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#you’re going to hell with that inhumane shit

blue-jisungs · 6 months

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she was an angel, he did video games

author's note. while i struggle with my reqs here u have a small thingy that was inspired by me going into a rabbit hole of watching old vids of my fav childhood youtubers (rezi to taki crush still like OH MAAAA GAAAD ++ jego stare filmiki = top tier)

also val @kyrjnie tis is for u,, bc it may or may not have also been inspired by the gyu edit u sent me 😁😁😁😁😁😁

warnings. c u r s i n g. so much cursing. also mention of shooting n dying (they’re playing gta lol)

summary. you can’t sleep because of your yelling gamer bf,, that’s literally it (gamer bf!gyu)

word count. 618

“fucking hell! shit, shit, shit–!”

beomgyu let out an inhuman screech, leaning on his chair. the sound of his friend’s laughter echoed in his headphones as he held his stomach that started to hurt from laughter too.

“please, please taehyun!” beomgyu whined, leaning forward and running after his friend’s character in game.

“gyu?”

he yelled when he got shot again, this time by yeonjun.

“you fucker! no, no, no don’t run away!” he didn’t seem to hear your quiet voice.

you never complained about beomgyu’s passion being playing video games. everyone needed their de-brainer that would make them relax and enjoy life. you were glad he got to spend time with his friends and have fun but–

“haaa, eat shit!”

“gyu!”

he squealed upon feeling your hand on his arm.

“oh my f–” he turned around instantly, heart rate picking up. but when his eyes met yours, his brows knitted “y/n?”

ignoring the way he went afk and his friends used that fact to kill him (again), he patted his thigh. taking in the sight of you in his oversized t-shirt, messy hair and two different socks on your feet he couldn’t help but grin that you’re his and–

“could you be a little more quiet?” you asked gently, voice barely above a whisper. his ebony eyes softened, flickering quietly between the screen and you.

“oh”

a small chuckle left your lips and it was quickly followed by a yawn.

“yeah, i couldn’t fall asleep” you mumbled and leaned closer to place a kiss on his forehead.

“no, wait. actually, i’m done playing. they’re assholes either way” he breathed out. a sudden wave of guilt washed over him.

“what? it’s you who sucks!” soobin whined offended “also say hi to y/n”

“no” he grunted and with a devilish smirk used the sniping to point at the friend. then, he turned around at looked at you with a joyful yet mischievous spark in his eye. beomgyu just mouthed: “one sec!”

“y/n’s such an angel, bahi always screams at me” kai mumbled.

“same, my mom just smacks me in the head out of a sudden. i almost shat myself when she did that when i was playing the forest” yeonjun sighed “y/n is the best–”

“what the hell was that?!” soobin yelled out when his screen flickered black and then he saw the text: wasted. beomgyu gunned you down “you fu–!”

beomgyu left the voice chat and game giggling, proud of himself. then, he turned around and smiled upon seeing you wait for him. your eyes were closing slowly, fighting the sleepiness.

“i know, sorry. if i cuddle you, will you forgive me?” your boyfriend pouted, sneaking his arms around your waist. you nodded lazily and felt his lips brush against the corner of your mouth. letting out a small sigh, you tugged his hoodie.

“let’s just go, my stinky little gamer of a boyfriend…” you mumbled, fighting a smirk.

“yah!”

“also i wasn’t mad at you to begin with. just… the bed was cold, or whatever” you said, dragging him to the bedroom. beomgyu’s heart skipped a beat – something that he’d think he’d get used to while dating you. but such cute gestures still made him flustered.

“you’re really an angel, huh?” beomgyu mumbled into your hair once you were in bed. you snuggled closer to him, embracing the warmth.

“huh?” you asked drowsily, sleep creeping up on you way faster than when you were in bed alone, without him.

“sleep well, angel” he just hummed, hands pulling you even closer. fingers drawing shapes on your (his) t-shirt absentmindedly, beomgyu realized that he liked spending time with you way more than on his silly games.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @mirxzii ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @ocean-minho

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wizzard890 · 2 years

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So there’s a trend that I absolutely hate in online discussions of (non-satirical) genre, particularly genre that’s influenced by the gothic. This trend makes my eyes roll back in my head until I can see through my own skull. It makes me want to bite a car in half. It makes me want to step into the jellyfish tank at the New York Aquarium and beg for the sweet sweet annihilation of a thousand stings.

I call this trend: Oh Just Be Sensible, and it goes like this:

“Why do vampires always end up covered in blood when they feed, I don’t spill soup all down the front of my shirt when I eat dinner. Real toddler energy.”

“Why do people always cut their hands to swear oaths, everyone knows it would hurt way less on the [insert body part with fewer nerve endings]”

“Vampires shouldn’t be feeding from people’s wrists, it damages the tendons, if doctors don’t take your blood from your wrist, vampires shouldn’t either! No one will be able to flex their fingers the next day.”

(This comes up a lot with vampires, I mention, as I stride purposefully into the glistening mass of jellyfish.)

There are direct answers for some of these when it comes to the practical visual language of a particular medium (for example, you cut your hand on stage / on set because you can hold a blood pack in there, and even if you don’t have an effect, the gesture and its purpose can be discerned from the nosebleeds) but what really gets me is how thematically boneheaded this sort of observation is.

Like, let’s go down the list here.

Why do vampires end up covered in their victims’ blood? Well Scoob, do you think it could maybe have something to do with their bestial, inhuman nature? Or with the erotic and sensual abandon with which they can approach violence, now that they’re untethered from human morals?

Why do people cut their hands to swear oaths? Aside from what I mentioned above, do you think maybe it’s because it adds a layer of gravity to see two people swearing an oath to one another with blood dripping from their clasped hands? Do you think it’s maybe to evoke a unity of body, something greater and more primal than a unity of word? Or maybe to remind us of the dire consequences of breaking a blood oath?

Why are authors having vampires feed from people’s wrists if it damages their tendons? Damn, maybe that’s because it’s where the pulse is. You know, the pulse? The heartblood, the thing that races when you’re scared or turned on or both? The thing that stutters when you’re close to death and could, should the author choose, ring in the vampire’s ears like a chime or a great pounding thunderclap. Maybe in a story about undead beings who drink blood, we can sacrifice a bit of sensible reality in order to enforce the emotion and thematic heft of a scene?

Images like these communicate what is happening between two characters, not just the events that are transpiring! No one making stories forgot to consider ~sensible~ little observations, because it would be absolutely inane to consider an observation with the creative value of a wet paper towel. This stuff is part of our visual language for a reason! Themes also need to be communicated!

God, like, okay, I’m exhausted and the aquarium staff keeps yelling at me when they find me here, but let me just wrap up by saying that relationships, character and meaning are expressed in so many ways beyond dialogue or internal monologue, and those expressions are so rarely sensible.

(Also all this shit looks cool as hell, do you really want your protagonists swearing to die for one another by dabbing their slightly bleeding elbows together, grow up.)

#me: don't make me tap the sign #sign: fun allowed #(thematic clarity and character relationships should trump sensible realism every time)#(realism is fine! but monocle popping smirky little 'hmm I think dan brown was an idiot' smugness is just....bad!)#(it's bad and it makes for bad writing!)#my thoughts about books

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paymechildsupport · 2 months

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I've never done a request before so please bear with me🥲

I was wondering if you could do another Francis Mosses x reader.

I really enjoyed your Spouse!Reader x doppelgänger!Francis and wanted to see your take on D.D.D. trainee!Reader x doppelganger! Francis, where we get sent out to 'take care' of Francis.

Really excited to see what you do with this prompt🙏🏾

>nahhh this is a devious prompt, -- I gotchu 🙏😈🙏😈

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“Does this please you, Officer?” // Doppel!Francis x DDD Officer Reader

--Doppelgänger!Francis x DDD Reader tasked with his neutralization 🙏

-!! AFAB Reader, -- though genetalia isn't outright explicity stated -(?) -- there is room for your imagination though 😋

-!! CW: nsfw- (smut), ; Dubcon /// Hand-job; sex against a wall; degradation; implied overstimulation

A/N: the number of Francis requests are CRAZY, -- and I completely understand why, -- man's actually majestic <3.

————-

-------------------------------

...

This was not how you planned to spend your Tuesday night,— grumpy and exhausted, woken up mid-sleep by an emergency dispatch.

“Mm… hello.?” Your groggy voice speaks into the ringing phone, eyes still sticky from sleep.

“Emergency Dispatch: Doppelgänger identified at Complex II,— repeat, doppelgänger identified at complex II,— dispatch agent, neutralize the threat”. They clicked off, leaving you alone in the dark.

Fuuuuuuck….

You fit yourself to your uniform quickly, practically ripping the hazmat suit in an attempt to get inside. Stupid cheap uniform.

Hurriedly, you grabbed your gear before rushing out the door, immediately stopping to softly tiptoe down the hall, (it would be inconsiderate to wake your neighbors at this hour).

You bolt out the complex, trying your best with the minimal light from the lampposts to groggily stumble your way to Complex II. You recall briefly the mention of a new doorman, a rookie. You figured it made sense,— poor new guy’s first day and he’s greeted by what you can assume as a particularly aggressive doppelgänger.

Trudging up to the looming building, you approach the iron bound mechanical door. You can see immediately the shutters to the doorman’s office are closed, bits of movement visible from the gaps in the blinds. The poor dude was in shambles.

You approach the gate, eyes locking on the figure of the doppelgänger,

Hmm, let’s see who it is tonight…

You’re surprised to see the handsome face of your milkman staring back at you, eyes looking as dead as ever. The air was knocked right outta your lungs,— holy shit these doppelgängers were getting good.

Clearing your throat, you address,

“Uh,— right, sir,” you look at the doppelgänger, “I’m gonna need you to come with me.”

He says nothing, opting to just stare. It’s then you notice the gaping hole that was his mouth, the two black chasms that were supposed to be his eyes. From afar, he’d look perfectly normal,— but in the light all the inhuman imperfections stuck out like a sore thumb

Holy smokes that’s hot.

“I’m going to take you with me now,” you don’t even know why you’re telling him this, why the hell were you being all nice with a doppelgänger? Sure, he was good looking,— sure, you were curious what that mouth could do—-

But that’s besides the point.

You approach hesitantly, hooking an arm around ‘Francis’, giving him a light tug to signify him to follow you.

Surprisingly, he does. Without a single word or complaint. He just… stares. With those beady white pupils. It sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

Leading him away, you look over your shoulder at the doorman who just peeked out from behind the shutters, giving him a reassuring thumbs up as you walk away with your new companion.

“Threat neutralized,” you repeat into the bulky walky talky attached to your belt, “order complete, over”. You place it back in its compartment, continuing until you and ‘Francis’ reach the anomaly compound for all things strange and odd.

‘Francis’ looks at the compound with horribly disguised disgust. You only chuckle grinning,

“No no, don’t worry. You aren’t going in there…” he seems to breathe a sigh of relief— if that’s even possible—, before you finish the last bit,

“— don’t worry, I have… other plans for you..”

——

“Strip.”

“Excuse me?” He whirls around, taken aback.

“You heard me, strip”

“And why,” his eyes narrow, “would I do that?”

You shrug, “safety protocol,-- we’re in the decontamination room,-- can’t let you in if your clothes are contaminated, y’know?”

'Francis' is absolutely flabbergasted.

“Oh, and for security measures someone else has to be in the room at all times, – but uh,-” you grin, “we’re a lil’ short staffed at the moment, so it looks like it’ll just have to be you and me.

'Francis' only looks at you through narrowed eye lids, thinking, “and if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll strip you myself” and you step closer to do just that.

'Francis' skitters backwards to the other end of the room, back hitting the wall, “h-hey! No need for that, I’ll do as you ask…” he mutters

Chuckling, “at least you can be obedient”

'Francis' looks away almost bashfully as he begins to undo the buttons on his shirt, fabric peeling away to reveal the pale skin underneath. His hat rests on a nearby bench

“Fully,” you purr, “I want it all off.”

You swear you see the tiniest hint of red tinge his cheeks, and you can’t help but wonder just how advanced this doppelgänger was. Good thing you were about to see for yourself in a moment…

The air is heavy, tense, almost, as 'Francis' slowly undoes the buckle on his belt, pants sliding down to his ankles, – his boxers the only scrap of clothing left hiding him from you.

He wearily regards the way you look at him, not missing the growing flare of hunger behind your eyes,

“Does this please you, officer?” his words are clipped, tension building up behind each one. Biting your lip, your breath almost catches at the way he smiles, teeth a little too sharp to be human.

“No.” The words are thick in your throat, forcing them out a bit of a struggle, “Get rid of the rest of it, now”

He bites his tongue, making no move to do so. In a second you’re on him, pinning his figure to the wall, bodies pressed up together. He has no time to react as you hook two fingers around his boxers, harshly yanking them off.

“Oh.”

Free of the confines of his pants, his erect cock springs loose, tip already dripping with precum.

“Huh.” 'Francis' can’t even turn his head your way, face hot and sweating slightly, “Who would’ve thought,” – your hands curl around him, taking him fully in your fist. His eyes fly to your face, pupils blown and dilated, staring in horrified arousal as you began to knead the hardened flesh, “--what a sick little thing you are, getting off on my reprimands, hmm?”

'Francis' sucks in a sharp breath, muscles tensing almost to a breaking point. His entire body shook with an animalistic need. More strands of precum build up on his tip, all read and agitated. Your thumb rubs the tiny slit, coating him with the sticky fluid. You found it hilarious, – no way this freakish creature had a fucking thing for degradation.

His mouth opens in the shape of a small ‘o’, eyes rolling back as you teasingly pull at his dick, your hands making wet squelching noises playing with the soaked meat.

“Mm,” you hum as you continue to play with him, dumbifying the creature in your hands. His legs start shaking like a dog’s, lewd whimpers flowing from his lips, glistening with saliva and drool. He desperately thrusts himself against your hand, chasing his pleasure farther. Jerking him off slowly, immense satisfaction burning in your stomach at the way your hand milks him. Each low groan went straight to your pulsing heat, drenching your own pants.

Panting, unfamiliar with the immense, foreign pleasure curdling through his gut, 'Francis' seems to forget the guise of his human appearance, pornograpic moans mixing in with groggy animalistic growls and grunts. Carnal desire ripples through his veins, building up in his stomach, molten hot, and threatening to explode from his twitching cock in your hands. Poor thing can’t even formulate words, getting his brains fucked out just by your hand alone.

He gasps, right about to climax into your hammering fist when you suddenly retract your hand. 'Francis' looks at you with wide eyes, looking every bit the kicked puppy, cruelly robbed of his orgasm.

“Hh. huh… nghu..- ga-?..”, panting.

You chuckle slowly, “no, not yet…”

He can only watch with teary eyes as you skillfully unbuckle your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear. You grab him by the hips, positioning him (which isn’t hard, considering the only thing keeping his shaking body up was your torso), and aligning your pelvis, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. You carefully slip him into your drenched hole, gasping softly at the sensation of him.

“Hah… like I said….” ‘Francis’ can only gape as you adjust yourself, cock twitching madly inside of you,

… “I’m not done with you yet…”

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 1 year

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I was thinking, so before sebastian’s heat actually kicks in his bird side (since he’s a crow demon) will start to be more noticeable. Like when he’s doing his chores he’ll find like a shiny thing and take it to his room. So if you go into his room before his heat there are a lot of shiny things just sitting there.

Yess, ok honestly I think he’d make a lil nest in his room AND your room bc he wants two nest incase you have a large clutch this season (he completely forgets humans don’t lay eggs) and he sings to you on an almost daily basis.

Crows mate for life, making him extra protective of you when his mind is clouded in his pre-heat state.

Sebastian (preheat/inhuman behavior, slight implication of breeding)

You had a long day and wanted to sleep, but your bed was COVERED in blankets, pillows, feathers and…fur? You looked closer to see there were ‘fluffy’ clothes on your bed too. Your bed had none of these on it when you woke up this morning and there’s only one person who has access to your room!

“Sebastian!”

You shouted, intentionally sounding more upset than you actually were to get him to hurry to your side. Unsurprisingly he was standing beside you in a moment. “Yes Master? What’s wrong?” You gesture to the bed and Sebastian gives you a blank stare in response.

“Why is my bed covered in rubbish?” You huff out, walking over to your drawer, removing your necklace and rings, placing them ontop of the drawer, you weren’t gonna wear em to sleep. When you turned around, you saw Sebastian staring at the bed, looking a little offended by your remark.

“It’s not rubbish, it’s to soften the nest. It also helps retain heat so the eggs won’t get cold.” Sebastian says, turning back to you with a smile. You scowl back at him.

“Nest? Eggs??? What the hell are you talking about? Are you planning on getting chickens? Why would we keep them in my bed?” You shove the ‘rubbish’ off your bed and get onto it. “We are not turning my bed into an incubator!”

When you looked back to Sebastian, he’s glaring at the spot on the floor where you shoved his ‘nest’. He looks back to you with a crestfallen look. “They aren’t pets, they’d be our children…” You give him a confused look. You hear a low growl escape him when you start to pull apart the ‘nest’ on the floor. You feel an arm wrap around your waist and you’re pulled off of your own bed.

Before you can protest you’re placed in a chair and Sebastian is re organizing the nest, this time putting it on the edge of your bed. Sebastian turns to you, picking you backup and tucking you into your bed. You had enough room to sleep with the ‘nest’ in your bed, but it was less than comfortable.

Fuck it, you’ll sleep somewhere else tonight. Why not the couch? Haven’t slept there in a while, maybe it’s comfier than you remember?

You got up, walking back to your drawer, not taking your eyes off Sebastian. You go to grab your necklace from the drawer, but you felt nothing when your hand landed on the drawer. You look away from Sebastian to see that the jewelry you had half hazardly left on your drawer was gone…

“Sebastian.” You glared at him. “Where is my jewelry?” Sebastian huffed as if he was annoyed. “What are you upset about? It’s my jewelry!” You hiss at him, turning to face him only to see he’s five feet from your face.

“Oh Master…I apologize I grabbed it when I walked in here.” He holds out his hand, delicately handing it to you. “It was just so tempting to take it, my bad.”

You grabbed it from him and paused, staring up at Sebastian. “What the actual hell is wrong with you? You’ve never done this shit before but now you feel the need to act up?”

Sebastian gave you an innocent smile, lowering his head a bit. “But where will we keep our eggs if we don’t keep them here? We can protect them better here.” He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you towards the bed.

You hiss at him. “I don��t know what you are talking about! Eggs go in the fridge, we,” You gesture between the two of you. “Don’t, and won’t have any eggs, understand?”

He looks surprised by your response and grumbles out something before speaking to you again. “But…it’s the best time to have them, besides-“ He pauses , shaking his head. “Oh that’s right, humans don’t go into heat, it’ll just be me…”

#black butler #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #black butler x reader #Sebastian Michaelis #sebastian x you #sebastian x y/n #sebastian x reader #sfw #pre-heat #fluff #monster fluffer #inhuman behavior

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norman-fucking-reedus · 3 months

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JUST WATCHED BLADE II AND MY STONER HEART CANT TAKE THIS. THE CHOKER?? HOLY FUCKING HELL I WANNA FUCK THE FUCKING SHIT OUT OF HIM

THE CHOKER SCREAMS BOTTOM. HE’S SO FUCKING SUBBY I WANNA TEAR MY EYES OUT

Scud is DEFINITELY the type of guy to get pent up and needy from makeout sessions, he’ll hold you closer to him and start whining softly into your mouth… GRRRRRR

He get super super touchy especially when he’s high, pulling you into his lap, burying his face in your neck and grinding you against him

SHARING JOINTS IS HIS LOVE LANGUAGEEEE AUUGH. He’ll roll super thick joints just for you and shotgunning is a must, literally blow your entire toke down his throat and he’ll say thank you

HES A BOTTOMMM. He loves when you’re in full control. Ride him to your hearts content he is your personal dildo. His mind gets all fuzzy when you yank him forward into a kiss by his choker, and he practically cums when you tug at his hair

Blowjob lover. Your lips just feel so good around his dick he practically begs for them. He can get REALLY vocal, joint hanging between his teeth as he fists his hands in your hair, moaning as he fucks your mouth

The mommy kink in him is STRONG. When he gets super high, he becomes much more sensitive. Literally fuck him stupid til he’s just a stoned babbling mess “Mmngh, pull harder.. fuck me harder mommy please- please fuck me harder”

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

IM GOING ABSOLUTELY FUCKING INSANE LIKE I WANNA DO THE MOST INHUMANE AND HORRID THINGS TO HIM SOMEONE NEEDS TO HELP ME

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

#scud blade 2 #scud x reader #scud smut #scud fanfiction #norman reedus #norman fucking reedus #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x reader #daryl dixon

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vaporwavebeach-writes · 8 months

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Kinktober Day 4 (Teratophilia)

Deadite!Ellie (Evil Dead Rise) x Reader (NSFW)

(1,351 words)

Summary: You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that having sex with the demonic version of your neighbor is dangerous.

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, dead dove do not eat (seriously, this shit gets BANANAS), graphic depictions of violence, viewing the aftermath of a murder scene, stabbing, blasphemy (kinda), head trauma, breaking in, dubcon (ish), Ellie being mean, sadism, biting, scratching, monster fucking, oral sex

Notes: MAGGOT MOMMY <3 I had her specifically in mind for this one. I saw this with my friends over the summer and they thought I was CRAZY bc I said I could fix her LMAO anyway, enjoy the fic!!!

You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that hearing the loud thuds of people running and falling outside your door is dangerous. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that hearing screams, bloodcurdling enough to know there was a threat is dangerous. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that several gunshots, sending loud enough bangs to make your ears ring, is dangerous. You’ve seen enough horror movies to know that hearing laughter, full of malice, is dangerous.

So when you decided to peek your head out the door only to be met with the dead bodies of your neighbors, splayed out and bloodied across the hallway, you knew your horror movie knowledge wouldn’t be able to save you now.

The scent of death wafted around the hallway. Blood poured from the bodies of your poor neighbors. You were grateful to be situated at the other end of the hall, if you had a closer view to the emptied chasms of their insides, you were sure you would be sick.

At the end of the hallway stood Ellie. She looked dead. Her skin was pale, littered with bruises and cuts. Her deep red hair was matted. She was covered in blood.

Ellie? There is no way she could’ve done something like this. She was kind, always making sure to hold the elevator for others when they were running late. She took no-nonsense from anyone or anything. She had three children to take care of- all of whom you saw were being raised to be good people. She knew the neighbors. She knew you. She wouldn’t have done this to them.

Or at least that’s what you thought until you saw her prowl down the hallway. What you saw, wasn’t the Ellie you recognized. It seemed as if all her bones were broken, and put together the wrong way. Somehow, she moved like a wounded animal, but also like a dangerous predator. The sound of her heels dragging and scuffing against the floor along with the garbled coughs of your dying neighbors was a sound that was sure to stick with you for as long as you lived- which you assumed wouldn’t be much longer. As Ellie continue to stalk closer to your door, decided that if you were about to die, you wouldn’t go down easy.

Slamming your door and locking it, you arm yourself with a kitchen knife, and begin to pray. You can hear the thud of her footsteps stop. For a brief moment, you feel relief, until loud and heavy pounding starts to come directly at your door.

“God won’t save you now.” A hoarse, demonic, almost inhuman sounding voice taunts from the other side of the door. Mustering enough courage to look through the peephole, Ellie stares at you. Sunken, black circles surrounded her eyes, looking bruised and bloodied. Her eyes were no longer the bright blue you had seen flash you kind glances in the past, but a ghostly, milky white. Dead. Lifeless. Yet, there she stood outside your apartment, staring back out you through the peephole with a crooked and menacing grin.

“It’s so pathetic,” she says blankly. “Praying as if you think you’re going to make it out of here…” You grip your knife tighter. “As if God can even hear you.”

“Jesus, Ellie,” you reply, hushed. “What the fuck happened to you? You don’t look so good.”

“Ellie’s rotting in hell with the rest of your sack of shit neighbors!” She shrieks. You look away from the peephole as Ellie reels back and continuously slams her head against the door. The wood begins to splinter and crack, and you can only watch in horror as the woman you once called your neighbor, makes her way into your only safe haven.

“Mommy’s home.” She drawls distortedly. She sets her sights on you, creeping over surprisingly quick where you can feel her, just inches away from your skin.

Jamming your knife into the side of her skull, she pauses for a moment. Did you get her? Is she dead? You get your answer soon enough as she pulls the knife from her head and slams it right next your hand where she has you backed up on your kitchen table. Despite the dread churning in your stomach, the proximity of her body so close to yours was enough to spike your arousal, as well as fear.

“Such a pitiful sight,” she teases, as you feel the air of her breath on your neck. You let out an involuntary whimper, cheeks beginning to heat up. Ellie sees this and barks out a cruel laugh. Her hands move across your body, clawing and grabbing at every crevice. “You are such a coward,” she chides. “Letting a monster feel you up.” She was right and all you could do was nod. “I know you’d do anything to stay alive, right?” Her voice drops to a sweet tone. It’s sick to hear such a scary and mocking voice have such a sweet tone.

“…Yes” you grit out, shaking.

“It’s always the sluts like you that make the most delicious screams.” She smiles wickedly, before violently kissing and biting at your chest. Your shirt is practically torn open as Ellie pushes you down and pins you to the table.

Moving your hands up to touch her, Ellie painfully slams your hands above your head, back to the table. Her mouth continues wandering down your chest, teeth grazing over your nipple, threatening to bite. Your breath hitches, and you let out a pained moan when she finally does. Her teeth sink down on the sensitive flesh, and she does nothing but laugh as you writhe around her.

Her nails rake down the rest your body, surely hard enough to leave a mark. You let out a moan of relief when she unattaches from your chest. She sinks down to your arousal, ripping off the pants of your legs with terrifying ease.

“You are one sick, disgusting fuck,” She sighs with false disappointment. “So fucking horny while your neighbors die all around you…” The shame washes over you, but Ellie’s ministrations as she teases you through your underwear make it hard for you to focus on anything other than getting off. “I can smell how much you’re enjoying this, you pathetic whore.”

You let out a whine as Ellie coaxes you right to the edge, stopping just before the point of no return. She sinks down, spreading your legs, leaving you splayed out on your kitchen table.

“You must be completely fucking stupid if you think I would let you off that easily.” She jabs. Pulling off your underwear, you lay there on your table, while a feral, monstrous version of your neighbor starts to violently go down on you.

Her tongue is fast as it swipes over you. She’s messy and rough, leaving no spot untouched, chuckling and murmuring filthy phrases into your sex. Your back arches and you grip the edge of the table, white-knuckled, whimpering shamelessly. The table begins to shake as her arms sling over your legs, holding you down. Her grip is harsh, marks sure to be left behind. She bites into your inner thigh, which only further spurs on your wanton feelings, starting to reach the edge.

Looking over to your side, the bloodied knife stares back at you. In the midst of your euphoric high, you hatch an idea to stab this demonic version of Ellie while distracted, give you time to possibly escape.

You don’t have much time to waste. When your orgasm quickly washes over you, Ellie gets up, spying the knife as you swing it up. She catches it, blade going directly through her hand. In your hazy state, she smilies back out you with that same malice she’s had this whole time.

“Aw,” she taunts. “Did you really think that stabbing me again would put me down?” There’s that sadistic sweetness in her voice. She drops the act almost immediately, lunging at you with her hand around your throat. “That was a naughty trick, and naughty behavior deserves to be punished.”

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #ellie x reader #ellie evil dead rise x reader #ellie evil dead rise #horror imagines #slasher x reader #horror smut #slasher smut #maggot mommy #mia writes horror!!!

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bloodlust-1 · 6 months

Text

༻ 3 Nights ༺ part 6

Gortash x fem Tav — mini series Explicit 18+

Summary: Gortash invites Tav to stay 3 days at his palace for the sake of an alliance. Reluctantly, she compromises for peace and it becomes an experience they won’t forget.

Part one -> here <-

Tav and her companions made their way to the lower city, the weight of recent events heavy on her mind. She had just helped Astarion in killing Cazador, a task that had taken its toll on both of them. It ached her heart to see Astarion so depressed in the days following the encounter. Despite her own inner turmoil, she had prioritized aiding her companions over fulfilling her treaty with Gortash by postponing killing Orin. However, Tav was aware that the time has come to prioritize Orin’s death, today.

As Tav walked with her group, engaging about their next target, Gale suddenly interrupted with a sense of urgency. “Tav, you’re going to want to see this,” he said, his voice tinged with concern. As he extended the Gazette, the newspaper’s headline caught Tav’s attention. “It’s not good,” Gale added gravely.

Tav scrunched her eyebrows in confusion as she read the front headline of the newspaper: “Adventurers or Absolutists? All you need to know.”

She crumpled the paper between her fingers, she irritated my whispered to herself, “No, no, no, no…” She looked up at her friends with a mixture of disbelief and annoyance, “Who would write something like this? Those damn journalists, always peeking their noses into things they don’t understand!”

"Shit. that damn Gazzette... well at least the paper didn't mention what we looked like. But we don't have enough time before they do." Karlach added as she peeked over Tav's shoulder, frowning at the text.

"Damn it." She ripped off the first page, folding up the paper and stuffed it into her pocket. "For as much as I would love this fix this now, we need to get going. I bet Orin has something to do with this." Tav started to walk ahead of everyone.

“Wait, where are we going?” Gale chimed in, running from the back to accompany Tav’s side.

“To the sewers, we’re killing her today.” Tav held her head high, her vision blurring red with anger. The injustice of it all had reached a boiling point, and she could no longer tolerate the slanderous rumors that spread like wildfire.

"Oh, what fun!" A small giggle left Astarion's lips. "But please, do watch where you step. It smells vile down there." Despite the evident disgust on his face, there was a slight hint of excitement in his eyes.

In the city, the wait has finally come to an end. The bloodshed in the name of Bhaal would no longer taunt the people. What started as a rather tedious quest turned into a ritual with pure malice, culminating in the lifeless body of Orin in its inhuman form - a sight straight out of the hells. Killing Orin was no easy task; it required everything they had to take her down. Tav, witnessing the evil firsthand, realized that Orin was even more twisted than Gortash. Finally fulfilling Gortash’s request to rid the world of Orin, Tav now prepared to pay him a visit. But first, she sought healing from Halsin after nearly exhausting all her strength in the battle against Orin.

“Thank you, Halsin.” Tav calmly spoke to him as his hands glowed in pure magic, his hands cleansed her body of any pain. Only leaving behind the small cuts and bruises.

“I really hate seeing you like this. You should not be the one covered in bruises.” He had a sadness in his eyes. No woman should be bruised to this extent.

“Well you know we really haven’t gotten much of a choice lately. I’m just glad we have someone like you here with us.”

Halsin’s gentle touch and intense gaze had a calming effect on Tav, relaxing her body and mind. The silence between them was noticable, and Tav couldn’t help but feel a little nervous under his watchful eye. Tav found herself drawn to Halsin’s intelligence and the way he made her feel like he was always looking out for her well-being. Not to mention how handsome she found him.

However, there was something about Halsin that didn’t quite click for Tav. Perhaps it was his almost fatherly demeanor, or the fact that he was always so sweet and caring. Whatever it was, it made her feel like she had to be careful around him, like she was constantly on edge. Tav was able to be as raunchy as she wanted around Gortash, which made her feel more comfortable to voice her feelings around him. Even if it was mostly banter.

Despite that, he was pleasant eye candy. Her eyes matched with his for a moment before embarrassingly averting her gaze away. Halsin chuckled to himself from the flush of her cheeks. “All done then.”

Halsin instinctively withdrew his hands and took a subtle step backward, his eyes lingering on her figure as he assessed her. “You’re truly beautiful,” he murmured softly, his voice carrying a tenderness that was unmistakable. He always worried about her health and it always felt nice to be valued by him so dearly. He did make her nervous everytime something flirtatious left his mouth.

“Thanks so much again. I’ve got to clear some things up, I’ll be heading out for now.” She looked at him with grateful eyes, giving Halsins hand a slight squeeze in return with a smile. He returned her gratitude, “Do you want me to come with you?”

“Oh no, it’s okay Halsin, really. You’ve done enough. Rest.” Tav patted his hand before grabbing her bag. She opened it to reveal Orin's twisted red knife, its blade covered in old dried blood and adorn with a nether stone. Tav ripped out the stone and handed it to Halsin, “Take this and keep it safe while I’m gone.”

Halsin took the stone and simply nodded to her favor. Tav was grateful to have such loyalty. Her eyes wandered to his biceps before shaking herself out of that naughty head space, “thank you.”

“You have a sparkle in your eyes as of lately. Though— I know it isn’t for me. Who is giving you such a spark in those eyes?”

Tav’s voice quivered as she spoke, “I— Halsin, there’s nobody…” Her words trailed off, leaving an awkward silence in the air. Shit. Tav felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment, wondering if Halsin had caught on to something. Frantically searching for an excuse, she stammered, “Maybe it’s because of everyone’s company that I’m so grateful for.”

“Perhaps.” He once again smiled with knowing eyes at Tav before walking back towards his tent.

There was still daylight outside, and Tav had plenty of time to visit Gortash, even though it had been a week since she properly visited him. He had been popping up unannounced to talk to her whenever he caught her alone throughout the city. Tav was sure he wanted to speak with her, especially after Orin’s death.

Tav dressed down in a loose-fitting brown blouse and paired it with fitted pants to create a balanced look. Her hair fell loose, falling just below her hips. With her traveling bag in hand, she started her small journey to the palace, determined to prove to Gortash that Orin was no longer a threat and that their deal could finally be fulfilled. She had, after all, taken care of Orin, ensuring all business between them.

Upon entering into the palace Tav immediately called out for him. Yet, no response. Tav scoped the halls of the palace and called out a servant, “Hey, do you know where Gortash is?”

The servant, startled, responded, “O-oh, lady Tav! It’s you… He’s in his chambers.”

Tav thanked the woman before heading to his room. She’d never been in his chambers and it felt a bit too personal. As she approached the door, her heart quickened with anticipation. Should she simply open the door and enter, announce herself, or linger outside until he noticed her presence? The array of choices overwhelmed her momentarily, but Tav ultimately keep a high head and opened the door. She called out his name before hearing thunking noises hit the floor.

“Who dares to barge—“ Gortash stormed out of the bathroom, his body drenched from head to toe, a towel slung low on his hips. Water droplets rolled off his black locks and plopped onto his collarbones, leaving behind a trail of glistening beads. His eyes blazed with irritation as he confronted Tav, who stood frozen in the doorway, her mouth agape in disbelief.

She caught a glimpse of the trail of hair that ran from his chest down to his groin and disappeared into the tucked towel. As her eyes followed the path, she instantly averted her gaze. Turning around, she focused on the door, trying to distract herself from what she had just seen. “Fuck! You don't have to come stomping out half naked!“ Tav’s cheeks turned a deep shade of red as she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. She could feel the heat rising from her neck to her face, making her feel like she was melting in her boots.

“My favorite assassin, how have you been?” Gortash completely disregarded the fact that he barely clothed. His demeanor was nonchalant and pleased to see Tav at this moment. It was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. Instead of walking away to cover himself, he walked over to Tav’s turned back. “I was waiting for you to come tell me good news. So—“

Tav took a deep breath before answering, "Orin, she's dead." With a steady hand, she retrieved the blade from her bag and turned back to face Gortash, the weapon glinting in the light. His eyes flickered momentarily to the knife before returning to her face, his gaze piercing and intense. Tav felt a shiver run down her spine as she took in the deep scar on his chin, her mind racing with the desire to trace its path with her fingertips.

Gortash’s expression softened as he accepted the knife from Tav, there's a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. He casually discarded the weapon, letting it clatter to the floor without a second thought. His attention then shifted to Tav’s clothing. The blouse was far too big for her, and it masked her femine figure turing all her delicate curves into a shapless jumble. Not even the color suited her in the best way possible. Gortash thought he'd rather see her in a bra than the ugly shirt. He spoked up with a sense of cockiness, "I hate this color on you. Actually— the entire shirt is not flattering, really."

Tav’s mouth fell open in a mix of shock and offense. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “I came here to tell you the greatest news you'll ever hear in your pathetic life, and all you can do is criticize my clothes? How classy of you,” she scoffed, her tone dripping with disbelief. Tav rolled her eyes in frustration. It seemed like he always found a way to ruin any moment of connection and attraction. “And for gods sake, put some damn clothes on…”

"The dagger— It's a lovely souvenier, dear." Gortash added as he dug into his drawers for clothes and sloppily dressed himself despite judging Tav for her unflattering blouse. "It's good that you came, I want to hear all about that fight." The shift in his demeanor caught Tav off guard – was he truly intrigued by her battle with Orin? It was an unexpected moment of connection amidst their otherwise mundane interactions.

"oh, sure..."

As they walked, Gortash led Tav to the back of the palace, where a vast and stunning garden awaited them. The garden was adorned with an array of bushes, flowers, and lush greenery, creating a picturesque scene that left Tav breathless with awe. Gortash, observed her reaction, tilted his head, and stared in approval by her response. It was a moment he could speak with her out of the stone walls, one that he knew he would never share with anyone else.

“You are a force to be reckoned with,” Gortash remarked with confidence as he looked at Tav. “I am glad that you are on my side.” His words carried a sense of trust and appreciation, hinting at the possibility of a newfound understanding between them. Tav had just completed an exceptionally important task for Gortash, and it seemed that this act had solidified a bond of trust between them. Perhaps she wouldn’t betray him after all.

"You're welcome. It was a pleasure killing her." Tav admittingly let the dark thought slip her lips. The weight of her words hit her, and she widened her eyes in realization of what she had just admitted. Instantly, she flashed an embarrassed smile at Gortash, acknowledging the sudden darkness of her confession. “She gave me one hell of a hard time… she almost killed me, to be honest,” Tav confessed with a tinge of sadness in her voice. She lowered her tone as she continued, “She turned into this— monster. It was like something straight out of the hells.”

Tav had to grapple with the impact of the horrific encounter with Orin. The weight of her words lingered in the air, painting a vivid picture of the intensity and trauma Tav had to endure. Tav felt a bit defeated in the moment, this fight took a lot of her mentally and physically.

In the midst of a tense atmosphere, Gortash chuckled at Tav's grave confession, "Am I rubbing off on you, little hero?" His words injected a small sense of light into the heavy air, although he could discern the challenge in her eyes. Seeking to reassure her, Gortash offered his support, "If there is ever a problem, you can come to me. After all, we are allies now, offically." A tinge of his voice felt cocky and playful at the end.

Tav smiled slightly and nodded her head to his offer. She felt like he was actually being genuine for once and it was a good palette cleanser to what she was used to.

They walked down a carved out stone path into the garden side by side. They were silent for the most part admiring the scenray and company. Tav bite down on her lower lip as many thoughts flowed into her head. Mostly that she now felt insecure in the baggy blouse she wore that he clearly hated so much. It felt strange to suddenly care about what he thought of her appearance.

A fleeting image of Tav’s face crossed his mind as they walked in silence. Gortash was captivated by the delicate features that seemed out of place in the harsh world he ruled. Gortash peered over his shoulder to peek at her. He found himself admiring how silky her hair was and how it curled at the end.

Gortash’s thoughts of Tav were a dangerous indulgence, one that made him vulnerable in a way he couldn’t afford. Yet, he couldn’t deny the allure of Tav’s beauty, a beauty that seemed to defy the darkness that surrounded them. Even in the brown top that consumed her natural curves, Tav was like forbidden fruit in their small bond.

But in rare moments of vulnerability, Gortash found himself lost in thoughts of Tav’s face, her silky hair, and the longing that stirred within him.

During their time apart, he watched over Tav with a keen eye, particularly noticing the stares of her companion. These stares were not just casual glances, but rather intense, lingering looks that seemed to bore into her very being. Jealousy crept under his skin like a slow-burning fire, fueled by the memories of that wizards lustful stares.

Gortash’s voice erupted abrasively from his thoughts, catching Tav's attention. The question that followed was rather random, laced with a hint of jealousy that lingered in the air. "Whose that pathetic wizard in the group? He's always staring at you."

Tav tilted her head up questionably as she stopped in her tracks, “He’s my friend. And what does it matter with you anyways?” She crossed her arms with curiosity.

In a flat, lifeless tone, Gortash elaborated his jealous statement, “Because he thinks he stands a chance with you.”

Tav was taken aback by the harshness of his jealousy. She couldn’t help but mock his behavior, “Maybe he does? He’s intelligent, sweet, and far from a homicidal maniac.” Tav playfully teased him, “What? Do you really think you stand a chance?”

Gortash let out a small, evil chuckle as he grabbed Tav’s wrist and pulled her body closer to his. His hands firmly grasped the top of her hips, closing the gap between them. With a menacing expression, he brought his face dangerously close to hers and whispered in a mean tone, “Do I not?”

Tav's eyes widdened from his advances in surprise and then responded flusteredly with a firm “No.” She shook her head in denial softly.

His index fingers traced sensually around her hips. “That’s hard to believe when your face is like this. Such big eyes that plead,” he said, gazing into her widened glossy eyes. His tone was filled with domination.

Tav could feel his gaze drilling into her, could feel the heat of his body radiating towards her. She closed her eyes, her heart racing as she waited for him to make his move.

And then, without warning, he leaned in. His lips brushed against hers lightly, then finding a sweet spot. Tav's pulse raced as she felt a rush of excitement. Kissing so openly during daylight. But Gortash’s gentle touch was reassuring, and she found herself melting into his tighten embrace.

Their lips moved together, soft and dominating, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths. They gasped for air between heated kisses. Tav felt a rush of emotions, her heart pounded in her chest as she wrapped her arms around Gortash’s neck, deepening the kiss. The world around them melted away, leaving only the two of them, locked in a passionate kiss.

As they kissed, Gortash’s grip on her tightened, pulling her closer to him. Tav felt a surge of desire, her body responding with goosebumps from his touch. Her knees grew shakey, and a growing heat tickled her body. Gortash held any additional weight that Tav lost in her legs.

His hands slipped down to her thighs, scooping her thighs up to wrap around his slender waist. Tav’s hands lovingly caressed the sides of his stubbled face, as their lips hungerly devouring the bitterness away. Tav finally traced the pad of her thumb over the deep scar on his chin.

Gortash held her body close, propping her against the nearest pillar. His hand gripped her neck, firmly holding her jaw. He pressed his hips against hers eagerly, causing Tav to let out a soft whimper of surprise. “N-Not here, not now,” she whispered.

“Isn’t this what you want— To surrender to me? " He huskily asked between the kisses. he whispered, his voice filled with desire. His intense gaze locked with hers as he spoke. Gortash's brown eyes fell into a half opened state.

Tav giggled softly against his lips, her eyes sparkling with mischief. The look on her face was a sight to behold, a mix of playfulness and determination that made Gortash’s heart race. She couldn’t give in so easily to have him devour her so shamelessly in his garden, not when there was still so much to explore and discover.

Tav teased him in a whisper, breaking free from his hold and taking a step back. “I never surrender, you should know that,” she said, her voice firm and seductive. Her feet touched the ground once more, and she stared flirtatiously up at Gortash, her eyes daring him to try and catch her. “I would rather watch you squirm for it.”

Tav blushed through out the teasing smiles. She reached into her pocket and unfolded the ripped newspaper article, "I expect you to fix this however."

“Mmm, tempting.” Gortash clicked his tongue in the lost of her warmth. His eyes fixated on the news clipping, he took it softly from her hands.

"Thank you— Enver." Tav smiled confidentalty at him, her hands were clasped behind her back as she began to walk backward, then turned around completely to leave the palace. Tav enjoyed keeping him on his toes. She noticed how easily he aimed to please her, and she was keenly aware of the power of her desirability over him.

To Be Continued ~

Any Thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

Shout out to the ones who’ve been following this story! You guys give me so much inspiration to keep the updates coming🫶🏼 hope you enjoyed gortash kisses, mwuah.

Next part here

#bg3 tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 fluff #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #enver gortash #gortash x durge #dark urge x gortash #tav x gortash #gortash smut #gortash x tav #gortash x reader #lord gortash #bg3 gortash #astarion bg3 #bg3 astarion

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starlightkun · 5 days

Text

⇢ word count: 20.8k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, brief blood and gore descriptions (some human and some non-human), you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, multiple needle/injection mentions, knife/injury/blood description, main characters are morally gray, and oh yeah cursing ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ series masterlist | prev. | next

“You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

“There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

The next morning, you were awake early again. You stared into the darkness, listening to Dejun’s breathing. The distant sounds of two voices started getting closer, and you perked up at this. If some of the others were up, you’d be more than happy to join them, see if they needed any help getting breakfast together.

Just as you’d swung your legs over the side of your cot to stand, you heard the distinct sound of your name float in as it sounded like they had stopped right at the campfire. They were keeping their voices low, but it did little to help with the absolute silence all around. You paused, overwhelmed with curiosity.

“I asked Xiao last night, if he thinks Y/N will ever remember.” The first voice was Kun, and you looked at the sleeping doctor in front of you curiously. You could only imagine this conversation happened before you walked into the captain’s tent last night.

“Yeah?” It was Kunhang with him. “What’d he say?”

“He can’t say for sure at this point, since he doesn’t know what caused it.”

“Useful.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Part of me hopes she doesn’t remember.” Kunhang let out a bitter sigh with his words.

“What?” Kun responded, and you imagined that his face was as bewildered as yours was right now. Why wouldn’t Kunhang want you to regain your memories?

“Dude, you saw where we found her.”

“God, yeah. The sort of shit she probably saw.”

“Or did. She’s the only survivor. You don’t exactly get through Hell by being sweet and virtuous.”

Kun’s voice was surprisingly harsh, “We don’t know—”

“Hey, no judgment here. Who knows what she had to do to survive. I wouldn’t want to remember that either.”

“Her hands were clean when we found her.”

“A bit too clean, don’t you think?” A third voice had joined them now, Ten.

“Maybe she hid early, got out before the worst of it.” Kun was still vehemently defending you.

“You think the same person who pulls people out of the way of falling ceiling chunks without thinking is a coward?”

“I’m saying we don’t know anything.”

“And I’m just saying something’s not right about how Y/N ended up in there, Captain.”

“Nothing here is right, Ten. This facility, the experiments, the Skippers, all of it.”

“And you’re letting the only person left who might be responsible for it walk around free.”

“I wouldn’t call being stuck with all of us ‘free.’”

“But it’s not exactly a prisoner’s watch.”

“Because she’s not a prisoner. For all we know they could’ve been experimenting on her—”

“Or she’s part of that vague They we keep referring to.”

There was a moment of tense silence—or at least it sure felt strained to you from inside your tent, you had to imagine it was suffocating out there—before Kun spoke again. “We have no clue what was going on here, and no proof that she did anything. Until we know anything for certain, I’m not going to treat her like a criminal.”

“I’m not saying you have to. Look, I like her too, she seems like a nice person, but maybe—”

A loud yawn came from your roommate’s cot, and the conversation outside suddenly ceased. Dejun sat up slowly, rubbing sleep out of his eye as he let out another forceful yawn.

“Oh, morning, Y/N,” he greeted you, stretching and groaning. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, I uh, I just woke up,” you replied awkwardly. A couple minutes could be classified as just, you were pretty sure. “How about you? Sleep okay?”

“Mm, like a baby. You’re a much better bunkmate than Liu. Kid talks in his sleep. Recites code and equations.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little at the mental image, momentarily distracted from the conversation you’d just been listening to. “That’s rather unfortunate for Ten and Kunhang then.”

Dejun shrugged. “Wong shouldn’t have been such a weirdo, then he might’ve been your roomie.”

He stood up then, groaning as he leaned over to touch his toes, then reached up and fully stretched his arms over his head. “Alright, breakfast?”

Ten and Kunhang had just started on breakfast when you left your tent, and apparently didn’t need any help, so with nothing better left to do and a lot on your mind, you turned down the paths between the fields. The artificial sun had already risen, full daylight around you, making it easy to keep your eyes on the ground under your feet. It wasn’t long until you heard footsteps behind you. You stopped in your tracks and turned to see who it was.

“Don’t tell me I’m late for breakfast again,” you groaned. “I’ve been gone for two minutes.”

“No, you’re not,” Kun informed you, putting his hands in his pockets as he stopped in front of you. “Can I join you? On your walk?”

You put your hands on your hips, suspicious. “Why?”

“Why do I want to walk with you?”

“Yeah. The exit doors are within view of camp.”

“I don’t think you’re trying to escape. If you managed to get out of the facility, your only two options would be a K’llor ship that you don’t know the state of, and our ship that has ZEN on it, who would never let you past the entry bay, much less off the surface. I don’t think you’re that stupid. Are you?”

“No. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“So… was that a no on the walk?”

“You didn’t answer my question, Kun,” you replied frankly. “You’re not as good at that as you think you are.”

“At what? Avoiding?”

“Yes, like you’re doing now. Why do you want to walk with me?”

“You went on a walk with Liu yesterday, did you interrogate him beforehand as well?”

“You’re still not answering my question, you’re just asking me more questions.”

He rubbed his face and sighed. “You know, never mind.”

You let out an incredulous laugh. “Really? You just fold like that?”

“Clearly you want to be alone. I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t say that. All I did was ask you a simple question that you apparently can’t answer.”

“Ten and Wong are almost done with breakfast, I’d get going on that walk if I were you.”

“Fine.” You held your hands up. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Five minutes wasn’t nearly long enough for your liking, but as promised, you were back at the camp for breakfast. Kun and Dejun were already discussing something when you got back, Ten and Kunhang made you a bit uneasy after the conversation you overheard this morning, so you were pleasantly surprised when the Professor intercepted you, already with two plates of food in his hands.

“Want to eat with me?” He offered. “We can talk about plans for today.”

“Sure, Professor,” you accepted the food from him gratefully.

“I don’t think the notes will be too excessive for you to go through,” he began. “ZEN came equipped with the UHN’s entire language database, including what few Outspacer glyphs they had. My notes are just additions to that gathered during this mission—it’s not my focus language back in academia, so you’re not going to be reviewing years’ worth of research or anything.”

“What is your focus language then? For your xenolinguistics?”

The Professor momentarily looked over your shoulder, then back to you. “Ourogish.”

You tilted your head curiously. “Can you… make all those sounds?”

“I speak with an accent. But it’s passable.”

So they were doing something involving Ourogos and/or the Ourogi. Didn’t help much more, but it was information.

“So any corrections, missing links, anything you can give me and ZEN will be a help,” the Professor continued.

“I mean, I don’t know how good of a teacher I’ll be… I don’t even remember learning it.”

“Don’t worry, ZEN and I are quick learners.”

The other five left right after breakfast, and you were left with the Professor and ZEN. You took the Professor’s tablet that contained all of his notes under the shade of a tree in one of the nearby orchards. Resting your cheek in your palm, you started in on the file that had already been opened for you. You doubted ZEN would let you access anything else that was on here. The AI was projecting himself as a small cube above your knees, slowly bobbing up and down like a buoy in the ocean, but otherwise quiet as you worked.

The Professor, meanwhile, was restless, asking you what you were doing every two minutes, as he did something to the tree you were under, which you could hear by the rustling of branches and leaves.

After the fifth interruption, you finally told him through gritted teeth, “You know, Professor, this would go much faster if you didn’t stop me every two minutes.”

“Right. Sorry!” And he went back to messing with the tree.

A few moments later, he plopped down next to you, breathless, and held a plum out to you. You looked between him and the deep maroon fruit before accepting it.

“You seem off,” he said.

“What?” You mumbled, setting your plum aside.

“You seem off.”

“Do I?”

“Pissed that you have a babysitter?”

“Aren’t you pissed that you got landed with babysitting duty?”

He shrugged, taking a bite of his plum. “I’m a civvie, remember? I’d much rather stick back here and talk about a dead language than go look at a bunch of alien corpses.”

You made a noise of acknowledgment, still combing through his notes on syntax.

“So… What’d you do?”

“What?”

“To get put in time out. What’d you do that you need a babysitter?”

You let out a frustrated sigh, pushing some of your hair back from your face. “I deserve it, I know I do. It’s perfectly reasonable for Kun to stick me in camp all day but—I hate it.”

“Come on, you can tell me.” He nudged you with his elbow. “Us civvies have got to stick together, you know. What’d you do?”

“We were walking through the facility yesterday, and a piece of ceiling came loose. I didn’t even think about it, I just pulled Kun back so it didn’t hit him.”

The Professor burst into laughter, a stray drop of plum juice dribbling down his chin as he coughed through it. He sat forward, hitting himself on the chest with a fist. “Oh my God, that’s really good.”

“What’s so funny about that? I’m a liability, he had every right to leave me here with a babysitter.”

“Well, yes,” he chuckled. “If you’re going to be trying to save the guy in Class-V armor as an unarmored civilian with nothing but a rebreather, that’s a little concerning. But it’s also pretty funny. I bet that’s the first time Captain’s been genuinely surprised in years.”

“I’m glad you can see some humor in the situation.” You put your cheek back in your palm, striking out an error in his notes and starting the correction. “I think I ruined my chances of ever leaving the ag bubble again until you all take me to UHN Main for debriefing.”

“It’s not so bad in here.”

“Yeah, but… everything’s out there. Whoever I am, whatever I’ve done, whatever I wanted to do, whoever I wanted to be, is out there, was out there. And I’m stuck in here grading.”

The Professor was quiet, and for a second you were worried that he was offended at your comparison between his notes and a grade-schooler’s homework until he spoke. “Would it change anything?”

“What?”

“If you remembered? If you found out who you were, what you’ve done, what you wanted to do, who you wanted to be? Would it change anything?”

“How could it not?”

“Would you decide that’s who you are now, just because that’s who you were?”

“I-I mean, it was me. I’m not a different person just because I lost my memory.”

“How do you know? You just said, you don’t know who you were, what you’ve done, what sort of future you wanted for yourself.”

“Well…”

“Y/N, what do you want for your life?”

“To remember what it is. My life.”

“And if you can’t? Right now, what do you to do? What sort of person do you want to be?”

“I-I guess I want to be an okay person. Like, pretty good to the people around me? And, live a life that I like? I don’t know a lot about what I like, but I guess I’d figure that out, and do more of that stuff?”

“That’s good. That’s a pretty good aspiration, actually.”

“Isn’t it kind of boring?”

“A little.” He shrugged. “But maybe, the person you were before you lost your memory, didn’t want that. Maybe you wanted something that you would now consider to be bad. Imagine if the you before this wanted to kick as many puppies as possible before you died.”

“Why—”

“It’s a hypothetical. Do you want to do that, right now?”

“No, of course not.”

“If you found out, right now, that you wanted to do that before you lost your memory, would that change anything? Would you suddenly want to kick puppies?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“And do you want to crusade for Universal Peace until the end of your days?”

“That… sounds very tiring.”

“Yes? No?”

“Probably not.”

“So if you found out that the you before you lost your memory was dedicating your life to doing that, would you suddenly want to? Would that change anything?”

You took a deep breath. “No.”

“Obviously, it’s got to suck not remembering friends or family or anything like that. But you’re still a person without those memories, Y/N. You’re still you, just whoever you are now.”

“Thanks, Professor.” You smiled a little, spinning the stylus around in your fingers.

“Now, why did you cross that out?” He pointed to the section you had been absentmindedly correcting. “I could’ve sworn I had gotten that listing function correct.”

“You were close!”

“You completely scribbled it out.”

That night, you were helping Ten and Kunhang prepare dinner again.

“Everything okay, Y/N?” Ten asked as the two of you shucked some corn.

“Yeah, fine,” you answered shortly, tossing a corn husk onto the pile at your feet. “Why?”

“You seem a bit…”

“Off?” You guessed.

“Yeah.”

“That’s what the Professor said earlier.”

“Something happen with the captain?” Kunhang questioned from where he was chopping up ingredients with a pocketknife and plastic container as his cutting board.

You pressed your lips together in a line before replying. “I don’t know. Why are you asking?”

“He uh, he said he was going to join you on your walk this morning. And then came back alone.”

“We had an argument, I guess. It was about nothing.”

“Y/N—”

“No, seriously, it wasn’t anything of substance.” You huffed, grabbing your next cob. “I asked him why he wanted to walk with me, he refused to answer. That’s it.”

There was an odd pause, and you turned your gaze up to see the other two exchanging a look.

Ten spoke next, “Well I’m sure being stuck in the ag bubble with the Professor all day wasn’t fun either.”

“The Professor wasn’t the problem. Sucked being put in timeout. Rightfully so, but it still sucked.” You had finished with your ears of corn, and took them over to Kunhang’s makeshift station.

“So you saved him from getting concussed by falling ceiling with no concern for your own safety, big deal,” Kunhang scoffed, gesturing wildly with both hands as he talked. “If you ask me, that kind of instinct is a good thing. Bit hypocritical for the captain to be punishing you for it anyway.”

Ten watched Kunhang waving the knife around warily. “Careful with that thing, Wong, you’re gonna—”

As Ten was talking, Kunhang had tried to spin the knife around his finger by the handle, but you knew it wasn’t going to be successful, grabbing the spinning blade before it could take his finger off. And before you even realized what you were doing. The action registered in your mind at the same time the sharp edge cutting open your palm did, and you let out a yip of surprise and pain, dropping the knife to the ground.

“—take someone’s eye out.” Ten finished his sentence almost absentmindedly, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck—” Kunhang cursed as you all watched blood well up in your hand from the cut. “Captain Qian’s going to kill me.”

“Well don’t just stare, go get Xiao!” Ten scolded his teammate, getting to his feet. “Or—fuck! ZEN! Where’s Xiao? Tell him to get over here!”

“Shit, Y/N!” Kunhang was scrambling around for something. “God damn it! Don’t we have paper towels or something?”

“What the hell is going on out here?” Kun emerged from his tent, annoyed gaze quickly flitting over all three of you before zeroing in on your hand and turning hard. He made it over to you in three quick strides, taking your hand by your fingertips to avoid where your blood had started to drip down your forearm to your elbow.

He looked down at the ground, and saw the knife at your feet glinting in the firelight. “What happened?”

Ten took the lead, “Wong was—”

When the captain immediately turned on him, Kunhang quickly jumped to defend himself.

“No, no, listen, I didn’t—Okay, yes, I probably shouldn’t have been trying out tricks with the knife, but Y/N just grabbed it. I didn’t do this to her,” he pleaded with Kun, then look at you desperately. “Y/N, tell him, come on.”

Kun turned back to you, a frank eyebrow raised. You looked between the three of them and nodded. “He’s telling the truth, Kun.”

“Wong, stop doing knife tricks,” Kun ordered sharply.

Kunhang gulped. “Sir, yes sir.”

“ZEN, call off Xiao,” Kun commanded, making the other two exchange a worried look. The captain’s tone was still biting as he addressed the AI again, “Of course not, tell him I’ve got her.”

Then Kun was ushering you towards his tent, and you obliged. The flap had been clipped up when you entered, and you noted that he unhooked it after him, letting it hang closed and unzipped. He nodded towards his own cot for you to sit, and you did so hesitantly, holding your non-injured hand under your elbow to catch the blood that you were now very aware was dripping onto anything under you.

Kun rooted around in a pack at the end of the cot, then pulled up and sat on the container that had served as your seat last night when you administered his injection. He unhooked his canteen from his waist, putting a towel across his knees before he flushed the wound and washed your arm. He patted your arm dry, and grabbed a flashlight from one of his pockets to shine onto your hand to get a closer look at the cut. It was a thin slice across most of your palm, but the majority of it didn’t look too terribly deep at least. More blood rushed to the surface again as he clicked the flashlight off and put it away, grabbing his next materials.

Kun didn’t even need to speak for you to feel the disappointment seeping off of him. He silently pressed a gauze pad to the slice, and you felt both a dull pressure and sharp sting, gritting your teeth against it to avoid making a sound. As he started wrapping bandages around the site, you finally put some kind of words together.

“I don’t know who I used to be, before I lost my memory,” you started quietly, and he flicked his gaze up from your hand to your eyes for a moment before looking back down at his task. “And it’s going to take a while for me to figure out who I am now. Maybe my whole life. But I know that I can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody, any of you, getting hurt if I can do something about it.”

“You’re telling me you’re going to keep doing stuff like this?” He was still meticulously wrapping your palm.

“Yes. And you can keep me in camp, have the other guys babysit me, whatever you need to do for your mission. But I didn’t want to make some promise to you that I know I’m not going to keep.”

Kun sat up straight again, having finished with bandaging your hand. He held your gaze steadily this time. “I suppose I should thank you for your candidness, and not lying to me just to get out of here.”

“Was that you actually thanking me, or…?”

“Let’s make a deal, since I’m not keen on making you a prisoner in the ag bubble for however long we’re here, you’ve proven yourself useful, and I need my crew out there and not on… babysitting duty.”

You perked up at this. “Okay, what are the terms?”

“I assume Xiao has already asked you to give me the injections?”

“He’s mentioned it. I’m not sure why he thinks I’d convince you any better, but you need them, Kun.”

“You can give me the injections every night, no complaining, no skipping. And you can leave the ag bubble with at least one of us. But whenever you do some stupid thing like this, you come get me, okay? I’m the captain, which makes everyone here my responsibility, including you.”

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, I can do that.”

Kun held out a hand, and you eagerly shook it with your non-bandaged one.

“So, I will see you back here after mess then.” He stood, starting to clean up.

“See you then.” You nodded, standing and slipping back out of his tent.

The others had all returned to camp, and Dejun immediately threw his hands up in disbelief as he saw you coming back over.

“What the hell?” He reached for your arm to inspect the bandages. “First I have ZEN telling me you have a medical emergency back at camp, then thirty seconds later he’s telling me there’s direct orders from the captain that I don’t need to come back for your medical emergency because he’s going to take care of it? Did the captain go to med school in the fifteen minutes I was gone?”

“It was just a cut, Dejun,” you reassured him, nevertheless letting him turn over the injured hand. “Clean cut, no debris in the wound, it just needed to be cleaned and bandaged up.”

He rolled his eyes, letting you go. “God, why am I here? Everybody’s a doctor now!”

Mess was a quiet and short affair, and you swore Kunhang scooped out an extra big portion for you tonight. After, everyone tended to their post-mess duties, and you kept an eye on Dejun in your periphery. You weren’t sure how much the others knew about Kun's injections, so you figured intercepting him in your tent to let him know was the safest choice. When Dejun ducked into your tent, you looked at the couple dishes that Ten was still drying and you would then need to put away.

“Hey, uh, I’m sorry, but do you mind if I go ask Dejun for something?” You asked them sheepishly, hoping they wouldn’t have any questions for that extremely vague question.

“Oh, shit, your hand!” Ten looked down at it. “Yeah, of course, I’m sure your endorphins have worn off by now, it must hurt like a bitch. Go, we can finish up.”

You hadn’t really thought much about the dull, persistent pain throughout dinner. Sure, it felt a bit uncomfortable whenever you bent or closed your palm, but that wasn’t really in the forefront of your mind. After all, you having a cut palm right now was much more manageable than Kunhang missing a finger for the rest of his life.

You bit down on your lip, feeling a little bad about misleading them, but then shot them a quick smile. “Thanks, guys.”

Hurrying over to your tent, you barely caught Dejun before he left, nearly toppling him over, in fact.

“Jeez, Y/N, see a ghost?” He stumbled back. He was still in his casual clothes, one of his medic packs around his hips like usual.

“No, sorry, didn’t mean to hit you,” you apologized. “I just wanted to find you before you went to Kun’s tent.”

“Why? Everything okay with your hand?” He asked.

“Huh?” You looked down at your hand, having once again forgotten that it was injured for a moment. “Oh, no, I’m okay—”

“I don’t mean to be abrasive, but can it wait? It usually takes at least fifteen minutes of coercion on a good day before he’ll let me do it. If he even does.”

“That’s why I’m here. Kun agreed to let me give him the injections. Every night, no complaining and no skipping,” you explained, watching as his face turned into a deep frown. “That’ll be okay, right? It’s just med-pods, those are designed for soldiers to use on themselves and each other in the field with no medical training.”

“Yeah, I’ve just been doing it because it’s kind of a weird angle for him to get to on his own, and I couldn’t trust him to do it every night himself.” Dejun slowly unzipped the pack, still with that same look on his face.

“Then… what’s wrong? You look worried.”

“Captain Qian just agreed to let you do the injections? Out of the blue?”

“We did make a deal,” you admitted, watching as he pulled a couple things out of the pack.

Dejun’s eyes shot up to yours as he placed a med-pod and alcohol wipe in your clean hand. “And what was your end? Stop catching flying knives with your bare hands?”

“Not quite… We both know I’ll probably do something like that again, so—”

“House arrest? Can’t leave the ag bubble until the mission is over?”

“When I leave the ag bubble, I have to be with one of you guys.”

Dejun didn’t conceal his unimpressed look very well. He probably wasn’t trying to.

“And when I do something like this again,” you held up your injured hand, “I have to tell him, since he’s responsible for everyone.”

The doctor rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Uh-huh. Go, I don’t want to give snark to the wrong person.”

“What—”

“Go. You need to give the captain his injection, remember?”

“Right. Uh, see you in a bit.” You tucked the materials into your pocket before ducking out of your tent.

The entrance to Kun’s tent was still down and unzipped, and you stopped outside, having learned your lesson last night. Hesitantly, you called out his name instead.

“Come in.”

You quickly parted the flap and slipped inside.

Kun was sitting on his cot already, and when he had appraised that you were alone, you saw his features contort from their usual stoic default to a slight wince. You pulled up the container seat next to him, and gestured for him to lie down.

“How’s your hand?” He asked, staying upright as he reached for your extremity.

“It’s fine, Kun,” you informed him, letting him look over the bandages. “Honestly, I keep forgetting about it, it barely even hurts.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. Now come on, your turn.” You took your hand back and pointed insistently at the cot.

He grabbed at his lower back and huffed a little bit as he maneuvered around to lay on his front. You frowned thoughtfully as he pulled up the hem of his shirt for you.

“Is the med-pod as effective as before?” You questioned, opening the disinfectant wipe.

“How do you mean?”

You delicately wiped the area, careful not to touch his skin with your fingers. “Is it wearing off faster? Does it not relieve as much pain as before?”

“I can’t be using up all our supplies.”

“Is that a yes?”

“One is fine.”

“But two would be more effective.”

“I can’t be using twice as many as before. If someone else needs them—”

“The UHN won’t resupply your vessel?”

He sighed. “They will. I’m just—I don’t know. I’m used to scarcity and self-reliance. Must be a Dura-Jil boy thing.”

You lined the med-pod up, and like last night, didn’t give a countdown before pressing the start button. “Is this your first crew?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“Because you said you’re used to self-reliance. If you’d been a captain for a while, you would have gotten used to relying on others, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, they are,” he chuckled fondly. “I do rely on them. Or I’m learning to, I guess.”

There was a pause, and as you watched the med-pod drain you felt a sense of urgency, not wanting to waste the opportunity you had in front of you. The conversation you’d heard this morning was still on your mind.

“What if it turns out that I was involved in whatever was going on here? Did horrible stuff…” You asked tentatively. “Then what’ll you do?”

“I don’t think you were,” he replied simply.

“You don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Call it a hunch.”

“I won’t resist, or try to escape. Whatever the UHN wants to do with me, I’ll comply fully,” you declared, quiet but firm in your convictions.

He turned to look at you over his shoulder, brow furrowed. “Why are you talking like you’ve already been put on trial and found guilty? You just said it yourself, we don’t know anything. Either way.”

“Yeah, but we know they weren’t doing good things here… and I’m here.”

“No, we don’t even know what they were doing here. Somebody made sure of that. Besides, you could’ve been scrubbing the floors for all we know. I don’t think you deserve the death sentence for that.”

“I doubt they had people scrubbing the floors…” You pointed out.

“I’m just saying, there’s other reasons you could’ve been here, Y/N.”

“Like… being experimented on.”

“I didn’t want to say anything.” His gaze and his tone softened. “Do you… You don’t remember anything like that, do you?”

“No, I don’t have any episodic memories before meeting you. But that’s what you were thinking, right? That I was either the experimenter or the subject?”

“You weren’t wearing a lab coat when we found you, and you don’t have a neural port.”

“Dejun doesn’t have a neural port, and he’s UHN.”

“We don’t know enough to think anything about anything, okay?”

“ZEN should be finished with synthesizing the Outspacer into his translation program by morning. We can go through the computer tomorrow,” you reiterated yours and the Professor’s report from the pre-mess meeting. “With any luck, there will be employee profiles.”

“And what will you be hoping to find in them?”

“The truth.” The med-pod clicked off then, and you reached out to grab the empty device. “Whatever that is.”

Kun sat up, keeping his eyes on you as you went to stand. Your task was done for the night, so was your time with him.

“Why do you seem so convinced that you were involved?” He questioned, drawing you back into conversation and stopping you from leaving entirely.

“I… know too much, Kun.” You shook your head. “Why do you seem so convinced that I wasn’t?”

“You said it yourself, Y/N. You can’t stand the thought of seeing anybody get hurt if you can do something about it. I find it hard to believe that you’d do something like… whatever what going on here.”

“Dejun said that humans can do really bad stuff if they think they’re doing the right thing. Even to each other. Maybe I just thought it was the right thing.”

“Maybe,” Kun shrugged. “Or maybe you didn’t do anything. What were you two talking about? When he said that.”

“Your skeletal enhancements,” you admitted.

“I see.”

“Do you know how much longer your mission here will be?” You asked. “When can you get your next adjustment? Dejun said it happens at UHN Main, so it’ll be when you drop me off after this, right?”

“No, I don’t know how much longer this mission will take,” he replied. “It depends on what you and ZEN find on that computer tomorrow. And yes, it’ll be at UHN Main.”

“Then ZEN and I will just have to be quick.”

“Don’t rush for my sake,” he warned, an edge to his voice. “We need to make sure we get everything from here. I can wait.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “Fine. But I’m bringing two med-pods tomorrow, and you’re taking both of them, no complaints, no skipping. Understood?”

The corner of his lip twitched as he nodded. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Kun.”

And with that, you left his tent. Back in your own, you gave the med-pod back to Dejun, filling him in on Kun’s condition.

“It’s getting worse,” you told the doctor, keeping your voice hushed. “The medication wears off faster and isn’t as effective. I think he needs two.”

“Damn it…” He sighed, zipping the pack up. “Yeah, start taking two tomorrow. Stupid son of a bitch. I told him not to skip his last tune-up.”

“Do you have any idea how much longer he can go without one before… it gets worse?”

“No.” Dejun informed you shortly, running a hand through his hair. “No clue. This is the longest he’s missed one before.”

“Oh no…”

“Yeah. Like I said, stupid son of a bitch.”

“This mission… He really believes it’s that important? More than him? Than his health?”

“Yes,” he answered immediately. “The program he was in… Let’s say he didn’t just get some skeletal enhancements and cool armor. You should ask him about it.”

You were quiet, and Dejun plopped himself back down onto his cot. You silently put yourself to bed, staring up at the ceiling of the tent listlessly as Dejun put out the lamp, plunging you into the darkness of night.

Resting your cheek in the palm of your injured hand, you tapped the edge of the keyboard with your fingernail anxiously as you waited. ZEN had to break off another fragment with his new Outspacer translation update, then join those two fragments together once plugged into the computer. And of course, the fragment(s) in the computer were asynchronous with the one in the crew’s HUDs and the Professor’s tablet, so there was no way for you to get an update from the ZEN that could actually vocalize anything. The computer had no microphone or speakers that you could see, only the keyboard, mouse, and monitor in front of you. You couldn’t even see the end of where the wires led, the actual computer itself. ZEN was plugged into a docking station at the base of the monitor.

The entire crew was in the robotics lab. Some milling around behind where you were sat at the computer, a couple others looking at the defunct robots in the side room.

Yangyang walked up behind you, one of the schematics books in his hands again.

“I didn’t know you were ambidextrous,” he commented conversationally, his eyes on the pages.

“What?” You looked up at him questioningly.

“Your hand,” he gestured to the bandaged one, “You caught the knife with that one, but you’re using the computer with the other. I don’t think my first instinct would be to catch a flying knife with my non-dominant hand. Well, it wouldn’t be to catch it all, but still.”

You looked down at your hand that was hovering over the mouse. “Oh. I don’t know, I guess.”

“What do you make of this?” He pointed to a drawing.

“It… looks like a hand. A prosthetic?”

“There’s no indication of anything mechanical, why’d you jump to prosthetic?”

“You found it in a robotics lab. I didn’t think they’d be doing anatomy practice for fun.”

“Robot-people…” Ten muttered under his breath.

A small window popped up in the bottom right of the right then, a chat box.

ZEN: I’m ready.

Y/N: How are we dividing this?

ZEN: I can review data without interrupting you.

Y/N: I’ll start in the first folder, you start at the last, we’ll work our way towards the middle?

ZEN: I’ll let you know if I find anything of interest.

Clicking into the first folder, ‘Robotics,’ you skimmed through the subfolder options. They were mainly named with seemingly incomprehensible codes, combinations of glyphs and numbers that made no sense. You randomly clicked into the first one anyway, and were presented with more subfolders. These were simply labeled in trial phases and sub-phases: Phase 0.1, 0.1.2, 1.0, 1.3, 1.5, 2.0.3. You again clicked on the very first one, 0.1, and were greeted with nothing. It was empty, not a single file to actually review. You clicked back out and selected the next one, 0.1.2. Empty again. Narrowing your eyes at the display, you clicked on 1.0, hoping that they had just maybe moved all of those into the succeeding phase. Nothing.

Letting out a huff, you clicked back into the chat window.

Y/N: ZEN, do any of the folders I’m looking in actually have anything?

ZEN: No.

Y/N: In the entire Robotics folder?

ZEN: No data.

You groaned, going back out to the main menu.

“What?” Kun questioned as you clicked into ‘Synthetic Biology.’

“That folder was purged. It’s just empty subfolders,” you informed them with a sigh.

“What were the subfolders?” Yangyang asked with interest.

“The main branches were just random glyphs? And then each main folder had even more subfolders with phases.”

“Must have been project names. Maybe serial numbers?” The roboticist suggested. “Can you go back?”

You did as he asked. “Now what?”

“Just read the first one for me? The individual glyphs, not as a sentence.”

“Blue, red, add, inside-of, twelve hundred. As in the time, not one-thousand and two hundred.”

“Noon?”

“Well, yeah,” you nodded. “But I figure everyone used twenty-four-hour time around here, right?”

“What are you thinking, kid?” Kunhang asked knowingly.

“Assuming it’s meant to be read as noon, translated back out and using only the first letters… B-R-A-I-N. Brain.”

The Professor lit up at this. “A code within a code! What’s the next one?”

You read it off, “Cube, add, sun, inside-of, noon, green. Casing?”

“Positronic brain casing. Like the sketch!” Yangyang practically ran to get the other sketchbook. “That must have had the actually specs and computer modeling of it. These sketches are just conceptual.”

“It’s a robotics lab, it’s not a surprise that they would’ve had positronic brains here,” Dejun pointed out frankly.

“Keep going, Y/N, he hates fun,” Yangyang urged you on, the Professor right on your other side with his tablet.

You read out all of the glyphs, every so often needing input from the others to find a more colloquial synonym in standard human that would actually make a real word. By the time that you were done with all of the folders, ZEN had popped up in your chat window again.

ZEN: I believe I may have found something of interest.

Y/N: Can you display it?

ZEN: Certainly.

And seemingly on its own, the computer went into the Facility folder, then into one of the subfolders. Before you could even begin to work through the nonsense Outspacer code, ZEN had already translated it for you.

ZEN: Employee files, by department. The personnel files themselves are no longer in here, but the comms directory survived.

“ZEN found something,” you announced to the others. “Employee directory. He says the actual personnel files are gone, but the comms directory is here.”

“So we’ve got a partial list of who was here,” Kun surmised. “Whoever had their own extension, at least.”

ZEN brought it up for you, and you skimmed through the names quickly, looking only for one. When you got to the end, however, despite not having seen your own name there, you still couldn’t let out the breath you were holding. This was only a partial list, after all. You could’ve just as easily worked here and not had an extension on the comms directory.

“Are those… pager numbers?” Dejun asked, leaning in over your shoulder to squint at the screen suspiciously. “On the second page. The first page are all three-digit comms extensions, presumably department heads and general-use areas, but this looks like a list of individual pager numbers.”

“They don’t look different than any old phone numbers, why would they be pager numbers?” Kun asked.

“Well, cell phones are entirely outdated with interstellar travel, but in the medical field, we still use pagers for quick communication within facilities. It doesn’t get clogged up with everything that’s in a HUD, they’re a cheap and efficient way to get short bursts of information from person-to-person. Medical facilities will usually set up their own short-range tower that’s only used by pagers issued by that facility to providers,” he explained. “The only thing on this planet is this facility, pagers solve intra-facility communication issues, and prevent anything from being sent out. Nowadays, ships don’t have receivers to pick up this kind of signal, if they even got close enough. They’d only be able to send messages from pager-to-pager here.”

“Everyone can talk to each other, but can’t send information to outsiders,” the captain paraphrased.

“Hold on a second,” Kunhang announced before abruptly leaving the room.

Everyone watched the door after him in confusion, occasionally looking around to see if anybody else was going to do something. You assumed the others who still had their helmets on could see what he was doing in their HUDs, as a couple let out noises of disgust, then a few moments later Kunhang burst through the door. He was triumphantly holding up a small grey rectangle, no bigger than the palm of his hand.

“Here!” He thrust it out towards Dejun. “Is this a pager?”

“I could’ve told you that without you pulling it off a dead body…” The doctor sighed, removing his own helmet before taking the small device into his hands anyway. As he turned it over, you saw several dark splotches on it. “Yes, this is a pager. They probably gave one to everyone working here.”

Your eyes quickly went back to the screen, to reread the list more closely this time. Nothing, again.

You went back to the chat window.

Y/N: Have you found anything else? We got stuck back in Robotics.

ZEN: No data in Synthetic Biology, Administrative, and Support. Facility still has files in it.

Y/N: What else is in there besides the directory?

ZEN: Maintenance history, blueprints of the entire facility, emergency protocols.

Y/N: What sorts of emergencies?

ZEN: Fire, severe surface weather, emergent stratospheric weather, alien invasion, human invasion. I can’t translate the final one.

Y/N: Pull it up.

With the first page of the mystery emergency protocol on the screen, you immediately realized that this gibberish must be in the code again, and went back to read the title again.

“Sun, cube, red, under, blue, blue, inside-of, noon, green. Scrubbing?” You squinted at the screen. “There’s no way this is a cleaning manual…”

Y/N: Scrubbing? Does that make sense with the rest of the document?

ZEN: It does not contain instructions for cleaning.

Y/N: What is in it?

ZEN: I do not believe I was equipped with many of these glyphs, and my algorithm is having trouble extrapolating reasonable suggestions for them without enough contextual words.

Y/N: You really just have a bunch of grammar and mostly food vocabulary, not a full dictionary. It’s okay, I’ll skim.

“You’re typing a lot,” Yangyang observed. “Is scrubbing good? Bad? What’s happening?”

“ZEN found the emergency protocols. There’s the usual stuff, though the addition of a ‘human invasion’ protocol at this human research facility is rather interesting,” you informed the others, scrolling to the next page of the document. “There’s one that he couldn’t translate the name of, though. He doesn’t have enough vocabulary to make any sense of the inside, either.”

“Scrubbing,” Kunhang determined. “And you said it’s not for cleaning? Maybe it’s like a hazmat thing?”

“No…” You shook your head, looking over just the headers. “This is definitely about… computers? Wait, and fire….?”

“Data,” Kun interrupted. “It’s about purging all classified data from a facility, digital and physical. That’s what scrubbing is.”

You all looked at each other knowingly. It was Kun who said what everyone was thinking, however.

“The Skippers interrupted the facility before they could finish scrubbing. The question is why they started the scrub in the first place.”

“It says here only two people can order a… scrub.” You read off the protocol stiltedly. “The… Sorry, give me a second.”

“Are you okay?” Kun had made his way to the front of the group, next to the chair you were in.

You pushed the heel of your palm against the space between your brows, squeezing your eyes shut. “Yeah, fine. It keeps switching back and forth between normal Outspacer and that code, it’s giving me a headache to read.”

“They probably used the code whenever there wasn’t a good Outspacer approximate for the word they wanted to use,” the Professor suggested, his voice rising with excitement. “It’s like… a pidgin of Outspacer and standard human with sneaky intelligence code thrown in. God, this is so fascinating!”

“Can ZEN or the Professor do the code?” Kun grabbed your shoulder, gently turning you away from the computer.

“I’d love to take a crack at it!” The Professor rubbed his hands together excitedly.

You let Kun usher you to your feet, and the Professor hurriedly took your seat. Dejun met you and Kun at the back of the group, a frown on his features.

“How’s the pain? Same kind as before?” The doctor asked.

“Yeah, same pressure,” you confirmed, still holding your head. “Not as bad, though.”

“I keep telling you and everyone else that you need to let your brain rest. And what do you do? Teach an AI a dead alien language, decode ciphers in said dead alien language…”

“Right. Sorry…”

“You can’t give her anything?” Kun questioned. “At least for the headache? She’ll rest tomorrow.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted. “It’s already going away. Save your supplies.”

“Y/N—”

“I don’t really have anything for minor bumps on me,” Dejun interrupted before Kun could escalate your bickering. “That’s back on the Vision. Just took the essentials down.”

“Admiral!” The Professor yelled out enthusiastically. “Only the Admiral, and the… Research Director can order a scrub.”

“Is that all it says? Just Admiral? Not Rear Admiral, or Vice Admiral, or Fleet Admiral?” Kun questioned.

“The Admiral, or an Admiral?” You added.

The Professor looked back at the screen as if double-checking his work. “Definitely the Admiral. I’m assuming that would be whichever one was overseeing this facility? Doesn’t give a name. And it’s just Admiral. But there’s two kinds of scrubs, actually. A partial and a full scrub.”

“What’s the point of a partial scrub?” Ten asked. “Why would you destroy only some confidential stuff, but not all of it? Isn’t the point to leave nothing behind?”

“Don’t know, but the partial scrub protocol only has them spare one thing.”

“Must be pretty damn important,” Kunhang commented. “What is it? A port-drive or something?”

“I doubt many of the personnel here had neural ports,” Dejun said. “They were scientists. I’ve only seen a couple on bodies since we’ve been here, and they were clearly soldiers.”

“Well? Does it say?” Yangyang prompted the Professor.

“Yeah, but it’s about as helpful as ‘Admiral’ was,” he sighed. “‘Proof of concept.’ A partial scrub preserves the proof of concept, with some of its own security protocols in place.”

“Proof of what concept? We don’t even know what they were trying to do here,” Dejun scoffed, rubbing a hand over his face.

Yangyang seemed interested again, though. “The proof of concept has its own security protocols? Is there any indicator if they’re internal or external? Like if it’s locked up somewhere, or if it might be… programmed into the proof itself?”

“No, it doesn’t say,” the Professor answered.

“What are you thinking, Liu?” Kun prompted the younger man.

“If it’s some kind of… robot, then they could program whatever security protocols they needed into it to make it secure for this partial scrub, without completely destroying all their years of work. But if it was… biological, it would probably need some kind of external security to not only prevent the wrong people from finding it, but also stop it from uh, escaping…”

“And what if it was a person-robot?” Ten replied.

The roboticist shook his head. “They just say proof of concept. That’s usually not anywhere close to the final product. I can’t imagine they actually made a person-robot, whatever that entails. After all, the ag bubble was still set for humans when we got here. And proofs of concept aren’t meant to be a fleshed-out prototype of the final product, either. They’re just supposed to test one or two functions of it and be thrown away after.”

“But this one was worth risking a security breach over,” Kun pinched the bridge of his nose. “Professor, in the full scrub protocol, does it say when the proof would be destroyed? First? Last?”

“Uhm…” He went back to the screen, scrolling and squinting at it for a moment before answering. “First.”

That garnered a few groans from the soldiers around you, but you saw the Professor suddenly perk up as he continued through the document.

“What is it?” You asked. “Something else?”

“That’s not the only difference between a partial and full scrub. The order’s different. I guess since a full scrub is a little more scorched-Earth and a partial scrub has to leave at least some kind of either digital or physical infrastructure for the proof… I think we can figure out if they were doing a partial or full scrub before the Skippers got here.”

“What’s the difference?”

“There’s a lot of things that happen simultaneously, Robotics destroying digital data while SynthBio destroys physical specimens…” The Professor hummed as he continued skimming. “But in a full scrub, the entire facility would be burned at once. In a partial, they only have directions to burn certain areas: the two labs, the Research Director’s office, places like that.”

“So there’s no individual fires in the full scrub?” Kun clarified. “It would all go up at once?”

“Yeah, just one big boom at the end.”

You all looked at each other knowingly, then at Kun expectantly.

“So they were doing a partial scrub,” he declared. “Which means we need to find that proof of concept.”

“We don’t know what it could even be, what it looks like, if it’s physical or digital,” Ten pointed out.

“It’s the best lead we’ve got. Has anybody seen anything out of the ordinary?”

“Uh… Everything?” Kunhang said pointedly.

“Very helpful, Wong, thank you,” the captain retorted. “Come on, guys, anything?”

“Was there anything in that safe room with Y/N?” Yangyang offered. “When you found her? Only survivor… might’ve taken the proof into the safe room with her.”

Kun immediately shot it down, “No.”

“Wong?” Ten focused on the other Marine. “You might’ve had a better… perspective than the captain. You see anything in there?”

“I don’t remember seeing anything, no,” he shook his head. “But it can’t hurt looking a second time. We’re going to have to search the entire place anyway, right, Captain?”

“Yeah, top to bottom,” Kun confirmed shortly. “Again.”

“Yippee…” Ten grumbled.

“But I want that entire document translated first, and for us to finish going through all of the files,” he added sternly. “We need to know everything we can about what we’ll even be looking for before we searching.”

“ZEN and I will get right on it,” the Professor nodded.

“And the rest of us are just going to… watch him read?” Kunhang asked.

Kun took his helmet off and set it down on a nearby counter. “Afternoon off. Congrats, don’t kill yourselves.”

The others started celebrating, Kunhang, Ten, and Yangyang already launching into discussions of what they’d do with the free time as they headed towards the exit. They stopped at the door as they seemed to notice that you, Kun, and Dejun hadn’t moved.

“Hey, you guys coming?” Kunhang called out. “I don’t think the Professor needs you three watching over his shoulder.”

“I figured I’d stay, in case he needed any help,” you admitted.

“No,” Kun shook his head. “You’re going to rest. Doctor’s orders, remember?”

“I won’t be the one translating, just in case he hits a snag with a glyph or something,” you argued.

“He’s got ZEN. Two of him, technically. If he really needs you, he’ll let those at the ag bubble know and you can come back.”

You let up with a huff. “Fine. Are you coming then, Kun? You haven’t reached for your helmet.”

“I will.”

“So you get to stay but I don’t?”

“Yes. Because Xiao hasn’t said I need to rest my injured brain.”

“But you—” You bit your tongue before you could bring up his enhancements. He raised his eyebrows almost in a challenge, and you simply narrowed your eyes at him. “I will come looking for you if you’re not back at the ag bubble in an hour.”

“I get a whole hour? How gracious.”

As you went to join the other guys by the door, you saw that Dejun was still in the same place. “Dejun, come on, not you too?”

“I’ll be there in less than an hour, swear it. Just need to talk to the captain about something,” your tentmate reassured you. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Stop worrying about them, Y/N,” Yangyang ushered you towards the door. “I told you, Xiao hates fun, and the captain’s a workaholic.”

“The river’s fine for swimming, right?” Kunhang questioned, pulling the door open.

“We’ve been drinking from it, I would hope so,” Ten snorted, following after him.

“No, I mean, there’s nothing living it, right?”

“If there was, don’t you think we would’ve had a smoked salmon dinner at this point?” Ten and Wong’s voices faded away as the door closed behind the four of them, leaving just the Professor, the two ZEN fragments, Xiao, and the captain.

“What do you need, Xiao?” The captain questioned, leaning against a countertop.

The Professor was utterly locked into his task at the moment, and Captain Qian was used to seeing the civvie in such a state. Practically impossible to disturb, even by his own normal bodily needs—sleep, food, hygiene, it would all go to the wayside if he was allowed. So really, it felt like it was just him and Xiao. And ZEN, of course, but the AI’s constant presence was an unspoken fact of their lives at this point, so ingrained that he accepted that there was pretty much no privacy from ZEN at the end of the day, only from the other humans aboard the mission. Which was interesting as to why Xiao had picked this moment to get such privacy.

“Your deal, with Y/N,” Xiao began frankly.

“What about it? I’m getting the injections, figured you’d be thrilled,” the captain replied with a tilted head.

“I’m trying to figure out what you actually get out of it, Captain,” the lieutenant wagged a finger at him. “Because Y/N gets to give you your injections, which was a concern of hers, not yours; she gets to leave the ag bubble; and you didn’t even make her promise not to catch knives with her bare hands anymore.”

“She does stuff like that without thinking, it would’ve been pointless to make her promise not to do it anymore.”

“Which makes her a liability, Captain.”

“She’s an asset,” Captain Qian retorted.

“Because she can read Outspacer? She’s already taught ZEN and the Professor,” Xiao gestured to the man still at the computer pointedly.

“They’re not fluent.”

“Barely. And anything they don’t know, they can bring back to her. Like you just suggested.”

After the Professor, Xiao was the team member that the captain had known for the longest, he could tell that the doctor was slowly circling his actual argument. “What is your point, Xiao?”

“Is she really more of an asset than a liability?”

“I can’t afford to have one of you on babysitting duty every day.”

“We can switch out. Morning and afternoon shifts.”

The captain arched an eyebrow curiously as he studied the other man. “I figured you would’ve been one of the last people to be doing this. I thought you liked Y/N.”

“I do, which is why I don’t want her to do something worse than cut her palm,” Xiao sighed.

“I don’t either, but she told me quite plainly that she won’t stop.”

Xiao looked like he was about to pull his hair out. “Captain, a civilian tells you in no uncertain terms that they will endanger themselves and your mission, and you strike a deal to continue letting them?”

“She’s not… It was a judgment call, Xiao,” he declared sharply.

“And I’m still thinking about what you get out of the deal…” The doctor was pacing now, tapping his chin thoughtfully. “Whenever she gets hurt, she has to go to you?”

Captain Qian shifted in place, stretching out his neck and crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m the Captain, you’re all my responsibility—”

“Injured people are my responsibility. What do you get out of patching up a civvie every time she hurts herself?” Xiao scoffed.

“I need to know how often she’s—”

“You like her,” Xiao breathed out in realization, coming to a stop.

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the only way for that stupid deal to make sense. You actually like her as a person instead of her just being some civvie that’s in the way of the mission. So she can leave the ag bubble, but you still want one of us with her for protection. And when she does stupid things—which you’re smiling about right now, you like that about her—” Xiao pointed to the faint smile on the captain’s face victoriously, “—you want to personally make sure she’s okay after.”

The captain had regained control of his features, staring at his teammate neutrally. “Are you done?”

“No denial?”

“I’m not going to engage with your baseless speculation,” Captain Qian replied, his voice sounding unnaturally tight. “So if that’s all, then you can go.”

“Didn’t really sound like a no to me.” The doctor was grinning now.

“That would imply that your theory was something worth denying. Which I’ve already established, it isn’t.”

“Oh my god, you’re an awful liar, Captain,” Xiao peered at him, delight on his own features. “At least about this, because I know you’re way better on missions.”

“Since you’ve forced my hand…” he sighed, Xiao leaning forward to listen eagerly. “You’re dismissed. Formally. Officially. Goodbye.”

Xiao chuckled as he hoisted his own helmet back up and onto his head, meandering towards the exit. “Alright, alright. See you in a few, Captain.”

And that just left him, the ZENs, and the Professor. The captain rubbed his face with exasperation, turning his focus back towards the computer screen. The utter silence that he had been hoping for was short-lived, however.

“So… Y/N, huh?” The Professor asked, and despite the fact that his back was still to him, Captain Qian could hear the grin in his voice.

“Aren’t you supposed to be translating?” He snapped.

“I can multi-task.”

“And be slower than if you didn’t. So focus.”

You were sat by the riverside, dangling your feet into the cool water as Ten, Kunhang, and Yangyang all swam around. Dejun had come back some time ago, alone, and was sitting next to you as he continued reading On the Ethics of Robotics. You were straining your ears as you listened for the sound of the door of the ag bubble to open, occasionally looking over your shoulder at it.

“He’ll be here, Y/N,” Dejun stated after the fourth time you had glanced at the door. He hadn’t looked up from the text, but apparently could read your mind.

“It’s been fifty-two minutes,” you replied derisively. “According to Yangyang, he’s a workaholic, and according to you, he’s a stubborn, bad patient. Excuse me for doubting that he’ll be eagerly participating in taking an afternoon off. Especially when some of his crew is still working.”

“That’s all true. But you forgot one crucial part.”

“And what is that?”

Dejun flipped a page. “He told you he would.”

“He said he’d be here, at some point in time. I’m the one who put the hour-limit on him, which he didn’t exactly agree to.”

“And yet, he didn’t tell you no, either.” Your companion said, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if he found something amusing. You doubted there was anything in that treatise that was exceptionally humorous. “He’ll be here, Y/N.”

“Can I ask what you needed to talk to him about?”

“You can ask. But that’s a different question than if I’ll answer.”

“I just… wanted to know if it’s about—” You looked at the other three, thoroughly engrossed with trying to splash and dunk each other in ways that were definitely unfair to poor Yangyang, who lacked anywhere near the same combat experience that Ten and Kunhang had. You leaned over to whisper to Dejun, “—the enhancements. If he’s okay.”

Dejun let out a chuckle, as if any of this were funny. “No, it wasn’t about that. He’s quite alright.”

You were able to relax a little with this confirmation. “Okay. Thank you.”

“How’s your hand, by the way?”

“Oh, it’s fine. I don’t even think about it,” you said, flexing your injured palm. “Doesn’t hurt.”

“Good. You should ask Captain Qian to change your bandage tonight.”

You looked at the doctor next to you with confusion. “Why…? But you’re… You were just ranting about how you’re the doctor here, not him.”

“Like you said, it’s just a cut. Don’t need an MD to change a bandage. Captain’s perfectly capable for something like that.”

“I suppose. But what’s with the change of heart of all of a sudden?”

“I have a feeling he’ll want to check on you personally, even if I were to change your bandage now. No point in changing it just for him to reapply a fresh one in a couple more hours anyway.”

It was then that you heard the front door to the ag bubble open, and you snapped your head around to look. You immediately recognized Kun by his gait, before he even took his helmet off.

“Fifty-four minutes…” You muttered to yourself.

“Told you,” Dejun said in a sing-song voice.

You continued watching as Kun disappeared into his tent, zipping it shut behind him. After a couple minutes, he reemerged, out of his armor and in his usual casual clothes. Instead of joining you and the others by the riverside, you frowned as you watched him take off on the trails between the crops, in the opposite direction from you all.

With a frown, you scrambled to your feet, giving the doctor a distracted goodbye as you went off after Kun. It didn’t take you very long to catch up to him as you cut through the grass as you made a beeline towards him.

“Hey,” you called out when you got close enough to him.

“Hey,” he replied over his shoulder, not slowing down or stopping for you.

“What are you doing?”

“Going on a walk.”

“Can I— Can I walk with you?”

He abruptly stopped and pivoted on his heel, turning to you curiously. You skidded to a stop in front of him.

“Why do you want to?” He questioned.

“So you don’t have to answer that question, but I do?”

“Just curious.” He shrugged, then jerked his head in invitation before he started walking again. “I won’t make you answer. It would be a bit hypocritical of me.”

“So how’s it going? The translation?” You easily kept up with his much more meandering pace now.

“The Professor seemed to be enjoying himself.”

“Anything useful? About what the proof of concept is? Or otherwise?”

“Not that he said. But he’s not very talkative when he gets like that.”

“Oh, okay.”

After a few moments of silence, Kun spoke again, “I’m sorry about this morning. It was… I had no good reason to not answer your perfectly reasonable question. I was just caught off-guard. I shouldn’t have been so abrasive about it.”

“Well, thank you. For apologizing.”

“The truth is, I don’t know why I wanted to walk with you. It wasn’t any sort of suspicion, I just saw you going and wanted to go with you. Nothing more.”

“Oh.” You looked down at your feet, once again struggling to not let it immediately go to your head. “I can understand that. When I saw you start walking, I wanted to go too.”

He smiled in just the slightest. “And here we are.”

“Would you mind telling me more about Dura-Jil?” You asked hesitantly.

“Why are you so curious about Dura-Jil?”

“I suppose… I’m curious about you. And where you came from,” you admitted quietly. “And you talk about it so fondly, it’s nice to see you not stressing about what’s going on right now.”

“You know, this really isn’t fair,” he shook his head with a chuckle. “You can ask me all sorts of stuff, but you never have to tell me any embarrassing childhood stories.”

“I didn’t ask specifically for embarrassing ones!” You protested. “And I would tell you if I could remember!”

“That’s okay, I’ll supply the nostalgia for now.” Kun looked up ahead, eyes seemingly focused on one area in particular. “We had to get all of our food imported from Earth. We had no farms, no ag bubbles, nothing. That was the first thing smuggled in, really. Food. Specialty stuff, higher-quality stuff than what was usually imported. I still remember the first time I had a strawberry.”

It was then that you saw what he was looking at, a strawberry field that was growing closer and closer.

“I… don’t remember ever having a strawberry,” you stated. “How old were you? The first time you had a strawberry?”

“The actual fruit, nine or ten. I’m pretty sure we’d gotten our hands on strawberry jam before that, though.” He stopped at the edge of the field, the plants nearby all dotted with bright red fruit. “My mom tried growing her own plant from some of the seeds, but as soon as she had to move the seedling outdoors, the climate froze it dead.”

Kun deftly plucked a handful of strawberries off the plant, and offered the gleaming rubies out towards you. You accepted one, then he took one into his other hand by the leaves, bringing it up to his mouth. You followed his lead, taking a bite. The bright, tart, sweetness was a pleasant surprise, and you decided that you quite liked strawberries, too.

“Ooh, that’s good,” Kun commented, dropping the uneaten leaves back onto the soil. “My dad built my mom a greenhouse, a small one, in our backyard. Took a little figuring out, but she could finally garden.”

“That’s really sweet of him,” you said, taking another strawberry as it was offered to you.

“Yeah, whenever I think about what love is, I think about that.”

You bit into the strawberry, looking at him curiously as he took another handful of strawberries off the plant. “How often are you contemplating what love is?”

He once again held his hand out for you to pick from first, then grabbed one of his own. “Comes and goes. Not often, as of late.”

“Been focused on the mission?”

“Trying.”

At that cryptic answer, you decided to try another question, “Do your parents still live on Dura-Jil?”

Kun once again dropped his discarded leaves into the soil, this time nudging some dirt over them with the toe of his boot. “They’re dead.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You bit your lip, wanting to kick yourself.

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.”

“For that, yes. But I’m also just… sorry. For your loss.”

“Even if you don’t get your memories back, I’ll make sure we do everything we can to get you back to… whoever’s missing you. Your family, your friends,” he said strongly, clasping his hands behind his back.

You looked up ahead, at the far end of the strawberry patch. “What if… What if it turns out that I don’t have anyone? That nobody’s waiting for me?”

“There will be somebody,” Kun assured you. “People like you don’t disappear unnoticed.”

“People like me?” You echoed curiously.

He started down the trail again, and you followed. “I didn’t see your name, on the directory.”

“So you were looking too,” you sighed, accepting the change in topic. It was something that had been nagging at you as well.

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“I just want answers. Good or bad,” you groaned. “All we know is that I didn’t have a personal comms extension, and didn’t have a pager.”

“Xiao said they would’ve given every employee a pager,” he reminded you gently.

“All we have is a lack of evidence of me being an employee. That doesn’t equal proof that I was… something else.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think we’re ever going to find proof of anything.”

“That’s my fear as well.”

“With no intent to stress your brain… Nothing feels any more familiar than the first day?”

“No. I mean, there’s the stuff I remember from, you know, the past few days. But nothing feels even vaguely familiar. No déjà vu, nothing.” You inhaled deeply. “I either know something or I don’t. There’s no grey area.”

“That must be terrifying.”

“I was shook up that first day, yeah. But right now I’m less concerned with the past and more with the future. You know, what I’m going to do from here.”

“I told you, we’ll help you.”

“I know, you said the UHN has programs—”

“No, we’ll help you, Y/N. We’re not going to just to abandon you as soon as we get back to Earth. Not until we know you’re good.”

“Thanks, Kun.” You offered him a genuine smile. “I… I guess I’m just worried about what to do. Who I want to be. I don’t really know if you guys can help much with that. I think that part’s on me.”

“Do you think you know everything about me and the kind of person I am?”

“Uhm, no?”

“You’ve only known yourself for as long as you’ve known me. You can’t expect to know exactly who you are yet. Or anytime soon.”

“Thank you.” You watched as Kun rolled out one of his shoulders uncomfortably, clearly trying to readjust something in his back. You furrowed your brows with concern; it seemed as though the injection from last night was starting to wear off. “How’s the pain?”

“Manageable,” he replied briskly, face relaxing again. But you knew it was practiced, rehearsed—a cover.

“Kun.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I wish you’d be kinder to yourself,” you sighed. “Honestly, this tough guy thing you think you have to do, it’s just… pathetic.”

He slowed your walk to a stop, eyes widened minutely as he blinked at you. “You really think I’m pathetic?”

“A soldier who won’t ask for help when they need it isn’t brave, they’re reckless and stupid,” you said frankly. “And yes, I think this entire charade you do when you’re hurting is pathetic. Pain has never made anyone stronger, healing it does. I don’t know if you think it’ll make you look weak to your crew, or that you don’t deserve to feel better, or if it’s something else—but you don’t have to do all this around me.”

There was a stretch of silence as he took a steady inhale, and you met his gaze unwaveringly. Kun looked down at the ground, then back up at you. There was a slight wince on his face, and you were unsure if it was from pain, shame, or perhaps both. “Do you mind if we sat? My back…”

“Of course, Kun.” You nodded, letting him lead the way over to a grassy patch under a tree in a nearby orchard.

Kun let out a soft but noticeable, appreciative groan as he sat down. Looking up above you two, you spotted oranges among the green foliage along the branches.

“Do you know why there’s no clouds?” He questioned. “In the ag bubble? It’s a pocket dimension; I figure between the plants and the river, the water cycle should still be working.”

“Well there’s no Sun, so that��s a big piece of the water cycle missing,” you pointed out humorously. “Ag bubbles carefully regulate the atmosphere, including the water vapor. Since the fields self-water depending on the needs on the individual crops, it’d be a little inconvenient for it to also rain.”

“And it’s a perfect, mild spring day every day.”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “It is.”

“I know the guys are glad to stretch their legs without getting shot at. The Vision is a bit cramped, and we’re only off it for missions.”

“Sounds like an eventful deployment so far.”

“Very.”

You looked over at Kun leaning back against the trunk, his eyes closed for a moment. A soft breeze kicked up a few strands of his dark brown hair. You didn’t think you’d even seen him so relaxed, and you found yourself strangely happy that he felt like he could rest like this around you, even if it was partially coerced.

“Why did you join the UHN?” You asked, unable to contain your curiosity about him as usual.

“Hm?” He made a questioning noise, raising his eyebrows without opening his eyes.

“Why did you leave Dura-Jil and join the UHN?”

“Wanted to help Earth and humanity. Stars in my eyes, you know?”

You tilted your head curiously. “People from the colonies aren’t exceptionally fond of Earth. Especially those who had never even been there, and especially ones from Dura-Jil. Why would you want to fight for a planet you had never seen?”

He chuckled, and you got the distinct feeling that you weren’t in on the joke. “I—” He cut himself off, eyes opening as he sat up straight, gaze landing sharply on a spot in the distance as he seemed to be listening for something you couldn’t hear. “Okay. Yeah, got it, Professor. We’ll see you in a few.”

“Is everything okay?” You questioned, watching as Kun went to stand.

“The Professor and ZEN have hit a snag in the translation. It’s too much to bring back on the tablet, so come on, we’re heading back out.”

You stood as well, but didn’t follow him as he turned to go. He stopped and turned back to look at you, but whatever question he was about to ask you got cut short as he twisted in such a way that made him wince.

“You should rest, Kun.” You crossed your arms. “One of the others can go with me.”

He took a deep breath, then nodded. “See if Xiao can go. The others were swimming, it’ll take them longer to get back into their armor.”

“Got it. You go rest. I’ll bring you mess along with the med-pods tonight.”

“I can’t be lazing in my tent all day and have food delivered to me,” he snorted. “The crew will think I’m on my deathbed.”

“You could tell them what’s going on. Would that be the heat death of the Universe?”

“No, but—”

“If one of your crew was injured, would you want them to be doing what you’re doing right now? Leaving you in the dark? Refusing rest and treatment?” You asked steadily. “Or would you call them an idiot and send them to their tent?”

“You’ve called me pathetic and an idiot in less than ten minutes, you know?”

“I’ll call you a pathetic idiot if that’ll convince you to go lay down.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he laughed, hard. When he’d caught his breath, he held his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll go rest for a bit.”

The two of you finally started walking back towards the camp, soon coming upon the others still hanging out by the water. Kun lifted a hand in farewell to you and casual greeting to his crew as he kept walking, and you watched him until he eventually disappeared into his tent.

“Y/N!” Kunhang called from the water.

“Yeah?” You replied, not bothering to sit or get comfortable.

“What was so funny?” He paddled closer to the edge you were standing at. “We’ve never heard the captain laugh like that.”

“Oh, uh, I called him a pathetic idiot,” you said with a shrug.

Everyone’s heads whipped around to look at you. Ten then turned a mischievous grin on Yangyang. “You’ve got to try that.”

“My parents paid good money for braces for me as a kid, I’m not going to disrespect their investment,” Yangyang retorted.

As the three in the water began bickering and teasing and taunting each other again, you turned your focus down to the doctor still on the shore. “Professor and ZEN need some help. You mind going with me, Dejun?”

“Sure.” Dejun snapped his book shut. “Give me a second to put my armor back on. Then you can tell me how you got away with insulting the captain to his face.”

That night, everyone was back at camp. The Professor was still messing around with a few series of glyphs on his tablet that he wanted to try on his own before letting you reveal the translation to him. The document on scrubbing was fully translated, and the ZEN fragment in the facility computer would continue going through the remaining files through the night. The scrubbing procedures didn’t really have any extra clues about the proof of concept that you could decipher, but it was worth a shot.

As the Professor tried out the glyphs, Yangyang and Dejun seemed to be discussing the book that the doctor had been borrowing from the younger man, as Dejun held it in his hand and they had a rather impassioned conversation in one corner of camp. You, Ten, and Kunhang were cooking dinner. And by that, you mean Ten and Kunhang were cooking dinner and you were watching them, as they had officially banned you from being near sharp objects while your hand healed. And you noticed that Ten was the one cutting ingredients tonight, not Kunhang.

“So why is there no meat here?” Kunhang asked you. “Ag bubbles can keep livestock too. Why not here?”

“I… don’t know,” you confessed. “I mean, technically ag bubbles don’t need to have livestock, since the crops can be modified to meet all nutritional requirements without the need for meat. Preference?”

“You think the Research Director was a vegan or something?”

Ten snorted incredulously as soon as the words were out of his teammate’s mouth. “Anybody who can do… whatever the hell what happening here also being a vegan would be painfully ironic.”

You felt a pit grow in your stomach as you remembered the conversation you’d overheard just yesterday morning. Impulsively, you looked down at your own hands, as if expecting to see them literally covered in blood, any sort of evidence of the sins they think you might have committed. You must have committed.

“How’s your hand?” Ten asked, clearly having seen the motion.

“It’s fine,” you brushed it off, putting both your appendages down and looking back up at the two Marines. “Do you guys think I worked here?”

Kunhang at least seemed a bit taken aback by the question, looking at Ten awkwardly for some kind of cue, as his buddy raised an eyebrow at you curiously.

“Do you think you worked here?”

“I-I don’t know. Nothing’s familiar.”

“We don’t have any proof you did anything, Y/N,” Ten said plainly. “All we know is that you were here when we got here. You’re not wearing a lab coat, you don’t have a neural port, you apparently didn’t have a pager.”

Kunhang picked up from Ten’s implicit conclusion, “You’ve been pretty cool since we found you. I think if you did work here, you’d be a lot more stuck up. Never met a UHN scientist without a bit of an ego.”

“And by ego, you mean God complex.”

“That too.”

You smiled faintly at their assessment. “Thanks. I don’t know how much of this is me or the amnesia, but…”

“It’s you now,” Ten shrugged.

“Soup’s on!” Kunhang suddenly announced to the entire camp.

As servings started being passed out to everyone who had swarmed the station, you accepted one as it was handed to you, then there was one dish left. The others looked around with confusion, realizing exactly who was missing as all their gazes turned in the direction of Kun’s tent.

“Is the captain… napping?” Kunhang hazarded a guess.

“No way that man takes naps,” Yangyang shook his head furiously. “Maybe he didn’t hear you? ZEN? Did you accidentally isolate his comms?” And almost immediately, followed it up with, “Oh my god, of course, my bad, I’m sorry. You would never make a mistake like that, you’re in Kunhang’s neural port, you know exactly who he wants to be talking to.”

“Is he okay?” The Professor asked aloud as well, presumably to ZEN, the only one of you who would have real-time information on that sort of thing. “Oh. Well should we… go get him?”

You picked up the extra bowl. “I’ve got it.”

Without another word, you headed off towards Kun’s tent. The front flap was down, but unzipped, and you stopped just outside to call out to him.

“Kun? Can I come in?” You requested.

“Yeah.” Came his short reply.

You ducked your head as you stepped in, careful to shield the food from the tarp as you entered. You had already grabbed the disinfecting wipe two med-pods from Dejun before starting the food prep with Ten and Kunhang, so you wouldn’t need to duck back out for those. Kun was laying on his back on his cot, which you were honestly surprised about. He started slowly sitting up as you approached, and once he seemed settled, you handed his food to him, then pulled up your usual container seat.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“Did you actually stay in here the whole time?” You inquired, picking up your first bite on your utensil. “While I was gone?”

“I felt like I was going crazy, but yes.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “You should borrow Yangyang’s book next. Dejun seems to be enjoying it.”

“His robotics textbook?” Kun clarified doubtfully.

“It’s on roboethics. And what else are you going to do?”

“Good point.” He ran a hand through his hair. “But hopefully, I won’t have civvie-mandated bed rest again and need entertainment.”

“Depends on how you do with two med-pods, and how soon you get tuned up.” You pointed your utensil at him accusatorily. “You should rest while you can. You’ll be useless to your crew if you’re in even worse shape somewhere more dangerous than here.”

“Noted. So you, ZEN, and the Professor are almost done with the scrubbing protocol?”

“Technically, we’re done. But it was so close to mess that the Professor asked if I could let him try some of the last sections by himself tonight before giving him the real translation in the morning.”

“Anything useful for searching for the proof of concept?”

“Not that I could tell,” you sighed. “It just kept talking about preserving it, nothing about if that was in a physical location, or digital. And Yangyang said that a proof of concept could be proving any tiny facet of the final product, so we have no clue what this thing could be. Could be a single circuit for all we know.”

“It’d be something groundbreaking. Something worth risking a security breach.”

“And what does groundbreaking look like, exactly?”

“Yeah, that’s the problem, huh?”

“Mm-hm.” You had finished your food, and set it aside as Kun had a couple more bites left of his. “I think the organic material that Dejun found will be interesting, once he can analyze it on the Vision.”

“If there’s enough,” Kun added, also putting his empty plate down.

You started reaching into your pockets for your supplies, “Lie down.”

He reached for your bandaged hand. “Let me see your hand.”

You held it away from him. “Your injections—”

“I’m not avoiding,” he promised. “I’ll take care of you, then you can take care of me, okay?”

After a beat, you relented. “Alright.”

Kun began unwrapping the bandages as precisely as he had wound them in the first place, slowly revealing the gauze underneath. He left that as he reached over to grab his canteen, preparing to rinse the cut again. As he peeled the gauze off, you saw his eyes widen as you felt your own take it in as well. The gauze itself was stained with dark red blood, but your skin was fully mended, no open wound, no scabbing, not even a scar.

“What the fuck?” He breathed out, pure bewilderment in his tone.

You weren’t sure what to say, well aware that wasn’t supposed to happen. “Uh—”

“Wiggle your fingers,” he instructed, and you did so. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” It felt normal, no pain, no residual issues from having a knife go into the skin and muscle.

“Make a fist.”

You curled your fingers into a loose fist, then a tighter one when you realized it didn’t hurt.

“That hurt?” Kun asked again.

“No.”

He took your hand, pressing one of his thumbs into your previously-injured palm, hard. “That?”

“Nothing. It… It feels fine.”

He let you go, still looking down at your hand that you were hovering in between the two of you, unsure. “Maybe you’re part-Phaser?”

“My eyes aren’t silver, are they?” You moved your gaze up to his questioningly. “I feel like you guys would’ve mentioned that…”

“No, they’re not.” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s like… your great-grandma was a Phaser or something.”

“…I don’t know.”

“I’m going to wrap this up again,” Kun declared, grabbing a fresh piece of gauze and bandage.

“Why?”

His brow was set, face serious and tone level as he addressed you, “This is between us, do you understand?”

“I… Okay.” You nodded, swallowing down all your questions, most of which Kun couldn’t even answer. “Thank you.”

After Kun had finished bandaging up your perfectly fine palm, he dutifully laid back down, this time on his front, for you to administer the first of the med-pods. As you disinfected the injection site, you once again felt a strange sense of urgency to talk to him as much as you could, ask him as many questions as possible while you had this uninterrupted, strangely personal-feeling time with him.

“Do you like me?”

Kun immediately shot up to his elbows, and you could see the muscles in his back tense with the movement then stay tensed. “ZEN, stop eavesdropping.” A moment later, he looked upwards as he rolled his eyes at nothing. “Yeah, I know you’re in my neural port, don’t make me take you out of there. I said blackout my mic, including to you.”

You looked at him with mild alarm. You’d never been entirely alone with any crew member of the Vision, you knew that ZEN was always there, and knowing that it now really was just you and Kun only added to the odd feeling of intimacy you had about the situation.

He now turned his focus to you, looking at you over his shoulder. “Excuse me?”

“Like, as a person?” You tacked on some clarification. “I’m still trying to figure out who I am, and the others have said stuff like that—”

“Like what, exactly?”

“That they like having me around, or consider me a friend of some sort. I don’t know, I’m trying to figure out if I’m likeable.”

“Word of advice, Y/N.” He settled back down. “Don’t try to define yourself by how other people think of you. It’s never going to end well.”

“I’ll… take that under advisement, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” You positioned the first med pod.

“Does it matter?”

“Not for that, no.”

“For something else?”

You clicked the button, beginning the first injection. “Your refusal to answer is rather frustrating.”

“Your insistence that I answer is fascinating.”

“I’m getting a strange sense of déjà vu right now…” You snorted, thinking about your pointless little argument over him wanting to walk with you.

“You questioned my motives for wanting to walk with you, I’m questioning yours for asking me that question. Is that unfair?”

“I only know six people. Seven including ZEN,” you pointed out frankly. “So excuse me for maybe being a little nervous about whether or not those six people dislike me.”

He paused for too long to be comfortable before answering. “No, I don’t dislike you.”

“Not an affirmative.”

“Y/N, you’re afraid that I’m being polite? That I’ve just been tolerating you this whole time?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Do I seem like a man who would waste so much of my time on niceties?”

“Well… no.”

“There you go. Seven out of seven, congrats,” he said dryly.

“ZEN likes me?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself as you took the now-empty med pod off his back and grabbed the next one.

“He can’t hear us right now, but if he could, he’d agree with me.”

“Thanks, Kun.”

“I don’t know what that says for your general likeability that all of us like you, though.”

“That’s alright. You’re the only seven people I know.”

The next morning, everyone split up to look for the proof of concept. Just as you’d thought, the rest of the manual had given no more clues to its whereabouts, form, or purpose, and ZEN hadn’t found any new information in the computer to assist you either.

You were with Kun and Ten in the employee quarters, searching every nook and cranny you could for anything that seemed to be of importance. Either a fair amount of stuff had already been removed, or the employees didn’t have very many personal belongings to begin with. Often, you could only tell if someone had been living in a room if something was slightly askew, a bedsheet out of place, desk chair not pushed in all the way, lamp light left on. There was no personal memorabilia like pictures or knickknacks in any of the rooms you searched through, and you wondered to yourself if they had no family to bring a picture of, or if they couldn’t for some reason. The barren, muted grey walls were discouraging, but you still kept a secondary search going in the back of your mind, waiting to see if anything would spark some familiarity. If you could find your own quarters, maybe.

As you looked under someone’s bed, Kun went through the small dresser, and Ten rummaged around in their desk. The staff sergeant let out an incredulous noise, making you look over at him as he held up a small paperback book for you and Kun to see.

“Frankenstein,” he announced. “Bit on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Do you not like robots, Ten?” You asked curiously as he tossed the book onto the desk and went back to searching.

“Robots are fine, AI is fine. I don’t like the idea of people-robots,” he clarified. “I like all of those things—robots, AI, humans—to be very distinct from each other. Instead of worrying about turning into Victor Frankenstein, I think humanity should be worrying about turning into Icarus.”

“Icarus?”

“Old myth from an ancient Earth civilization. Icarus was a human who had wax wings built for him. He flew too close to the Sun, they melted, and he fell into the sea and died. It’s a lesson about hubris.”

“Unless they hollowed out the book to hide something in there, I don’t really care,” Kun interrupted sternly.

“No, I’ve got nothing,” Ten responded.

“Me too,” you sighed, standing back up.

“Next room, then,” Kun declared with little fanfare.

At camp that afternoon, the three teams had comparable results: Nothing. No proof of concept, or anything more interesting than the random book Ten had found.

The Professor, Yangyang, and ZEN were finishing up the secondary task you all had for today, marking off the dead employees from the comms directory, and the rest of you started on your evening chores.

“Done!” The Professor announced, drawing in the rest of the crew to gather around. “And uh, Y/N isn’t the only survivor.”

Nervous murmurs erupted around you, and you started at the Professor with wide eyes.

“W-Who?” You stammered out, your mind racing immediately.

“The Research Director, Dr. Yoon. He’s not here. Everyone else on the directory is accounted for, and we have no unidentified humans.”

“What do we know about him?” Ten addressed the group as a whole.

“Not much,” Yangyang spoke up. “Civilian only on technicality. He’s worked for the UHN for the past 40 years as a researcher. Everything else on him is classified since ZEN’s fragment has a lower clearance by default.”

“If he was here, then whatever he was doing was much worse than the rumors,” Kun interjected coarsely, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You know this guy?” The roboticist asked him, clearly surprised.

“Heard of him. At the UHN from other officers. I thought he was… retired. I suppose a guy like that couldn’t ever retire, though.”

“UHN probably told everyone he retired so they could send him out here for this super secret, super illegal experiment,” Ten suggested.

“Yeah, probably,” Kun agreed, his voice still short as his face didn’t lose the troubled look that had overtaken it since the Professor stood up.

“Don’t feel too bad, Captain, you probably weren’t even a Lieutenant back then, and it would’ve been need to know. Way above your head at the time,” Kunhang said, going to pat him on the shoulder, but one hard gaze from the captain stopped his hand in midair.

“We’re done here,” Kun declared, stepping back from the group.

“Alright, cool, before we break, what’s the plan for tomorrow?” Kunhang questioned.

“I mean we’re done here. On Aegeum. We’ve gotten everything we need. Be ready to leave the surface after mess tomorrow morning,” he turned away sharply.

Ten called after him, “Wait, Cap—”

“Dismissed.” Kun tossed back over his shoulder, taking off from camp with a fast stride.

“And he’s gone.” Ten sighed, then looked around at all of you, who were equally dumbfounded. “What the hell?”

You were still watching after Kun’s quickly retreating figure as the others erupted into uncertain chatter. Some were still discussing the other survivor, while others were elatedly discussing finally getting off of Aegeum and where they’d go next.

“Sorry, excuse me, guys,” you excused yourself hastily, rushing off in the direction you saw Kun go.

You found him by the river, on a rockier patch of shoreline. He threw a rock at an angle towards the water, the stone immediately breaking the surface and sinking. The captain silently picked up another, casting it harshly into the river.

You stopped a fair distance away as you hesitantly called out, “Kun?”

“Yes?” He didn’t look back at you, just picked up another rock.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Another throw, plop, and sink. “You can stay.”

“Thanks.” You approached, keeping some space between you. “Who is Dr. Yoon, really?”

He turned over the rock in his hand before sharply throwing it at the water, creating a spray around it as it violently broke the surface on its way under. “He was the head of the program I was put in, at the UHN.”

“With the skeletal enhancements.”

“I thought he was dead. He was supposed to be dead.”

“How… did he supposedly die?”

“Skipper raid on the facility he was working at. Entire building was destroyed. No survivors.” He stated, though his voice was hard. “Or so I thought. I should’ve known the Devil wouldn’t have gone like that.”

“But somehow he ended up here.”

“Yeah…” He replied bitterly. Grabbing another stone, he motioned you closer. “Come here.”

“Huh?” You stayed in place as you tried to comprehend the sudden shift in conversation.

“I’m going to teach you how to skip a rock.”

“No offense, but you haven’t actually skipped a single rock while we’ve been standing here.”

“Trust me.”

“How do you know I don’t already know how to skip a rock?”

“How do you know that you do?” He replied with an eyebrow arched.

“…Alright, teach me how to skip rocks,” you relented, stepping towards him.

Kun stood behind you as you took the rock in your own hand.

“Okay, so first, you want to hold it like this.” He used both of his hands to readjust the positioning of your hand and fingers on the stone. “And you’ve got to stand like this.” He made some minute corrections to the alignment of your shoulders, hips, and arm holding the rock. Then, his hand was wrapping around the back of yours that held the rock, gently guiding it through a demonstration of the throw arc. “And you want to kind of swing, flick, release it out there, and follow through.”

“And are all of your rock skipping lessons this… interactive?” You questioned, turning your head towards the side where he was looking over your shoulder.

“Are you going to do it?” He asked, returning your slight teasing tone.

You wound your arm back, then did just as he’d shown you, swing, flick, release, and follow through. The rock skipped across the surface three times before sinking.

“Huh. You’re a pretty good teacher, Kun.”

“And here you were just questioning my methods.”

“Not their efficacy, just how often you implement them.” You looked back at him again, where he hadn’t moved from his instructional position. You hadn’t been close to the captain like this before, but you didn’t really mind.

“You’re a special case,” he murmured, meeting your gaze steadily. You found yourself holding your breath, watching as his eyes flicked down, then he suddenly stepped back.

Your back felt oddly cool as you turned to face him. Scrambling for another topic, you found yourself thinking about what else he had said at the very short status meeting. “So tomorrow we leave.”

“I want you to stay with us,” he said, taking you by surprise. “We don’t know enough about what was going on here, and with Dr. Yoon in the wind… We can’t—I can’t just leave you on Earth alone.”

“We’ve never known what was going on here, and you had never mentioned not taking me to UHN Main,” you pointed out calmly. “It’s Dr. Yoon, isn’t it?”

“The program I was in wasn’t just some skeletal enhancements and nice armor,” he admitted, sitting in the neighboring grass just a couple steps away.

“What else…?” You followed, sitting down next to him.

“I left Dura-Jil when I was fifteen, for the program.”

“You can’t enlist until you’re eighteen.”

“Didn’t enlist, I was selected, along with a bunch of others.” He said the word ‘selected’ with a hint of irony. “I was one of the oldest. We were supposed to save humanity, after some training, and a few… modifications. My age was probably why my body had a harder time acclimating to the modifications. I could only take the first round of skeletal enhancements, brainstem neural port, and cardiopulmonary augmentation.” He turned his head and parted some of his hair, letting you see the small port at the base of his skull. “Neural ports aren’t unheard of at the UHN—Wong and Ten have them, but theirs are situated higher up, since implantation in the brainstem is much riskier. But we had a special purpose, and they needed access to the brainstem for ours. It was the second round of skeletal enhancements that almost crippled me.”

“Almost?” You echoed, thinking of how well he seemed, aside from the degradation of his skeletal enhancements.

“Most of us who didn’t make it through either died or were beyond repair. Admiral Lee picked me back up, put me back together, and let me enroll in the Academy to join as an officer.”

“As in… Admiral Lee, the head of Intelligence?”

“Yes. Though, back then, he was only Vice Admiral.”

“Learning that not everyone wants the same kind of life… Were you talking about the life that the program had prescribed for you? Or the one that Admiral Lee gave you?”

“All of it, I think,” he let out a cynical chuckle.

“And what kind of life do you want now? For yourself?”

“Y/N…” He turned his focus from where it had been on the river to you. “I didn’t tell you all of that as a heart-on-my-sleeve, vulnerable moment. You deserve to know that I’m not entirely human.”

“Is that really how you feel? Inhuman?”

He sighed, looking down at himself. “There are parts of me that are… manufactured. Irrevocably altered. I don’t think I remember how it felt before I was like this.”

“So what do you think you are, then? If not human?” You asked curiously.

“I think Liu would classify me as a cyborg?”

“I didn’t ask what Yangyang would classify you as. I asked what you think you are.”

“I’m… something else,” he determined, voice hollow.

“Kun…”

“Hm?” He gazed over at you.

“Thank you for telling me. I do care, about all of that. Because it’s you, it’s about you, part of who you are, whether you think that’s for better or for worse. But that doesn’t make you any less in my eyes,” you said sincerely.

“Any less human?”

“Any less… you. Don’t you get it? That’s what I care about, not your alleged humanity, or lack thereof.”

“When Admiral Lee told me Dr. Yoon was dead, I celebrated,” he said with a cold kind of humor.

“I think that’s warranted.”

“Not because a bad man who had done bad things to me and other kids was dead. But because—because finally, the part of me that still wanted to make him proud had died with him.”

“Kun… I’m going to tell you something that I think you already know. Just because he played a part in how your body physically developed, does not mean that he made you the man that you are now. You are not his creation, or even Admiral Lee’s. You are your own person, whole and complete. A sum of all the parts, everything you’ve been through, and everything you’ve learned. But you. Not anybody else.” You placed a hand on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You do not owe that man anything.”

He looked down at your hand. “I don’t think I ever want you to remember…”

“What?”

“Knowing that he might’ve… to you. I think it might be better for you to never remember.” Kun slowly put his hand over yours.

“Oh…”

“What are we doing, Y/N?”

You looked around uncertainly. “Uh… sitting?”

“Why are you sitting with me right now? Instead of starting mess with everyone else back at camp?”

“Because I’d rather be here than there. Is that hard to believe?”

“No. I just…” He breathed out, looking down at your connected hands. “I can’t promise you any sort of normal life. Or anything, really. Other than me.”

“I wouldn’t really know what a normal life is. I have a feeling that I wasn’t exactly living one before this, either,” you pointed out. “That’s all I can offer, too. Myself.”

“That’s more than enough.”

“And so are you.” You reassured him. “So? Will you let us…?”

He swallowed, then nodded. “Sure, yes.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, scooting closer to him.

“There will be no way to keep this from the others,” he cautioned.

“Just how many warnings are you going to try to scare me off with before you realize I don’t care?”

“I was stating a fact.”

“It was the way you said it, how you looked at me. Like you expected me to leave,” you frowned.

“It should’ve at least given you pause. All of this should’ve,” he shook his head, carefully taking his arm back to loop it around your shoulders.

“And yet it didn’t.”

The two of you were quiet for another moment, then you heard Kun scoff under his breath.

“Yeah, ZEN?” He addressed the AI tersely. “Fine, you can patch him through... What do you need, Wong? Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute.”

“Soup’s on?” You guessed.

“Yeah…” He sighed, not making a move to leave yet.

“Do you… want to go?”

“In a minute.”

By the time you got back to camp, the others were already sat around the campfire with their dishes, though it looked like they hadn’t started eating yet.

“There you are!” The Professor waved to the two of you as soon as he saw you. “Thought we were going to have to send a search party or something.”

“We had to walk all the way back here,” Kun said plainly, grabbing both of the extra dishes from the food prep station and handing you one. “You all could have started without us.”

“ZEN said you were only—” Yangyang got cut off by Ten elbowing him in the side. “Ow! What was that for?”

“Thanks for waiting,” you opted not to address whatever that was, sitting down in the single large gap left between Dejun and the Professor, in the spot closer to your tentmate.

“So what’s the next destination, then, Captain?” Ten inquired. “Dropping Y/N off at UHN Main for debriefing?”

“Oh, shit, yeah.” Kunhang shook his head. “It’s weird, I got so used to you being here, Y/N. Kind of forgot you weren’t actually one of us.”

“Yeah, we’ll miss you,” Dejun patted your shoulder, then focused a pointed stare on the youngest crew member. “And I’ll miss you extra when Liu sleeptalks.”

“Thanks, guys,” you gave them all an appreciative smile before looking at Kun out of the corner of your eye uncertainly.

Kun cleared his throat. “However, Y/N will be staying with us for the foreseeable future, due—”

“Seriously?!” Yangyang interrupted incredulously. “I got chewed out for like two hours for even suggesting—”

“Because at the time, it was the reckless and stupid option,” Kun cut him off strictly. “But, if you had let me finish what I was saying, Lieutenant, I would’ve been able to explain that I now believe it’s the safer option for her. We don’t know the whereabouts of the other survivor, and there’s a very good chance that he has the proof with him—whatever it is. There’s too many uncertainties for us to leave Y/N on Earth alone.”

“You think this Dr. Yoon is a danger to Y/N?” The Professor questioned.

“More of a danger than being around us?” Dejun added.

“Yes,” the captain replied very seriously. “We’re a self-contained vessel; our courses aren’t plotted externally ahead of time, our missions aren’t documented in a centralized record after the fact, and we’re undetectable in flight as well. Nobody will know about her unless we want them to.”

Ten nodded. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

“Hell yeah!” Kunhang grinned and held a hand up towards you. “Welcome aboard.”

You accepted his high-five with a laugh. “Thanks, Kunhang.”

“So back to my question, then,” Ten cocked his head. “Where to next?”

“UHN Main,” Kun answered. “I need to provide the Admiral with an update, in person. We also need to resupply, and you all are due for some shore leave.”

They all erupted into cheers, and you found yourself smiling down at your food, too. UHN Main, where Kun could get his much-needed readjustment.

The rest of dinner was an amiable, jovial affair as the crew spitballed ideas for their shore leave. After the food was finished, everyone pitched in with cleaning up and packing away the materials that wouldn’t be needed again. You were leaving tomorrow.

“Y/N,” Dejun called for you when pretty much everything was done, but the others were still milling about, talking to each other excitedly. “Let me take a look at your hand in the tent.”

“Oh, uhm—” You gave in to his insistent tug on your elbow, despite your brain frantically trying to think of a reason why he couldn’t inspect your perfectly healed palm.

In your tent, Dejun started rooting through one of his med packs as you were still stumbling through the beginning of an excuse.

“Dejun, you don’t need to—”

“I know,” he said simply, standing back up and handing you a disinfectant wipe and two med-pods. “Captain’s got you. Right?”

“…Right.” You accepted the supplies. “Thanks.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“With what?”

“Staying with us. You know, not getting a normal life yet. I know you can’t remember, or maybe don’t know what that’s like, but… I don’t want you to think you have to do this. The UHN can give you a new identity, hide you in other ways.”

You paused, looking at him curiously. “Why did you join the UHN, Dejun?”

“After med school, I did my residency at a rehab clinic for veterans. Thought I could make more of a difference if I got to them earlier.” He fidgeted with the holster around his thigh.

“I’m okay with this,” you assured him. “Whatever kind of life I had before, normal or not… I can never go back to it. Even if I remember, it’ll never be the same. And after the war—who does have a normal life anymore? Or gets to say what that is?”

“Alright.” Dejun patted your shoulder. “I’m happy to have you aboard, don’t get me wrong. Not trying to get rid of you or anything. Just want to make sure you know your options.”

“Thanks, Dejun.” You gave him a smile before ducking out of the tent.

You couldn’t see the others around the campfire anymore, but you swore you heard voices and what sounded like splashing in the direction of the river. One last late-night swim, it seemed.

“Kun?” You waited outside his tent.

“Come in!” He beckoned you in just a moment later.

Kun was sitting on his cot, a thin paperback book in his hands.

“Is that the book Ten found earlier?” You asked, moving over the container you usually sat on.

“Yeah.” He held it up so you could see the cover. Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus by Mary Shelley.

“I didn’t realize you’d grabbed it.”

“ZEN could probably pull it up for me, back on the Vision. But my eyes hurt looking at those screens for too long, you know?” He put in a bookmark, a folded-up piece of graph paper, before setting the book aside.

He laid down without prompting, reaching around to adjust his shirt for you. You ripped open the antiseptic wipe first.

“So why now?” You asked, disinfecting the injection site. “Why do you want to leave Aegeum now? There were lots of other times you could’ve called the mission over.”

“I need to report Dr. Yoon being alive to Admiral Lee as soon as possible.”

“Do you think that Admiral Lee knew he was alive?” You took out the first med-pod.

“No, Admiral Lee hates him as much as I do,” Kun said, staring ahead of him. “And the Admiral has never lied to me. When he can’t tell me something, he lets me know.”

“Do you think you’ll be going after him? Dr. Yoon?”

Click.

“I’ll need further directions from the Admiral.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we don’t have any leads, he’ll probably just have us focus on our original mission.”

“And what is the mission?”

“Well…”

“I’m part of the crew now, kind of. Indefinitely. Shouldn’t I get to know what your mission that you’re on actually is?”

“No, you’re right. I’m trying to find the best starting place,” he mused. “So, the Intergalactic War ended almost a year ago.”

“Yes, I did know that,” you informed him, carefully picking through your memory. “It was the United Human Intercosmic Territories against Ourogos, the K’llor, and some factions of A-Jregth.”

You used the proper name for the A-Jregth, as opposed to the common, less-than-flattering human nickname for them—Dumbo, for their large ears that reminded the first UHN soldiers to make contact with them of elephants. In that moment, you couldn’t recall the original connection between the name and the Earth animal, but that could wait.

“Well, UHIT is much less united now; we’ve got a lot on our plate trying to keep ourselves together. Especially with some planets of Phasers and other human-originated species talking about wanting independence from humans.”

“On the grounds that they’re not humans?” You guessed.

“Exactly. There’s rumors of talks of secession.” The med-pod clicked then, and he paused as you grabbed the next one. Once you had them swapped out, he continued, “The aliens’ alliance has completely dissolved, however. Before we came here, we were on Ourogos; it’s especially nasty there. They’re almost in a civil war, trapped between two zealots vying for power ever since their leader, Busr Gorkourontorous, was assassinated. The Fisheads and Dumbo went back to their own business, and the Skippers are doing what they’ve always done.”

“You don’t sound too troubled about any of that.”

“The more time they spend killing each other, the more time we have to figure our own shit out.”

Moving your gaze from the med-pod to his face, you asked, “When did the busr die?”

“Recently,” he replied knowingly.

“Did one of you…?”

“We didn’t pull the trigger,” Kun said. “But we supplied the gun. And the bullet.”

“Arms dealing. To both sides?”

“The more of them that are dead, the fewer there will be to come kill humans.” He finally looked back at you. “That’s our mission. Less dead humans.”

“Do you think you’re accomplishing that?” You held his eye contact, leaning forward to rest your elbows on your knee and prop up your chin with one of your palms.

“That’s not my determination to make right now. Not yet.”

“You’re a self-contained vessel. That comes with quite a bit of leeway with decision-making, doesn’t it?”

“Day-to-day decisions, yes. Admiral Lee has put a lot of trust in me. But every one of my calls is supposed to be made with that objective in mind.”

The second med-pod finished, and you took it off him as well, setting it at your feet with the rest of the trash that you’d take with you to put in Dejun’s medical disposal container in your tent. For once, neither of you made a move to leave now that it was done.

“How did you end up on Aegeum?” You asked.

“Intelligence guy picked up chatter from some Skippers. He didn’t speak Skipper, but he could make out one word they kept saying over and over that sounded like human. You know Skipper, it sounds like a bunch of chipmunks chittering about, so the word ‘Aegeum’ kind of caught his attention. Relayed it back to Admiral Lee. He sent us out here.”

“Do you have the recording of the Skippers? The Professor or ZEN…?”

“UHN translators have been working on it since we’ve been down here. It might be done, I’ll have to check once we’re back on the Vision.”

“Kind of makes me think…” You mused aloud. “About what would’ve happened if you all hadn’t found me. If I would’ve ever gotten out of that shelter.”

“I know you don’t remember how you got in there, but… what do you think you would’ve done? If you’d left the shelter, you’d have been able to survive off the ag bubble indefinitely, at least.”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, messing with your fingers. “I-I didn’t know, or didn’t remember, what was going on outside of the shelter other than the smell, but I had this feeling that I shouldn’t leave it, and I shouldn’t be found, you know? But when I saw you and Kunhang, and I knew you were UHN—I knew that the UHN was safe, at least. So… I really don’t know if I would’ve ever left.”

You watched as he slowly started sitting back up, and he thankfully didn’t clutch his back, wince, or groan this time. The two med-pods seemed to be doing pretty well for him. But they were only a temporary fix.

“You’re going to get your tune-up at UHN Main, right?” You looked at him seriously. “You’ll give your report to Admiral Lee, the crew will go on shore leave, and you’ll get your adjustment?”

“Yes, Y/N,” he confirmed with a hint of a smile. “I’ll get my adjustment while we’re there.”

“Good.”

“But then what excuse will you have for coming into my quarters every night?”

You landed a soft kick against his ankle at his teasing words, making him snicker. “You say that as if the crew know why I’ve been doing it in the first place. Other than Dejun, they have no clue. Who knows what they’re thinking now.”

“That’s true.” He still had a hint of a chuckle in his voice. “Speaking of… I have a spare bunk in my cabin on the Vision, you’re welcome to it. Or you can room with the Professor, if you’d like. I’m sure he’d enjoy the opportunity to ask you more about Outspacer.”

“Wait, if you both have spare bunks, then why is Dejun rooming with Yangyang, who talks in his sleep?” You cocked your head in bewilderment. “Why doesn’t he just stay with one of you so he isn’t disturbed by Yangyang’s sleeptalking?”

“Kid can’t sleep by himself. Apparently wasn’t a problem until he got onto a ship. We’ve offered for Xiao to move, but—” Kun shrugged.

“He’s a good teammate.” You then circled back to his original offer, bringing your hand up to tap your chin as if deep in thought. “I’ll have to think about it… Staying in the captain’s quarters, wouldn’t want anybody to get the wrong idea, you know?”

“Oh, of course not.”

“And I should probably be getting back to my tent,” you sighed melodramatically, slowly getting to your feet. “I’ve been in here for a suspicious amount of time already, don’t you think?”

“Hold on—ZEN? Where are the others?” Kun was still as he listened to ZEN’s response from within his neural port. “Great. Cut out your incoming audiovisual feed from me, but let me know when they start heading back, okay? Thanks.”

You tilted your head in a silent question.

“Everyone’s down at the river still,” he informed you, offering his hand out to you. “We have some time.”

“Mm… okay.” You placed your hand in his.

Kun scooted over to make some room beside him on the cot, and you accepted the invitation, sitting beside him instead of on the container like before.

“Are you ready? To leave?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah. I don’t really have a lot of personal effects to pack up, so…” You shrugged. “Though, I was curious about getting from the facility to your ship. Is the atmosphere breathable?”

“It’s a bit thin. Unfortunately, we weren’t expecting to acquire anybody while we were down here, so we don’t have an extra suit for you on the dropship. Xiao has masks with limited oxygen supply, you should be okay with one of those for the short walk on the surface.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“But I wasn’t asking you if you were packed,” he continued, rubbing a thumb over the back of your hand. “I mean, this is the only place you can remember. Are you ready to leave it?”

You nodded in determination. “I am. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t find the proof of concept or figure out why the Skippers were here, but I have no personal reservations about leaving. This isn’t my home.”

“Okay, good.”

“What are you going to say about me? In your report to the Admiral?”

“I’ll give him a brief update when we get back on the Vision tomorrow, before leaving. I’ll say we found a survivor, and we’re headed back to UHN Main so I can make a full report, but that’ll be it. I know you’ve only met his dumbed-down safety version, but ZEN’s a very good AI, he’ll keep the connection between the Admiral and I secure while I report.”

“This has been ZEN dumbed down?” You repeated with a smile. “I’m excited to meet him fully, then.”

“He’s something else,” Kun said with a shake of his head. “Like what I just had to do, asking him to butt out to get some privacy. ZEN at full capacity understands the concept of appropriate levels of snooping. This one, you have to give some clearer direction. He understands when we don’t need to hear each other—most of the time—but can’t turn off incoming audiovisual to himself of his own volition.”

“You must be used to his omnipresence on the Vision. His main nexus is there, I’m assuming he’s throughout the ship’s systems.”

“Well yes, but I don’t really care if he hears our talk around the mess table or sees me cleaning my armor. This… is different.”

“How so?”

“Well—”

“I’m kidding, Kun,” you laughed, bumping your shoulder against his. “I like knowing that we’re really alone, too. Makes it feel more… intimate, I think.”

“I agree.”

“There is one thing I’ll miss about Aegeum, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Those strawberries were really good.”

Kun’s eyes crinkled as he smiled fondly. “They were. Do you want to go get some?”

“Now?”

“Why not? One last handful, a midnight snack.”

“I do.”

And so the two of you quietly slipped out of his tent, hurrying off in the direction of the strawberry fields. You could hear the others by the river, though their voices and splashing got more distant the nearer you got to the fields. Finally, you made it to the strawberry patch, and the air of the ag bubble was peaceful around you.

There were small, hidden lights along the pathways and edges of the fields that automatically turned on at night, affording just enough brightness for you to be able to distinguish the fruits on the bushes as Kun went to pick them. He handed you the first one he grabbed, then bit into the second himself.

“Kun, you’ve got some on your face,” you pointed out, and he went to wipe at his right cheek. You shook your head with a giggle, bringing your own thumb up to his left cheek. “No, you— Here, I’ve got it.”

“Oh now that’s not fair,” he complained with an air of teasing in his tone.

“Why’s that?”

“You don’t have anything on your face, so I don’t have an excuse to charmingly cradle your cheek like you’re doing to me.”

“How about you do it anyway—” You took his free hand and brought it up to your face, “—and while we’re here, you can kiss me like you’ve been thinking about doing since the river today?”

“Am I easy to read or have you failed to mention that you’re a mind reader?”

“The first one,” you teased.

“All those years of intelligence operative training were wasted, apparently,” he chuckled.

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

You met him halfway, closing the distance and melting into a kiss that tasted of the sweet-tart strawberry juice still on your lips. You took your hand from his face to tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, definitely longer than regulation, and he continue pressing his lips to yours over and over, as if making up for every moment tonight that he had wanted to kiss you but didn’t. You lost track of how many strawberry sweet kisses the two of you exchanged between bites, conversation, hushed bursts of laughter, and even more strawberries. And you thought that if this was part of your normal, no matter how fleeting, you could be pretty happy with this.

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

Dead by Dawn

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, eventual poly!relationship, undead.

Word Count: 3,811

Notes: Mother knows I don’t need another AU but frankly idc 💅🏻

_________________________________________

Day 189

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Fuck me, you think, digging your tattered sneakers deeper into the ground. You’re hoping to gain better traction on the dirty road as you run–sprint away from the creature at your back. Gravel gives way, making the asphalt slippery as you try to maneuver through the barren streets or the abandoned town and away from the monster trailing behind you.

You don’t need to be bolting at full speed, but any form of running is tough due to your injured knee. You’d twinged it the other day as you ran through the forest with a horde of undead lazing after you, locked in on the stench of your blood.

You’d tripped over an upturned root and fell harshly, landing directly onto a stone. The crack of your knee smashing into the rock cracked through the forest and the zoms had grunted loudly in response, almost gleefully, like they knew you’d been downed.

It truly is just your luck.

Something always seemed to go wrong in your presence. If it wasn’t dropping your last can of food into the river while you were crossing it was attracting a group of undead while you were grumbling loudly about just how shit your luck really was. It was the man you’d trusted who’d ended up robbing and abandoning you while you slept, leaving you only with the short knife tucked into your boot at the time.

Hell, you were probably somehow connected to the apocalypse happening.

You chance a look over your shoulder, and for a split second your heart calms and you slow your pace, the road clear behind you.

Hunched over with your hands on your knees you gulp down the arid summer air. The stifling heat chokes you and you cough loudly to clear your airway, sucking in a large breath just as a bead of sweat rolls down your mouth. You wheeze, coughing harder as the tiny offender slips its way down the wrong pipe.

Like you said, bad luck.

Pounding on your chest, you wince. Your hacking will attract more. You need to stop.

Scanning your surroundings, you try to gather your bearings of where you are in this small, rundown town. You were just supposed to be passing through for the usual runs of searching shops for food and unused supplies. Your backpack is a little too light for your comfort.

You’d convinced your comrade to split up, and now you're regretting it more than ever. The town is small enough, quiet enough with the rustling leaves and sounds of birds chirping nearby. There are no human sounds, no scuffing of shredded shoes dragging across the pavement, no snick of safety switches clicking off.

It’s silent.

You cut off your coughing abruptly and straighten, swallowing uncomfortably. Your tongue is thick in your mouth and your throat is dry from lack of water. You’re down to your last bottle, and choking on your own sweat has only made you thirstier. Your heart pounds in your chest, too loud for you to make out the sound around you but it’s then that you realize–

It’s silent.

The wildlife has gone completely still, birds sensing the threats lingering nearby, falling quiet in their nests. Not only do zoms lure for tasty human flesh, but they’re known to trap any living creatures they can.

A low inhuman growl drags your attention away from the trees. It grates against your skull like it always does, a cry for help, a cry for flesh. Your head snaps around back the way you came.

You curse.

Really, really unlucky.

Not one, but three undead come stumbling out from behind the building you’d passed. It’s an old laundromat, and one of the zoms is clad in a half-torn dirty t-shirt that you think could use a good washing. Or burning. They’re tripping over their own stupidly clumsy feet, and when they catch sight of you, pick up your sweaty, delicious scent over the soft breeze, their milky white eyes zero in on you.

Grunting softly, you begin jogging away from them. Running has never been your favorite hobby, but it’s imperative to your survival now. Doesn’t matter that your lungs feel like they’re on fire with every step, your knee sending sharp shockwaves of pain up your leg with each step.

At least it isn’t broken.

Ignoring the throb in your leg, you reach for the holster wrapped tightly around your waist. You’d had to punch another hole into the leather to keep it tight enough not to slip down your rapidly slimming hips. You know you won’t find anything there, that dick had stolen your gun long ago. These days, the worn leather belt housed a knife, but you’d dropped it in the initial scuffle with the leader of the small zom pack chasing after you.

You’d laughed, thought it was your comrade and had shoved the creature off of you. But when your fingers had torn through the delicate flesh on the zombies arm, rotting veins and thin skin spilled out over your hand you were quick to your senses. Reaching for the knife, hand slicked with thick, chunky blood. Your grip slipped once, twice, and the zombie was up in an instant, pushing against the hand you’d planted across its chest.

Finally tugging the knife loose from where it was nestled in your holster was a relief that turned sour as the zombie swiped out. Dumb luck had the flailing limb striking true, knocking the weapon from your unsteady hold. It landed with a soft thump, a small cloud of dust puffing up and clinging to the black blood coated hilt.

Time froze as you stared at the zombie, letting out an unamused puff of air as your heart kicked into gear. It’s head jerked forward on fractured bones, the clacking of it reverberated up your spine like a hot knife, and you winced. The zoms mouth parted and its rotting gray tongue rolled out, lapped at the air, tasting your scent.

It shoved harder against your hold.

You’d managed to wrestle the undead away, pushing it to the ground, but you hadn’t had the time to grab your trusty knife that you’d carried with you since the beginning of the end. You climbed to your feet and side stepped the cracked hand reaching for you, the bony tips of fingers free from dead skin, sprinting away.

Unsure of which way to go, you raced up the road away from where you had last seen your friend. You wouldn’t let her get caught because of your stupidity.

You try to outrun them, weaving in and out of the few buildings in town, but they’re locked on your scent, although you’re pretty sure you smell like one of them by now, you can’t even remember the last time you’d showered.

Rounding the corner of an old bar, you debate stopping for a drink. You pray that there’s an unopened bottle of vodka, or tequila inside. Hell, you’d take just about anything right now.

Making a mental note to come back around and search the bar, you trip. You use your hands to catch you, cursing as your palms scrape against the pebbles and dirt. You hope that there’s no blood, muttering beneath your breath as you survey the alley. There’s a tall chain link fence blocking your path.

Well fuck.

There’s no way you’ll make it up in time, and the drop from the other side is a long way. Plus, you don’t know if your aching knee will be able to support your weight against the flimsy metal, having just fallen on it again.

Your day really can’t get any worse.

Your limbs slide against the dusty ground as you flip over. Your fingertips dig down for purchase. The three zoms are approaching quickly, limping closer to you, keen on getting a taste of your flesh. One of them even looks like it’s smiling, peeling lips torn and curled around blackened rotting teeth, grinning at you sadistically.

Your heart stutters in your chest.

This is it.

You search the alley frantically, hoping that there’s at least a broken bottle from the tavern you can use in defense against the looming creatures. There’s nothing but pebbles and litter, not a single potential weapon in sight. You swallow hard, gaze flitting back to the zombies who moan softly, making grabby hands at you like babies do their mothers.

Your back hits the fence and you squeeze your eyes shut tight, the sun blaring hot across your skin.

You’ve had a pretty good run, you think, for someone who’s luck is as shit as yours. 189 days.

You send a silent prayer up above – although you’re pretty sure whoever is supposed to be watching over Earth has taken a break long ago – and hope that your comrade will be okay.

The zoms are almost on you and you curl tighter around yourself, refusing to open your eyes. If you’re going to go, the last thing you want to see is yourself being eaten. No thanks.

There’s a loud war cry just as the long, overgrown, brittle nails scrape against your cheek. You shudder and a shadow crosses your vision for a millisecond, and your eyes snap open. Squinting against the harsh sun you watch as the zombies arms are lobbed off, falling right onto your lap.

Black blood drips thickly and your empty stomach curdles. With a grimace you shove the limp limbs off of your legs and pull yourself to your feet, the zombies attention turning to the new person in the alley with you.

You loose a sigh of relief at the shaky laugh and taunts thrown at the undead, “Come here, you fuckers!”

It’s your comrade. She’s armed with a landscape scythe in one hand and your knife in the other. The sunlight casts over her sharp cheekbones and her gray eyes are almost as pale as the zoms. It’s unnerving sometimes but right now your chest swells with relief. Her menacing (and slightly crazed) smile has her looking like an angel of death.

“Feyre,” you exhale, head falling back against the chain link fence in solace.

The armless zombie struggles, trying to stagger to its feet, but it ends up inchworming its way towards you and your savior. With one quick jab of your knife to its head, the creature goes still.

Feyre jerks the blade from the body and dances around the other two zoms, swiftly moving behind them. You catch one of their attention, beating your hand against the fence, rattling the metal with your hands. Before one can turn around to face Feyre, she uses her scythe, the curved blade protruding from the stomach of the zombie. She grabs the handle with both hands and lifts with a grunt. The body's decomposed muscle and bone give way as she slices from stomach to head, splitting the damn thing in two. When it falls away it reveals a grinning Feyre.

You grimace at the sight. She’d found that gardening scythe a few weeks ago and now it’s her new favorite weapon.

“Gimme,” you gesture to your knife with a nod of your head, the last zombie still slowly making its way towards you.

“You sure?” Feyre cocks an eyebrow. She’s still on a high from her last kill, “I don’t mind.”

You shrug your shoulders in response, “Be my guest.”

You let Feyre take the last one, sliding the knife easily into the base of its neck. It’s a more humane kill than the last one, and you’re just glad it’s over quickly.

“Don’t drop this again,” Feyre says seriously, striding over the dead bodies and firmly placing the knife back in your hand. Her fingers wrap around yours tightly, making sure you understand the importance of the weapon.

“Not like I was trying to,” you mumble, looking away from her in shame. Your gaze settles on your hands and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You hadn’t even known the girl long but here she is, saving your life and sticking by your side even though she doesn’t have to.

“I don’t want to lose you,” she admits softly, looking at you with sad eyes. If she’s saying this because she doesn’t want to be out all alone in the shit world or because she feels a kinship with you from what you’ve both been through, you can’t say.

You sigh, frustrated. “I’m no good for you, Fey. You’d be better off without me.” You wipe the blood from your blade onto your already dirty pants and nestle it back in its rightful spot on your belt.

“Stop with that, (Y/N).” Feyre places her hands firmly on your shoulders and stares into your eyes. Her gray iris’ are piercing, similar and yet different than the undead, like she can see all of your deepest secrets and fears, all of the things you’ve had to do to get here, to stay alive.

You’re vaguely aware of the zombie blood dripping from her blade onto your shoulder and you try not to cringe. “Like hell you’re leaving me in this shit hole alone.”

You chuckle softly, ignoring the pang of guilt you feel. Once she finds what she’s looking for, she will absolutely abandon you, your mind supplies.

“Sorry,” you offer quietly.

“Just don’t scare me like that again,” she responds, waving off your apology. There are no ‘sorry’s’ in the apocalypse, no need to ask forgiveness for the evils you’ve committed. You trail Feyre out of the alley, “Use your words next time.”

“Didn’t want to attract more,” you admit, knowing that if you had screamed for help it would only put the both of you in more danger, “Ended up doing that just fine anyway.”

Feyre doesn’t respond to that. She can see that you’re already kicking yourself for what’s happened, even though the both of you are okay. You have a habit of that, blaming yourself for most things that go wrong. You always have.

“You’re limping,” she points out instead, “You hurt?”

“Nah, just fell on it weird,” you try to smile but it looks more like a grimace. “It’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“We should find somewhere to stop. You can rest and I’ll check out the other stores. Maybe we can find you some painkillers.”

The odds are highly unlikely, but you don’t mention it. Not all of the stores in this tiny town have smashed windows and ransacked shelves.

“We’re not splitting up again,” you demand, following Feyre through the broken window of a nearby store. You wince when you lift your leg and pain shoots up it.

You look around the dinghy shop and make a face. It’s a mattress store, and you have no idea how long it’s been since it’s been broken into, but by the looks of the stained and matted mattresses, you can tell it’s been awhile.

Feyre hums in agreement, scythe poised and ready for anything that might pop up and surprise the both of you. You keep your knife tucked tightly in your hand, ready to back her up without a second thought.

“There’s a clothing shop a few stores down. Untouched. Thought we could drag a mattress down there for a night. Sleep on a real bed for once,” Feyre suggests and throws a grin over her shoulder towards you, “Maybe go on a little shopping spree.”

And that’s another thing that differentiates you from Feyre. While she was scoping out for supplies that might actually help you survive in this undead world, you were thinking about booze.

“It would be nice to get some new clothes,” you comment, pulling at the dirty shirt clinging to your sweaty skin. You frown, looking around at all of the mattresses, “And sleep on something comfortable, if we can find one that’s decent, that is.”

Feyre rolls her eyes, “Oh, come on (Y/N). Everyone knows they keep the nice ones in the back. All wrapped up and ready to go.” She raises her eyebrows at you in a silent question, and you nod, silently telling her that you’ve got her back.

Feyre shoves open the door to the storage room and you’re surrounded by stacked mattresses lining the walls.

“Jackpot!”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The both of you had managed to drag a twin sized bed two stores over into the clothing shop with little trouble. You’d ignored the twinge of pain in your leg at the weight. It grows worse the longer you stand on it, but you really do want to sleep in a real bed.

You shove it as far away as you can from the window at the front of the store and tear the plastic wrap off of it. Your heart stumbles as you think that this is what it must feel like for the zombies to tear through flesh. You shudder.

Instead of falling onto the fresh mattress like you want to, you’d gone back out to search for more supplies before the sun sets. You need water, but it’s scarce to come by these days. You each have one bottle left in your bags from when you’d found a pack of unopened water bottles sitting out in the sun in front of a gas station. It probably wasn’t the best thing to be drinking from a plastic bottle that had been sitting in the sun for who knows how long, but you didn’t have the luxury of being picky these days.

You’d seen one more zombie in the drugstore you were hoping to find some painkillers in, but if the spilled pills surrounding the trapped zombie were anything to go by, it looked like they had gotten to them first.

You whistle to yourself as you walk through the aisles, a slight limp in your step. You kick an open bag of chips out of your way, searching for anything that is still usable to eat for the night.

You’d gotten used to the constant hunger pains, the feeling of your stomach trying to eat itself, contorting in pain when you thought about shoveling a thick and juicy cheeseburger into your mouth. As long as your stomach still jumps at the thought of food instead of flesh, you can manage.

Feyre was built for the apocalypse. She’s figured out how to ration, and she’s always planning, not knowing when you’d find your next meal.

Another reason you were so lucky to have her.

You’re frustrated, having walked down the food aisle three times but still coming up with nothing. The only food left was opened or had rotted out a long time ago, and you don’t need to be getting sick over spoiled food.

“Find anything?” Feyre asks, returning from checking the back room and moving over to where you stand.

“A few bandages, but no food,” you sigh, holstering your weapon. “You?”

She shakes her head, “No food either, but I found these,” she tosses you a bottle of painkillers and you smile gratefully. “Fucker didn’t get to those ones.”

“Thanks, Fey.” You immediately tug off the cap and down two. They catch against your dry throat but eventually work their way down.

You tug your backpack off of your shoulder, stuffing the canister inside. It rattles and you remind yourself to stuff a clean sock into it so they don’t move around as much.

The both of you search up and down the rest of the aisles of the small store just in case. Feyre becomes fascinated over a rubix cube you’d found, still in its package. You smile softly at her as she tears open the plastic and mixes the colors. You both need something that reminds you of the simple life before.

You find some chains and padlocks still handing in their spots in the hardware store and you’re both incredibly thankful. Even though you haven’t found more food, you still have a can of beans you can share, and you have clean clothes and a comfortable place to sleep for the night, so today isn’t as much of a bust as you thought.

“Fuck,” Feyre sighs are she settles down onto the mattress next to you. “Been a rough day, hasn’t it?”

You hum in agreement, passing her the can of beans. You’ve both changed, opting for plain t-shirts and new jeans. You’d almost cried when you found a package of unopened socks, shouting for Feyre like you’d found a cure.

“S’just socks, (Y/N). Calm down,” she’d replied, but the relief shone in her eyes as well.

You share the beans, passing it back and forth in silence, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You’d packed up what you could into your bags. They sit at the foot of the mattress, ready and close just in case something happens. Your new running shoes sit neatly next to them on your respective side of the bed.

“Go to sleep, I’ll take the first watch,” you offer, and who is Feyre to argue?

She settles into the soft bed and is out as soon as she’s comfortable, exhausted from today’s events. You’re constantly worn out. There’s just something about the end of the world that is so very tiring.

You hum to yourself, checking the exits for the third time in two hours. You need something to do or you’ll fall asleep. At least, that’s what you tell yourself. Feyre knows it’s because of your slight paranoia that something terrible could happen if you don’t continually check your surroundings. But you’re not wrong.

Checking the lock and chain on the front door, your attention is caught by something moving outside.

You immediately crouch out of sight, peeking out the grimy window into the darkness to see what it is.

Three figures, too fast to be zombies.

Your heart pounds. You can hardly make them out in the dark, but it looks like two people dragging another along between them. They’re tall, you can tell. Must be men. They hurry down the street as you watch on. Your gaze flickers up the street, searching for zombies, your knife gripped in a firm hand, but you don’t see anything.

You wonder if the person they’re dragging with them is injured. They must be, otherwise they’d be running alongside the other two. You wonder how much blood they’re leaving behind as the three of them find an open shop across the street and down a few from where you and Feyre are hiding out for the night. An old cafe of sorts. You’d checked it over earlier, but you suppose it’s as good of a place as any to take shelter in for the night, the window and door still intact.

They’ll be away from monsters, at least.

Everything in the new world is a lot scarier in the dark.

_________________________________________

(Part 2)

#azriel x cassian x reader #azriel x reader #cassian x reader #zombie au #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acotarxreader #azsazz

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nkirukaj · 2 months

Text

The Radio Demon & the Billboard Doe

Hey y'all! I love writing fics and I love making OCs! So, please enjoy this Hazbin Hotel fanfiction as well!

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! OC

Warnings: Swearing and depictions of violence?

Genre: Angst?

Word Count: 2.1K

1. Welcome to Hell

She had never fallen for anything as hard as she fell into Hell. Free falling however many feet only to face plant into a concrete barren street is not how she imagined her day starting. Was this the start of her day? What had she been doing before this? Certainly not jumping off a building or out of a plane. She stood slowly, many loud sounds abound while she reached for her now shattered glasses, before realizing that without them, her vision was perfect.

“What the fuck?” She blinked once, then twice, then 15 more times before she concluded that her vision was finally 20/20. Clear enough to see the crimson sky above her, all the buildings around the same shade of red. Some roads cracked and broken even more than a neglected Brooklyn neighborhood. Suddenly, the sound of an approaching car broke her out of her trance, and she jumped out of the way, barely avoiding getting hit.

“Get the fuck outta the road ya stupid bitch!!”

Instantly her middle finger was up and she was shouting right back “Fuck you, ya decrepit piece of shit! I do what I fucking want!!!” Well, she didn’t want to be standing here in the middle of an unfamiliar street, but nobody told her what to do. She could’ve left her frames in the middle of the street where they’d landed, but without thinking she placed them in her pocket. She wasn’t going to get any answers just standing in this one spot, so she started walking. The red in the air had to be due to terrible air quality, but she could breathe just fine.

It was a very strange adjustment, being able to see clearly without her glasses, she kept reaching to push them up on her nose, only to realize every time that they weren’t there. She didn’t know how long she’d been walking, but the sounds of a city were growing louder as she kept on in this direction. City sounds she knew well from living in the Big Apple.

There were many others scattered around, none of them looking quite human. Some had human-looking bodies with inhuman additives and some were just straight-up nonhuman, be they animals or monsters for lack of a better term. The buildings were bright and the people were loud, adding to the TVs in windows and the cars, trucks, and buses all running concurrently. Denizens fighting and screaming, tearing up roads and buildings as she walked aimlessly in the same direction. The building lights grew brighter as the noise levels built up. Everything was so much louder than usual, she had become accustomed to complex noise, but these made their way through her ears, down her spine, and into her stomach. She didn’t have her headphones, she’d left them at home.

She bent over and closed her eyes, trying to steady herself enough to keep walking, at least enough to get away from this noise, but she was caught in the middle of it. The last building she saw was a large tower with glass windows all around it, and the tall letters “vVv” plastered on it for all to see, before she crouched down, feeling physically sick from the commotion.

That is until she felt arms dragging her up. Her eyes shot open, to see some beings that looked a lot like sentient hyenas dragging her away from the busy streets. Their touch was wildly uncomfortable, not only because they were strangers, but because their appendages were digging into her skin quite painfully. She tried to stand and hold her weight, but the way she was building held did not allow it. She began squirming to get loose, the restriction of her body movement and the vast amount of sound combined to make a very unpleasant experience in her body.

“Stop squirming, you’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

She started kicking and squirming even harder, as though she was trying to escape her own body.

“Hey! Stop moving!” Yelled another directly into her ear “Grab her legs” he spoke to another. When they went to grab her, she let out an inhuman screech, startling her would-be attackers into letting her arms go. When they attempt to recapture her, she lets out all the pressure built up in her chest, screaming at the top of her lungs. Out of her mouth came blazing flames hitting the faces of her would-be captors, screaming until she couldn’t scream anymore.

When she finally opened her eyes, the entire area was now engulfed in flames. It didn’t seem too out of place with the rest of the streets. The charred corpses of the hyenas were all around her on the ground, still flaming. She stood there and caught her breath. Once she was able to breathe steadily, she finally looked up at the sky. Standing in full sight of anyone who happened to look up, was a casino-like sign, reading “Welcome to Hell”.

______________________________________________________________

Hell? Like the place, Christians are always screaming about? This is what they were all afraid of? It looked like an ungoverned city. Broken windows, trash on fire, broken-up roads, dead bodies strewn all over the place. Falling lampposts, guts all about the streets. People killing each other all over, while she just walked right on by. There were many large buildings like skyscrapers clearly in view as if the wealthy were flaunting over the regulars. The majority of the light in the city came from these towers and buildings. Their area was cleaner and sleeker, more modern. The class distinction was obvious. Like it wanted to be near them, but not part of them.

So if she was in Hell, were these demons? Was she a demon? Why was she in Hell? She couldn’t think of anything she had done in life that would get her sent down here. Was this even real? She knew when she was dreaming, and this felt like real life. She was still a bit in shock about the fire that came out of her mouth, but at this point, she was running on adrenaline, her legs carrying her somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t here. She starts playing with her fingers and staring at all the lights. The brightest lights surrounded a large billboard reading, “You Are Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel” with directions listed at the bottom. The words were next to a picture of what she guessed was a demon girl, with a white face, red circles on her cheek, and a long ponytail that went down her back. She cocked her head at the sight, the demoness’s face was quite striking and burned itself into her memory.

The building was in the middle of nowhere. She had to take about 10 breaks just to get there. In front of the building was a large pentagram and the hotel itself was propped up on a hill. After 4 more breaks just to climb the hill, she reached the door. She wondered why the hotel had a marquee. She knocked once quietly, then thought for a moment and knocked again, louder. The demoness that was on the billboard was the one that opened the door.

“Awww you are so cute.” The blonde demon cooed over her appearance

“I know right?” She brightened up at the compliment

“Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

“And who are you?”

“I’m Charlie! And this is my girlfriend Vaggie!” She gestures to another woman who walks up to the door with grayish-purple skin, long hair, a bow, a large spear, and an eyepatch over her left eye.

“Okay, so I have a question,”

“Yes?” Charlie bats her large eyes

“This is Hell? Like, I am in Hell? Like the place Bible thumpers are always telling everyone else that they’re going? Like, fire and brimstone, eternal punishment for sinners? That Hell?”

“Yes.” Charlie’s smile doesn’t falter, she looks quite pleased

“And I am here because…?”

“Well…chances are that you’re here because you’re a sinner. Meaning you did something wrong in your life. Unless you’re a fallen angel, but I think you would know if you were.”

“Is it possible that there was some sort of mistake? Because I was awesome.”

Charlie and Vaggie look at each other, unsure of how to answer the question. “Um I don’t think there’s ever been a mistake,” Charlie responds, unsure. She looks off to think about it.

“First things first,” Vaggie spoke sternly “Our mission is very important to us, so do you plan on staying here or not? If you are, that means that you are agreeing to do your best to be redeemed. Which includes daily lesson plans, trust exercises, interacting with other guests and staff as well as doing your part around here. Do you accept?”

She squints in confusion “Why is all that necessary?”

“Because!” Charlie piped up, back from her existential thoughts “We believe that it’s easier to make strides towards redemption when you feel like part of a community! Usually, we suggest that each new guest finds another guest that they’re similar to. Although that may be difficult for you.” She strokes her chin “I don’t think we have any other guests that are deer.”

“Wait what?” She breaks up Charlie’s thoughts “What do you mean?”

“Well, when building a community, it’s easier to start small-“

“No! I mean like…other deer? What do you mean by other deer? Who’s a deer?”

Charlie glances at her girlfriend to make sure she’s seeing the same thing as her. “Um..you are,” Vaggie informs her

She tilted her head to the side in confusion. Charlie and Vaggie looked at each other before parting to let her in the hotel. There’s a large mirror in the common room wall, she approaches and looks in it; unable to comprehend what she sees. The first thing she noticed was that her dark locks were now fiery red curls. Her nose was black and the holes were larger, her lips were two different colors; the top one black and the bottom one pink. Her face was slightly more angular, with white spots all over, and two big brown deer ears sat atop her cranium. And her irises were now a deep blood red.

She stared at her reflection, with no sound or movement. Other guests were passing by as if she was strange. Charlie stood behind her, she could tell she was getting worried, stepping out to approach the doe, but Vaggie put an arm out to stop her. She slowly reaches up to touch her face, to make sure that what she was seeing was real. She opened her mouth to speak, seeing four fangs, two on each of the sides of her mouth. She picked at them for about 5 minutes straight. They were real too. This was all real. She was a deer, specifically, a doe.

Vaggie cleared her throat, “Don’t forget um…on the back.”

She turned her head to see what she was referring to and shot Vaggie a confused stare. Vaggie took her by the shoulders, causing her to flinch. Vaggie retreated a bit before slowly replacing her hands on the doe’s shoulders, turning her backside towards the mirror, bringing to her attention, a tail. Brown on top, white on the bottom. She looked back towards the girlfriends.

“It can be a big shock,” Charlie looked apologetic “but at least you’re adorable!”

She turns back to the mirror, looking at herself once more, then turning back to them.

“Yeah, I guess I am cute.” She states bluntly

She backed herself up, hitting something hard and solid. She finds herself frozen for a moment before feeling a slight weight on either side of her. Long, slender, and sharp red fingers covered her shoulders, holding her up from falling backward. She steps forward and turns to see who they belong to. She was greeted by the sight of an extremely tall demon, with a fancy red coat, a cane with a microphone on it, and red hair with black tips, that gathered on top of his head in a similar shape as the ears she had on her head. A large grin took up the majority of his face and his bright red eyes were quite a sight to behold. She stared, unable to form words at the moment, and his grin got even wider before he spoke.

“Alastor. Pleasure to be meeting you, sweetheart.“ he takes her in, noticing her form, ears, and face. He hadn’t seen another deer down here before. Quite interesting to say the least. He brings an arm from behind his back, takes her hand, and pulls it up to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it. “Quite…a pleasure.”

Chapter 2>

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sevenpoyo · 11 months

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this got deleted like 5 times this version is nothing like the original and i don’t know how tumblr works

By time you meet denji, he know you you work at the noodle shop or bakery and feed him and pochita. Or maybe he’s seen you with the yakuza guys he owns more money than he’s ever seen to, or maybe some t.v show or porno he watched second hand. Either way he knows you, but when you’re introduce yourself, saying the name that is distantly familiar to him, and looking at him with the most captivating eyes he’s ever seen. When you’re giving him a look so warm and all encompassing that makes him feel full like a hot meal from the old guy who thinks that denji is his grandson.

Your smile spells out warm fresh bread and sweet fruit jam as you ask his name once, twice, three times and the concern that overtakes your features at the fourth time you ask him, makes that full feeling turn into nausea. Like finding a bee hive and gourging himself on too sweet honey. He nearly collapses when your voice actually reaches his ears and he hears you talking to him, the gentle melody of “are you alright? are you feeling well? what the hell!? can you even here me?!?” You step closer looking for any indication of injury besides his despondency, and he’s knocked back into reality.

He has to say something back! You’ll probably get sick of standing here with him if he doesn’t! You’ll leave! every alarm in his brains is screaming it over and over and over! You’ll leave. You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave! You’ll leave. Look at you! Of course you weren’t sticking around!

You’re leaving! He feels that warm kind look leave him and he feels exactly what he is again, he’s a poor starving street rat who’s missed his chance of someone like you looking at him with soft, warm, nice feelings that he’s never felt and will likely never feel again. His one shot at being something to someone. lost. wasted. you’re turning around to leave the skinny mess of a teenage boy in front that couldn’t even respond when you asked him the most simple questions. Using all the strength in his body he sputters, forcing out breath that reeks of hunger into your face and finally coughs up his name.

“i’m uh- my names Denji. i’m fine! i can hear! i’m Denji and- this is pochita!” please look at him again. denji leans closer to see over your shoulder, please look at him. then you dig up a water bottle, and a granola bar and he’s in love. you’re staying, your gonna feed him, and he feels closer to heaven then he’s ever been. Maybe he’s dead, and you’re an angel. Denji didn’t much believe that he deserved to go to heaven- or that pochita would still be with him. but he thought all devils were inhuman looking, and you just looked lovely to him.

“ok then Denji, i’m gonna need your full name. i’m worried that you may be concussed. do you know what year it is? do you feel nauseous?” now he thinks it make sense if you were and angel angel’s use big words.

“huh? what’s concussed mean? and nas- noushis?” his mouth was watering as he fumbled to unwrap the granola bar.

“oh god! denji can you tell me where you live? are you parents home?” shit! he can’t take you back to his shack! you’ll leave for sure if he takes you to that shithole!

“i lost my house keys! that’s why i’m outside! and my head is fine! i’m just really hungry!”

“ok, i’ll just stay to make sure. do you want to go somewhere to eat or something? this place gives me bad vibes.” Wow, this has to be heaven. there’s not other way that this could happen to denji.

“sure! but uh.. i don’t have any money on me. ” he didn’t have any money at all, but why get stuck up on details?

“that’s fine! i’ll pay since we’re friends now, and we could put your little friend in my book bag!” you said referencing pochita. who is now running laps around the two of you,

that makes denji take back what he said earlier. this wasn’t heaven, you were.

#denji csm #csm x reader #denji x reader #denji hayakawa #denji my beloved #yandere csm #yandere denji

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reds-skull · 6 months

Text

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

Okay I realized a scene I love comes up in the fic on this chapter, so I was like "well, I'm not doing anything right now, why not write it?"

So I wrote it. Enjoy.

(This one has description of some gore and aftermath of torture, very short segments, not worse than was already in the fic)

Ghost woke up slowly, the slick residue of his nightmares fading away as he lifted his head and groaned. Soap had already woken up, and by the chipper way he moved around the room, a while ago.

The Sergeant is getting better at telling when he’s being stared at, and he turns around to raise an eyebrow at Ghost.

“Sleepin’ beauty is finally awake!” he says with a smile.

Ghost drags a hand under his mask, sighing, “time’s it?”

“500 sharp, sir” Soap provides happily.

The fuck’s kinda person is this cheerful at this hour? Ghost exhales loudly and finally gets out of bed. The Sergeant opens his mouth, to probably comment on his old man habits, but Ghost shoots him a stare that would’ve killed a lesser man.

Soap just gives him a shit eating grin in return, “not a morning person?”

Ghost walks towards the bathroom, “I’m a normal person, you’re the fuckin’ anomaly.”

The Scot barks a loud laugh that makes him feel a little less groggy.

At mess, the taskforce finds a table of their own, and the Sergeants busy themselves with an argument about one daft thing or another.

Price caught his attention and started speaking to him in his mind, “your nightmares are bloody loud sometimes, y’know that?”

Ghost bites on his toast, “don’t fuckin’ listen then.”

The Captain laughs a little before his features turn serious, “you wanna tell me how much of what the Reaper said in your dream actually happened?”

That’s what he dreamt about that last night? Fucking hell. Can’t keep secrets from Price.

“Won’t have to if you just told me, Simon.”

Ghost puts down his meal to stare intently at the Captain, “what did you see? In my dream.”

Price’s moustache twitched in thought, and he replied, “it said something about Soap bringing your demise?”

“It said ‘bringer of demise’, didn’t fuckin’ specify whose.” Ghost spat back.

“What else?”

Before he could stop him, he felt Price pull the memory to the forefront of his mind to watch for himself what unfolded on the plane that day.

“It told you to stay away from Soap if you wanna live?!”

Ghost banged his fist on the table, startling the Sergeants out of their idiotic bickering. He paid no mind to them, focus fully on Price, “I’m not going to stop working with the Sergeant just because my Reaper decided to be a little shit.” he snarls in the Captain’s head.

Price huffs, “I’m not going to let you die Ghost.”

“Did it say I’m going to die?!”

“Simon…”

Gaz cuts their exchange, “what’s going on? Are you two talking in your brains?”

Soap crosses his arms, “well, yer welcome to use your outside voice.”

Ghost gets up, “no need, we’re done.”

Before he can get out of range, Price tells him “keep yourself safe on this mission, Simon. We’ll figure it out later.”

He supposes that’s manageable.

Ghost and Soap bid their farewells to Gaz and Price, as they go on their own part of the mission, and walk back to the armory to get ready for theirs.

The two of them get dressed up, Ghost armed to the teeth with various throwing knives. He’s not going to use Limbo, not with Soap being right next to him.

And he won’t need to - Ghost is perfectly capable as a fighter with no abilities. There’s a reason the rumors about him as so varied.

Near inhuman in every aspect.

Soap is done before him (less knives, amateur), and now sits to watch Ghost finish up.

A low whistle makes him twist around, “haven’t seen this get-up since the last time we worked together, lookin’ good LT”.

…huh?

“Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” Ghost voices almost mechanically.

“Aye sir, yessir.” Soap gives him an overexaggerated salute.

He rolls his eyes and ignores the warm feeling spreading through his body for the billionth time.

The cartel member’s house appears in the distance after a few minutes of making their way through the wilder parts of Las Almas. Ghost and Soap take out the guards at the front gate and make their way in.

The house is a two storey, drab building, with no real defining features. It’s surrounded by a tall fence, and a smaller shed is stuck by the far left corner of the large yard.

The suspected location of the kidnapped people is by the far end of the house. They’re tasked with making it inside without alerting any alarms, lest they start killing the people trapped inside.

With the front door clear, the two soldiers open the door and instantly check corners, covering each other’s blind spots.

“Clear.”, Ghost announces.

“Clear.” Soap lowers his silenced pistol a bit, “seems awfully empty, LT. Sure we got the right house?”

“Affirm, stay sharp Sergeant.” Ghost starts forwards, Soap not far behind him.

He feels unnerved. The Sergeant is right, the house is quiet, as though it’s been deserted weeks ago. But a quick look at the amount of dust settled on the floors tells him it couldn’t be more than a few days.

They continue forward, clearing rooms methodically. Ghost has a sense of satisfaction from the act, an enjoyment in working together with Soap besides him for the first time.

They complete each other’s blind spots like puzzle pieces.

Soap declares the first floor clear, barring one last room at the very end of the hallway. Up until then they found several evidences that there were narcos residing here in the past, including a hefty amount of white powder, but they’re not here on a drug bust.

“On me Sergeant”, Ghost orders Soap before pushing the door open.

The scene inside is gruesome. Ghost is intimately familiar with narco torturing techniques, so the bloodied items strewn across the room were an unfriendly sight.

4 bodies lay in the room, and Ghost walks over to check for cartel tattoos on them. One of the bodies has dog tags, and he frowns while pulling it out of the dead man’s shirt.

They read “Thomas Anderson”. Why is that name familiar-

“Sergeant Thomas Anderson, 28. Revenant powers… ‘Breathing underwater?’”

Soap examines the torturing devices with wary eyes, muttering “steamin’ Jesus…” under his breath.

Ghost spots a large tub, filled with reddish water.

Anderson’s body is dry, besides the blood oozing out of his cold body.

The three other men in the room however… Their body is coated with an even amount of thinned blood, from their head down to their chests. They died from drowning.

What is the meaning of this…?

Ghost takes Anderson’s dog tags and stands up, “4 confirmed deaths, no survivors”, he radios in.

“Copy, exfil inbound in 30, get yourself there.”

They both exit the room, “copy, out here.”

Ghost turns to stand in front of the Sergeant, “one of them was a revenant”, he dangles the tags in front of Soap’s eyes. The date of Reaping is listed right under date of birth, like in their own tags.

Soap frowns, a certain anger washing over him, “what do you think they’re playin’ at?”

“We can chew on that back at base, for now let get to exfil-”

Ghost barely finishes his sentence when he sees Soap’s eyes widen, locked on something behind his shoulder. Half a second later, he’s being spun around, and the piercing sound of bullets fills the air.

Ghost’s heart hammers, and he finally focuses on the view in front of him. Soap’s wide, blue eyes.

And several blotches of red peppered across his torso, spreading quicker than Ghost can process.

“...Soap?” his mind can’t, refuses to make sense of the sight in front of him. Soap isn’t… he can’t be…

The Sergeant’s breaths are erratic, chest rising and falling in big swells. The shock in his eyes transforms, burns away.

Until all that’s left, is rage.

“I’m so sick of this…” Soap murmurs. Shouts in Spanish echo behind them, but Ghost have eyes and ears only for his Sergeant.

Soap lets go of his shoulders, and Ghost scrambles to take him in his arms.

But Soap turns around and walks away, legs shaking and hands burning brighter and brighter by the second.

One brave narco shoots at his shoulder, making the Scot stagger for a moment.

Ghost lifts an arm, to drag Soap back to him, to cover him from anyone who ever harmed him, to do something, anything.

But Soap unleashes a terrifying snarl and launches forward, grabbing at the narcos.

The explosions blind Ghost, screams and horrible sounds of metal creaking to the breaking point and bones snapping deafening him.

Soap whirls in the middle of this firestorm, exploding guns, heads, walls, anything in his path.

Ghost’s eyes water from the amount of dust and smoke that fills the air.

His Sergeant is radiant.

“Soap…” Ghost tries to stop the unstoppable. He just wants Soap to rest.

“Johnny…..”

Soap finally stills, carnage creating a halo around him, and all Ghost sees is the red on his clothes, the wheezing of his breath.

Ghost takes a step forward, and Soap collapses on his knees.

He rushes to grab him by the shoulders before he can fall further, “you’re fine Johnny, you’re going to be fine.” he sputters, pushing his Sergeant up to look at the wounds.

So many wounds.

He knows no one can survive this. Not even revenants.

“LT…” Soap whispers, voice weak and wobbly.

“You’re going to be alright, you…” air leaves his lungs without a sound. He can’t breathe. How can he?

How can he breathe when Soap lifts a trembling hand, the gentle warmth of flames licking at Ghost’s nape, and looks at him like that?

“LT… I’m not gonna-”

They both jump at the sound of car tires getting closer. The narcos called for backup…

Ghost can’t breathe. He watches Soap shivers in front of him.

He doesn’t have a choice.

Ghost takes Soap in his arms, hand on his nape mirroring his Sergeant, and presses his head to his own shoulder.

“Close your eyes, Johnny. It will all be over soon.”

He can hear Soap gasp, can feel his chest stuttering.

Ghost closes his eyes the moment footsteps enter the house.

Limbo courses out of him, darkness and emptiness and void filling the house, the residents of it screaming, snarling to take a bite at the intruders.

He holds Soap tight, pressing himself as close as he can. The protective wisps of light barely cover them both, but he will not let Soap be taken by Limbo.

Not Soap. Not Johnny.

In the next blink, Limbo is gone. The victims of the void quiet, as if they also mourn along Ghost.

Johnny pushes lightly at his chest, and Ghost separates them to look him in the eyes.

He seemed to try to form a sentence before a series of coughs wrecked his body, so Ghost laid him down on the blood-covered floor.

“G-Ghost”, he utters through clenched teeth, “d’ye… d’ye know how guns work?”

Ghost’s heart crushes at the sound of his Sergeants voice. He’s… not making sense anymore. Blood delirium isn’t unheard of… especially… especially with how much he-

“Yes”, Ghost softly whispers, more gentle than he ever learned to be.

“T-tell me”, Soap winces when more pain makes its way through his system.

Ghost wants to wither away with him. “The bullet goes into the chamber… and the primer is ignited to cause a small exp-”

His world stops completely.

“T-Teh cause a small ex-explosion.” Soap finishes slowly.

Johnny is…

“I’m not gonna d-die, LT”

Ghost’s eyes slide away from Soap’s, to the rest of his body. He slowly lifts his Sergeant’s shirt, to reveal multiple bullet holes where the tac vest didn’t cover him.

Bullet holes that are already closing.

Ghost wanted to scream out of joy, wail in premature unwarranted grief, shout at Soap for not telling him earlier.

But the radio informs them exfil is 10 minutes out, and they need to get a move on if they want to arrive in time.

Ghost slides his hands under Soap’s body, blood soaking his gloves in a way that takes him back 8 months ago. Back when it was different.

Soap grasps him like he’ll fall if he doesn’t.

Different, yet also the same.

The walk to exfil is quiet, save for Soap’s harsh breathing. Healing or not, he still feels pain.

The driver of their exfil car looks horrified at their shared state, but neither give an explanation and take a sit at the back of the car. It’s only after a few moments of nothing that Ghost mutters, “drive” to the Vaquero.

He feels numb, his arms and legs limp, gaze forward, but nothing truly passes through his brain.

Soap shifts beside him, letting out grunts of pain every once in a while. Making it obvious, despite what his heart tells him, that he’s very much alive.

The blood seeping under his fingernails feels freezing.

The Vaquero was at a loss of what to do with them once the car reaches the base. Ghost shuts the door loudly, and with it the connection to his heart.

Lieutenant first, human last.

“Where is medical?” He asks the man.

Ghost carries Soap all the way to the nurse’s hands, where he was stopped and told he had to clean up if he wanted to stay any longer. He wanted to scream infection doesn’t matter when the wounds will close in the matter of minutes, but the look on the nurse told him she wasn’t impressed.

He left medical to drag himself to the showers, energy left behind him with every step.

Showers are usually a short ordeal for him, as efficient as they come. But Johnny’s blood going down the drain made him linger.

30 or so minutes later he comes out, and for the first time in what feels like hours there's something in his brain, besides numbness.

It’s Price. Him and Gaz returned.

The voice in his mind sounds concerned, imploring him to explain why everything looks so dull there.

Ghost ignores it and goes to find his teammates.

“Ghost” Price greets, Gaz perks up from his previous position, head held in his hands. “Where’s the Sergeant?”

Ghost nods back at the hallway, “medical.” is all he provides.

Garrick startles, “Was he injured? What happened?”

“Flanked.” Ghost says, voice matching the emptiness in his head, “got shot.”

“Shot?! Fuck, where-”

“He’s immune.” Ghost cuts him off.

Gaz becomes confused, “immune?”

“To bullets. Primer ignition counts as explosion.”

The Sergeant sits back down, body slackening, “thank fuck…”

Price catches ghost’s eye contact, “but you didn’t know that.”

Ghost just… shrugs.

“Fucking hell…” the Captain looks away, “it was one of the redacted details in his file…”

Gaz frowns, “why would they redact that?”

“Reapers know.”

The next couple of hours zoom past Ghost. His teammates try to coax him out of his unfeeling self, but Ghost isn’t truly in base.

His mind is stuck in a cartel house, in the Las Almas wilderness. On bloody and soot covered floor, with a dying man in his arms.

On eyes, shining with burning rage.

Pain! Pain! Pain! All I'm making Ghost feel is pain!

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klwrites · 8 months

Text

Born To Die.1 (Jason Todd x reader)

Requests!!

The reader and Jason were friends for a long time before Batman took him in. You and him only had each other and the streets of Gotham.

(TW drug use)

Cold nights were the worst. You weren’t sleeping outside or anything but the kitchen floor of your job wasn’t the coziest. Speaking of warm, there was more warm next to you last night, where did Jason go? It wasn’t abnormal to wake up without him. Hell, you’ve spent more mornings without him then with, but no matter what you always ended up sharing the day by lunch time. You took a few steps outside before the familiar smell of smoke ran through your nose and you let your nose guide the way. There was a long path that trailed behind the buildings your job was in, heading to the usual spot you whistled to calmly grab his attention.

“It’s not even 8 am is it? Already at it?”

You joked, what better way to warm up? He passed it over to you while you mumbled a thanks.

The crisp air was awakening.

“You working today?”

“No,” you paused, taking a hit. “I know what we should do today though.”

“And what’s that?”

“Holy shit, Firefly… you’re insane.” Jason chuckled, looking around at the empty green house.

He questioned you robbing a magical treehouse,

“I’ve seen the women who owns them she doesn’t need all of them… and shes a criminal.”

“These won’t hurt you will they? You don’t know what she could have in these plants.”

You laughed,

“Yes, this tired women laced her beloved plants.”

Stretching your hand forward touching the large flower bud planted in the middle of the greenhouse. Your finger tips felt warm as the plant shared its energy to you.

“This is one way to make it through the winter.” Said Jason, taking stems and roots of various plants and throwing them into his bag.

If I get sick this winter I’ll die.

You let go of the plant, feeling full of life again. You excitedly let out a shout of energy.

“Her plants have something to them, man.”

“You’ve been here before? Without me? That’s dangerous.”

Not really, you replied.

You shivered, weak against the wind. Gotham city’s pollution was out of control and non frozen greenery was impossible to find. You curled up closer to yourself while sitting on the floor. Homelessness as a plant being who needs the sun and warmth to thrive has some ugly moments. Taking one last weak sad breath, you shriveled down into your unconscious.

After a while of freezing, a tall being with fiery red had come across your inhuman rotten looking body. Don’t ask how you knew, but you knew she knew you needed her help.

“Finally awake are you?” A deep gorgeous voice questioned from the shadows. You sat up from wherever you had been laid down and looked around. A green house, full of the craziest plants you’ve ever seen. The strongest energy you’ve felt.

“Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about it. You were dead on the streets of Gotham before I took you here. You should be thankful.”

“Why do I feel so strong?” You honestly asked. Her green skin was a give away that you could be honest with her.

“Because, darling, there’s no plants like my own. Where are your plants, hm? How did you let yourself freeze and die like that?”

“I’m stronger then her. It wouldn’t matter.” You said shortly.

“Uh” he said doubtfully, “alright”.

This women can survive winter and, well, you can’t. So you need her plants. As many as you can get. Prop lifting is the act of stealing plants by taking a piece of their stems, and planting the stem to grow your own plant; ‘propagation’ is the act of making one plant multiple.

“I need a Greenhouse.” You sighed

“If I could give you a greenhouse I would.”

“Means a lot,” you laughed, “Thanks.”

Even though you rolled your eyes, you can’t lie and say Jason isn’t a sweetheart at the whole plant thing, because he’s the best, most thoughtful, best friend anyone could ask for. Continuing picking the stems of colorful, glowing, exotic plants, when next thing you knew a plant reached out and grabbed your wrists and ankles holding you in place. Firstly, you looked towards Jason to see he was caught too.

Here we go. Your eyes glowed white, and skin glowed a fluorescent green and light pink. Connecting to the plants to calm them, freeing you and Jason instantly. Jason ran in-front of you as protection, but, no offense, you didn’t need it in this situation. Pulling Jason away you faced the one behind the attack. Poison Ivy. You didn’t know much of her criminal history, just that she saved you once. Even though that ended up meaning nothing.

What separates you and The Poison Ivy is that you’re an empath in a way. You survive on the energy of other life, just by living in it. (Or living in a perfect world at least) You can manipulate the energy from others into whatever energy you want, with practice. You don’t have that much practice. You did the one thing you’re good at. Sleep. Poison Ivy fell forward with her plants.

“We gotta go.”

#batman #jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc robin #batman and robin #robin x you #jason todd x y/n #dc universe #batman x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson #robin #teen titans #dc titans

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prettyboyeddiemunson · 2 years

Note

vampire!Eddie able to smell your blood pumping, after working out or just doing a lot of house/yard work, coming in from outside smelling like an absolute treat. or maybe you're both outside after dark, fooling around by the lake, getting out of breath and he just looks at you like oh, I gotta have a taste right this second, even if there's other people on the lake right now.

GOOD GOD YESSS 😩😩

eddie always making you wait to do chores and/or your workouts after dark, just so he can smell your blood pumping as you do it. you really don’t understand him—but then again, how could you? you were human, after all, this fragile little being compared to the pillar of absolute god-like strength that was now eddie. but you love him so much that you humor him, and it becomes a habit for you. after all, your life is mostly lived at night now, anyway, right? why not just put it off until then, and spend your days resting instead?

one night, you guys go out to lover’s lake. it’s an absolutely beautiful summer evening, with the smell of sun still hanging in the air, the faint scent of campfires blowing in across the water, and the smell of july humidity hanging on the lake. there are people all around, either doing some night swimming or boating, and you & eddie decide to swim, too. you stick close to the shore, away from the boats so that you don’t accidentally get run over or hurt somehow. obviously, swimming is a form of exercise, and as you swim around your area of the water, eddie can smell your blood working through your body. that, combined with the other scents all around the two of you, sends his bloodlust into overdrive.

what does he do about it? he grabs you, kissing you hard and deep, biting at your lower lip and licking up the blood from where his fangs nicked you. he’s moving down your body, slipping further into the water, his mouth all over your breasts and your stomach as he goes lower and lower. he’s eating you out beneath the water, and you’re holding onto the pillar of the dock behind you to keep yourself afloat. he’s technically dead, so he doesn’t have to breathe, and he uses it to his advantage for sure. you can also feel him biting at your groin, your inner thighs, hell, even your lower belly. none of those bites penetrate deeply—they’re shallow and just enough to tease you & draw the smallest amount of blood—but they feel good just the same.

and when you cum, he swims back up to kiss you. you’re breathless, your blood is pumping even more quickly now because of your orgasm, and that’s when you’ve never smelled sweeter. eddie can’t take it; his head is absolutely spinning with your scent, and it’s all he can think about. he just looks at you, taking in your blissed-out expression and your heaving chest, and draws you close to his body. he fucks into you upon your consent, holding you tightly so that you stay above water, his teeth at your throat as your head falls back with relentless moans as he rails into sopping cunt. you’re both aware that you could be heard, or even seen, but you don’t give a shit. eddie is too consumed with lust of all sorts to care, and all you can focus on is how good his long, thick cock feels thrusting into you at inhuman speed. he’s both blood & pussy drunk, and you’re absolutely dumb on his cock, your nails drawing blood down his back as you scratch him hard from how fucking amazing it feels.

you beg him to bite you. you need it so goddamn bad, and so does he. it’s all he could think about the minute you started swimming, and only intensified as he went down on you. he sinks his fangs into your skin, right where the shoulder & neck meet, and you moan loudly as you claw at him while you cum yet again. it was probably the fastest you ever came in your life, but is eddie finished with you? nope! he’s going to drink his fill as safely as possible, and he’s going to fuck you until he says you’re finished. which is a fact that you definitely don’t complain about, not one damn bit.

#eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #vampire eddie munson

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leviathans-watching · 2 years

Text

☽ chapter one | wc: 3.1k | series m.list ☾

Your hand is steady as you begin to light the candles you’d spent so long arranging into place. Everything is exactly as it should be, and excitement tingles under your skin as you consider what your future will look like in a few mere minutes.

A pact, huh?

You only know of one sorcerer who had pacts with demons, and he’s the most renowned sorcerer to exist. If you can get a pact, surely you’ll ascend to his level, establishing yourself right under him.

At least, that's what you hope.

It all depends on this spell going well. This spell will summon Mammon, Avatar of Greed, and force him into a pact with you. Some might shy away from the idea of ‘forcing’ a pact, but not you. It’s not as if you really intend to do something against his will, and anyway, you’ve fought too long and hard to get to where you are. Giving it up now would be ridiculous. And it’s not like the contract will only benefit you. Surely Mammon can gain something from it as well.

You’d thought long and hard about which demon to summon. You wanted one powerful, but not so powerful as to beat you, which is why you passed on Lucifer. From the stories you’ve heard, Mammon is on better terms with humans than many of his other brothers, which was a reassurance, and though you’d considered going for Asmodeus, you eventually decided against it, not wanting there to be a conflict of interest.

So overall, Mammon was the best choice.

Setting the lighter aside, you take a moment to steady yourself before beginning the incantation. Your eyes slip close as you recite the memorized words. After a few long moments of silence, you carefully peek at the summoning circle, dismayed to see it empty. What had gone wrong? You’d done everything exactly according to the instructions!

Bone-weary tiredness settles over you. No wonder you’re unable to get your sorcerer's license. You can’t even perform a spell like this.

Shaking your head in disappointment, you stand, turning your back to the summoning circle. You should probably clean up.

It’s as you’re bending down to pick up your bowl of herbs that a bright yellow light fills the room. It probably would have blinded you had you been looking directly at it, making you grateful you are facing away.

“What,” a low voice says, “the hell is goin’ on?”

You whirl around, hands covering your eyes as the last of the bright light dissipates. “Mammon?” you venture, moving your fingers so you can see.

“Uh, yeah? Who the hell are you?”

Mammon… is not what you were expecting. Instead of some horrific creature, you’re met with a pretty normal-looking guy, all things considered. Sure, he’s got horns and wings, but that's it. Oh. He has abs, too. So horns, wings, and very prominent abs.

“My name is MC,” you say bravely, looking very intently at his eyes, which are an inhumane blue. “And I summoned you. I wish to make a pact.”

“A pact?” Mammon squawks, confusing you. “ That’s what you were tryin’ to do?”

You raise a brow. “Yes?”

Mammon curses, slipping into the rough tones of the underworld. “A goddamn pact. Shit.” Shaking his head roughly, he fixes you with a hard look. “Hate to break it to you, Sweetcheeks, but you fucked up.”

“What?” You squint at him. “No. No way. I followed all of the instructions perfectly.”

“And there’s your problem. Whoever told you that was a pact spell was lyin’ to you.” Mammon seems genuinely distressed, and you feel very out of your element. You’d planned to summon Mammon, and coolly invite him to make a pact, take his power, etc. etc. etc., but now your plan is going awry.

You’re scared to ask for further clarification but you do anyway. “Well then, what kind of spell was it?”

Mammon winces like he was hoping you weren’t going to ask. “It’s a, uh, binding spell. We’re bound together now. Our souls are, for a lack of a better term, intertwined.”

“But what does that mean?” You press, trying to identify any difference you could within yourself. You couldn’t sense that anything's changed, let alone get the feeling that you and this demon's souls are ‘intertwined’.

“I’m not up-to-date on all the human stuff, since it’s been so long since I’ve been in the overworld, but I guess you could call it akin to being married? Obviously, it runs much, much deeper than that, but humans were mimicking this bond when they came up with the whole concept.” Mammon continues, seemingly unaware of the effect his words have on you.

You feel like the air’s been knocked out of you. “W-what? Married?” Your voice breaks on the word and you slide down against your cabinets, legs like jelly. “You’re kidding me.”

“Unfortunately not.” Mammon watches you with concern. “I don’t know how you even managed to cast the spell. It’s powerful, intricate magic that only very few could perform.”

“Then how did I do it? I swear I’m not that good at magic!” You try to calm down, aware that your audience of one is a very powerful demon who’d likely exploit any weaknesses he found.

That bastard had told you it was a relatively easy spell when he’d given it to you! “I was trying to get a pact with you to get better at magic! I was turned down by the Sorcerer’s Society so I decided to show them up with this! But you can, ah, see how it turned out,” you continue, gesturing vaguely at Mammon. You let your head fall back against the wood behind you, at a complete loss.

“Bull,” Mammon snorts. “You’re telling me that a novice sorcerer managed this spell?”

“I’m not even a sorcerer,” you admit. “When I went to apply for my license I failed the exams.”

Mammon gapes at you for a moment before visibly reigning himself in. “Look. Let’s just calm down for a moment.” Mammon hesitantly steps out of the summoning ring, approaching you. “We’ll figure it all out.”

“We will? You’re sticking around?

Grimacing, Mammon crouches down near you, still an arm's length away. “I mean, yeah. First of all, the binding magic leaves a mark, meaning all demons will be able to sense our bond, which I don’t really want happening quite yet. And anyway, I haven’t been allowed up into the Human Realm in some time so I plan on taking advantage of it for as long as possible.”

Mammon looks like he said more than he meant to, so you let it go, deciding it would be a bad idea to push the very powerful demon you just accidentally bound your fucking soul to.

“Okay,” you say, blowing out a breath. “So, where do we go from here?”

Mammon shrugs. “Let’s take it slow for now. But eventually, we’ll have to figure out how to break this.”

Gulping, you look over at him. “You don’t know how?”

Mammon shrugs. “It's never been done before. Every other time the spell was cast it was intentionally laid. There was no need to break it.”

You suppose that makes sense. If what Mammon’s describing is true, then the spell is meant to bind two people together inescapably, something people would want to do with their loved ones. There’d be no reason to break it. If you were going to go as far as to bind your soul to someone then you’d be confident that they were the ones you’d want to spend the rest of your life with.

“Great.” Feeling your stomach grumble, you stand, looking around your kitchen, which is still set up for the incantation. “That’s just great.” You begin to clean up, aware of Mammon watching intently. His gaze rubs the wrong way on your already wrung-out nerves and eventually, you can’t stand it. “What?” you snap, and Mammon stands as well. You note he’s taller than you, standing well over the average human height.

“What are you doin’?”

“What’s it look like? I’m cleaning up.” You stare at him, candle in your hand. Wordlessly, Mammon begins helping you, only confusing you further. With your direction, he puts everything in a neat pile on the counter for you to sort through and put away later.

“So,” Mammon starts, breaking the awkward silence. “MC, was it?”

You nod. “Yes. And you’re Mammon, Avatar of Greed.”

Mammon’s chest puffs out. “That’s Mammon THE Great, to you, human!”

Unimpressed, you just fix him with a look, continuing to clean. Once all of the spell stuff is put away in its rightful place you turn to your food cabinets, rooting around for something easy. Again, Mammon just watches.

“You can, uh, go explore, or something,” you say, nodding towards the doorway of the living room. “I guess if you're going to be here awhile you can just make yourself at home.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mammon says, quickly vacating your kitchen, and for the first time since he’s shown up, you can breathe again. Only I would manage to get myself into a situation like this, you think bitterly, pulling out sandwich stuff. Curse that scummy sorcerer for giving me this spell.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“I only have one bedroom,” you say, looking over at Mammon some time later, after you’d both eaten and placed your dishes in the sink. Do demons even need sleep? “Which means one bed. You can have it until I manage to get another sleeping option.”

Mammon tears his eyes away from the TV, considering. “Where will you sleep?”

You pat the couch you’re both sitting on. “I’ll take the couch. I have extra blankets and pillows tucked away somewhere I can use.”

“Works for me.” Perhaps someone other than Mammon would argue out of politeness, but he is a demon, and the Avatar of Greed at that, so you’re not really surprised when he doesn’t.

“Let me go get clean sheets and pick up a bit,” you say, thinking about all of the stuff you have lying around. Your house isn’t super clean in general- not that it’s dirty, just cramped. Cluttered, if you will. You don’t tend to have guests so there’s no need for you to maintain it all that well, and though you know it’s a dumb feeling, you can’t help but fear that Mammon is judging you based on it.

As you set about tidying up, you find your thoughts drifting to Mammon, who has easily integrated himself into your space. He’s different than you were expecting, obviously, and you’re still trying to figure out how you feel about him. Despite all of his posturing, he doesn’t seem all that bad. The only issue is his sticky fingers, as you’ve already had to scold him for pocketing some of your stuff, but really, in the scheme of things, that is a pretty low-level thing to worry about.

(Considering you’re still kind of scared he’s going to kill you brutally for fucking up so badly.)

Mammon, surprisingly, is funny. His humor’s slightly crass and a little rude, but so far it hasn’t been mean-spirited, and he seems to know when enough is enough. He also knows what to say, and his lack of fear in the situation is oddly reassuring.

He’s, in his own words out of touch with the overworld, but he seems to be faring alright so far, easily using your laptop and TV. You wonder how different the two realms really are after all. Maybe you’ll get to go to the Devildom eventually, assuming you and Mammon come out of this both alive and not hating one another.

“Don’t you sorcerers for a spell for all of that?” Mammon asks from the doorway, startling you enough that you drop the comforter you were throwing over the sheets.

“Oh, like I said, I’m not very good at magic,” you say, pressing a palm to your chest. Getting used to not living alone will surely be a challenge. “I can do the spells, of course, I just would rather not use up the last of my magic on them. Today’s… spell thing really took a lot out of me.” The busywork is also helpful, but that doesn’t need to be admitted.

“Hm.” Mammon watches you finish up, eyes boring into your back. “This whole situation doesn’t make any sense. Someone giving you the wrong spell. The fact you were able to cast it. The fact that it even worked at all.” When you turn to look at him, he shakes his head, giving you a half-smile, teeth glinting in the lamplight. “Nevermind. We’ll work on it tomorrow, like you said.”

“Right. Tomorrow. Speaking of that, is there anything specific you want or need for breakfast? I realized I don’t exactly know what demons eat, or what they can eat, so I may not be stocked up with the right foods. Oh my god, do you guys eat souls? I don’t have that. Well, I do, but-” Realizing you’re rambling, you cut yourself off with a sigh.

Mammon watches you for a moment without answering, an odd look on his face. It vanishes though, in favor of a shit-eating grin. “We could eat souls if we wanted to. I don’t, but my brother, Beel…” He’s talking about Beelzebub, Avatar of Gluttony. Seeing your mildly uneasy look, he laughs. “Don’t worry about it. I can eat whatever, so I’m sure what you eat will be fine.”

“Alright,” you say hesitantly. “I have an extra toothbrush for you in the bathroom, and if you need a change of clothes I’m sure I could magic one up for you, or whatever.”

“Thanks, but I can do that myself.” You’re reminded you’re speaking to the second most powerful demon to walk the realms. “And thanks. You’re surprisingly cool about all of this, you know, for a human.”

“Well, I can’t say I’ve been in this position before, but when you learn about sorcery, you learn to roll with the punches.” Laughing a little, you pull the door closed behind you. “Goodnight, Mammon.”

“Night, MC,” he says and you see him looking at all of the stuff you have pinned to your walls before the door finishes shutting. You make sure that the front door is locked and the lights are off before settling on the couch, and despite all of the stuff your mind has to pick apart and focus on, you fall asleep quickly, the exhaustion of the day catching up to you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

The next morning finds you and Mammon in the kitchen, both with bowls of cereal.

“Solomon?” Mammon’s eyes are wide, and his voice jumps up an octave or two. “You said Solomon gave you that spell?”

Leaning back slightly, you nod. “Um, yeah. Do you know him?”

Mammon laughs, though the sound is humorless. “Yes. And he’s a giant dick. This is probably his idea of a joke.” Muttering under his breath, Mammon runs his hands through his hair, making it even more disheveled than it previously was. Apparently, even demons get bedhead.

(It still looks good, though.)

“I know him through my work as a sorcerer,” you say. “He helps me out every once and a while and I had a few classes that were TA’d by him.”

“Wait, you go to classes to learn this stuff?” Mammon stares at you before shaking his head. “Never mind, unimportant. He works as a human ambassador down in the Devildom. I know him pretty well, unfortunately.”

“Do you not like him?”

“It’s not that I don’t like him,” Mammon hedges unconvincingly. “He just gets on my nerves, actin’ all smug all of the time. Like he knows better than everyone else.”

“I guess I can see that. You both have strong personalities so it’s probably easy to clash with one another,” you muse. “But I don’t understand why he’d give me the wrong incantation. Do you think it was an accident?”

“With Solomon?” Mammon growls. “Never. That bastard likes to get under my skin and this was probably his newest way of doin’ that. I just don’t get why he’d get you involved, though. I coulda eaten you, you know. And that would have been on his hands.”

“Well, you didn't eat me,” you say firmly, though you’re once again struck with the reminder that he is a demon and you are but a human, “so let's keep it that way and just chalk it up to a prank?”

“I dunno.” Mammon furrows his brows. “Solomon likes to play three steps ahead. I can’t help but believe he’d have more than one motive for this, though I don’t understand what they’d be.”

“We could always ask him,” you offer, and Mammon’s eyes snap to yours.

“We could,” he agrees, though his tone is somewhat reluctant. “I just…”

“What is it?” you pry, trying to be gentle.

“Look. I wouldn’t expect a lowly human to understand my situation, but I don’t want to go back down just yet. This binding between us is a surefire way to keep my brothers off my back, at least for a little while. Normally, Lucifer’d be able to track me using my aura, but I think since it’s changed because of our souls and whatnot, it should take him some time.”

“So you don’t want to figure out a way to undo it just yet?” you surmise, eyes wide. You thought Mammon would be nothing but eager to get away from you and the spell.

“Not because of you, or anythin',” Mammon says quickly, and you bite back a smile. “I just wanna explore. See the sights around the overworld.”

“That’s fine with me, I guess,” you agree. “I don’t have anything super important going on right now, besides re-trying out for my sorcerer's license. Which I still can’t do, since my plan was to have a pact with you and I don’t have one of those.”

Mammon’s silent, and you realize how weird you just sounded.

“N-not that I was going to really force you into anything you wanted to do. If you really didn’t want to make one with me, that would have been fine. Obviously. Bodily autonomy and all that.” Smiling nervously at Mammon, you’re taken aback when he snorts, hair flopping into his eyes.

“Relax, human. You’re hardly the first to try for a pact with me outta the blue, though you are the most polite.”

“Thanks, I think.” Mammon still surprises you. When you expect one response, you’re often met with a very different one, and you can’t help but wonder if it’s cultural differences or simply his personality. “But you said you want to explore the human realm? Is there anything in particular you want to see?”

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