to the prison. Merle couldn't stand too watch him leave, so he followed. Guilt was starting to eat at him, gnawing away at his insides, mouthfuls at a time. He almost felt nauseous hearing about you and what Daryl had planned with you. He tried to imagine his battered baby brother in a nice little house with a wife and kids. Hell, he even tried to picture it for himself, but the image wasn't clear enough for it to seem possible. All either of them had ever known was violence and loneliness. That was why they needed each other. That was why he had to get rid of you.

You had just finished a tour of the prison. Rick told you that you could stay for a while, but he didn't know if he trusted you as one of them. He shared a little about a rival community with a crazed leader. You understood. You never expected to stick around, even if they offered. You couldn't see yourself trusting anyone after what Merle did to you.

You were sitting in the cell you slept in the night before, sharpening your machete and thinking about the things that you couldn't change. You heard distant voices echoing from the other block. It was some sort of confrontation from the sound of it. You snuck over to the cellblock where everyone stayed and peeked around a corner. Glenn and Maggie were blocking most of your view, but they seemed to be the most pissed off. Rick was off to the side trying to mediate.

"You can't let him stay. Not after what he did to Glenn!" Maggie demanded.

"He goes, I go."

You stopped breathing. That voice sent chills up and down your spine.

"Okay." Rick held his hand out, attempting to set forward a solution but the room fell silent as you stepped into view. Merle noticed you first. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

"Well, I'll shit bricks." He murmured in disbelief.

"(Y/N)?" Daryl breathed, almost inaudibly. Your eyes were welling with tears as you stood just feet away from the man you loved.

Daryl dropped everything and ran over to you, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you up. You couldn't even hug him back because your arms were trapped under his. All you could do was let out something between a giggle and sob.

"Daryl." You whispered. Your body felt so perfect against his, just how he remembered. Then, it dawned on him. He set you down and turned to look at Merle, a blend of betrayal and fury flooding his eyes.

"You said she was dead!" Daryl growled.

As everyone around you watched the scene before them unfold, they felt clueless. Daryl had never mentioned you because it hurt too much to bring up. Your feet began moving before you could even think. One second you were standing beside Daryl, then you blinked and you were inches away from Merle, rearing your fist back and striking his jaw with a force you didn't even know you were capable of. Merle stumbled and dropped to the ground holding his face. He moved his jaw around a little before he glared up at you.

"Okay. I deserved that." He accepted.

"Yeah, you did." You spat.

"Hold on. Someone care to explain what the hell's goin' on here?" Rick spoke out.

You turned to Daryl, as if it was he who answered the question. You didn't care to share with the class. Daryl needed to know.

"When we got separated in the woods.." You began, taking a breath. "Merle and I found a cabin. We hid there, waited for shit to blow over, and we were supposed to meet you back at the ruck. Merle figured you'd wait for us there."

"And I left her." Merle admitted from behind you. You glanced back at him momentarily. You were surprised at his accountability.

"In a closet." You added spitefully. "The place was surrounded. Took me forever to get out of there and even longer to get back to the truck. By then, you two and the bike were gone."

Daryl's nostrils flared with rage. His fists were balled up so tight his knuckles turned white against his tan skin. His shoulders rose and fell with each heavy breath he took. He was so pissed, so hurt. The weight of the revelation had weighed him down so heavily that his boots felt like they were nailed to the ground. Otherwise, he would have lunged at his brother and beaten the teeth out of his skull. All that time Daryl spent in pain, mourning the loss of someone who wasn't gone. All because his brother didn't like her.

"Why." Daryl growled.

"The bike only fit two, man."

That Night

You sighed contently as Daryl traced little circles over your shoulder. Once it was decided to leave Merle in a cell, and everything had been explained to Rick, you and Daryl retired to his own cell to enjoy your reunion in private. He was laying on the bottom bunk, one foot crossed over the other as he stared into space, enjoying the feeling of your head on his chest and your arm and leg draped over him.

"I missed you." You whispered, breaking a long, comfortable silence.

"Mm." He hummed. "I mourned ya every day. I shoulda gone back."

"Don't do that. We're together now. Don't blame yourself."

"Shoulda never believed 'im. I knew how jealous he was. Thought he'd get over it." He confessed. You smiled softly and nuzzled up closer, taking in a whiff of his sweaty scent.

"Me too." You agreed. "But he left me with my bag. He didn't want me to die. I think he was afraid if only two of us fit on the bike you'd leave him behind."

"Nah. Woulda had your sweet ass ride the handlebars." He teased, twirling a finger through your hair. You giggled, then you paused.

"Wow. I think that's the first time I've laughed since we got split up." You realized.

"Sure ya didn't find no boyfriends along the way?" He joked. He always did that when things felt too heavy between the two of you. You rolled your eyes, not that he could see it.

"You say that like I've had a lot of those. We've been together since we were like, twenty." You laughed.

The Next Day

Merle and Michonne had disappeared. You learned that the leader of the opposing community -- the Governor, as they called him -- wanted Michonne in exchange for peace, but Rick refused. Merle had likely taken her as a peace offering since he knew what the Governor was capable of.

You and Daryl left to search for him. He took you to a spot where they had previously convened for negotiation. The two of you did a brief sweep of the area before stumbling across some walkers. You each took one down after another until you were left with only one. You froze when you registered what -- or who -- it was.

A sob immediately escaped Daryl as he fell backwards. You blinked back tears as you crouched down behind him and pulled him against you, rocking gently as Daryl wept. Merle's dead body clumsily pushed itself off the ground and onto its feet. You stood first, hoping to put it down before Daryl had to do it himself, but Daryl was quick to push past you. He violently shoved the corpse. It sumbled back, but it walked toward him again. Over and over Daryl shoved what was left of his brother as he cried. Tears were freeling spinning down your cheeks.

When Merle's body fell on its back, Daryl crawled on top of it and plunged his knife into its skull over and over and over until he collapsed.

You wanted to intervene, to console, to be his rock, but something told you to let him get it out. He needed to. So, you waited until Daryl's blind rage simmered down and placed an assuring hand on his shoulder.

"Wanna bury him?" You whispered.

Daryl shook his head.

"Okay." You relented. You glanced around your surroundings and noticed a patch of wildflowers off in the distance. "I'll be right back." You squeezed him gently before jogging over and gathering each and every flower in the patch. When you walked back over to where Daryl was hunched over Merle, he looked up at you with wet, red eyes. When he clocked the flowers, he gave a single nod and stood up beside you. You split the flowers in half and handed Daryl a bundle. The two of you placed them each individually around Merle's corpse.

You thought back to a conversation you had with Merle the night before, when you couldn't sleep and went out of the cell to get some water.

"Take care of my baby brother, will ya?" Merle's voice echoed through the quiet block.

"I always have."

"We'll take care of each other." Your vice cracked as you spoke. "Promise."

"Promise." Daryl whispered.

Join the taglist! || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow

#daryl x reader #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl twd

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dejabooooo · 4 months

Text

The Anti-Pines family is utterly fascinating. We have the blueprint for an entire pseudo canon AU, and remarkably I have seen little input from the fandom in regards to it. I can’t imagine why because there is SO MUCH TO WORK WITH HERE.

Anti-Waddles being as nefarious as Anti-Mabel. “The first pig to ever go to jail for armed robbery.” Like 😭😭 imagine waddles standing upright and holding a tommy gun. Imagine no one in the bank their holding up taking them seriously because they’re an adorable little girl and a chubby pig, and mabel threatening to put a bullet between someone’s eyes like “u better cough up the bacon before this bacon smokes u.” I wanna see what other heinous atrocities the cutest crime duo in the multiverse get up to.

ANTI-SOOS BEING A FORBES BILLIONAIRE HOW AND WHY DID THIS HAPPEN

You’d think if Anti-Ford represents the opposite of Ford that you’d wind up with someone who is exceptionally normal and uninteresting but NOPE. Anti-Ford is easily the weirdest here. FUCKING??? YOUTUBER??? DJ?? A sixty-something year old man with 200 subscribers who posts about his dubstep set lists daily. Utterly baffling.

Anti-Stan and Anti-Dipper are the most understandable in terms of being complete opposites of their counterparts, but all of this makes me wonder how differently their stories would play out because of this. Anti-Mabel was “chased out of her dimension” for being so evil. How does her family feel about this? Are they trying to get her back? Does this bizarre cast embark on a comical and heartfelt journey to try and bring her home? A journey that ends in an emotional reunion? Perhaps one that Mabel fights as she clings to her indifferent, cold ideology while her family begs her to come home. All of them recollecting her horrible crimes with proportionately little exasperation and an abundance of fondness. Stan recounting when she stole all the money from a fundraiser he’d held so she could instead invest the funds into remodeling their entire house to have a monochrome minimalist decor. Ford reminiscing about the time she tried to use his channel to funnel money into a crypto/nft scheme. Dipper having countless stories. like how happy she’d make him when he’d get to skip school thanks to her (because she burned down the school, multiple times). About how she’d sabotaged pretty much all of his relationships, but it was a good thing in the end because it allowed him to realize that who he always really loved was that dorky socially awkward corduroy girl he hadn’t noticed at first. All of this retrospection from her family chipping away at her hardened heart and- phew, I'm getting carried away, but the possibilities, man! These characters could be so much more than a one time joke.

There is also the matter of Anti-Bill. “He is very boring.” Shut up??? Speak for urself, schmebulock, he sounds delightful. This is another character I believe you could expand in many interesting ways. I mean think about it, a being possessing the same caliber of bill’s omniscience and using it for good sounds amazing. Knowing all the beauty in all the universes and going out of his way to share it with weary minds through their dreams. Nullifying nightmares. What if he were a healing antidote to the mind, a medicine to bill’s mind unraveling madness? What if they knew each other?

Do you see my (delusional) vision here guys?

#gravity falls #gf #mabel pines #waddles #soos ramirez #stanford pines #dipper pines #grunkle stan #stanley pines #bill cipher

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thewonandonly · 5 months

Text

RETURN TO ME

PLAYLIST : spotify

PAIRING : thief!kang yeosang x news reporter!fem!reader

GENRE : thriller? fluff, smut, angst

WC : 14,374 words :3

WARNINGS : strong language, agro-hwa, aggression, graphic description of hostage situations/kidnapping, mention of bank heists/artifact theft, mention of firearms, absolute chaos from ateez as a heist group, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal penitration, vouyerism/exhabitionism, praise, pet names, cunnilingus, no happy ending, its giving mama im in love with a criminal tbh

AUTHOR'S NOTE : it's finally done! i've been writing this fic for OVER a year, ever since guerilla came out 😰 i hope you all enjoy and jsyk, this fic is heavily, heavily, inspired by "love letter from thief x".

Becoming a news reporter wasn't your first option. You originally wanted to write news articles for your local paper, something close to home, but it turned out that your local paper hired another much more qualified person. So, you used your degree in journalism for field reporting.

Your first story was about a cold case being reopened, and you would've loved to do your own research on the topic, however, the teleprompter read everything for you, telling you what to say, what to do and how to do what they tell you to do. You seriously did not have any freedom. You were about ready to go on sabbatical and open a gossip blog like Perez Hilton. Then, maybe you'll finally be able to get the freedom you'd like to report how you'd like. Or, maybe you'd even put the degree you got for investigative journalism, something you think would be extremely enjoyable to you and your wallet.

But, you didn't start hating your job at the beginning. No, because it was helpful to have a teleprompter in front of you, telling you what to say while the ring light blinded you. No, it wasn't because of that. It was because you were currently trapped in a hostage situation, the news broadcast now hijacked by the criminals in this entire scheme.

It was a classic museum robbery, and you wouldn't say you were excited to cover it, but it was different from what stories you would normally cover. It had the potential danger in it all.

But the second your cameraman and producer cut the cameras to take a break, you were left alone to your own devices until you were going to be called in again by your co-workers in the studio.

You pulled out your phone, scrolling through social media timelines, reading the other news sources that popped up about the situation.

The microphone you held, that did little to nothing when you spoke into it on camera, was suddenly dropped as you were pulled from where you were standing, a hand over your mouth and another arm around your waist, lugging you away like a piece of cargo.

How was no one noticing this, you questioned. The cameras were rolling for different news broadcasts, and yet no one gave any mind to the sound of your heels scraping against the gravel road, leaving white marks from the top piece on the bottom of your heel.

You practically screamed from behind the hand against your mouth, but the sound of all the chaos from newscasters, sirens that echoed against the buildings silenced your screams.

All the self-defense you've learned for this moment, that you pleaded never happened, seemed to disappear from your head. And you were nearly incapacitated, anyhow. The last you saw of the outside was where your team sat, and the microphone discarded on the ground, your phone right next to it with a shattered screen.

The captor pulled you around the back of the building, another holding the door open for them.

They all wore masks, some you've seen at Halloween stores. Some of them you haven't seen available anywhere. You could only assume that this has been planned years before it happened.

Shutting the door at the back of the building, the man released you before another took over and tied your arms behind your back, and sat you down to bind your legs.

"I'm sorry." The person tying you whispered, "For what it's worth."

"It isn't worth jack shit." You grumbled, moving around in the restraints, trying to get him to mess up even a little bit.

The other cleared his throat, "Come in, Base, it's me." He mumbled through the mask.

You immediately assumed that this was a much more complex plan, looking as he communicated to "Base".

"You read me?" He paused, "Newscaster is secured. Video's free to run."

"Y/N, uh... Come in." Your coworker spoke through the in-ear you had, and you nearly shook. There was no way you could respond unless you were left by yourself. "Y/N, come in." Their voice got a bit more stern, a bit more deeper.

There was a loud ringing playing over the in-ear and you jumped.

A voice full of static echoed, sounding distant but close at the same exact time, "This is an official notice. We, the group known by Kyomi, require the government release the Dream Texts to us, immediately." The video that played was a deep, almost god-like voice, similar to the voice configuration that Anonymous had used many, many times in the past, "The National Treasure Museum does not have rights to own the Dream Texts, nor does the government. They are to return them to their rightful owners. You have 24 hours."

Ringing played in your ear and you began to rub the in-ear across your shoulder trying to get it out from your ear, before it fell against the floor, the ringing echoing across the walls.

"Son of a..." The one tying you up glanced at the in-ear, looking at you before kicking it away, "What do you think you're doing?"

You struggled in the restrains, the rope digging into your skin.

"Wasp, we got a breach." He called to the other across from him, swinging the bolt rifle back to his hands, "She had an in-ear. They heard us."

The other turned to you, glaring at you through the mask, which made it 20 times more horrific, "Well, what are you waiting for? Break it." The one called Wasp spoke, squatting beside you, "Killer," He called over his own in-ear, "Shut it down."

You glared back at him, not at all deferred from your fear coursing through your veins.

There were so many other people that you weren't aware were in the next room, dealing with 4 others. Museum staff and guests visiting the 24/7 museum alike, all being threatened in front of the barrel of a gun.

And as soon as "Wasp" called to shut it down, it was all over in a second.

"Meet at the van. 10 minutes tops. Grab your shit, we're leaving."

Your brain immediately connected the dots that maybe this "Wasp" was the leader of the others, and you didn't think even a little bit that you would be going along with them until the one who tied you up in the rope swooped you over his shoulder, your legs kicking at his back.

"What about the newscaster, Wasp?"

"Bring her along, Hornet. Base is gonna need all the info we can get." He nodded to the entryway, and opened the door to the reception desk. "Sharp, let's go. We're out of time."

"Sharp" immediately stood up from his crouching position with his gun still aimed at any who threatened through the glass windows, "You go ahead. Killer and Spiral are in the next room with the hostages."

"Copy." Hornet responded, carrying you through the door, "Killer, Spiral, get anything gathered about the Dream Texts and head out."

The two across the room gathered backpacks and threw them over their shoulders, their rifles resting in their hands.

The other hostages huddled together, shaking in fear. And in contrast, you rested on Hornet's shoulder, watching them from the corner of your eye.

Wasp and Sharp entered through the door, a whistle escaping Wasp's lips, "Let's load up, Web is waiting for us." He lead the group to the van, "Hornet, drop the newscaster inside. You know the drill. Sharp, check for trackers. Spiral, swap out the plates."

Hornet nodded his head to the door as Killer opened it, plopping you inside, "Alright, miss, no need to worry."

You trembled like a leaf. You never, ever thought this would happen to you. You, who took kickboxing as an extracurricular in high school and actually passed the class as top student. You, who checked every glass window you passed by in your hometown. You, who was so kind but also knew how to set your boundaries. This couldn't be happening to you. There was no way. The one second you were distracted by your cellphone and it wasn't while you were working; much rather it was while you were on break.

The rope binding your arms behind your back was suddenly met with another rope through that one, and you had to convince yourself that this wasn't some messed up shibari sex cult. Inappropriate thoughts aside, Hornet tied a blindfold around your eyes, covering any light that might've flooded in from the dingy alleyway that the Kyomi group stood in, watching as Hornet finished restraining you and depriving you of your senses.

There was a faint beeping that echoed in and out your ear. "Can's clear, Wasp." Sharp called.

"Good. Let's head out." He climbed into the van, hitting the door to the others, "Up and at 'em, boys."

"Jesus Christ, this mask is fucking annoying." A voice called and you heard the horrendous sound of latex rubbing against one another.

Another shouted, "Dude, you're all good to take the mask off!"

"I already did, asshole!"

You wiggled around, trying to grab even the slightest bit of attention, but they all seemed too busy talking to one another to notice you using your shoulder to move the bandana up just a little to see out of the bottom.

A voice sighed, "Come on, you two. Relax. We're not out of the woods just yet."

The other voice laughed, almost high pitched, "He's just so fucking ugly. I can't help it."

There was the brief sound of pushing and shoving, before a deep and stern, "Hey!" echoed through the car, "If Web gets into a crash and we get caught because of you two, it's over."

A tongue clicked, "Yeah, listen to Wasp. He can't afford to go back to jail, guys."

"You're one to talk, Yunho!"

"All of you just shut the fuck up." The voice boomed, and you almost flinched back into the car, feeling like you yourself was the one getting scolded, even though you were the most quiet out of the others, aside from Web.

You took this moment to actually lean your head back, and angle your eyes downward, catching the briefest glance among the group.

Three sat across from you, their masks still covering their face as they leaned against the empty van, guns resting at their side. The other two sat with their backs against the driver and passenger seats, next to the other group. Aside from the one directly in front of you, you were by yourself.

One of them cleared their throat, breaking the silence, "So, what's with the newscaster? Why'd we take her?"

"Information." That was the voice. The voice you could recognize as Wasp.

The other sighed, "Where are we gonna keep her?"

"Base can take care of her." It was short, simple, but definitely not sweet. He was the leader, he was the one that told the other's where to go.

The brief sounds of sirens were what pulled your attention from leaning your head back. And the sound only made you more agitated. I'm in here, you wanted to call. And how you pleaded you have superhuman strength to break out from your ties, break the door and crawl into the street.

The car ride was long. Extremely long and painful. You could feel your bottom going numb, and the rope digging into your arms. You were sure that you had a rope burn from it. The blindfold getting all the more irritating. But, they didn't seem to notice that the bandana was even lifted a little bit, or how you would glance at them from underneath it. They were comfortable with each other, all joking around, almost as if they didn't hold an entire museum heist just a few hours ago. Their masks were off, the weapons and items they were able to grab from the museum in the middle of the van.

Wasp slumped forward, his arms folded across his stomach as he slept.

And when the van stopped, you nearly shook. The rain pattered on the concrete.

"We're here." Web, the one driving called, putting the car in park.

The others sighed, standing up and stretching, climbing out the van, "Shit," one of them yawned.

"Come on, Wasp. Let's get you inside." One of them shook him by his shoulders.

Wasp looked up and took a single glance outside and was already on his feet, "Alright, grab the things. Web has to get this back to the rental company. Base already changed the plates and VIN for it."

"Copy that." They all began to pick up an item; at least one gun as well, and opened the back door to the van.

Wasp began to untie the rope through the one rubbing into your arms and lifted you over his shoulder. He kept a strong arm over your waist and walked around to the driver side. "Web, pass me the dash cam card."

Web immediately reached toward the device and pulled out the card, "Got the replacement one?"

Wasp rummaged in his pocket, "Here. Base got still footage while we were setting up." Passing the card to Web, he nodded to him, "Get back safe."

"I always do." He shrugged before driving off.

Wasp sighed, looking up at the sky as the rain fell into his face, "God, I hate rain."

You wanted to make a stupid pun about wasps and their aggression, but your throat was so dry, you believed even speaking a little bit would cause your trachea to crack.

The mud gushed around his feet as he walked and opened the door to what you assumed was their base.

"Welcome back, Seonghwa." A soft voice mumbled, "Who's this you have with you?"

"Newscaster." He dropped you down onto a couch and pulled the blindfold from your eyes.

It took a moment before your eyes could adjust to the dim lighting, and you felt 8 different pairs of eyes on you. The ones you saw in the museum had their masks either in their hand or on top of their heads. It was hard to believe that these people were so ready to show their faces to you.

And the two you haven't had the pleasure — you use that loosely — to meet yet, sat across from you, large computer monitors on top of two separate desks that looked just a little too large for the room, watching your every move.

Your breath began to quicken, your lungs beginning to constrict on every other breath. It didn't begin to hit you that you were obviously very much kidnapped, until you began to look around for any hint that maybe this was all big nightmare.

Wasp, or now known as Seonghwa, bent at the waist and looked into your eyes, "Tell us what you know."

You've seen movies like this; the main character ends up kidnapped for knowing too much and when asked for the information they know, they always respond with the stupid words of "where am i?"

But honestly, you didn't really care where you were, you just wanted to get home. You wanted to lay in your bed and cuddle up in your covers.

"Just about as much as everyone." You mumbled, shrinking under Seonghwa's stone cold glare, "I know that you want the Dream Texts, and I know that your groups name is Kyomi, and that there's 8 of you, only 6 of you going out on missions." You looked up at the man in front of you, shifting uncomfortably, "And I know that you don't kill."

The blonde male in the chair nodded, "She's good." He chuckled, pointing at you, "You actually know a lot more than others."

"I spend a lot of time reading about you guys." You mumbled.

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, "All that information is on the internet?" He turned to the others, "Yeosang, do something about this."

The blonde male in the chair spun around and began to type quickly on the keyboard.

You could only watch and listen, feeling uncomfortable as another member sat beside you and placed his arm around the top of the couch.

"Yeosang's our eyes." The other member whispered, "And the other one is Mingi, he does all background work for us."

Mingi waved sweetly, in contrast with the dim lighting of the room.

"Okay..." Yeosang mumbled, "Well, there are other news sources giving background to the group but it doesn't look like they know anything about us, personally." He rubbed his bottom lip, "There's not much to do aside from let the tabloids run their crazy little course and let them speculate."

Seonghwa clicked his tongue, "Son of a bitch," He pushed his hair back and sighed, "Yeosang, keep an eye on those articles and make sure that anything slightly close to our personal lives gets taken down."

"Aye, aye, sir." Yeosang nodded.

You briefly made eye contact with Yeosang, before looking down at your lap, "Do you think I'll be able to go home soon?"

Seonghwa looked at you like you were crazy, "You think you'll be able to go home now? You've seen our faces, you know how we sound."

The realization hit you all too late. There was no way you were going to be able to go home after everything you've been through. Like Seonghwa said, you've seen their faces. You've heard their voices. They had no collateral to the fact that you wouldn't say a word. And they definitely weren't going to risk some feisty newscaster giving away what they were doing anytime soon.

"You're right." You chuckled softly, "God, I'm such an idiot." You weren't generally speaking about your current situation, more rather this whole evening. You were distracted, you were caught unawares. And now, you were trapped in a situation that you didn't ask to be in.

"Wooyoung, San, get her something more comfortable than those ropes." Yeosang called, and the member that sat next to you and the other across the room stood up and wandered off to the back of the shack... house, whatever it was.

Seonghwa looked around, "What are we gonna do with her?"

Yeosang shrugged, his demeanor almost changing in that instant, "I'm not the one who brought her here."

You furrowed your brows, "You guys don't even know what to do with me and still brought me here?"

A brown haired member with a gentle smile and soft eyes chuckled, "Seonghwa didn't think it all the way through."

"Shut up, Yunho!" The latter scolded, "So, who's gonna give up their bed?"

"Definitely not me." A shorter male shook his head, "My back's still messed up from that heist in the city."

"That's always your excuse, Hongjoong." Yunho rolled his eyes, "I can't give up my bed because I made the perfect ass dent to fit me."

"That leaves Wooyoung, San, Jongho, Mingi,"

"Just let her sleep down here." Yeosang shrugged, "I'll be down here most of the time anyhow."

"Dude, you get zero sleep." Mingi chuckled, shutting off his computer, "Speaking of, I'm gonna head up now. Great job today, guys. G'night."

San and Wooyoung immediately came strolling down the stairs, a pair of silver cuffs in their hands, "Found something!"

"Give them here." Seonghwa called, holding his hand out, using his fingers to motion them towards him. And one of them placed the cuffs in his hand, "Keep her down."

The two hold your shoulders against the couch cushions as Seonghwa used a pocket knife he pulled from his pocket to cut through the rope, forcing your arms to the side and locked the cuff around your left wrist, and the other cuff around the arm of the couch.

Sure, it felt better that you were out of that rope, but with the pinching cuff around your wrist, it made it almost worse.

You sighed, rolling your wrist around, as you finally had circulation returned to your wrist.

Seonghwa sighed, "There." He grabbed the two spare keys and tossed them to the other at the end of the desk, "Keep an eye on her."

You could feel your hand go numb as the blood began to rush back to your fingers, "This is not ideal, but it's better than how it was." You mumbled to yourself, using your thumb to crack your stiff fingers.

Yeosang sighed, spinning around in the chair to continue using his computer, "So..." He whispered. "I know they said you're a news caster, but what station do you work for?" He asked softly, clicking on different links on his screen.

You cleared your throat, "I, uh, I work for STVU. I do field... field reporting." You swallowed roughly, feeling your throating drying up more as you spoke, “They decided it was easier-“

Yeosang chuckled, “All I needed to know was the station.” He pulled up the news website, playing back the live feed. “These your coworkers?” Yeosang motioned to the screen.

Nodding your head, you looked as they stood in silence and you could already imagine the teleprompter moving before their eyes, the producer nodding them to continue. You could imagine the shock from them calling on you, and finding your producer picking up your now shattered cell phone on the ground as the hostages continue to file out of the museum.

Yeosang tapped a pen on the desk, “Looks like the missed out on the money shot ‘cause you weren’t there.” He chuckled, exiting the full screen, “They really depend on people of your career.”

You coughed lightly, “So, what’s the point of keeping me here? If they depend on me so much, what’s the point?” Yeosang turned around in his seat, using his legs to roll over to you on the couch, “Because it gives us an upperhand.” He smiled, almost sinisterly, grabbing your free hand, “It gives us a huge hand. Return the Dream Texts to the most loyal group, Kyomi, or we kill off the newscaster.” He chuckled, looking up at you sitting on the couch, fear brushing your brows and forehead in the form of sweat, “But, you already know we don’t kill people.” He laughed, pushing across the floor back to his desk, “Or, do we?” He began to type on his computer, “I mean, if we did, it’s not like anyone would find out. We have this disposable land, buried under these old junker cars. If we did kill anyone, we’d bury them under those junkers and call it a day. And, the dead can’t speak.”

The way he spoke about it made you wonder, have they really never killed anyone? Have they really, honestly, never did what he spoke about?

Laying down on the couch to calm your anxiety never really helped; In your everyday life and in this situation now. Normally, you’d come home from work and eat, drink, and then lay down on the couch until you passed out from exhaustion, but here — here was so much different. You didn’t feel overworked, you didn’t feel tired even in the slightest, you weren’t hungry, you weren’t thirsty. You were just horrified. And uncomfortable. Your hand would normally meet your hair halfway through the night but with your hand chained up to couch arm, you couldn’t get comfortable. And the only way to get comfortable was to have your bone pressing against the bottom of the arm of the couch.

You just decided that staying awake for the rest of the night would be fine. After all, you did have a later broadcast time rather than waking up at the crack of dawn. So, staying up wasn’t immediately out of the question; in fact, it would’ve been the perfect option.

It was damn near the crack of dawn, and Mingi was right, Yeosang didn’t get any type of sleep. Not even a second of resting his eyes. He just sat in front of his computer screen, typing on his keyboard with a click from his mouse here and there. You wondered how he could do that, especially when you, personally, couldn’t sit at a desk for longer than 10 minutes before getting up and finding anything else in the world to do. You honestly didn’t know if he even got up and used the restroom, if he got something to snack on or to drink. He seemed completely entranced by his computer screen.

You assumed if you loved what you did that doing that type of work wasn’t as grueling.

With creaky steps, down came a lethargic and gloomy looking member of Kyomi, his blonde hair sticking up in every direction. He rubbed his chest from under his shirt, his sweats hanging around his waist, “Sang,” He called to the one sitting at the desk.

Yeosang only responded with an uninterested sound, typing something else into his computer, and a click from his mouse echoing around the two.

“Did you even get her anything to eat?” The other man asked, turning his eyes from you to the other in the chair.

“Jesus Christ, San, she’s not a fucking dog.” Yeosang scrolling down the page, “If she needed something to eat, she’d let me know. We’re like best friends, now, right, Newscaster?”

San looked back to you, rolling his eyes, “Are you hungry?” The fear overpowered San’s kindness, and you felt scared to even speak your mind. You were starving. You didn’t anything since before you went live on screen, and you had your entire menu for the week planned out. But, if he was offering to get you something to eat, you wouldn’t turn down the offer even if it killed you. So, ignoring every thought bubbling in your head like soda pop, you nodded.

San looked back to the one slumped over in his chair, scribbling down something on a notepad, “See? She was hungry.”

“Not my problem.” Yeosang shrugged, “Even if she was, it’s not like I had the key to unlock her.”

“Oh, shit.” San wandered back up the stairs, poking his head down momentarily, “Hold on, Newscaster, I’ll be right back!”

You sighed to yourself, sitting up in the couch, skillfully moving your arm around the arm of the chair to have it rest there comfortably. Sitting on the couch, confined to one spot brought back memories of your high school years, awkwardly sitting on your friends couch as they went to retrieve something from their bedroom, leaving you there to do nothing but play on the cheap cellphone your mother purchased for you. It felt exactly like that moment, with your “friend” across from you as they were comfortable in their room while you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb.

San quickly hurried down the stairs, a key around his finger as he walked over to you, to unlock the cuff around your wrist.

This could’ve been your moment to pack up and run. This could’ve been your out. And you would’ve done it, if not for San locking the other open cuff around his wrist, smiling as he looked at you, “Now, you can get those legs moving.”

He locked the cuff around your wrist just as quickly as he unlocked it, making it known that he’s used them for something of this exact situation before. San helped you up off the couch and steadied your wobbly legs as you stood.

“Sang, I’m going to make breakfast, if you want any.”

Yeosang yawned as you walked past, the computer screen lighting up his features and the blonde hair covered up by a black beanie, “It’s fine. It’s about time I head to sleep anyhow.”

San scoffed, “I get that you’re our eyes through out the night, but you seriously need to fix that schedule of yours. You spend the whole night keeping tabs on tabloids and news broadcasts, but they never post during the middle of the night.” He scolded, with you standing there like a clueless bystander, which you were, but you had a bit of a better idea on what exactly Yeosang was keeping an eye out for.

“Heard it all before. You say that until STVU posts all of this Newscaster’s notes on us and suddenly we’re compromised.” Yeosang stood up, stretching his arms above his head, “With that being said, I’m heading up now.” He shut off his computer and wandered over to the stairs leading up to the mysterious upper floor, “G’night, San. See you later, Newscaster.”

You lifted your free hand in a silent attempt to bid him a goodnight, or good morning in this case, and looked at San.

“He’s a trip.” San sighed, leading your cuffed hand behind his into the rickety old kitchen, “What are you hungry for?” “Um,” You shrugged, “Anything, really. I could eat anything.”

San lead you over to the foldable kitchen table that was enough to fit two, and unlocked your cuff, almost forcing your hand against the brace of the table as he locked you in, “Sorry, safety measures. You understand, right?” He smiled at you as he kneeled down to unlock his cuff, shaking his hand, “I’ve only had mine on for a couple minutes. How did you wear that for so long?”

You shrugged, looking around the kitchen for any type of impossible escape. It was in this moment you realized just how tired, panicked, and anxious you were. The late night shift was hitting you a bit too hard now, the drowsiness infecting your eyes like a sickness. You were worried for the next person to walk down the stairs, what they'd say or do. And you were anxious for your day's beginning behind these walls. Should you be worried about what they'd do to you, or should you just stick out the days and hope with enough time, you'd be let back into the world and live your days like they were your last?

Everything in the kitchen of this shack they inhabited was rundown. There was a vent with no cover, the floorboards squeaked with every step San took across the room, and if you moved your own feet enough, you could feel the splinters covering the floor. The appliances and cupboards looked like ones they found in the junkyard just outside their front door, although you had to admit, the repair on the appliances were like no other, giving a clean finish with a bit of damage here and there. Whereas, you could not say the same for the cupboards which looked like they were living on their last leg of life; cracked wood, rusted hinges, and some even missing half, or a whole door.

San pulled open the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, then opened the cupboard and pulled out a sack of flour, and a pan, “Do you like pancakes?” He asked, sickly sweet that made your tummy hurt.

You turned your eyes to him, nodding.

San smiled, grabbing the pancake mix from the cupboard as well, making his way to the stove to turn it on, “So,” He started, “I know you’re a newscaster, but other than that, I know nothing about you.” He looked back to you, “Tell me about yourself.”

You shrugged, “Um, well, My name’s Y/N, I’m in my 20’s.” You shrugged again, realizing now that sharing your life story to an unknown stranger who also happened to kidnap you and used you as an advantage hostage for the government to give them what they want. “What is it exactly you guys want?” You asked hesitantly, scared to have touched a nerve.

“The Dream Texts.”

‘Which are?” You made a face, and turned your palms upwards, shrugging.

“Which are-“

“Which are none of your business.” Another voice echoed, and you turned around to find a groggy Seonghwa, glaring at you from across the table, “That information is classified for Kyomi, only.” He leaned against the table, “If your view on us changes, maybe you’ll find out.”

“Hwa,” San started, flipping a pancake onto the pan, “Come on.”

“What?” Hwa immediately began to push away from the table, and sized up the other male across from him, although they were practically the same height.

San gripped the pan’s handle, “Think about it. If she’s gonna be here for as long as we’re hoping, she should get to know us. Us, personally, and us as an organization.”

Seonghwa stepped closer, glaring at him, “And why would you do that? You’re willing to lay everything on the line for a snake to share it with everyone she’s knows, if she ever does get out.” Seonghwa had San practically up against the wall of their kitchen in the shack, and San’s knuckles went white as his grip tightened on the handle.

“You really don’t want to me to hurt you.”

“Like you’d ever hurt me.” Seonghwa chuckled, his tongue poking his cheek, “If you even move so much as an inch-“

The chair to the table across from you was pulled out, and you pulled your eyes from the fight, to find Yeosang sitting there, yawning, “They’re fighting again.” He sighed, leaning on his hand.

“Do…” You paused, “Do they always fight like this?”

Yeosang moved his hand side to side, “Sometimes. It’s always something stupid.” He complained.

You looked at Yeosang just for a moment, the side of his face all too familiar for only being in this place for a few hours, his birthmark decorating the side of his face. His hair was mussed in all different directions, and there were purple bags under his eyes, possibly from his insane sleep schedule.

You looked back to the two across the room, Seonghwa holding San by his shirt against the wall as the latter tried his best to swing the hot pan across Seonghwa's head, the perfectly cooked pancake laying on the floor, now broken into pieces.

"Oh, my pancake." You whispered under your breath, sighing, placing your hand against your belly as it grumbled.

Yeosang sighed, standing up from the table, "Alright, you two." He wandered between the two, opening the fridge, "What happened?" He pulled out a wrapped bowl of what looked like macaroni and cheese, using a spoon discarded in the strainer and then ate the food cold, not bothering to step out of the duo's way.

The two immediately began to go on a ramble, San pointing the end of the frying pan at Seonghwa's face, and Seonghwa keeping San pinned against the wall. Yeosang looked between the two, absorbing all the information as if he was in a comedy show, shoveling another spoonful of macaroni and cheese into his mouth.

And as the two men threatening to bite each other's heads off settled down, Yeosang turned to set the bowl beside him, "Now, doesn't this all seem silly?" He asked sarcastically, a smile crossing his lips.

San and Seonghwa continued to glare at each other, releasing each other from their grasp, just as the other members joined to watch the drama unfold in the doorway of the kitchen. Hongjoong sat at the chair across from you, and the others peeking in.

Yeosang patted both their backs, "Okay, good. Let's continue planning our next move." He nodded, picking up the bowl and wandered out to the living room, the sound of a gentle clatter from his spoon hitting the bowl as he set it down to get into his chair comfortably. "Mingi, pull up the National Bank."

Mingi yawned, "It's too early for this." He rubbed his eyes, but nevertheless, sat down at his computer and typed in the National Bank of South Korea, "There."

From being attached to the collapsable table, and with the room being empty, you listened as closely as you could to what exactly they were planning. You heard a voice here and there asking questions before Yeosang took over, "The National Bank has a piece of the Dream Texts, and I know where it's hiding." He chuckled darkly.

You already saw the perfect opportunity to get your ass away from here; in front of you, sat a shoddy door, with a lace curtain that must've been pinned up in an attempt to make it look not so bad. It was only a mile from you, at least it felt like it, when it was only a couple steps ahead. And you would've taken it, if it wasn't for the giant, grey collapsable table you were currently handcuffed to. You would've ran out the door, screaming your head off about the horrendous situation you found yourself trapped in to anyone who would listen. You had an idea to even carry the table on your back almost like you were Sisyphean rolling the boulder up the hill, for all eternity.

San's voice cut through the air, "Y/N?" He called, peeking into the kitchen, his voice recognizable enough to cut your thousand-yard-stare in half, "You okay?" He asked gently, looking at your eye's connecting to the door.

You turned to look at him, your eyes delayed like your mouse as work with the horrendous input delay, "I'm okay." You nodded to him, even willing him to accept it with a gentle smile.

"Well, alright." San nodded back, "If you need anything, we'll be in here." He smiled, dragging his feet across the floor and sitting on the couch as Yeosang continued.

In a perfect world, they would've recruited you into their ranks, having you join in on the meeting about what came next, allowing you to go to and from as you please, make your own food. And overall, have you free of the pinching cuffs and let you exist as yourself.

"Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and Yunho, you two will enter from the top window, using the special forces gear we got from Jongho's truck run." Yeosang held the pen cap in his lips, as he pulled out the printed blueprint from his printer next to his desk, "That way we can get an upper hand for the Dream Texts. You three will check the top floor while the rest of you, hold the bottom floor."

"It'll just be me and Joong." San pointed his finger at them both, "We can't possibly hold an entire floor by ourselves. I mean, it took Wooyoung, Yunho, Joong and I to just barely keep the floor of the museum clear."

Yeosang smiled a bit more sinisterly, "You're all forgetting one valuable hand in all of this." He cackles.

"I hate when he does this."

How, was all you could ask yourself. How is it possible to be in this situation again? The cramped van, the uncomfortable ropes and the barrel of the pistol pressed against your temple. And it happened to be the only nice member holding it there. You were blindfolded, and you wouldn't be surprised if you were dead already. This all had to be some type of nightmare.

Despite being the very valuable part of this plan to get into the bank, you were the one that was once again at the end of the barrel. When you learned that you'd once again be placed in that terrifying position of playing a hostage, Yeosang spoke with almost a chuckle, almost like he liked seeing someone under duress. As well as the others.

All this for some stupid writing? All this for Dream Texts. It was hard to believe you'd be forced to stay with them.

Jongho, who you learned was Web, after connecting the dots, was driving around the city in a car that was a little too small for the group. You were aware of all the codenames at this point. Wasp was Seonghwa, Hornet was San, Killer was Hongjoong, Sharp, Wooyoung. Spiral, Yunho. And Base was Yeosang and Mingi.

You knew their plan, and their means of getting to the oh-so desired Dream Texts, which you still had no idea what it was about or why it was so important to them. The only thing you could think of was National Treasure, the Nicholas Cage movie, which was, in it's entirety, about a treasure map on the back of an official government document. Maybe that's why they want it so bad, you thought, for money and fame.

Jongho stopped, dropping off the five in front of the National Bank, one you attended since you began your adult life. It had a bittersweet nostalgia, the building. It was where your family was charged foreclosure. It was where you cashed your first check after a successful month of your career. It was where you paid the down payment for your family's new house, after living with family for years.

Some would say you had a humble upbringing; learning the importance of money and paying dues where it's needed. You would say you had a difficult life. Getting a job as soon as you could, paying for your own high school expenses, and funding your own college education and tuition. You were constantly stressed out, and even now, with a steady job, you were considered a workaholic, but who could blame you? Cause and effect is what you normally pushed it off with.

Seonghwa, Yunho and Wooyoung split off from San, who gripped your arm tightly, and Hongjoong. They all had their weapons around their shoulders and masks that covered their faces, that you weren't even aware they had put on. The masks were different from what you had first seen, this time, they all donned balaclavas, unlike the clown masks you've seen them in previously.

You were still blindfolded, a sound of a shattering glass echoing through the sky, San tugging you along into the building.

You were aware that you, in this situation, were a hostage again. You weren't sure if this is where you died, or if they'd take you with them again. So, you tried to settle the pit that lingered in your stomach as San shoved you onto the floor, a ray of bullets echoing through the air and a loud yell of "get down!" interrupting the fire.

You felt that anxiety and impending doom creep into your chest again, your brain shifting gears back into fight or flight. After all, you were nothing but an accessory for them to use. Your life, to them, had no meaning. They could preach that they don't kill all they would like, but they would actually have to take responsibility for their actions of causing psychological damage to others.

Hongjoong cleared his throat, raising his voice, "We are Kyomi! We require the Dream Texts. Who here is the bank manager?"

A woman shakily raised her hand, and looked around anxiously.

Hongjoong motioned for her to approach, and when she was close enough, Hongjoong gripped her arm and looked her in the face, "Open the safe, and don't try anything funny." He whispered.

You used the linoleum floor to push the blindfold from your face, catching sight of Seonghwa and Yunho standing on the second floor, their guns positioned at the back of the victims. It almost looked like they were ready to shoot.

Hongjoong lead the bank manager around to the safe at the back of the building, where she opened it with shaky hands. Then a shot was rung out.

The desk someone sat at was completely destroyed, the sight of Seonghwa glaring through his balaclava.

"Every one of you to the center floor now!" Seonghwa shouted, and people began to shuffle towards yourself and San. From the position Seonghwa was in, it was obvious he could see the entire floor.

Hongjoong returned with the bank manager, a plastic wrap tucked into the vest he wore. "That wasn't so hard, was it? And no one got injured." He chuckled, returning the bank manager to the group that sat on the ground floor.

Hongjoong spoke clearly, "Secured. Web, whenever you're ready." His hands rested on the gun, and looked into the faces of the victims; some were teary eyed, some were angry and some were avoiding their eyes.

You looked into the eyes of one, sympathizing as their eyes watered in terror.

This. This was your out.

You opened your mouth as San began speaking, and didn't mutter a word; just mouthed it. Using your eyes to motion them to look at Hongjoong, you mouthed the instructions. And they only furrowed their brows, shaking their head, scared of even the possibility of getting injured.

If anyone was going to be able to end this, it had to be someone who could fight back. And there was more than enough to take the fight between the four invaders. If they had the possibility of saving everyone, even yourself, they should take it. They would be reveled as heroes; people who saved the hostages of the National Bank. But, no one would take the risk. They all had families, friends. People they loved. Creatures they loved. They wouldn't risk it.

If you were to be the one to sacrifice, they would do it. Because the blood staining their hands wasn't as bad as leaving the ones they loved.

You assumed Jongho must've responded to Hongjoong's call. San was quick to pick you up off the floor by your restrained arms and drag you out of the building. You looked around for any type of exit to get away from them. Standing around was just as bad as doing what they were. But, once again, like every chance before, they had nearly every corner blocked off. Seonghwa, Wooyoung and Yunho were walking from the back of the building around the corner and Hongjoong opened the door for us all, before you got thrown in the back just like before.

You anxiously watched the hostage all relax, and you begged, pleaded for a way to feel that comfort, of being able to relax. Not constantly feeling like you were under watch by these monsters. Jongho drove off as everyone sat in their seats, taking the initiative to drive away from the building, and as you drove off, you saw the police round the corner, and everyone filed out, some falling to their knees from fear.

You wished to feel their fear. And the rush of being alive after a five minute standoff with five villains. You were oddly surprised that you could feel fear this intensely through your bones, despite being with them for a day.

"Now, you're one of us." Wooyoung chuckled.

You looked at him, your brows furrowed, "What?"

Seonghwa turned from the front seat, looking at you, "You've committed as much a crime as we had."

"Again, what?" Your teeth grit, "I was kidnapped. I was held hostage." You pointed out the obvious, looking between the men in the car, "I was an unfortunate victim in this whole situation!"

San chuckled softly, "Aiding a criminal in a crime is just as bad as doing the crime." You could already hear the condescending high pitched voice he spoke with before the words even left his lips. "You're just as guilty as we are."

"I. Was. Kidnapped." You emphasized, "By you! Those people you all just traumatized, are not the only victims."

Seonghwa waved his hand, turning back to the front, "Someone blindfold her again. And gag her. She's getting annoying."

"You're no better." Jongho mumbled, his hand tightening on the steering wheel, "We still have a few miles to go."

Jongho easily turned into another lane, leaning on his hand as he drove.

Seonghwa looked back at the others, "Well? Are any of you gonna do it?"

San sighed, "Yeosang said not too!"

You completely forgot that they had in-ears wrapped around the shell of their ears, all communicating between one another. You felt out of the loop; what exactly did Yeosang say not to do? What were they communicating between each other?

Seonghwa sighed deeply, obviously annoyed as he pulled out a single of his own in-ear, and motioned to you.

Seonghwa wrapped it around your ear for you, slowly pushing it into your ear.

"Go, for Base." Seonghwa called.

Yeosang cleared his throat, "Y/N? Are you there?"

You nodded, before realizing that he couldn't hear you, which you choked out a "yes" in a small, shy voice.

"If you look out onto the road, you'll see the route back to the dump." He spoke simply, "Because of this, we have no other reason than to recruit you." His voice was filled by the keys of his keyboard, "You'll either have to pledge loyalty, or we have no other option then to keep you hostage. And, possibly kill you."

"You don't kill people." You shot back, looking at the road in front of you.

Yeosang chuckled. The clicking of the keyboard stopped, a gentle creak from his chair echoing, "We unfortunately have to finish off the ones we try to recruit that don't agree. Just a little Kyomi group secret."

The list of charges they could catch just add up; armed robbery, kidnapping, assault and battery, and murder. You had the benefit of doubt that they didn't kill, and Yeosang obviously had a heavy heart telling you what exactly they did.

"So," Yeosang chuckled, "What'll it be? Be part of Kyomi, or meet the sweet embrace of your own inevitable destiny?"

You sighed; It was a lose-lose situation. Either commit crimes and the possibility of life in prison, or die? If you had another option, you'd take that in a heartbeat. Being a housekeeper, being an informant for the group, or just going home, would have sufficed.

But, obviously, they cared too much about their pride to let you off the hook so easily. They cared too much about those Dream Texts that you still have no clue what they were about. They cared too much about their own safety to risk sending you off in the world.

You clenched your fist, "How do you know that I'm not in connection with the police? What if I let you all take me hostage?"

"Because you aren't that smart." Yeosang whispered, his voice tickling the inside of your ear, "L/N Y/N, graduated from SKU with a degree in journalism, which is surprising, since you only had a 2.8 GPA throughout your school career." His voice twinged with amusement. "You spend majority of your money at the convenience store and on bills. You live in an apartment complex, although I won't share the address, I know where it's located. Your social security number is—"

"Okay, okay." You stopped him, "Okay, fine. I get it." Your lips trembled as you spoke, "I'll... I'll join Kyomi."

Yeosang chuckled, "I knew you'd choose the right choice." You could hear the smile in his voice. "But, for the time being, you'll have to keep being restrained, for the safety of my comrades."

You wanted to curse at him, and let all of your aggression out on him. If they really thought they were gonna get away with this, they were sorely mistaken.

You would find a way to report them, and you would finally be free of the wack jobs that thought it would be a good idea to kidnap you.

It's been two months since Yeosang thought it was a good idea to have you join Kyomi. And it absolutely was not. Your plan to get out of there as quick as you could wasn't working as well as you hoped, but, everyday, you spent your hours looking for a way to leave, to report what exactly happened to you.

Your face would briefly show up on the news every now and again, with your family begging for you to find your way home, as if the police force haven't already ruled you out as presumed dead.

The last everyone saw of you was at the National Bank, where you were pulled away by the rope tied behind your back. You still feel the rope around your wrists every now and again, waking up from nightmares, hoping it was all a joke that you were put in this position.

Nevertheless, you pretended to be on their side. Seonghwa has lightened up to you, and will even indulge about San and Wooyoung's ridiculous behavior. Mingi was back in the game, having you taking over his spot as resident hacker of the group. Those coding classes would've done you well, if you had any idea this is what you'd be doing. Yet, it seems like every time you touched a keyboard, your mind blanks on why exactly you agreed to do this.

Yeosang has everything blocked on your computer, which you believed he put on as soon as Mingi said he'd want to join the guys on their heists.

You've been given a new identity, essentially. They didn't call you "newscaster", they called you "Centipede," which you wholeheartedly believed was Yeosang's idea, after he shared his disgust to centipedes after. You and the arthropods.

You wore an in-ear, just like Yeosang did, and talked with the guys while they were out, and it still hits the ear wrong when they call you the name. Like they were taunting you.

Aside from the new, definitely underpaying job and the new name, you could not even begin to describe the bedding situation. You shared a bed with 7 others; all guys. You were, rightfully so, tense every time you walked in after a shower to grab a fresh pair of clothes. The beds were lumpy and you slept on the bottom bunk, shared with Seonghwa at the top, who slept like a rock, but was surprisingly easy to wake up when it was needed. A slight tap on the shoulder and he was awake. You didn't understand that when you were first nabbed by them, when he was sleeping in the van. Not to mention, he slept max four hours. Wooyoung and Yunho had a bad snoring problem, so you could rarely get any sleep through the two months, but now, unfortunately, you were growing accustomed to it. It was like white noise. And you didn't even want to start with the splinters you received on the first night; bad mistake not thinking to borrow someone's slippers.

Hongjoong, Mingi and San were light sleepers. You'd shift in your bed across the room, and the three of them were already staring at you, like you were in the wrong. San slept with stuffed animals, which was entirely uncharacteristic of the Hornet you met the first time you were brought there.

Everyone of them were uncharacteristically what you thought; Seonghwa was actually a sweetheart when he wasn't under pressure; he enjoyed building legos, and had the ones he built sitting in the shared window the two of you had. San was an animal lover, and you had to turn away multiple strays he brought back to the shack. Mingi was quiet. He had a bunch of interests that you really couldn't keep track of. Yunho was like a giant puppy. A single bit of praise and his invisible tail was wagging like he had happy tail. Hongjoong was much more serious than the others, despite his first introduction. Wooyoung was more or less the same, but when he wanted to be, he was much too serious than what you were used to. You were used to his boisterous laugh that echoed through the house, yet he gets pulled out into the field and he changes demeanor completely. Jongho wasn't fond of praise and gratitude, in fact, he spent most of his time waiting for the guys to finish up the heists by driving around, listening to girl groups.

The only one you could never really understand was Yeosang. He seemed much like the same as when you first met and saw him. Bags under his eyes from staring at a screen all night and all day, disheveled hair and kept to himself. You both never slept at the same time. He was the eye in the sky, and the security. He slept around the time all of you woke up, yet, he was up and at 'em not even an hour or two after he slept. Now that you think about it, there was only eight beds available in the barracks, as you like to call them, and you were the eighth. It made you think about where exactly Yeosang would sleep, and you began to wonder if he took your place on the couch to rest or if he stole someone else's bed to sleep in.

This morning started like any other; restless, tired and exhausted, and you were aware that all the words you were repeating to yourself had the same meaning, but that only emphasized your point that you were so exhausted, you couldn't think of anything else.

Yunho and Wooyoung were snoring so much that night, you thought they might've caught a cold from the way they sounded. Maybe that's why Wooyoung was so goofy with you, the lack of oxygen to his brain during sleep.

Hongjoong woke up and wandered over to you, nudging you slightly, and you turned to look at him. "Holy shit," he began, "I think you're beginning to spend a bit too much time with Yeosang." His finger went under his eye and began to swipe there back and forth.

You sighed, sitting up, "It's not that. They never shut up." You whispered to him, pointing at the two chronic sleep apnea patients, "I'm so tired." The exhaustion was beginning to catch up to you, and you rubbed your eyes.

Hongjoong smiled softly, "Well, today's a rest day while Jongho tries to find a new car for us to use the plates you found yesterday. Take the day to yourself."

You sighed, nodding lightly.

Normally, taking a rest day back in your normal life, you would have went out shopping and went to visit friends and family. Now, all you had to yourself was a walk around the junkyard, occasionally ending it earlier than you would have liked to due to a pest running rampant through the disgusting, rusted cars and whatever trash was left in there.

And that was definitely not going to cut it.

"I'll make some breakfast. Eat, then come back up to rest." Hongjoong basically planned your entire day for you. All you wanted to do was sleep the day away, which is something you've done a lot on rest days.

Hongjoong wandered around the corner to get downstairs and you laid back on the lumpy bed, your head meeting the pillow in a short second. The snoring seemed like it was getting louder by the second, and you were too exhausted to even move to cover your ears.

You shifted positions to face towards the empty bunk Hongjoong left, wrapping the weighted blanket around your body, and burrowing your nose into the soft fabric, sighing as you felt your tension melt away.

If you were home in your apartment, you wouldn't have had this issue. You wouldn't have to try almost anything to fall asleep. Hell, you wouldn't have even woken up. Tale has it, you were a heavy sleeper before you were brought here.

Shutting your eyes and hoping for the embrace of sleep to take you over, you sighed just as the steps creaked. Opening your eyes was already too much of a labor, so you just covered yourself more with the blanket.

A sigh exited from someone's lips, the floorboards creaking as they walked over towards the bottom bunk bed and laid back. Wooyoung was directly above them, as they laid in Hongjoong's empty bunk.

"Shut up." A kick was met to Wooyoung's stomach from underneath, right underneath the bed slats. "Get a mask." They scolded.

Opening your eyes, the exhaustion was already setting again, squinting as you looked across the short distance.

Yeosang laid on the bed, the shadow under his eyes already looking worse for wear. His shirt was discarded on the floor, and his sweatpants were below his hips. He covered his face with his forearm, sighing as his body relaxed.

Okay, so Yeosang was attractive. That much was obvious. And, what's the worse that could happen? He breaks your heart because he's too focused on Kyomi? Or, he doesn't see you the same way because he works too close to you?

You blinked as you watched his body relax, his free hand resting on his belly, his fingers brushing the waistband of the grey sweatpants.

The last two months were long. Tiring, even. But, just like you would do in high school, you'd take extra care into your appearance, even if it meant you got a second longer of a look from someone.

"Stop staring at me."

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the harsh call, feeling your ears bleed red.

Yeosang moved the arm over his eyes and faced you, his hair falling in front of his eyes.

"Sorry." You mumbled, "I was spacing out."

Yeosang chuckled, "You're an idiot."

The jab was meant to be cruel, but you could see the sparkle in his eyes, and the smile that crossed his lips, and oh, my god, did you hear that laugh? The way he spoke, even if it was meant to be cruel was so soft, and you know it's just how he is; his care and warmth are there, despite the harsh words that bite at you.

You rolled your eyes, curling your legs under the blanket, "Are you going to sleep now?"

Yeosang shook his head, "I never really sleep much when I get up here." He mumbled, studying the slats as if there was something there, "Wooyoung and Yunho snore too loud."

You laughed softly, "Tell me about it."

Yeosang smiled softly, closing his eyes briefly, "I wonder if it's even worth sleeping in here."

Shaking your head, you smiled gently, "It's not." It was simple, shortcut. "I haven't gotten a good night's rest since I've been given this bunk."

Yeosang's face relaxed, turning his head back to you, "Can I ask you a question?" His voice was like shoes dragging through gravel, and his eyes stared at you intently. You couldn't help but nod. "Why did you agree to stay? And why haven't you even tried to leave yet?"

"Oh, my god, you mean I could've went home?" You asked sarcastically, your eyes playfully widened. But, you saw the look in his eyes and decided that maybe it was time you opened up to him. It was your turn to sigh, turning to look up at the slats that held Seonghwa's bed, "My life was going nowhere in the job I was in." You spoke simply, "I didn't even want to work for a big news station like that. I would've rather have worked back in my hometown, but, someone got the job I wanted."

Yeosang looked at your profile, his eyes scanning the way your nose was, the curve of your lips and the long eyelashes you had. He's worked beside you for two months, and he never noticed just how enticing you were. Your eyes turned to his, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

"Besides," you started, "My family never really checked up on me." Shrugging, you got all the more comfortable, "Everything we see on the news feels a bit fake anyhow."

Yeosang couldn't really recall his family life before Kyomi and the Dream Texts.

"We've given you so many opportunities." Yeosang whispers.

You chuckled, "Did you really though?" You asked softly, "The last two months, I'm scared to even try to sleep."

Yeosang shook his head, "You didn't have to be scared." He mumbled, "We've always given you an option."

His eyes were shining, the sun hitting his brow bone to give you a better look at the honey eyes he had.

"Well, I'm here now." You responded, his eyes completely captivating his beauty.

Yeosang and you held the eye contact, not saying another word to one another. Wooyoung and Yunho's snoring filled the air between you two.

Tension, heat and pressure surrounded you both, before Yeosang scooted himself off the bed and wandered over to you, climbing on top of you over the blanket and leaned his face close to yours.

"Do you feel it too?" He whispered, his lips only inches apart from yours.

A breath was caught in your throat, and you swallowed roughly. You assumed he was talking about the sudden tension that covered you both, and you agreed. You did feel it. It loomed over your head, every so often. Now, during missions, after missions.

"You do feel it." Yeosang smirked, leaning forward to encapsulating your lips with his own.

The dream you've had every night about him was coming true. Yeosang had a sweet tooth, the citric acid from Sour Punch Straws he frequently ate echoed against your lips. His long hair practically covered his eyes as the strands brushed your cheeks. His hands were hot against yours as he intertwined your fingers with his own. His weight was distributed evenly on top of you, basically pinning you down to the bed.

Yeosang pulled his lips away from yours, his face still centimeters from yours, "I've been wanting to do that since you took over Mingi's desk."

You blushed, feeling the blood rush through your neck up to your ears.

Yeosang's hand gently cupped your cheek, rubbing your skin with his calloused thumb, "Tell me if you want me to stop."

His lips met your neck, his tongue gently running along the skin, his hand hot against your cheek. His lips left wet kisses against you, and when a gasp escaped on a certain spot, they turned up into a smile, gently biting the skin with his teeth.

His lips, his lips, his lips, it was all you could think about as they moved from your neck, down your chest, stopping just at your belly button, placing gentle kisses on the skin and rubs your thighs with his hands.

You were so nervous, you honestly couldn't remember the last time you got laid, let alone by someone you work with. If you remembered correctly, it was a year or so-

Yeosang had pulled your shorts off, along with your panties, smiling softly, "Look at you, kitten. Aren't you so pretty?"

God, you thought, When he calls me that, it makes me want to scream.

His smirk only grew wider, "Do you want to continue?"

You nodded your head vigorously, already sure that you would have given yourself whiplash, "Please."

Yeosang settled in between your legs on his stomach, throwing your legs over his shoulders and held your thighs in place with his hands.

His hands were strong, and veiny. They were warm around your thighs, compared to the cold chill in the air. His callused hands were rough against your soft skin, his tongue a nice heat against your mound.

Your hand shot to grab at his hair as he sucked on your clit, a soft moan escaping your lips.

"Shh, baby, you don't wanna wake up the others, right?"

It was impossibly hard to think of keeping your moans back, since Yeosang was making you feel so good.

Yeosang continued his pace, his tongue dipping down in between your folds, working his fingers against your clit.

The thought of waking up the others from their slumber excited you, and almost made you infinitely more comfortable with the idea.

Yeosang kept his eyes trained on you as your chest rises and falls, watching how each movement of his tongue affected you. And when you began to groan, your legs shaking, Yeosang knew just how well of a job he was doing.

"Sang..." You whimpered, thighs threatening to squeeze against his head.

Yeosang chuckled, using his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back to teasingly bite at it, lifting his head as you let out a loud yelp. He glanced around the room, hearing an interruption of Yunho's snore before he began once again, "Come on, kitty cat, can't you try to keep quiet?" He sat up, positioning himself between your legs, his buldge pressing against your heat, the sweats he wore staining with the wetness from your cunt.

"Sang..." Your voice was strained, looking up at him with begging eyes, "Fuck..."

"Can't get the words out?" Yeosang smiled, leaning forward as he laid on his arms on either side of your head, "Come here, baby." He whispered, pressing a deep kiss against your lips, one of his hands running through your hair just as the other tugged his sweats down, the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, "Is this okay?" He gasped softly.

You nodded, "Yes, yes... More than okay."

Yeosang smiled softly, capturing your lips once more as he slowly pressed into you, the heat from the stretch as you grew accustomed to the size of his cock was painful, yet pleasurable. "Fuck, you're so tight, baby." He bottomed out, holding you close to him as he slowly moved his hips against your own. He chuckled as a loud moan escaped your lips, using the hand that tangled in your hair to cover your mouth, "Shh, shh, angel." He cooed softly as his thrusts grew faster, looking between the two of you where you were both connected.

Yeosang's cock twitched against your walls, listening to your groans and smiling as he felt you clench around him.

"Y/N!" a voice called up the stairs, and Yeosang and you both shared a look. "Hey, Y/N, are you still awake?"

Yeosang adjusted your position so you both laid on your side, pulling the blanket over his head, looking up at you, "Pretend to be asleep." He whispered, his cock continuing to press into you. "And keep quiet."

You furrowed your brows, looking down at him before Hongjoong stepped up the stairs. Yeosang's hips continued to roll against yours, and you felt a soft whine about to escape your lips.

"Hey, Y/N." Hongjoong approached the bed and despite your best efforts, you screwed your eyes shut, and buried your face in the pillow. Yeosang moved slow, pressing soft and silent kisses against your sternum. "Y/N, food's ready."

Your ears were bright red, the soft sounds of your wet cunt echoed against the walls. Or were you just toning out Yunho and Wooyoung's snoring?

Hongjoong called your name one last time before he found his way back down the stairs. As if on cue, Yeosang peeked his head out from under the blanket, chuckling softly, "Good girl." He whispered, grasping your hips tightly in his hands, "You're just a good girl." Yeosang thrusted deep into you, "Gonna cum for me?" His thumb rubbed at your clit, his voice gruff and strained as he laughed at your convulsing.

"Mmhmm." You whined out, gasping as his thumb continued his assault.

"Cum for me, kitty." He whispered, moaning out as he felt his own climax quickly approaching, "Fuck, you feel so good."

As your cum dripped from your cunt, Yeosang was quick enough to pull out from your entrance, his cum coating your lower half, his gasps turning into panting as his cock twitched in his hand.

Yeosang chuckled breathlessly, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead, "Fuck, baby." He smiled, holding your ankles gently to move your legs from around his hips, "I knew you'd feel good."

The action you both committed finally began to register in your brain. With 4 of the other members of the Kyomi group in the room. You quickly reached your hands up to hide your face, chuckling softly, "I can't believe we just did that." You whispered out.

"I can't believe we did that with the guys in here." He smiled, pecking your cheek before he pulled up his sweats and stood from the bed, rising his arms to hold the side of the top bunk, looking down at you, "Wait here." Yeosang turned to the restroom, grabbing a wash cloth and sitting beside you on the bed, "It's gonna be cold." He warned, chuckling softly as he pressed the cloth against your mound.

You blushed softly as his gentle hands cleaned your skin of his climax, "Did you mean what you said?"

Yeosang looked up to look at you, "You know me better than that." He mumbled, "You know I'm not one to say anything if I don't mean it."

"So, you've really been thinking about this since I took over Mingi's desk?"

Yeosang smiled, "Actually, I've been thinking about it since you got your callsign." He folded up the cloth, setting it down on the window sill, "I didn't make it up for no reason."

You pulled your bottoms up your legs, laying on your side to look at him, his arm around your hip as he leaned on his hand, smiling at you, "I thought you hated centipedes?"

"Sure. But, it's just a callsign." He shrugged, "It doesn't mean anything." He used his other hand to cup your cheek.

"Okay, sure." You rolled your eyes, smiling at him, "You must've had a lot of fun when taunting me."

"Sure did. Why? You liked it?" He chuckled, pinching your cheek between his fingers.

"Maybe I did."

"Bet you did."

"Yeosang!" A voice shouted up the stairs, and Yeosang was quick to move from where he sat, rushing down the stairs.

You could feel your heart racing in your throat at the urgent call and was about to follow until Seonghwa quickly dropped down from his bunk, "Stay here, Centi." He patted your shoulder as he moved around the room, waking up the remaining members, who also were quick to stand up.

Wooyoung and Yunho, who were formally snoring, furrowed their brows as they stood up. San shot up at the sound of urgency in Seonghwa's voice.

"What's happening?" Your voice trembled, watching as the three men walked by, "Seonghwa, what's happening?"

Seonghwa almost made it past, before he sighed, "You wouldn't understand." He grumbled, "Just stay put." He continued down the stairs, skipping each step as he moved, "What's happening?"

The voices all blurred together, your feet slowly moving down the steps before you sat down just out of view.

"The cops are on their way." That was Hongjoong, "Mingi just confirmed with the scanner." You could hear the shaking of his voice.

"Jongho isn't back yet." Seonghwa glanced amongst them all, his arms crossed, "Meaning our means of leaving are pretty low."

"We could hide in the junkyard, couldn't we?" San whispered.

Seonghwa rubbed his temples, "That's fucking stupid, San."

"We have 30 minutes to either pack up and get out of here, or 30 minutes to find a way to stand our ground." Yeosang grumbled, the echo of the mouse clicking between them all.

Wooyoung stomped towards the steps, "Well what are we waiting for?"

Seonghwa sighed, "We'll never get anywhere in 30 minutes." He crossed his arms, "Packing up everything we need is too much of a hassle. Centi will never get far enough."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Yeosang interjected.

"She's not exactly the most active person, Sang. Why do you think I stuck her with you?" Seonghwa bit back, "We'll have to find a way to get out of this."

"Oh, dude, I can't go to prison again." Yunho groaned, tangling his hands in his hair.

"Yeosang, Mingi, wipe everything from the PC's. Hongjoong, San, you two find somewhere to get rid of our weapons. Yunho, try to get an update on Jongho." Seonghwa's brows were pinched together, crossing his arms over his chest once more, "We're gonna have to find a way to make us seem like normal people."

Everyone was quick to do their assigned tasks while you sat there on the stairs, your eyes glancing at them all from the railing of the stairs. Seonghwa turned back to the stairs, looking at you with sharp eyes.

You've remembered that look. The same look he gave you when he first saw you at the museum, and you felt just as small now as you did back then.

Seonghwa gripped your hair, looking at you, "Let me figure out you had something to do with this, and I won't stop hunting you down for the rest of your life."

"Ow, Seonghwa..." You grumbled, trying to pull your hair from his hand, and sighed as soon as he let go, "I promise, I didn't have anything to do with this."

Seonghwa continued to walk up the stairs, his eyes stuck on you until he turned the corner into the room.

You glanced back over the railing, your eyes meeting Yeosang's. As if under a spell, you slowly began to move down the stairs to stand beside Yeosang, whose hand squeezed yours.

"I hope everything's okay." You whispered.

Yeosang smiled softly, "We'll be fine." His eyes focused on the screen, watching the recovery drive get moved to the USB plugged into the computer, "Not the first time this has happened."

Nodding your head, you moved to sit on the arm of his desk chair, his arm wrapping around his waist as he finished clicking his mouse.

Everyone was off doing what Seonghwa assigned them to do. San and Hongjoong returned from the junkyard covered in dirt, sweat rolling down their foreheads. Mingi and Yeosang both ran recovery drives through the computer before they both ripped apart the components and tossed them on their desks.

Seonghwa was stowed away upstairs and Yunho paced the front porch of the shack, the rain pattering atop the roof, a loud twang! echoing the room as the droplets rhythmically dripped into a steel bucket placed against the wall by the stairs.

"17 minutes out." Seonghwa called, tossing a backpack onto the couch; your couch that you were handcuffed to months ago.

You've grown to love the rundown shack; the leaky roof, the splintered floor, the creaky stairs. You thought you'd grow to hate the building, but... it grew on you like a rash.

Yeosang glanced up at you as you sat on the arm of his chair, "You should go change." He whispered to you softly.

You nodded your head, "Yeah. Yeah, I'll go change." You stood up and made your way up the stairs as if someone else was controlling you. Your shoulders slumped, your head hanging down between them. You pulled on the pants one leg at a time, your shirt over your head, a coat, thick socks and shoes.

"We can't bring her with us." You heard the voice, immediately recognizing it was Seonghwa.

Yeosang piped up, "And why not?"

"At the moment, she's one of the largest missing person's case in the country. If someone sees her with us," Seonghwa trailed off.

"We can't just leave her." Mingi mumbled, cursing to himself as a clatter dropped to the floor, "We're safer if we take her with us."

Seonghwa voice strained, "She won't say anything." He scoffed, "She's too afraid."

"She's coming with us." Your heart twanged as Yeosang's voice dropped, "End of discussion."

"Since when have you been one to make decisions?" The sound of Seonghwa's heavy boots bounced off the walls.

"Since you've grown more incompetent." Yeosang responded back, "She's coming with us."

You adjusted the jacket over your shoulders, staring at the backboard of the old closet, trying to make it seem like you weren't evasdropping at a time like this just as Yeosang reached over your shoulder to grab his own pair of clothes.

"You shouldn't be listening to that stuff." Yeosang leaned against the wall as he pulled on his clothing, moving some of his hair from his eyes, "You know Seonghwa's just being dramatic."

"I can't help it." You shrug, turning to look at him as he laced up the boots, "Yeosang."

"Hm?"

"What's supposed to happen?"

Yeosang paused from tying his shoe before he started once more, "Same thing that happens everytime we get caught up like this; run until we find somewhere to set base again." He mumbled, "Y/N, you know, if you do this..." He stood up, grabbing your hand in his own, squeezing it, "If you do this, you'll be just like us."

You furrow your brows, "Have I not always been like you guys?"

"Of course you have, but... this'll seal the deal. Before, you were just collateral, a hostage. But now, if you follow us down this path, you'll be a fugitive. You won't be able to go back."

You shrugged, "Well, I don't wanna go back."

"No," Yeosang chuckled bitterly, "No, you don't understand." He shook his head, "Think about it. Use the last..." He glanced at his bare wrist as if there was a watch there, but you knew he was counting down the seconds in his head, "15, 14 minutes of this time to really think."

He walked off, despite one of his boots not being tied through, not giving you a second glance.

You stood in the middle of the room, as everyone moved in and out, grabbing their items, their clothes, their prized possessions. Hongjoong was kind enough to pack up Jongho's belongings for him.

You spent that time really thinking like Yeosang said to. You thought about your life before these two months; it was bitter, it was bland and it was unexciting. But, here... with the boys, with Yeosang, it was everything you wished for. You didn't have to dress a certain way to work. You didn't have to pretend to like the people you worked with. You didn't have to pretend like everything was okay.

You moved your feet down the steps, seeing the 7 men who you have grown so accustomed to standing in a circle, glancing you up and down as you tightened the straps of the bag over your shoulders.

"What are you guys waiting for?" You mumbled, looking at them all as you approached the door.

And despite your excitement to pull open the door to the downpour, seeing eight to nine police cars skidding along the road with their lights flashing and sirens chirping was enough to have you withdraw your hand from the handle.

"Shit, they're here!" San shouted, looking out the windows to the front of the shack, "If we go out there..."

"Stop making a bad situation worse." Seonghwa bit, "They aren't gonna shoot on sight. They have too damn much to ask."

"What are we gonna do, Hwa?" Yunho asked.

Seonghwa pushed his way to the front, gently moving you aside as he slowly opened the door, his hands raised, "Don't shoot." He grumbled, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stepped down the shack's rickety steps.

The rain water pattered on his head, moving close enough to look down at the police.

"My name is Park Seonghwa." He shouted, "I'm 25 years old. I was born in Jinju. I have an older brother. My blood type is..." He was listing out random facts about himself, until an officer approached him and was quick to cuff him.

"They've got Wasp." Hongjoong dropped his items and went out into the rain, steam practically escaping his ears as he tried to intervene, only to be met with the butt of a gun and fall into the mud.

"Shit."

"Show yourselves." You recognized the man on the intercom. God, how could you forget? You've spoken to him so many times. The police chief of the National Police Force.

San was the first to lead the way out the door with his hands up, Mingi, then Yunho, then you, then Yeosang. Police officers began to surround the area, Seonghwa now being moved into the back of a police car, Hongjoong's unconscious body being placed in the back of the same one. One by one, they got handcuffed.

"Yeosang!" You shouted, ready to run to him before the police chief placed a heavy hand on your shoulder.

"Y/N..." Yeosang barely whispered over the rain, before he was shoved into the back of a police car, sat beside Yunho was looked like he was about ready to start kicking at the officers.

You gave one final panicked look at the Kyomi members in the back of the police cars; a calm and collected Seonghwa, an unconscious Hongjoong, a panicked San and Mingi, an angry Yunho. Yet, you couldn't read Yeosang. You never could.

You couldn't tell what he was thinking.

The police questioned you for hours about the last two months you spent with Kyomi, and you spent a lot of time with a hired therapist they said that brought in to help hostage victims. Your family were ecstatic to see you, nearly moved to tears at the sight of you wearing the black clothes, your shoes covered in mud and your hair stringy from the rain.

Despite answering their questions to the best of your ability without incriminating anybody, the entire time all you could think about was "Where's Yeosang? Is he in the station too?"

You were granted release from the station not long after being taken in, the blanket wrapped over your shoulders and holding the cup of coffee they offered you as they kicked you out like a newborn calf. You sniffled softly from the chill of the rain lingering in the air.

You glanced upwards, and your bottom lip trembled as you saw Jongho sitting there in a car, climbing inside beside him.

Neither of you shared words; Jongho wasn't one for that, but he did gently pat you on the head as soon as he turned the car on and began to drive off, the sound of 2NE1 filling the quiet space.

You never knew what happened to the boys. Jongho and you both tried to figure out what exactly happened but... there was never much about it on the news or anywhere else. Yeosang, the boys and that rundown old shack in the middle of an old junkyard were an exciting new beginning to a life you only got a taste of. But now, you'd have to live with the bitter, bland and boring life that you had previously.

Becoming a news reporter wasn't your first option...

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