#This dude's name is Riot for me

[writer-room]

I think the best thing about Arcane is that it proves fanfiction can really be legitimately some of the best written stories so long you have people who are REALLY ill about the content. Because that's what it is. Arcane is literally taking League of Legends and saying "my lore now". It's taking the preexisting lore it DID have and expanding upon it in a "wouldn't it be crazy if..." sort of way. It's erasing canon it thinks is stupid (Ekko's hair), it's confirming the underscored gay shit (Caitvi) while also making canon that one niche ship the author really likes (Timebomb), it's creating a found family trope (everything around Vander & Silco's kiddos), it's got original characters that get close with the main characters (Mel, Sevika, Isha, etc), it's got everything.

Arcane is a 100k+ longfic and I mean this in the most awe-inspiring way. All terrible media has a few people who are deathly insane about it and say "I can fix it" while opening up a word doc, and League of Legends got the pure LUCK of those people being legitimate film industry professionals. GODSPEED

[saph-yells-into-the-void]

grown ass man btw cheering like an elementary schooler bc his closeted lesbian sister has a girl interested in her

[cosmic-dust-poltergeist]

Pt 4 of forever teen Danny adopted JJ Tim and Red Hood Jason. Sorry if you're a Batman or Nightwing fan, I'm not nice to them in this one.

[Pt3: Here][pt5: here]

The last 4 years have been a riot. Danny has 2 wonderful and slightly unhinged boys that he stole from the Bats. They've gotten in so many shenanigans, between normal vigilante shit, the Bats and/or ghost/supernatural hunters trying to bag them, and them just fucking around.

It's the most fun he's had in a while. They're good kids, but they, of course, have started branching out. They're 19 (Jason) and 17(Tim) now and don't necessarily want their dad following them around. So Danny gave them his personal summons just in case and made them promise to stay close together, the two of them are good at covering for the other's weaknesses. Like how Tim only being Liminal, he can take more hits from the ghost hunters that will clock Jason as a Revenant or Jason's supernatural strength taking out the bigger assholes that target Tim for his small size or Joker mannerisms.

So he tries not to worry, simply going to work and trusting them to either deal with any trouble themselves or summon him. And for 3 months they don't need to summon him once. But at the end of month 3, he feels it.

"Hey, Eddy! I got to go! My kids are in trouble!" Danny calls to his boss, already moving to somewhere there's less witnesses to see him poof.

"Okay! See ya! ...Wait, you have kids?" Danny doesn't answer, letting the summons take ahold and pull him through the fabric of reality.

A fun side effect of being summoned is that he always ends up in his High King form. The form is humanoid in the vaguest of sense. It's also just stars and the void of space. His eyes are giant stars and his mouth is too wide and full of rows and rows of needle-like teeth. A crown of ice smokes like dry ice on his head and the ring of rage is simple stripe of neon green on his right hand's middle finger (he thought it'd be funny to flip people off with it). All in all, he's terrifying for mortals to see unprepared.

And the cussing around him tells the people hassling his sons are NOT prepared.

"HOW THE FUCK DID YOU SUMMON THE GHOST KING???" A very distraught British man shrieks. Danny would feel bad, but this idiot is standing near the Bat and Nightwing AND Danny's sons are tied up in front of them.

"DAaaaAD!" Tim whines, flopping over to look at him. "They're trying to excorise Hoodie!"

"Are they now?" Danny hisses. His voice sounds like glaciers crashing together.

"Bats! What the fuck??? You didn't tell me THAT WAS THEIR DAD!" British man sounds on the brink of a mental breakdown.

"We've never seen this entity." Batman frowns.

"Yeah! They've been calling a ghost kid dad this whole time!" Nightwing defends. "How were we supposed to know they could summon this guy??"

"What...what did you say the "kid"'s name was?" British dude asks faintly.

"We didn't." Batman says.

"Weeell, Johnny-boy!" Jason sounds like he has a shit eating grin. "What they didn't tell you is our sweet ol' adoptive father is called Phantom~!"

"Oh goodie! We're so dead..." "Johnny" says and starts chugging his flask of probably alcohol. It suddenly clicks that this is the fabled John Constantine.

"You should know better than to take a job half-assed, John Constantine." Danny grins with teeth.

"Oh good, he knows my name.." Constantine mumbles to himself.

"Give me one good reason to not kill you all for trying to kill my son and kidnap the other." Danny waves a hand and slices his sons' bindings. "I have only been so patient with you bats because my sons are fond of you, but my patience is running out."

"Tim belongs with us! He needs help and healing!" Nightwing proclaims.

"I talk to a licensed therapist twice a week and take my meds every day! Try again, Big Birdie!!" Tim snarls. "Just because I'm not what you want me to be doesn't mean I'm a broken doll in need of saving!"

"Besides, don't you have a new bird to destroy?" Jason asks with a head tilt. "The second birdie died, the third got mentally fucked, the four died... I think we can count birdie #1 as mentally fucked up, meaning if we follow the pattern, birdie #5 will be mentally fucked by the time he flies the nest."

"How do you know so much about us, Red Hood?" Batman demands with a scowl.

"He doesn't have to tell you anything!" Tim steps in front of Jason and glares.

"I'm still waiting on a reason to not kill you." Danny reminds them. The bats look towards Constantine.

"Don't look at me, mates. That's head bitch of all head bitches. The fact he's letting you plead your case after threatening what he deems as his is a step up huge from most overpowered dead guys. From what I heard, the last guy would have just killed us the moment he was summoned and then destroyed the whole dimension afterwards. This guy beat that guy in single combat." Constantine pulls out a cigarette before addressing Danny, "Your Majesty, I had no idea these were your kids. I was just told a Revenant had kidnapped and "brainwashed" the ex-Robin. Clearly, I wasn't told accurate information."

Nightwing sputters, "What Do You Mean?? Clearly Tim has been brainwashed or something!!"

Constantine whips around to Nightwing, "Oh shut up, you big blue twit! King Phantom DESPISES mind control! Which means your ex-bird is with these two completely willingly."

"There's n-" Nightwing tries, but Constantine bulldozes on.

"I don't know what you did to the kid, nor do I care. But he's considered ROYALTY to the dead and undead now. He doesn't have to have ANYTHING to do with you. If you take him away from his new and apparently accepting family, that's considered an interdimensional crime, and no magician or supernatural or even god-like being will help you." Constantine takes a long drag of his cigarette. "I suggest you apologize, make your excuses, then leave them the fuck alone. Besides, crime has been at a record low in Gotham from what I hear. Let them do what they want. "

"That's because Red Hood keeps killing the Rouges!" Nightwing protests. "Who gives him the right to be judge, jury, and executioner???"

Constantine points to Danny and says flatly. "The ruler of basically everything, that's who."

Danny grins at him, his ghost half is very pleased with the man. "I shall spare you, magic man."

Constantine looks like he's going to faint from relief, moving to park himself by the door. "Just fucking apologize and leave them be, Bats."

"But!" Nightwing looks like he's going to cry. He turns his teary eyes to Tim. "Why can't you just come home, Timmy?"

"What home?" Tim stares down his nose at Nightwing, anger clear in his voice. "The Manor was Never my home. I was simply the stand in for your and B's grief for a boy you both pushed to his death. Phantom showed me what family really was. And that was AFTER I was too broken for you to accept. I was NOT Joker Junior then or now. I'm my own fucking person and I'm staying with the family that accepts me for ALL my oddities."

"You tried to put him in Arkham when he tried to go to you." Red Hood growls. "He wanted your support and help and you were going to lock him up and throw away the key."

"We were n-"

"YOU WERE!" Tim starts to trembling in hurt and rage. "You couldn't even look at me! I wanted you so badly to help me and you were going to put me in there right next to Harley! I wanted you to be my family, but I've only ever been a tool to you!"

"You weren't-" Danny doesn't like how the Bats seem ready to jump at his kids, so he freezes the Bats' feet to the floor.

"Shut up, Dickwing." Jason snarls, pulling Tim into a hug. "You lost your chance to be his brother 4 years ago. Go pretend to care about the new cannon fodder. We don't want to hear it."

"Hood." Batman finally speaks. "Who are you?"

"Who do you think, old man?" Jason takes his hood off for the first time ever in front of the Bats. They visibly startle, recognizing him despite all the changes.

"Ja-" The Bat starts.

"Shut up." Jason glares. "You were a shit dad and brother to me in life. I found the BEST family in death."

Danny picks up his boys, deciding to let them decide on the severity of the Bats' punishment. "Maiming or death?"

"... I say maim, but only because I know the newest bird and want him to stay out of the death cult his mother's in." Jason says softly. The Bats sqawk as they Just realize Danny froze their feet to the floor. Mortal tools and fire can't break/melt his ice, but it's amusing to watch the bats try.

Tim is quiet for nearly 3 whole minutes, locked in some sort of internal battle, before he answers. "Maim in a, at least mostly, healable way. Gotham needs Batman, even if we don't."

"Hmm." Danny ignores the Bats' protests to think about what he should do. "Ah! I know exactly what to do!"

He unfreezes their feet and gently forces both to the ground and processes to break both of Nightwing's legs and both of Batman's arms. He pulls one of their coms off and hands it to Tim, he's the only one that sounds normal on normal tech. Jason hasn't been able to use normal tech since Danny fixed his ecto, so Danny modifies anything he or Jason use.

"Hi, Agent A! Batgirl!" Tim's cheerful tone barely hides his seething rage. "You should send a pick up for Dickiebird and B-man! They need medical attention! Ba-bye~!"

Danny can hear the shouting over the com, but Tim simply yeets it towards the Bats instead of listening to whatever they have to say.

"I have a reason for the injuries I picked." Danny informs the room. Jason and Tim look intrigued, Constantine looks exhausted and slightly guilty about the Bats getting hurt on his watch, and the Bats themselves look dazed and in pain, so who knows if they'll remember his reasonings. "Nightwing is an acrobat and truly a bird, so grounding him is cruel, but hopefully he feels as small and helpless as you both did. Grounding him will give him time to think on his actions and their consequences."

Danny's sons look curiously at the grounded Nightwing before looking back to him.

"I broke Batman's arms so that he's forced to ask for help and communicate. He's far too old for his shitty behavior." Danny frowns. "They both need therapy, but I doubt the flying furries will actually get the help they need."

Tim suddenly cackles in delight. "Maybe THEY should check THEMSELVES into Arkham! Ya know! Since they think I, the one ACTUALLY getting help, should be in there!"

Jason starts cackling alongside his brother while Danny chuckles.

"I shall take my children home now, good day." Danny says while wrapping his sons in his invisibility and intangibility and takes them home. A cozy 3 bedroom apartment on the top floor of a building Jason owns as Red Hood.

[spinji]

Ranking Class A's Future Designs Worst to Best

Sato

RIP for your hairline dude

Aoyama

Feels like I could pick him up by that bag handle ass hair. Also the clowns pants just aren't it buddy.

Todoroki

Stop cutting their hair it makes it look like they're balding early.

Sero

Why did you get a manicure before this!?

Iida

Helmet looks great but I swear if you kept that haircut from graduation you better keep it on

Uraraka

Unsure if I like the longer hair (maybe tie it back?) but the fingerless gloves are a nice touch

Kaminari

Somehow manages to look way cooler and way dorkier than he used to. Did he put hot rod flames on his pants??

Tokoyami

Starting to look like an old bog witch but I swear I mean that as a compliment

Ojiro

Only time the haircuts have worked for me. The all black suit looks great on him. If you're gonna jack anyone's style there are worse options than Hawks.

Asui

Knows she already had a peak design. Don't fix what ain't broke.

Yaoyarozu

The lower ponytail looks way better on her and she finally got rid of that damn gap in her costume. Easily the best improvement over the original design.

Shinso

You are never beating the Eraserhead fanboy and/or lovechild allegations

Koda

If you told me in 2017 that Hori managed to make this design look sick as fuck I would not have believed you.

Kirishima

Suprised but glad he didn't go for a more obvious Crimson Riot homage. He's giving big grizzly bear vibes and I love it.

Midoriya

Keeping his baby face and 5'6 stature was so important to me. The new costume looks great but please don't run in and break it Izuku, it was SO expensive!!

Shoji

BARKBARKBARKBAKRBAKRBAKRBAEKBARKBARKBA-

Bakugou

I know we all made fun of the little lit fuse rat tails but they are so perfect for him. His costume looks so much sleaker and professional now, especially the gauntlets.

Jiro

No one is doing it like her. Swapping the jacket for a vest looks so good.

Ashido

She really should have taken the Alien Queen hero name, emphasis on QUEEN

Hagakure

Horikoshi already drew her too beautiful. An improvement would be impossible for human hands to achieve but I know in my heart she is as perfect as anyone could be. We stan our freak goddess.

[todayisdeadinside]

The “Louis is homophobic” narrative is so outrageously dumb that it feels like it was manufactured in a top-secret lab that specializes in bad takes and Twitter misinformation. Like, are y’all okay? Blink twice if it has rotted your critical thinking skills.

Let’s start with the infamous “I am in fact straight ” tweet thread debacle .Yes. That one. The cursed hieroglyphic carved into the stone tablet of Larrie discourse. Do we know Louis even wrote that? No. Do we know he wasn’t pressured to tweet it? Absolutely not. That thing reads like it was drafted by an intern who smells like Axe body spray and internalized homophobia. And even if he did write it, who among us hasn’t tweeted something mid-spiral, mid-slander, or mid-pr-management-disaster? I once tweeted “I love cardio” after crying on a treadmill run. We’ve all been there.

But here’s the thing: Louis’s actual, observable behavior? Screams “deeply queer coded closeted boy who’s been suppressed for over a decade” let’s start rom the very beginning, in 1D interviews, he straight up REFUSED to entertain the weird, gross questions about male fans and them potentially being attracted to the boys bait questions. He danced around it and looked at the interviewer like they needed therapy. A homophobe doesn’t do that. A person who’s been taught to fear queerness would not dance around a bigoted opportunity served on a silver platter by British tabloid goons.

Now, let’s talk about Only the Brave. That song is so queer-coded it needs to pay rent in West Hollywood. The lyrics sound like they were stolen from a poet who stares longingly at their best friend across a candlelit pub. You think some homophobe just wakes up and writes “it’s a church of burnt romances” over sad,slow guitar strums like that’s a normal Saturday morning? Honey. That song is aching. It’s cinematic. It’s closeted gay in a war film meets Catholic guilt meets forbidden glances across a church pew. Straight men don’t write like that unless they’re trying to land a GLAAD award or overcompensating for owning five pairs of cargo shorts. Let’s also not ignore COACOAC and all along.

AND DON’T GET ME STARTED ON THE GAY BARS. This man isn’t “accidentally” stumbling into queer spaces like he tripped over a curb and landed on the dance floor at Heaven. He’s comfortable there. He brings his long-term “girlfriend” there for her birthday. He’s not just vibing—he’s thriving. He’s at home. He probably knows the bartender by name. Homophobes do not take their “girlfriend” to one of the most queer friendly known places (Amsterdam) and then write about missing their lover while they’re there 🤨. And then do damage control when people figure out the line HE pointed out to make it clear it was not about his “girlfriend”. Be serious.

Also, let us not forget that this man promoted Polari. Polari. Do antis know how deep cut that is? That’s not “I saw a rainbow once and felt warm.” That’s “I researched underground queer British slang from the 1900s and wore it proudly on my literal chest.” It’s like if a straight dude casually wore a T-shirt that said “Stonewall was a riot” and then went right back to watching football. That’s not a casual choice. That’s a coded statement wrapped in giggles and subtext.

Oh and antis love to erase how Louis helped shape Harry into the fearless, gender-fluid person he is today. “Painted nails make Harry beautiful.” HE SAID THAT. Welllll before it was male fashion. That was during the era of tight skinny jeans and judgment, not Gucci gowns and Vogue covers. He was supporting Harry’s expression when people were still saying “that’s a bit much, innit?” And then there’s the “I’ve never seen you in a dress before mmmmmm” moment. The delivery? Iconic. The eyes? Full of love. The vibe? Boyfriend.

When Harry waved the pride flag for the first time and Louis was literally BEAMING at him like he’d just watched his baby take its first steps? Yeah, that wasn’t the reaction of a man who hates queerness. That was a man who was proud. That was personal. That was “I see you, and I love you” with a Donny accent and a huge smile.

Also, the way antis act like Louis would be totally fine with queer fans in person, but then immediately log onto Twitter like the Wicked Witch of Westboro Baptist Church is so laughably illogical I’m getting a six-pack from the mental gymnastics. Homophobia isn’t platform-dependent! You can’t be like “he’s a proud dad at concerts but a bigot in 280 characters or less.” That’s not how people work. That’s how satire works.

And please—please—tell me how a homophobic man would stand in front of thousands of queer fans waving pride flags and say “I feel so fucking confident, so fucking protected.” He didn’t say “appreciated.” He didn’t say “respected.” He said protected. As in, “I feel safer here than anywhere else.” If you think a homophobe says that sincerely, you need to open a book and then maybe touch grass.

But maybe I’m just a troglodyte, sitting in my little internet cave, clutching my gaydar and refusing to accept twitter takes as gospel. But what I do know is that Louis is about as homophobic as that guy who claps as he watches a drag queen get engaged. He’s queer-coded, emotionally intelligent, and more comfortable in queer environments than most straight girls at bottomless brunch.

Let’s be real. They don’t actually think he’s homophobic. They just don’t see him. They don’t listen to him. They refuse to understand him. And instead of owning up to their bias, they make it weird.

holy shit anon i am kissing you on the mouth this is beautiful and SO correct. also, hilarious. i laughed unreasonably hard at the jokes and puns. whoever you are, please get into a writing field. youll thrive there.

[delaware-lemme-smash]

Sfw and nsfw HCs Poly relationship of Bakugou and Kirishima with their female reader?

An explosive combination!

Characters: Bakugou Katsuki/DynaMight, Kirishima Eijirou/Red Riot

Contents: poly!relationship, feminine pet names, afab reader, nsfw, oral, biting,

Bakugou Katsuki/DynaMight & Kirishima Eijirou/Red Riot

SFW

I'm going to go ahead and give Kirishima the credit for getting this little throuple together, because there's no damn way it was Bakugou. He's too hot-headed and there are too many feelings involved in the whole thing for him to sit down and think it through. Especially if there's been some jealousy and some miscommunications in the run-up to The Discussion.

So it was basically you and Kirishima who approached Bakugou and suggested giving the whole polyamory thing a try.

For a few minutes he just squints at the two of you, trying to work out if he should be pissed off or not. You wanna date him and Kirishima. What the hell, are you trying to say he's not enough for you?! Wait, but doesn't this mean he gets what he wants and he doesn't have to watch Kirishima mope around like some kind of boulder puppy?

Once he's done working through the Five Stages of Whatever, he turns a wicked grin on you.

"You think you need two guys to keep you satisfied? We'll see about that. Don't you dare underestimate me!"

"Dude, chill, it's not a contest," Kirishima says, trying to calm him down.

"Yeah? Sounds like loser talk to me."

And that was how your relationship started.

Given their busy schedules as Pro Heroes, it's likely you all live together to split the household chores and just to get an opportunity to see each other between missions and patrols. Bakugou had the nicest, largest place (and probably Kirishima already as a roommate), so it made sense for you to all move into his apartment. Something he bitched uproariously about, even though he knew it was logical and he actually wanted it too. Being pissy is like a reflex for him.

You got a nice big bed for the three of you. Bakugou rigidly enforces "his side", even if he's out on a night patrol. He grouches that your big head has deflated his pillow if you slept on his side. (And proceeds to shove his face in said pillow the next time he sleeps, 'cause it smells like you now.) You don't get a "side" per se, because your place is in the middle, the filling in the muscle sandwich.

Kirishima's the biggest cuddler, but don't let Bakugou convince you he's not almost as bad. He is, and he'll get moody if you point it out. Let him keep his delusions.

Kirishima wants you to wear his clothes. Those cute sleep sets you keep buying? Mysteriously disappeared (hidden in the linen closet). In their place? A bunch of oversized, faded Crimson Riot or "manly" t-shirts for you to wear to bed. Bakugou might get in on the action and chuck in some of his skull or Deep Dope shirts. Take the hint.

Bakugou's standard of cleanliness is higher than yours or Kirishima's. He's not the type to set up a cleaning rota and shifts though (Iida-like behaviour). He just blows a fuse and attacks it all at once. You'll come home to a spotless apartment and a fuming Bakugou in the kitchen, scrubbing the dishes. Picture Explosion Murder God: DynaMight in a pair of yellow rubber gloves.

He has different reactions to mess for you or Kirishima. If he finds Kirishima's socks on the bedroom floor, he'll ball them up and toss them as his friend's head. "Pick up after yourself, rockbrain." If they're yours, he'll still throw them at Kirishima's head, but address you instead: "Don't be so fucking lazy, babe."

I'd say all of you are fairly decent in the cooking department, but Bakugou's irrepressible competitive streak always gives him the edge. The stuff he cooks always looks the best, but he leans into his spices a little too much. A little too hot saucy. Kirishima can only really do basic stuff, but he knows all the good takeout places in the city—Fatgum showed him.

Movie nights are usually action movies. Wanna watch something different for once? Yell louder than the boys.

When it comes to gifts, Kirishima's are the cute and heartfelt, whereas Bakugou's tend to be cool, flashy, and expensive.

There's fitness equipment cluttering up what used to be Kirishima's room, and loads of tubs of whey protein and bulking powder in the kitchen. The guys are fitness freaks.

You're definitely a little spoiled. You just have to even vaguely move in the direction of the couch and there'll be someone grabbing your hips, pulling you down into their lap. It's a rare occasion when you sit on an actual chair.

NSFW

Oh, boy.

Let's begin by stating that, yes, your sex life is off-the-charts amazing. Bakugou and Kirishima are both young, strong, red-blooded guys with big personalities and dangerous jobs. There's a lot of testosterone, a lot of adrenaline, and a lot of man to go around. Their libidos are insane.

At the start of the relationship, sex tends to be a one-on-one kind of thing. You and Bakugou. You and Kirishima. But one thing led to another, and... Well, actually, Bakugou heard all those cute little noises Kirishima was drawing out of you in the bedroom, and he didn't feel like sitting in the living room playing video games anymore. Bakugou stalked into the bedroom, stripping off his shirt and growling that he wasn't gonna sit there like a cuck. It tends to be a group activity now.

You get groped. A lot.

As aforementioned, you'll be sitting on Bakugou or Kirishima's lap, and their hand will slide up to get a soft handful of titty, massaging it lightly through the fabric of your shirt. Bakugou in particular likes to slide one of his hands into your panties and just let it rest there, his calloused fingertip playing idly with your clit while he's watching a movie or an All Might documentary. When you start squeaking, it's time to hit pause, toss you over his shoulder, and take you to the bedroom, Kirishima whistling casually as he follows.

Trying to get from the bathroom to the bedroom after a shower is like running a gauntlet. When you're warm and dewy and smelling all fruity, it's like catnip to your boyfriends. You dodge Bakugou's casual swipe from the couch, gripping your towel as you almost make it to the bedroom. Only for Kirishima to block the doorway, grinning like a shark.

"Heeey, babe. Goin' somewhere?"

When you step back, you bump up against Bakugou's chest, who has silently crept up behind you. Great, now you're gonna need another shower by the time they're done.

Kirishima likes to bite. He's extra careful 'cause of his sharp teeth, but he likes to leave imprints on the fat of your inner thighs, biting down just enough to give you an exciting little pinch.

Bakugou's big on oral. He likes clamping your thighs around his head, his pulse racing in his ears while he lashes your clit with his tongue, sucking aggressively. He makes a lot of aggressive grunts and growls when he goes down on you, sounding like he's actually hungry. He doesn't stop until you're slippery wet after a couple orgasms, and he emerges wild-eyed, panting, his mouth and chin dripping with you.

Kirishima's a bit more versatile in bed. He can do the fun, loud sex that has you bouncing on the mattress, or the slow, intense, romantic sex where you're staring into each other's eyes.

Bakugou fucks. He bends you like a pretzel, hitting it hard and deep, his hands curled into fists either side of your head so he doesn't accidentally set off any explosions. Sex with him is hot, hard, sweaty, and primal. He's the one that gets you screaming (along with the ensuing noise complaints), biting, and clawing. He wears your nail drag marks with smug pride.

I hope you guys got that bed on a warranty, because their competitive streak follows you into the bedroom too. They keep a tally of who made you come and how many times before you tap out.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

sleeping with other people | s.h. x fem!reader (inappropriate language and sexual content)

1990, a shitty apartment somewhere in indiana

“billy! i know you’re fucking in there! let me in you asshole, don’t try and hide when we both just need a fuck!” it was eight thirty at night as you were banging a heavy fist against a wooden door. you were ignoring the plenty of other occupants staring from their doorframes as you kicked a boot foot with a strength that almost brought you to the floor.

“hey!” you turned to see some older man storming over to you, a dark blue bathrobe flowing with the air from his stride. “you need to get the hell out of here or i’m calling the police.”

“i’m visiting someone, i’m doing nothing wrong.” huffing as you crossed your fishnet covered arms over your chest. a hip cocked, the bottom of your mini shirt tickling your upper thighs.

“well if that someone doesn’t claim you in the next minute, you better get your ass moving or you’ll be loitering.” the older man giving the same sass back.

“uh, i’m-i’m her someone.” a younger voice announced. you and the man turned to see a guy, probably in his twenties like you, wearing a loose t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. his hair was thick and full, looking a bit of a riot. “yeah, sorry. i was sleeping, sa- sam. you know me, the apocalypse couldn’t wake me up.” he chuckled nervously, you eyed him up and down.

“you want to be responsible for this mess?” “hey!”

the guy stepped between you and grumpy face, “yeah it’s all good. no more problems for the night, promise mr. johnson.” the man “hmmp” eyed you up and down then turned away.

the other tenets lingered for a moment longer before your new friend started to direct you to, what you assumed, was his apartment. it was pretty much a dorm room, an even tinnier studio. you just flopped onto his bed, the springs creaking from your thrown weight, and heard the rolling wheels of a chair then a sigh.

“so…what’s-what’s your name? guessing it’s not actually sam.” boy savior tried to break the thickening silence, patting noises bouncing off his four walls. “i’m steve.”

“y/n.” giving a mindless wave of your hand as you let your eyes focused on his popcorn ceiling. you just wanted a fuck now you’re just talking with some random dude. pushing onto your elbows you observe the boy, steve, across from you. a tilted of your head you noted how he was covered in freckles, a slight stubbed was darkening his upper lip and jaw, he tried to avoid looking your way with a slight red running up his neck. cute.

“do you know billy hargrove?” abruptly asking about your go to fuck buddy. you saw the way steve’s brows twitched and he made a slight face, “uh not really. just super annoying, plays loud rock music and there’s always a girl leaving his room.” his eyes drifting to his lap as he picked at his pants fabric.

you rolled your eyes, “can’t believe i’m attracted to that stupid guy.” dropping your head back down, a sharp sting in your chest at the confirmation he couldn’t give a flying shit about you. not like you, always running back to be in his arms.

steve coughed, “yeah…uh, no offense but what’d you see in him anyway? like you’re completely out of his league.”

you gave a huff, “he choose me out of a room full of extremely beautiful women. that doesn’t happen to me and…i don’t know. guess he kinda always made me feel beautiful for an hour and i became addicted to it.” saying it aloud made you feel ice cold, a chill that just sat in your heart.

“well you probably already know this, but you deserve better. like thousands times better, someone who’s always gonna put you first.” steve’s voice got soft, sardonic and sweet. it made your stomach tangle together.

you joked, “and is that someone gonna be you? since you were my savior for the night?” but you weren’t opposed to the idea, if you could still have sex tonight that’s a win for you. and if it’s with a better guy then it’s a huge fuck you to billy.

“uh-i-i mean…i wouldn’t mi-mind being that for you…” again you pushed onto your elbows, brows cocked at steve’s stuttering, it was endearing and sweet. he squeezed his eyes shut tight and it caused his face to scrunch up then his hands started moving through the air, “in general. i-i don’t want you to think i’m taking advantage or-or something gross, but i-i would be that person to put you first.”

a smile appeared on your face, “that’s very bold of you to say when we’ve only know each other for…like ten minutes.” you changed your position on his bed from laying on your back to shuffling onto your stomach with palms holding your cheeks.

steve shrugged, “what can i say, i’m a bold guy. and i don’t know, you just have a good energy or whatever about you. my friend told me sometimes you just know right away if someone’s good or bad.”

“wise friend.” “oh definitely, but only on certain things. her taste in food is another thing to worry about.”

the silence settled over again and then, “hey steve, wanna have sex?” he coughed, “what?” you shrugged, “what? i can’t be a bold girl?” he blinked rapidly, “no-no that’s…i’m just-are you sure?”

you tucked some hair behind your ear, “your a good guy steve, no one else would’ve taken a screaming girl into their home. and i’ll be honest, i kinda want to see how well you treat a gal. are you a giver or taker?” wiggling your brows suggestively.

steve scuffed, “i’ll happily give all night.” with that you pushed back onto your knees, eyes hooded while your fingers played with the hem of your skirt, “then why don’t you come show me.”

he stayed in his seat, eyes trailing over you. “are you sure?” voice breathy. you nodded your head and that was the signal that allowed for him to step closer and rest a knee into his comforter. his large palms caressed your warm cheeks, a thumb tugging at your plum colored bottom lip.

“i’ll give you everything you deserve.”

-

2007, a chinese restaurant

paul was…what’s the word? he’s fucking boring. but he was a nice guy and you needed to be with nice guys, but all those other things just combined into a bigger boring mess. you had to withhold an eye roll every ten minutes whenever he coughed, even his coughing bothers you!

“so i was telling sandra about how i was thinking we were in the market for a place, together, and maybe to even start a family. but that was just an after thought, i’m not sure what your stance on that is still. but i was thinking somewhere in the more suburban areas, you could-“

“i’m sorry,” mind running off its tracks the longer he talked. “i-i uh, there was something i actually wanted to tell you tonight. my therapist thought it would be a good idea.” pulling a folded piece of paper from your clutch, running your palms over the wrinkled lines.

you cleared your throat, “paul-“ “y/n.” your nostrils flared at the simple interruption. “paul, my therapist suggested that i come clean about something i’ve been withholding and i agree, wanting to move forward honestly.”

you heard him give a small scuff, “well i don’t think you need to pay a therapist for that.” “paul, please just-“ he held his hands up, “right. sorry, lips sealed.”

a deep breath, “my therapist says i have sexual anxiety, meaning whenever i’m feeling a certain way i always go back to this one person over and over again, no matter if the outcome is the same.” you rubbed your rouge lips together, “i’ve been cheating on you with someone else from the beginning of our relationship.”

he was quiet, the restaurant was buzzing with idle chatter around you, your blood was rushing in your ears. “and also, we should breakup.” icing on the fucking cake.

paul puckered his lips while nodding his head, a slight humorless huff, “a big it’s not you it’s me. because yeah, this is all you, y/n. you could’ve just said something from the beginning, but nope! you had to cheat on me this entire fucking time!” he was practically screaming and all eyes were on the two of you.

“paul, i-i’m really sor-“ “you’re a fucking whore. a goddamn sex fiend whore!” and with that dramatic display he stormed out of the restaurant leaving you shaking in place. somehow, someway your brain kicked into gear and rushed you outside of the restaurant into the lukewarm night. with shaky fingers you managed to pull up his number and send a simple, ‘hey’. slamming your eyes shut, you tilted your head to the sky and tried to stop any tears from falling. and then your phone pinged.

‘come over’

-

2007, a video store

“have a good day sir.” three second beat, “jackass,” mumbled under steve’s breath. no one was ever satisfied with simple customer service these days, they basically want your hand up their ass and puppet them around so they don’t have to think for them to be satisfied. or in robin’s cause, you need to smile more and satisfy every male customer that enters the store.

“you wanna get drunk after work?” robin asked once she walked up to the counter and dropped off a box of return dvds. steve smiled at her idea, “what happened today that you want to forget so badly?” chatting while getting to work on the computer.

robin sighed dramatically, her default mode, “i tripped in front of a really cute girl and that resulted in some dvds crashing to the ground. and i still have to go pick them up, i just walked away! then i could hear soft giggling, they sounded so pretty, but god it’s cause i looked like a doofus!” her hands smacked her temples.

steve just shook his head and ignore the doorbell until he heard someone yelling, “you fucking asshole!” that caught his attention. his head whipped in time to get smacked back into its original position, pretty sure he felt his brain rattle for a second. “you cheated on me with my cousin! what the hell is your problem?”

he had to blink a few times before he was sure his vision was clear. standing on the other side of the counter stood a fuming blonde, her nails almost leaving scratch marks on the wood top. “hey…ste-“ “it’s sarah.”

“sarah, right. sorry. uh it’s just that we’ve only been having casual…sex.” dropping his voice when he remembered this was his place of work. he turned to robin, “give me five?” she just nodded with wide eyes.

“let’s talk outside.” persuading sarah into leaving those nosy old people behind compared to the busy working crowd. she leaned against the brick wall while steve watched her with his hands sitting on his hips, “okay like i was saying, we were only having casual sex. you explicitly stated that and i was taking your word for it. so after two months if you wanted something more you should’ve said something.”

sarah huffed, “me? you also could’ve said something! didn’t you want more after a month?” steve licked his lips, “no, not really. i-i couldn’t find a spark with you that was worth searching for.”

“so you fucked my cousin. was that your dramatic way of saying this was over?” “…kinda?”

next thing steve knew, a fist punched him in the nose.

-

2007, a sex addict meeting (that’s a real thing?)

“before i started this program i thought ‘love’ was a feeling. but that’s bullshit, it’s not a feeling it’s a decision, like everything else. and i see now that when i was in my addiction i made the decision over and over again to choose sex over my self-worth. and it doesn’t mean that i don’t like sex now it doesn’t mean i’m not a sexual person. gail. i don’t need to go trolling online looking for women to go down on. i don’t need to fuck eight guys on one night. i don’t deny what i’ve done. i embrace my past. yes, i did once call one of my neighbors in the middle of the day when he was at work and said, ‘grab some condoms and meet me at the delicious soft pretzel place.’ who cares? i did let someone put a protein bar up my ass once. big deal. i did hack into my supermarkets instagram account and posted a picture of my asshole and said, ‘there was a sale on asshole.’ and then said, ‘come and lick my asshole if you’re bald.’”

you had to leave that meeting before you started laughing at something you weren’t supposed to, plus you couldn’t stop checking if he texted you every five seconds. this was something your therapist suggested you attend, but after tonight you probably won’t be attending another meeting.

a cool breeze tickled your cheek just as you heard someone speak. “holy shit, no way.” you looked over your shoulder to see a guy standing on the building steps with his eyes focused on you, planning to ignore him was changed once you realized your recognized that face.

a soft laugh, “what the hell? steve?” moving closer as he descended the final two steps, automatically pulling each other into a hug. you leaned back with your arms still holding his waist, “wow it’s been so long, like ten-“

“seventeen years.” he quickly corrected you. that made your eyes widen and step back, “wow. and you still look the same, just more matured.” letting your eyes wonder over a forgotten piece of your past.

“you look even more beautiful,” he spoke the sentiment so easily. “so what’ve you been up to?” slipping past his comment quickly onto neutral ground. you lightly scoffed your boot against the concrete, “uh yeah, i-i work with kids, shockingly. kindergarten, little fuckers piss me off, but it keeps me from wanting kids everyday and i appreciate that.”

that got steve to laugh loudly and you followed after a beat when you realized how insane that sounded outside your brain. “i just-i already see them as my own kids and some are more like younger siblings in a way. but yeah…not planning to add to the population anytime soon.” rambling like you were trying to save face.

“no yeah, totally understandable. i have friends with younger siblings and they are such little shits, but i really do love them.” steve stuck his hands into his jacket pockets, “actually i meant to ask you, what’s a girl like you doing in that shit hole?” nodding his head at the building behind you both.

“and i have that same question for you. whatcha doing here girlfriend? you a supposed sex addict?” taking a quick glance at your phone, no message. you turned back to steve who was watching you with raised brows.

“what?” “got a booty call to take care of?” you scoffed, “no. just waiting for something important.”

steve hummed, “well um, if you’re free…would you like to get dinner? catch up a bit more?” he bounced slight on his feet. you debated blowing him-off-but you really didn’t have anything waiting for you, especially not him. “got a place in mind?”

-

one hour later, a small diner

“no way! she really whacked you hard.” leaning over the table slightly to see how steve’s nose still held some black and purple bruises. “bet she had a good reason for it though, am i right?” pointing a salty fry at him with squinting eyes.

he sighed, “yeah.” a hand rubbed the back of his neck, “i sorta slept with her cousin…” “boy or girl?” feeling a plot twist coming.

“…boy.” “oh how scandalous!” smiling widely around your straw. he rolled his eyes, but kept his head ducked low, long strands of his hair shadowing his eyes.

“hey steve?” he hummed around a bite of his burger. you taped your nails on the table, “you remember billy hargrove?” that caused steve to choke on his food, the loud coughing drawing eyes to your booth. you smiled just a bit at the amusement.

“hargrove? what-what about him?” managing to swallow some root beer and wipe away his tears. you replied more to the table then steve as you mumbled, “i’ve been sleeping with him on and off for the past fifteen years.” quickly sucking on your straw, chugging down your milkshake.

a beat then, “wow that’s…i’ll be honest that’s sad.” brows furrowed as your jaw dropped, a little milkshake sliding onto your chin, “and you constantly cheating isn’t?” trying to defend your actions.

steve held a finger up, “first of all, i’m cheating with new and interesting people. you cheat on your partners with the same asshole that you keep crawling back to. now that’s a toxic cycle.” and he…wasn’t wrong.

“fuck,” groaning to yourself. “i really need to get over this awful attachment i have to him. it’s genuinely ruining my chances of having a happy relationship, that fucking parasite!” slightly yelling the last bit.

“yes the parasite and the…other parasite. cause let’s be honest it’s an equal parasitic relationship if you think about it, his side is just more deeply concealed.” steve wiped a finger clean of ketchup with his mouth, your eyes followed the movement. you felt that knot in your stomach.

“i really want to fuck you right now,” blurting the thought out. steve was taking a sip of soda at the exact moment and it ended up spraying the table, and a bit of your top. “sorry-sorry,” he coughed while grabbing a billion napkins to do damage control. you didn’t bother with your shirt, just covering it with your jacket for now.

“sorry didn’t mean to spring that on you, but i felt the need to say it. cause like, i like this sharing we’re doing, but i don’t want to mess it up and just constantly think about you sexually. on accident of course.”

“right,” steve covered his face with his hands for a moment, “um…how about this? we come up with a safe word whenever the other is doing something sexy.” running a hand through his dark strands.

you smirk, “are you saying the feeling is mutual?” steve smiled shyly and looked out the window for a moment, “of course it’s mutual. you got sexier and everything, everything about you is dangerous for me.”

you didn’t exknowledge his sentence, moving forward. “what if we use…avocado?” “too sexual.”

your brows jumped, “how is avocado too sexual?” “if you saw the way i cut one open then you would agree.” “are you just using your fucking bare hands? what are you a caveman?”

steve waved you off, “what about red light? very obvious to stop.” “nah, doesn’t sound fun. that’s the point of safe words, to kinda sound fun.”

he sighed, “okay what’s the worse thing you can think off? like something you know can cause someone great pain.” “dick in a mousetrap.”

steve recoiled, “jesus! where the hell did that come from?” he visibly shivered at the words. “such a sadist you are.”

you grinned brightly, “but it makes you scared, so we’ll shorten it to mousetrap.” you took a quick glance at your phone and realized how lates it’s gotten, “shit. sorry, but i gotta head home, need to make sure i have everything ready for work tomorrow.”

“oh yeah,” steve looked at his watch, “didn’t realize the time flew by.” he insisted that he pay the check and the both of you headed back onto the quiet night streets. you stood in front of each other, a distant street lamp casting its yellow glow.

you pulled a pen out of your purse, “give me your hand.” steve hesitated then stretched it out, “this…is my number. so we don’t have to do smoke signals or keep going to sex addict meetings to find each other.”

steve smiled while flexing his fingers, “smart. well this was definitely a pleasant turn of events, made my night.”

“me too,” twisting your body slightly. you didn’t want to leave but you had to. “well…talk to you later, boy savior.” and you headed off into the night, only looking over your shoulder twice to see him still watching you walk away.

to be continued

-

a/n: PLEASE GO WATCH THE MOVIE ITS ONE OF MY FAVORITE ROMCOMS!!!!!!!! also that’s what inspired this, like i’ve been wanting to do a fic inspired by the movie but i recently rewatched it with a friend and boom! inspiration!

[jeonjaemark]

the one i’ve been missing || chwe hansol

content warning: none || masterlist

“thank you ma’am. i hope you enjoy the rest of your day.” the waitress smirks, handing me back my card and receipt for my check.

“thank you. i hope you have a good day too.” i return her smile and push my seat out heading towards the exit.

i turn the corner reaching the elevators. a small group of people scurry off the platform as a woman holds it open for me. press the level i needed to reach when i heard a deep voice.

“hey! wait! hold the elevator!”

the elevator start to close its doors but i quickly hit the button to remain open. a guy dressed in a white tee, a pair of jeans and converse with his baseball cap and headphones walked in. he shoots me a quick thank you for before putting on his zipped up jacket.

i look up from my phone when i smell a familiar citrus and woodsy scent.

“vernon?” i raised an eyebrow.

“y-yeah.” he stared at me as if i invaded his personal space. “y/n? w-what are you doing here?”

“i came here for a lunch date with myself. you?”

“there is a record shop just a few doors down from the restaurant.”

“it’s been a while since i last saw you. is everything

“some things have been different. you know touring the world and all with twelve other dudes.”

“so you’re still in a long committed relationship with those twelve other dudes and doing what you love.” i chuckled.

“y-yeah.” he half laughs. “what about you? i can’t remember the last time i saw you.”

“i have been traveling around. it’s time consuming being

“this is my floor. i’d love to see you again and the guys. that’s if they’re in town with you too.”

“yeah, we have a few days off. uhmm, how about we hang out tomorrow?”

i nod agreeing as vernon steps out of the elevator. “okay, just text me the details to your place and i will be around maybe noon.”

————————

“you have to joking! that is not the best christmas movie!” vernon spat, taking another slice of pizza from the table.

i clutch my chest as if to gasped for air, “get out of my house! you will not slander my favorite christmas movie of all time.”

“y/n, the princess switch doesn’t have much of a plot. home alone has a plot and it’s the best christmas movie. even elf has a better plot line than the princess switch.”

“i am suddenly realizing why we lost touch all these years.”

“what’s the princess switch?”

vernon face palms his forehead sliding down the couch dramatically. i scoff as his actions but ignored him to answer the question. vernon can pretend all he wants that he despises the princess switch but i know he secretly likes watching it with me.

“nonie! i am fine. we don’t have to do anything. it’s whatever, kai went to the winter dance with vivienne and they will live happily ever after.”

“just forget the dance. he’s not worth your time anyways. we can watch all three princess switch movies at my house.” his voice soft and warm trying to cheer me up.

“you hate this movie.” i whined.

“yeah, but i hate seeing you sad even more. c’mon, i have a bag of kettle corn with your name on it.”

“you are willing to suffer through three movies to make me feel better?”

“that’s what best friends are for, right?”

i chuckle reaching up to hug. he instantly wraps his arms around me giggling.

———

“if fiona and peter don’t end up together then i will riot.” seokmin mumbles to josh.

i chuckle to myself sideyeing him and turn my attention to vernon. his body slouched down into the couch while hugging a pillow. his eyes laser focused on the tv screen and the corners of his lips rise.

on the tv fiona had just entered the cafeteria where her estranged mother was waiting for her. my eyes start to tear up hearing fiona talk about how she was let down by her mom not being present in her life and she walks out but decides to walk back to her. vernon didn’t even look in my direction but he holds up a tissue for me. i smirk glancing at him and take the tissue. a loud sniffle comes from the other side of the couch as the credits roll. everyone turns their heads staring at seokmin who had tissues in his hands and tears streaming down his cheek.

“okay, we’ve watched all three princess switched movies and home alone, now it’s time for everyone to decide which movie is best?”

vernon and i stood up in front of the tv while we asked josh, seokmin, seungkwan, dino, mingyu, jun, seungcheol and jeonghan. each member comments of which is their favorite movie to watch. we end up with a tie which meant josh is the tie breaker.

“i am sorry, y/n. i have to go with vernon’s pick.” josh says.

“three to four, i win!” vernon cheers sticking his tongue out at me as the other disperse into their own conversation over dinner.

“whatever. the princess switch is still my favorite movie. to each their own, i guess.” i crossed my arms against my chest.

“do you want to bake some desserts like stacy in the princess switched?” he asked.

“and this is why you’re best friend.” i grin linking arms with him.

“we are best friends because you have co dependency issues and haven’t been able to let me go since the third grade.”

i laugh at his joke tossing a pillow in his direction. he throws his arms up protecting his head from my attacks. we go back and forth reminiscing over old memories together like the time i came home crying after a boy i liked rejected me or the time vernon thought he could run through the grass field before the sprinklers could turn on without getting wet. in the middle of laughing over old memories, an unknown overwhelming feeling hits me. i look up at vernon from my eyelashes as he hugs himself trying to catch his breath from laughing. a wave nostalgia hits me remembering the scene of fiona and her estranged mom except i was remembering how vernon and i have gone estranged.

“hey, is everything okay? you’re crying.” his voice filled with concern, wiping away a tear from the corner.

i smile at him. my eyes glossy mumbling, “yeah. i just missed you.”

“you’ve been here with me all day. i am not sure how you’re missing me.”

i roll my eyes at him before shoving his shoulder gently, “i meant, in general, loser. i missed spending time with you especially around the holiday season. it’s hits me more that we have grown distant.”

a few tears slip down my cheek as i sniffle. the guys all looked at one another and talk over one another to leave the living room. they scatter out of my apartment leaving vernon and i alone. a hollow hole sits in the chest making it hard to compose myself. vernon straighten his posture, his shoulders rigid as he wraps an arm around me.

“y/n, i am still here for you and i always will be. i haven’t gone anywhere.” he reassures me.

“i know. it’s just things have been different. you know they’ve changed, it’s not the same like before when we used to always hang out and see each other. now we have lives that we gotta live, even if it means we aren’t a part of each other’s everyday. it’s just sucks a little more on the day when i miss you, that’s all. i am not trying to be too mushy or anything.”

i wipe away my tears finally taking a breath. for years i have grown comfortable with how our dynamic in our friendship has changed. slowly vernon stopped texting me, but i can’t fully blame him. i have also withdrawn from him too. i got scared waiting to see if he would make time for me again and i decided to board up my heart so no one could break it.

after running into vernon after years of barely contacting one another, the feelings of longing make a surprise appearance. my heart slowly cracks thinking about all the broken slow replied exts and cancelled hang outs which never got rescheduled.

vernon squeezes my shoulder pulling me closer to him and rest his head against mine. “y/n,i have missed you too. i agree it’s not not the same like it was before. things have changed and i will fault in that for growing apart from you. i just want to remind you that even though life does take over you’ll always be my person. no one gets me like you do, so i don’t ever want to lose you. you’re my safe place and best friend.”

“vernon, you jerk! you’re not supposed to say these things to me.” i cried, smacking his arm. “you’re my safe place too. i just miss having you around and feeling connected with you. nowadays it just feels like we are casual acquaintances and i don’t like it”

“how about once a month we plan a weekend hang out together?” he suggested.

“i am not sure i want to see your face once a month.” i tap my finger against my chin out of contemplation. “wait! how can we even hang out once a weekend? your schedule is literally packed throughout the entire year.”

“okay maybe a weekend is a bit of a stretch considering we are both out traveling with packed schedules. we can have weekly facetime calls to catch up and talk. also if one of us is in town then we can meet up.”

“sounds like a doable plan, mr. chwe.” i grin looking at him. i held my pinky up to him, “to being acquaintance to best friends again.”

“y/n, we’ve always been best friends.” he laughs.

“okay, to finding our way back to each other.”

he links his pinky with mine, “to finding our way back to each other.”

[bluesidez]

Gym Rat Miguel Part 13

content warning: alcohol, drugs, 18+ so MDNI, food play??, fellatio, cunnilingus

word count: 5.8k (YAY FOR MY BETA! @slushycoookie )

:)

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who starts the week with hope in his heart.

He was reaching a new milestone in his life and he was really looking forward to seeing you. He’s even started to cross off the days on his calendar as he gets closer to the date. Never mind the fact that midterms were right around the corner.

At this point, the reserved rooms in the library had his and Xina’s name imprinted on the sign-up sheet. He was confident about his progress in his classes while Xina was triple checking everything.

“I swear to god if I don’t make at least a B on this, I’m going to do commit arson.”

“Do you have any gasoline?”

Xina threw her pencil at Miguel while he snickered and dodged.

GymRat!Miguel who noticed that Xina was taking a liking to these brighter sets. The shirt she was wearing right now looked a lot like the one you wore on you all’s anniversary.

GymRat!Miguel who has been texting you as much as he could because he knew your critiques were coming up. You’ve been sending him progress of your work and the occasional paint covered hand. He didn’t know how you got yellows and charcoal on your face, but it was cute and he saved every picture.

GymRat!Miguel who is laughing at his a clip that Gabriel sent him when Xina grits out his name.

“I know you might be free to live, laugh, love, or whatever, but some of us have tests coming up.”

Miguel places his phone down, “I have tests, too.”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

“What’s with you all of a sudden?”

“Nothing,” she breaks the lead of her pencil with how hard she’s writing across the page.

“Xina, I’m sure you’re going to do great on your tests. You’re stressing yourself out over nothing. If this is how you’re like now, the finals are going to take you out.”

“I really need to pass. Some of these tests are, like, 30% of the grade.”

“And like I said,” Miguel laid his head on the table. ��You’re going to do great. Trust yourself a bit more.”

Xina flit her eyes from Miguel back to her notes, a flutter in her eyes.

GymRat!Miguel whose phone is on lockdown for the next two hours as per Xina’s request so he was now in line for snacks and drinks.

He was thinking about getting something sweet, a reward for finally finishing one of his papers and the write-up for his game.

“Migster! It’s such a coincidence seeing you here.”

Miguel tenses, that shrieking voice recognizable anywhere.

“Aaron,” he turns with a polite smile.

“Grabbing some munchies for you and your girlfriend? Where is she by the way?”

Miguel shifted his eyes to him in his peripheral and back to the bread on display.

“You’ve never seen my girlfriend.”

“Don’t act all shy, now!” Aaron nudges Miguel’s side to which he doesn’t budge. “You guys look cute together.”

He couldn’t recall a single moment where you picked him up from his robotic team meetings, the engineering building, or the science building where he could see it.

Miguel looked down at him and curled his lip a bit, “Are you stalking me?”

Aaron let out a bird-like laugh, voice making the people in front of him jump, “You’re really a riot. Dude, she’s always outside of the building waiting for you. She gave me an invite to your birthday party?”

He leans in even closer, “You’re not cheating on her are you?”

Miguel stepped forward, the line decreasing and Aaron following him like a lackey.

“That’s not my girlfriend.”

Aaron snickered, “Could have fooled me.”

GymRat!Miguel who returns to the private study room with a knot in his stomach.

He places down a sandwich and a latte for Xina and taps on his own cup of coffee.

“Can I have my phone back?”

Xina slid it back without a fight, “Don’t distract me.”

He checks his phone and it’s only emails from school and a reminder to buy protein powder.

He guesses you’re busy again.

GymRat!Miguel who fights through the beginning of the week just to breathe by the time his birthday gets here.

Peter wakes him up with a mini confetti cannon and a lit cupcake that almost burns through his comforter.

They both panic for a few seconds as they beat the life out of the fabric and Peter looks shameful before he runs to his last midterm.

GymRat!Miguel who sees that his brother has dropped a saxophone rendition of “In Da Club” and dedicated it to Miguel on his TikTok.

The comments are full of praise and begging to see Miguel.

GymRat!Miguel who doesn’t have any messages from you yet.

There’s two from his mom, one from his dad and Tyler, some sporadic messages from his abuela, celebratory words from The Geek Squad, an email from his Steam account, a bunch of messages from Xina, and nothing from you.

Miguel’s shoulders wilt, thumbs flicking through his phone.

The countdown he started stared back at him.

GymRat!Miguel who didn’t really do anything special outside of his normal routine.

Get up. Exercise. Breakfast. Rest. Think about you.

Was his last birthday this uneventful?

GymRat!Miguel who dresses up a bit for this party that Xina insisted on having.

He looks in the mirror and adjusts the chain on his neck and smooths down his jean jacket. He doesn’t feel any different from yesterday, but he does feel like a loser for moping all day.

He should be thankful that he has friends and family that reached out to him. He should be thankful that Tyler slid him a nice amount of cash. He should be thankful that Xina is going out of her way to celebrate with him.

He still wishes you would have called.

GymRat!Miguel who hears the party as he’s walking up the stairs to the apartment door. He doesn’t know what to expect, but knocks on the door with fated breath.

GymRat!Miguel who is pulled into the party and given the ugliest birthday hat he’s ever seen by a guy he vaguely remembers from the gym.

He turns to the crowd and shouts, “The Birthday Boy is here!”

Everyone in the room shouts and cheers, patting him on the back as he weaves through the sea of people.

A beer was placed in his hand and noisemakers were blown past his ears. He smiled a little at the chaos and yelled thank-you’s over the noise.

GymRat!Miguel who saw some familiar faces once he got to the living room of the apartment. Margo was inching further away from Aaron as he laughed at something with a grimace on her face.

She looked up as Miguel came closer and jumped from the couch.

“Miguel!” She gripped his shoulders. “I am so glad to see you here. Let’s go to the balcony.”

She uses Miguel like a bulldozer moving past people drinking and dancing.

As they make it outside, she thanks him.

“Aaron is entirely incapable of reading the room or shutting up. You just saved me from hearing him mansplain the mechanics of Mario Party while Doritos fall from his mouth.”

Miguel smiled apologetically as she shoved a gift bag in his hand.

“And this was a nice experience! But I want to catch a game update that happens at 2am, and I need some shut eye.”

“You’re leaving already?” Miguel huffs, weight shifting in his stance.

“I’m sorry, Miguel. I’ve been here for a while and there’s only so much grass I can take in my clothes before the shots wear off. Also, a couple has been eyeing me since I walked in, and the guy looks sinister. I’ve got to go home.”

Miguel furrowed his brow, “Need me to drive you home?”

“I’m ok. I’ll text you. Enjoy your gift!”

She hugs Miguel and books it, ribbons in her braids trailing after her.

He opens the bag and laughs when he catches the card with a dad joke staring back at him.

GymRat!Miguel who really has no clue who majority of the people standing around are.

He’s chatted with a few people and pushed away a couple of wandering hands, but outside of Margo and Ben, who was currently dancing on top of the table like a video vixen in between some girls, he hasn’t really found anyone.

There was a coarse smell that ran through the apartment. He wasn’t sure if it was because the amount of sweaty bodies pressing against each other or because of the mix of mango pineapple smoke and something else he couldn’t pick up.

The music was rattling his bones and the hairs on his skin were standing upright. Everywhere he turned, someone was there and the weight of it was becoming too much. His height could allow him relief if the ceiling didn’t feel like it was caving in.

He got to a bathroom, praying for a break, only to be met with someone sliding their nose across the counter and another person at their side sitting on the toilet. He closes the door with a panic and shuffles to the kitchen.

It’s a small break, the people lingering around the island laughing over red solo cups. He reached for his phone, heart pumping through his veins as he runs across your name in his phone.

“Nuh uh,” Miguel’s phone is snatched from his hands. He’s about to panic until he sees who it is. “Tonight, you’re living in the moment.”

“But-”

“No buts! Only shots and smiles!” Xina pocketed the device. “Now, let’s have some fun.”

She smiles at him and grabs his arm, chest pressing up against his as she leans towards his face. He can smell the alcohol on her breath before he attaches the back of his hand onto her face.

Xina stumbles back, “So I can’t kiss you on the cheek now, either?”

“No. You haven’t done that in years and you’re drunk right now. Give me my phone back, please.”

“At least enjoy the party a little first. There’s,” she glances over to the middle of the island, “was…cake for you.”

Miguel follows her gaze to a mostly eaten cake with a part of it with teeth marks. He turns back to Xina who is pouring a shot for him.

She hands him a cup, “Just another hour. Please? I haven’t even given you your gift yet.”

“Forty five minutes and I’m going back to my dorm.”

She jumps up at down, loose straps of her dress sliding down. She pulls Miguel into the crowd with laugh and a shriek.

GymRat!Miguel who tolerates the party for a little longer, but the more he’s here, the more he regrets agreeing to stay.

He lost the stupid hat he got when he came and the beer he had was long gone.

Xina is nowhere to be found for what feels like the fifth time and between her topping off his cup every time she sees him and the guy next to him that looks like he’s about to puke over the floor, Miguel wants out.

Three doors, two heated couples, and face down body in, he finds her room.

No one is here so he steps in and sighs. He sits on the bed and holds his face into his hands.

He could hear some people riling each other up just outside the door and the thumping of a bed against the wall. He checked his watch and saw he was well overdue for his escape.

And you still weren’t here.

GymRat!Miguel who jumps up when the door bursts open, a wide-eyed Xina lighting up.

“Were you waiting for me?” her voice is drawn out, dress haphazard. She hops onto the bed and stretches out with a lazy smile.

“Xina, give me my stuff. I’m not asking again.”

“Ooh, touchy,” she takes his phone from her bra with a pout. “I can’t believe you’re still so tense with all of the alcohol.”

He’s been letting it splash out of his cup all night.

“Some people can hold their liquor,” he takes his phone and checks it. Still, nothing. “I’m leaving. Good night.”

Xina whines out a no as she reaches for him.

“Don’t go,” her words get stuck in her throat. “It’s your big day.”

Miguel looks back her, the colors in her face changing from warm to cool. He grabs a trash can from the side of the room and places it at her beside.

“Get to the bathroom if you can, Xi,” he makes quick work to clip her hair up with a lone butterfly claw. “I’ll check on you later.”

As he slips through the door as the sound of her hurling gets drowned out by the packed apartment.

GymRat!Miguel who is standing outside of the apartment by the stairs and leaning on the wall to catch his breath.

It was all too much.

He wonders how know one has come with a noise complaint yet.

He walks down the steps, the tenseness in his neck amplifying.

“Miguel!”

The way he perks up is almost comical.

You’re standing by his car with a gift bag in your hand and a worried look on your face. He hurries to you and engulfs you in a hug, sticking his nose in the top of your scalp.

“Baby, I thought you forgot.”

“How could I forget?” you push him a little. “And you smell really loud. Were you about to drive back like this?”

“I promise I only drank a beer and a shot-“

“And how come you weren’t answering the phone? I’ve been blowing it up all night. And your location is off.”

Miguel groans, “Xina took my phone.”

“Why does she have your phone? Why did she take your phone?” the tone of your voice was sharp.

“She wanted me to enjoy myself tonight,” Miguel rubbed your shoulders, trying to get you to take the wrinkle from between your eyebrows. “‘M sorry.”

You clicked your tongue and pushed his hands off of your shoulders. Miguel called your name like a plea as you walked around his car to the driver’s side.

“Sorry isn’t enough, Miguel. Something could have happened to you. My mind was going everywhere.”

Miguel followed behind, hands floating and wanting to touch, but not wanting to make you madder.

You turned to him with an irritated look and he shot his hands down.

Even when you’re mad, you’re pretty. Your lips curled up and moved a mile a minute and he just wanted to kiss you. You looked so cozy in your sweater and baggy pants. He wanted to bury his head in your chest and hold you for a while.

Your fingers waved in front of Miguel’s face, “Earth to Miguel. Are you listening to me?”

“Mm hm, I-. We…yes.”

A slew of profanities from one of the apartment balconies passed over you both, the silence between you growing.

You turn your palm over, “Give me the keys. You’re not driving.”

“But I’m fine! I can drive.”

“You’re literally dozing off standing up.”

“That’s because you’re gorgeous, bebé.”

You roll your eyes while Miguel smiles at you and crowds you against the door.

“No. No and no,” you shove his face as he laughs. “Stop being cute and hand over the keys. I’m mad at you right now.”

“No te enojes,” he whispers as your eyes peer up over your glasses. “I don’t want you to be.” (Don’t be mad)

You squish his face in between your hands.

“Then go to the passenger side.”

GymRat!Miguel who sits petulantly in his seat while you try your best to navigate back to his dorm.

“Baby, watch the curb-“

“Miguel, I see the curb. I’m not going to hit it.”

“Ok, but slow-“ his body jerks while as you slam the breaks, “down.”

“I’m driving perfectly, but you should remember this moment so that it doesn’t happen again.”

Miguel’s eyes shifted from the narrow road in front of him to your profile, heart full.

“And how do you drive this big ass thing everyday anyway?”

“I’m a big guy, for starters.”

“Stop talking.”

“Claro, hermosa.”

GymRat!Miguel who grips your hand tight as he brings you back to his dorm.

You’re still fussing at him, but your tone has shifted to a softer one. You wanted him to understand how scared you were.

GymRat!Miguel who is ready to pounce on you once you step into his room but you stop him with a wish for him to take a shower first.

“And then maybe we can cuddle.”

He starts hopping on one foot as he yanks his clothes off one by one, feet tripping over each other as he runs towards the bathroom.

GymRat!Miguel who walks into the room with clouds of steam behind him and a towel wrapped around his lower half.

You’re sitting on the bed with your pants on the floor, a blanket covering you, and Miguel has half the mind to dive on top of you.

As he gets closer, you look up from your phone with a glint in your eyes, “Where are your clothes at?”

“I just took a shower.”

He stands beside the bed staring at you, waiting. You scoot over closer to the wall to give him some room.

“How was the party?” you ask, trying your best to ignore your boyfriend’s muscles relaxing and tensing as he stat down. He tugged you in, laying your head against his chest and your fingers twitched as you thought about squeezing it.

“I hated every bit of it.”

“What happened?”

He maneuvered you so that you were straddling his thighs, your glasses almost falling off in the process.

“It didn’t really feel like a party for me,” Miguel fixes your glasses for you, tucking the handle back over your ear. “There were a lot of people, most of which I didn’t know. Xina was also on and off all night. And you weren’t there.”

“I tried, Miguel, I really did. But my calls weren’t going through. I thought your phone was off or something. Plus, I was getting all of your gift together.”

“What you’d get?”

He has a vice grip on your hips as you lean over to grab the bag from the floor.

You place the gift in front of you, the top of almost hiding Miguel from your view.

His hand flies for the top, throwing the red tissue paper everywhere. He reaches into the bag and grabs the first thing, a bottle of oil with a small note attached.

He looks confused before you explain yourself, “I know sometimes after your bigger workouts, your muscles get tense. This is for when I’m with you and can work those out. It smells really good too. And it’s mostly there because the massage gun I ordered didn’t come in yet.”

Miguel’s grin widens, “This is better.” His mind is short circuiting thinking about you in a masseuse scrub that hugs your body leaning over his back. Or maybe no clothes. He wants that.

You tilt the bag and he pulls out some shirts to which you hold up against his skin after you place the bag to the side.

“I think these will fit nicely,” you nod to yourself more than anything. Miguel likes the texture of it and whatever you think looks good on him.

“Thank you.”

“There’s two more things.”

He rummages through the bag again and pulls out a small box. His eyes focuses on the words.

“Is this,” he flips the box around, “us?”

You nod without saying a word.

In his hands, he holds a blind box that you made, the outside decorated in hearts and stars with your names combined together on the tab.

“This is one of the things that took me so long. I was making it from scratch.”

It was a little figure of you both inside from one of the nights of the yacht party. You made the chocolate boat come to life coupled with the red outfits you were both wearing.

Miguel stares up at you in awe, “I love it. I love it so much.”

“I’m glad. I was scared it was too cliché.”

“To who? I’m going to put it on display and project it on the wall.

He spun the figure around in his hand taking in every detail. You got everything right down to the way his hair fell. Even the box had pictures of figures from other dates and meetups.

“I would like to collect them all.”

“That requires at least two and a half more birthdays.”

GymRat!Miguel who watched you brace him for the last gift.

“Why are you so nervous? What is it?”

“Just, don’t laugh. Actually, no, you’re supposed to laugh. I was delirious when I made it.”

He pulled out a blue box with a transparent top, watching as you spun your thumbs in circles. As he untied the ribbon around it, he could see why you looked like you were about to pounce to the other end of the bed.

In the box lay a bunch of cookies in the shapes of hearts and stars to match the blind box. The ones on top are plain with holes in the middle.

He pulls one out.

“‘Birthday Blows?’”

You seal your lips tight as he reads over the rest of the cookies.

“‘Let Me Crumb On Your Face-’”

“It’s a gag gift-“

“Then let’s do it.”

“What?”

GymRat!Miguel who ensured you that the gift was perfect. At least the movement under his towel showed that he was serious.

Now, he’s sitting against the headboard doing something he’d never thought he would do.

“You’re laughing,” Miguel throbs while you sit back and cackle at his state. “There’s a chocolate chip cookie stuck on my dick, and you’re laughing.”

“I’m sorry!” your shoulders shake as you push up your glasses. “I thought the hole would be big enough when I made it. I underestimated you. I also wasn’t expecting you to actually want to use it.”

Miguel twitched as you pushed the cookie down further, the inside of it melting from the heat. Your eyes were sparkling the longer you stared at him.

“A-Amor, we’ve been apart for too long because you should know that all you have to do is mention it once and I’m in.”

“So,” you rub a finger over the tip and like magic, Miguel was sure to follow. You shuffle your position on the bed watching him get harder. “All this took was an explanation?”

Miguel stuttered out a yes as you ghosted your fingers over his inner thighs. His breath hitched as your gaze stayed on him.

Your sweater was pooling over your shoulders and your thighs filled the space in between his.

You bent and took a bite out of the cookie, humming as the taste hit your tongue. Your fingers dig into his thighs as you lean back up.

“That’s delicious,” you chew with your hand covering your mouth. “I think I did a really good job.”

He moves your hand and follows.

“I wanna try.” Miguel whispers. He’s staring at you with heavy eyes. You smile softly and kiss his cheek, his face leaning into your lips.

You bend down and take another piece, Miguel trailing you as come up to his face. He opens his mouth, eyes going from yours to your lips as you place the piece on his tongue. The sweetness explodes in his mouth once the chocolate hits his senses.

You take a hand to the side of his face as he chews, kissing his lips and licking a crumb off. Your other hand runs up his chest, squeezing at it as you take your lips to his neck.

Miguel groans as you suck his skin, nails scratching lightly behind his ear. His hands grip the back of your t-shirt, fabric stretching in his hold.

You feel him swallow and you kiss near his adam’s apple.

“C’mere,” Miguel guides your face back to his. His kiss is desperate as he opens your mouth, moaning when he can still taste the sugar on your tongue.

Your hands warm him up as they move from his neck to his shoulders, thighs shaking when he holds your tongue in between his lips.

“Let me,” your breaths hits his lips, a whine coating your words, “let me finish.”

He continued to leave long kisses over your mouth, “Keep going, then.”

As you moved to bent to take another bite, Miguel knew you were barely holding on. He feels your breath shudder over him as you take another bite.

His mind was hazy as he watched you focus on freeing him. The heat from your face was radiating off of you and your lips were shining, glasses keeping a tiny fog at the corners.

He grit his teeth as you slid the remainder of the cookie up and off. Your tongue followed the line of chocolate along his shaft, glasses becoming crooked. A dribble of pre-cum escape’s Miguel and he trembles as he watches it blend on your tongue. He still has a mind to take the cookie out of your hand and back on the plastic bag it came out of, your mind too preoccupied to continue your endeavor.

You arch your back, shirt riding up as you take his head into your mouth. Miguel just about cries when you hollow your cheeks. The moonlight coming through the curtains leaves cool lines on your body as if he guided it.

Miguel smooths your hair back as you sink onto him deeper, a load moan escaping Miguel’s throat when you pump him with another hand.

It’s messy and fervent watching you try your best to catch every drop of him and clean the chocolate from your hands and his skin.

Your name is on the roof of his mouth as your lips connect to your grip on him.

What’s more is that your other hand reaches in between your thighs, the sound of you mixing with your hums and constricting throat.

“Mi sol,” Miguel feels like the stars are falling into his room. “Amor, bebé, I can’t take it.”

Everything was overwhelming in the best way possible.

The vision of your body before him, from the way your hips folded onto your thighs to the way your ass moved as you bobbed up and down, was perfect. The way your lips swole to sink onto him felt amazing and your fingers moving from him to yourself only moved him more.

You only moan as you move your hand from his length to the place below, holding him in your grasp. The sound of your throat gagging as you take him all in at once pulls him to the edge. He’s loud enough to where you know his neighbors heard.

A swallow or two before he lifts your head off of him, torso bowing and arching. He springs, convulsing as cum lands on your glasses.

“Shit,” he cries as you kiss the tip, mouth leaving flutters all the way down. Just as always, his mind can’t help but to think, “you’re so pretty.”

His core is sore but it’s nothing that you can’t fix. He takes your glasses off and pulls you up. He replaces your hand on yourself with his, mouth quick to taste him on your lips. Your hands grip at his shoulders as he flips your positions.

He yanks your underwear off, reveling in the way the fat of your thighs move. He wastes no time in bending your body up, one knee digging into the bed and the other foot on the ground as he lodges his face into you.

“Miguel!” you grip onto the edge of the twin mattress trying to find your balance as he starts to indulge in you in place of the cookies.

You’re already so wet and it excites him. He’s sucking your clit in slow motions, rubbing his tongue over the nub at a steady tempo. Your eyebrows are furrowed as your sweater scrunches up.

Miguel grips his arms around your thigh on his shoulders, fingers kneading the flesh. You try to muffle yourself as the sound of Miguel slurping you up gets louder and louder.

“My neck, baby,” you sigh through your whines. Your hands hit the bed then grip his hair and you feel fireworks going off.

He only kneels on the ground, holding your hips so you don’t slide off of the edge. He quickens his pace, tongue sliding into your entrance.

You shake and bend around him as he digs his head deeper, groaning as his forehead meets your stomach.

The ceiling is blurry, your brain not knowing whether to focus on the building slick going down Miguel’s chin or the vibration of his voice thumbing through you.

It could also be his buzzing phone that keeps drifting next to you.

Ignoring it is almost impossible, the feeling of it becoming irritating.

You take his phone in your hand, eyes focusing on the blue light and the pit of your stomach drops when the name flashes across the screen.

“Miguel, stop.”

He looks up like a deer in headlights, face flushed and doused.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something off?”

You shove the phone his face, legs pushing off of him to get away, “I don’t know. You tell me.”

He catches the phone as you sit and opens it. You look over to see what feels like a thousand messages from Xina.

“whete did you to?”

“I can’t bepkwvw you lert mr here”

“Mkguel”

“mgel”

“answer the freaki b phohe”

“I knoq you’ee sgull uo”

“come bacl to ny riom”

“k feel ndytee now”

“beter”

“better”

“i missss u”

“You were in her room?” the bed sheets make a peculiar sound under your palm.

“Only to get away from the party and to look for my phone. She came in afterwards. These,” he places the phone on the bed, “these aren’t what they look like.”

“Then what the fuck does it look like? Because to me, it looks like you’re a liar.”

Miguel’s mouth gapes open and he flounders, not knowing what to say that’ll make you see the truth.

“God,” you climb off of the bed and head to bathroom. He crawls into a run after you, tight on your heels. “I feel so fucking stupid.”

“Amor-”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Baby, please, just listen to me.”

“I’ve been listening to you for weeks, trusting you for weeks, and look where it’s gotten me! You let your ‘friend’ run you and belittle me, so we don’t have to do this shit anymore.”

Miguel’s heart sank as he watched you wipe away at your skin furiously. A stutter fights the words leaving him, “W-What are you saying?”

You brush past him and snatch your clothes from the floor. His strides are wide to meet you.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you’re getting what you want.”

“What are you talking about? I-I don’t understand.”

“This has been going on nonstop. Outside of school, when we rain checked, it was her. When we made plans, you’re always mentioning her. You’re spending every moment with her. I’ve been texting and calling you all fucking day, and you say your phone is with her.”

Your fingers press into his chest with every pronoun, his face crumbling at your words.

“I waited things out because I didn’t want to be the girlfriend that makes herself sick over every girl that passes you by, but this is making me insane.”

He says your name with a crack in his voice, “You don’t have to worry about her. I’ll talk to her. I’ll sort things out.”

You pick up your phone and dial a number, waiting only second before the call drops. You do it again, and turn the phone to his face. His name in your phone is there in all caps, one ring, and the call doesn’t go through.

“What was that again about sorting shit out?”

He pinched his brow, lost.

“You can be so,” you looked around like the word was in the room, “stupid sometimes.”

The settings on his phone are opened to his blocked contacts, your name the only one on the list.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and almost laughed in disbelief at the situation. Your throat was tight as you looked straight at the wall.

“I didn’t do this!”

“Then who did, Miguel?” you wiped a tear from your face just as fast as it fell. You trudged towards the door, limbs heavy as Miguel pulled at them, a bubble of no’s coating air.

“Let me go.”

“Then please don’t go. I don’t know how this happened, but none of it’s true. We can talk. I-I love you. I need you. Mi amor, por favor no me dejas.” (My love, please don’t leave.)

Your sweater almost rips as you pull his arms from around you and grab the door knob, a sob growing at the bottom of your jaw.

“Wipe your fucking face,” was all you said in response as you slammed the door after you.

Miguel watched the door rattle against the hinges in horror, cheeks burning with tears as he scrambled to put some pants on.

He hit his knee as he made a run for the exit, hoping to catch you before you got back to your own dorm. The chill of the autumn night shocking his skin.

The sidewalk was empty, only the scuttle of dry leaves going across the pavement.

In the dark, stood this weeping man who felt like a boy, lost and heaving out, no hope in his heart.

divider by: kodaswrld + adornedwithlight 🩵

a/n: Trying to update and format this on my phone is so infuriating. And also it took a lot of planning to get here.

The taglist has reached the max number! If you want updates, check my blog, turn on post notifs, or subscribe to it on AO3! (Although, I’ll have to clean this one up because some blogs aren’t here anymore!)

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[velvetghoul]

Say My Name Louder

✦ Part 11

Reader x Choso Kamo + Yuji Itadori | 18+ MDNI

cw: smut, fluff, ominant choso, oral sex, rough sex, voyeurism, dirty talk, possessiveness, jealousy, emotional tension, sibling conflict, hurt/comfort, morning-after fluff, domestic intimacy, suggestive teasing, light angst, found family, blurred emotional lines. Reader is 21, Yuji is 20, Choso 25.

⸻

Part 10

4 Months Later

The apartment’s louder now. Not chaotic. Not tense.

Just… lived in.

Choso stands at the stove—hair tied back, loose tank top on, cooking quietly while your playlist hums in the background.

You’re on the couch, legs curled under you, flipping through a book.

And Yuji? He walks in like he always does now—jacket slung over his shoulder, tossing a bag of groceries on the table like he belongs.

“I got the stupid cereal you like,” he grumbles. “And the protein crap Choso eats like chalk.”

“It’s not chalk,” Choso mutters from the stove.

“It smells like despair.” You smile into your cup.

And they both glance at you—soft, in their own ways.

Yuji walks past and brushes a hand over your head.

Choso glances back and kisses your shoulder without a word.

The peace is real. No jealousy. No performance.

Just three people learning what it means to stay.

To trust. To love in their own rhythms. The receipt still lives in your nightstand.

You don’t need it anymore. But you keep it. Just in case. Because some things aren’t about ownership. Some things are about knowing you’ll always have somewhere soft to land.

Saturday morning starts with chaos.

Yuji blasts music from the bathroom. Choso grumbles into his cereal like it personally betrayed him. You walk in wearing one of their hoodies and no pants, yawning like you’ve slept for years.

Yuji sticks his head out the door, toothbrush in mouth, foam everywhere.

“Did you steal my hoodie again?”

“It’s mine now,” you say without looking at him.

“I will riot.”

“Try me, you cereal gremlin.”

Choso’s head thunks against the table. “Can we have one weekend. One. Without you two turning this place into a sitcom.”

Yuji plops down in the seat across from him, still wet from his shower, towel over his head like a menace.

“You love it.”

Choso deadpans, “I love silence.”

Yuji grins. “You love her. I come with the package. Suffer.”

You press a kiss to Choso’s temple as you walk by, and he just sighs. Mutters something that sounds a lot like “worth it.”

Later — all three of you on the couch.

You’re in the middle.

Yuji’s got a bowl of popcorn balanced on his chest, remote in one hand, socked feet on the coffee table like he owns it.

Choso has his arm slung behind your shoulders, warm and heavy, thumb stroking absentmindedly against your neck.

You’re watching something trashy. No one’s really paying attention. Yuji’s been making dumb comments the entire episode, and you’re wheezing at this point.

Choso leans in, dead serious: “You laugh at him more than me.”

You tilt your head. Smirk. “Yeah. He’s funnier than you.”

Yuji snorts.

Choso raises an eyebrow. “I don’t remember him making you scream last night.”

You blink. Then raise a brow. “No, but he also doesn’t sob into my tits and say he’s a broken man.”

Yuji chokes on his popcorn.

Choso’s eyes go wide. His mouth opens—shuts—opens again.

“I literally bared my soul—”

“You cried like you watched me die in a war, babe.”

“It was EMOTIONAL.”

Yuji wipes a tear of laughter from his eye. “Dude. I wasn’t even in the room and I felt secondhand embarrassment.”

Choso covers his face with both hands. “I’m going to relocate. To the ocean.”

You lean in and kiss his cheek.

“You’re cute when you cry. Don’t worry.”

Yuji leans in from the other side.

“I have video.”

“Yuji—”

“Choso.exe has stopped responding.”

That night ends with tangled limbs, shared leftovers, and a blanket draped over all three of you like some kind of weird emotional cult.

Yuji ends up snoring against the couch armrest.

Choso’s hand finds yours under the blanket.

You don’t say anything. You just smile.

Because this? The peace, the teasing, the softness?

This is what you fought for. And it was worth it.

The apartment is still. Yuji’s knocked out on the couch again, wrapped in two blankets and your fuzzy socks that are too small for some reason.

You and Choso lie tangled in your bed, the room dim, a fan humming low. His chest is against your back. Arm draped over your waist. You’re tracing circles on his hand where it rests against your stomach.

“You ever think we’d make it here?” you whisper.

He kisses your shoulder. “No. Not once.”

You smile. “Romantic.”

“I didn’t think I’d survive it,” he admits, voice low. “Not just the fights. But… you walking away.”

You turn to face him. Brush the hair from his face. “You’re dramatic.”

“I cry once and suddenly I’m the drama.”

You laugh softly. “You didn’t just cry. You folded.”

He hums. “Would again.”

You touch his face. Hold it gently.

“You don’t have to. Not anymore.”

His eyes flick over your face like he’s memorizing every curve.

“You still scare me, you know.”

You blink. “Me?”

He nods.

“Because I still can’t believe I get to love you like this.”

You kiss him. Slow. Long.

“Then don’t waste it.”

It’s Saturday again.

You’re in the kitchen with Choso, dancing around each other while making pancakes. He’s shirtless. You’re in one of Yuji’s hoodies out of pure pettiness.

Yuji walks in, sees the two of you—and grins like a devil. “Well, well, well. The happy couple cooking carbs. Disgusting.”

You roll your eyes.

“Don’t you have dumbbells to cry-lift or something?”

He walks in, grabs a pancake with his hand, and eats it while sitting on the counter.

“Nope. This is better.”

Choso eyes him warily. Yuji smirks at him.

“You moaned her name in your sleep again last night, by the way.”

Choso drops the spatula. “What?”

“Yeah. Like full volume. Thought you were dying. Or fucking. Hard to tell.”

You cackle.

Choso turns to you, eyes wide. “You’re not helping.”

“You really said my name?”

Yuji fake-moans in a high voice. “Ohh, [y/n], please don’t leave me—I’ll do the dishes for a week—”

“YUJI—”

“—and I’ll let you win at Uno again—*”

Choso lunges. Yuji bolts out of the kitchen, laughing like a man possessed. You double over, clutching the counter, tears in your eyes from laughing. Choso returns, ruffled and flushed, and just scowls at the stove.

“I swear to god. He’s not going to make it to Monday.”

“But wasn’t he kinda right?”

He glares at you. You grin.

He points a pancake at you.

“You’re on thin ice, woman.”

You steal it out of his hand and take a bite.

“Still love me, though.”

“…Unfortunately.”

Later that night.

The three of you. Pizza boxes. Drinks. Board games. Vibes.

Yuji’s already three drinks in and cheating at UNO like it’s a religion. Choso’s grumbling. You’re sandwiched between them, hoodie sleeves rolled up, ready to commit violence over one more draw-four.

“You stacked that,” Choso mutters, pointing at Yuji’s cards.

“No proof,” Yuji says, mouth full of crust. “Play your card, crybaby.”

You slap down a skip card. “I’m not babysitting another argument.”

Yuji gasps. “You SKIPPED me?”

“You cheated five minutes ago!”

“You loved that energy when I was stacking your back last night—”

Choso drops his cards.

“I’m going to end him.”

Yuji holds up a +2 like a shield. Choso lunges over the table. You sit there sipping your drink while they wrestle over a pile of reverse cards.

Eventually, the game dissolves into chaos, like always. You end up on the couch with Yuji draped sideways across you, head in your lap, groaning about how you two always team up against him. Choso’s grumpily reorganizing the deck and mumbling about rules no one’s enforcing.

You’re running your fingers through Yuji’s hair lazily, barely paying attention.

Until—

His hand drifts. By accident. To your upper thigh.

It’s casual. Thoughtless. He’s not even looking at you—still mid-rant about how no one respects his Uno game.

But Choso sees it. And freezes.

Yuji doesn’t notice until he stops talking and feels the death glare.

“What?”

Choso’s voice is low. Cold.

“Move your hand.”

Yuji glances down. Blinks.

“Dude, relax. It wasn’t even like that—”

“Now.”

Yuji slowly lifts his hand like he’s defusing a bomb.

You snort, trying not to laugh.

“He didn’t mean it, Choso.”

“I don’t care.”

Yuji raises his hands. “Look, man. My bad. Didn’t even realize. You’ve got her glued to you 90% of the time, I forgot what her leg looked like.”

“Keep talking.”

“You gonna cry again?”

Choso stands.

Yuji books it—again.

“WHY are you both like this?” you yell, exasperated and cracking up.

Later That Night

You’re curled up with Choso, finally calm again, your head on his chest. “You know he didn’t mean it, right?”

“He touched you.”

“By accident. While flailing about reverse cards and Doritos.”

Choso sighs. “He touched you.”

You kiss his jaw. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m dangerous when I’m jealous.”

You climb on top of him, smirking. “Sure. So dangerous. Look at you. All pouty and protective.”

“Don’t mock me.”

You kiss him slow. “Not mocking. Just… reminding you.”

“Of what?”

“That no matter what chaos he causes, I still climb into your bed.”

Choso grips your hips. “Good.”

You grin. “And I’m still gonna let him touch me if he cheats at Uno again.”

Choso groans into your neck. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“…Both.”

It’s late. The apartment’s quiet.

Yuji’s gaming in the living room with headphones on. You and Choso sneak into his bedroom with very different intentions.

Your shirt comes off before the door even fully closes.

Choso already has his hands on your hips, mouth hot on your throat. He’s muttering things like “mmh” and “wanna hear you” while you tug his hoodie off and push him onto the bed.

You’re straddling him now, grinding slow over the hardness straining in his sweats. Kissing him deep. Tongue, teeth, soft sounds.

“Fuck—just like that,” he whispers.

You’re both so into it you don’t hear the knock. You do hear the door creak open.

“Hey, did either of you—OH MY GOD—”

You and Choso freeze. You’re half-naked, mouth open in shock, Choso’s hands under your thighs, both of you staring at the door like it just betrayed you.

Yuji slams it shut. “WHY do I always walk in at the worst time?!”

“LOCK. THE. FUCKING. DOOR,” he screams.

Choso falls backward into the mattress with a growl.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

From the hallway: “I DIDN’T EVEN SEE NIPPLES I SWEAR—”

Later

You’re all watching a movie. Couch, popcorn, sweatpants. Peaceful. Until Yuji casually slings his legs across your lap. Then leans into your shoulder. Then lays his head on your thigh.

All very casual. Except for the fact that he’s definitely making eye contact with Choso.

Choso blinks. Slowly. Dangerously.

“No. Move.”

Yuji pretends not to hear. “What was that, bro?”

“Move your head.”

Yuji stretches dramatically. Lays flatter.

“Nah. I’m comfy.”

You choke back a laugh, frozen with one hand holding popcorn and the other hovering over Yuji’s hair.

Choso’s jaw clenches. “I will actually end you, Yuji.”

Yuji makes the mistake of smirking.

“Might wanna do it quick then. I’ve got [Name] all to myself right now.”

“YUJI—”

You put your hand on Choso’s knee.

“Baby. Calm. He’s being an asshole.”

“He’s touching you.”

“So do chairs.”

Yuji pokes his tongue out. “Yeah. But I’m warm.”

Choso’s about to explode when you grab Yuji’s face, squish his cheeks and say:

“Listen up, you fucking clingy gremlin. Stop antagonizing my boyfriend or I’m putting you in the trash can.”

Yuji gasps. “You’d never.”

You shove him off the couch.

He lands on the floor like a deflated beanbag, groaning dramatically.

Choso pulls you into his lap instantly. Wraps both arms around your waist. Glowers.

“Mine.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

Yuji, from the floor:

“Possessive much.”

You and Choso, in perfect sync:

“YES.”

It’s been two weeks of calm.

Of inside jokes. Of quiet mornings. Of lazy Sundays where Yuji’s snoring on one side of the couch while Choso kisses your neck on the other.

You thought things had settled.

But tonight? You’re drunk. Not wasted. But definitely in the I’m charming and dangerous stage.

The three of you are at a mutual friend’s birthday—somewhere loud, warm, a little too crowded. There’s a cake. There’s bad 2000s music. And there’s alcohol.

You’re sitting between Choso and Yuji on the balcony, a plastic cup in hand, cheeks flushed, laughter on your lips.

And Yuji?

Yuji’s wearing a tank top, arms out, hair slightly curled from the night air, gold chain glinting.

You look at him. Then lean over and poke his arm.

“You know…”

“If Choso wasn’t already keeping me ruined, I’d be all over you.”

Yuji short-circuits. He coughs. Blinks. Smiles—brat mode fully activated.

“Oh? Just if?” You smirk. Sip your drink.

“You’re not bad looking. I could train you.”

Choso, next to you, freezes. His drink halts halfway to his mouth.

Yuji leans closer. “Maybe I don’t need training. Maybe I’m a natural.”

You grin. It’s playful. A joke. But Choso doesn’t find it funny. At all.

“Yuji.” His voice is low.

“What?” Yuji says, half-laughing. “She started it.”

You trail a finger up Yuji’s bicep—still laughing, still tipsy.

“He’s a good listener. Maybe I’d let him—”

Choso stands. Chair scraping. Cup nearly crushed in his hand.

His jaw is locked. Eyes dark. Breathing uneven.

“Say one more thing,” he says, barely above a whisper.

The energy on the balcony shifts. Yuji sits back, finally realizing this may have gone too far.

You blink up at Choso, lips parted.

“It was a joke, baby—”

“No, it wasn’t,” he snaps. “Not to me.”

You stand slowly. Hands raised. “I’m drunk. I was playing.”

“Then stop playing with him.”

Yuji clears his throat. “Okay, maybe we should all—”

“Don’t. Speak.”

Yuji shuts up.

Choso’s eyes are still on you. Hurt flashing under the anger.

“You’re mine,” he says. “You said that.”

“I am,” you whisper. “I just—”

“Then stop fucking testing me.”

Silence. You set your drink down. Step into his space.

“I love you. But if you can’t handle me being close to my friend without combusting—your brother—then maybe you should rethink what you can handle.”

Choso exhales hard. Looks away.

You cup his face.

“It was a joke,” you say again. Softer. “You want to be mad? Be mad at him for being hot. Not me for having eyes.”

From the chair: “…Thanks, I guess?”

“Shut up, Yuji.”

Car Ride Home – War Zone Energy

You slide into the passenger seat, tipsy giggles slowly dying as you buckle up. Choso doesn’t say a word.

He starts the car. Puts it in drive. Grips the steering wheel like it’s the only thing stopping him from snapping someone’s neck.

Yuji slips into the back seat, humming. Kicks his feet up. Leans his head on the window with a smug little:

“Nighty night.”

You glance back. “You’re not actually asleep.”

“Nope,” he says. “But pretending feels safer.”

You turn back around slowly. Look at Choso’s jaw—tight. His nostrils flaring. One hand flexing on the gear shift.

“Baby, are you really mad?”

Silence.

“I was joking.”

Still nothing.

You reach over to touch his thigh.

He grabs your wrist—firm, not cruel—and places your hand back in your lap.

“Do not touch me right now,” he says low.

Your legs press together instinctively.

Yuji from the back:

“Hey, um. If I die in this car, do I get to haunt the bedroom?”

“Yuji.” you both growl in sync.

It’s late.

Yuji retreated to his room immediately—door locked, lights off, pretending he’s not listening with his ear pressed to the wall.

You change into a shirt and underwear, expecting maybe silent sulking.

But when Choso comes into the room? The door clicks. Locks.

You turn. He stares at you. Chest rising and falling. Sweatpants riding low on his hips.

“On the bed.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Now.”

You go. Sit on the edge.

He walks toward you slow—like a storm.

His hands grab your thighs, spreading them apart.

“You like teasing me in front of my brother?”

“Choso—”

He drags your underwear down in one swift pull.

“You like flirting with someone who doesn’t get to fuck you?”

“It was a joke—”

“So laugh now.”

He drops to his knees. One hand on your thigh, the other pinning your hip, he licks one slow, punishing stripe up your core—eyes locked on yours the whole time.

You gasp. Your hand flies into his hair.

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t speak. He devours you like he’s mad at the taste itself.

When your thighs shake, he pulls away.

You whine.

“No. You don’t get to come yet. Not after that stunt.”

He stands. Pushes you back. Climbs over you—caging you in under him.

You’re already soaked. He drags the head of his cock along your folds.

“You want him to hear you now?”

You nod, dazed.

He doesn’t give you time. Slams in. You cry out loud, back arching.

“That’s right. Let him hear who gets to have you.”

Every thrust is deep. Sharp. Possessive.

He’s gritting his teeth like it physically hurts him to hold back.

You pant beneath him. He kisses you then—rough but honest. Like he’s afraid this could ever be undone.

When you finally come—wrecked and crying out his name—he follows a second later, burying himself so deep inside you it feels like claiming.

You’re breathless. Sweaty. Your body humming with heat and ache.

Choso falls beside you, face buried in your neck.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he mumbles.

You smile. Still dazed. “Then don’t look so cute when you’re jealous.”

He groans. “I hate you.”

“Nah, You love me.”

From behind the wall:

“I heard all of that. Also I might need therapy. Thanks.”

You laugh. So does Choso.

It’s another weekend.

You’re lounging on the couch, scrolling your phone. Choso’s in the kitchen doing something domestic (probably aggressively slicing fruit). Yuji’s flopped beside you, half in your lap like always, scrolling TikTok.

He laughs, shows you a meme. Then casually tosses out:

“You ever wonder what it’d be like if you dated me instead?”

You snort. “What, you think you could handle me?”

“Please. I’d ruin you. Emotionally and physically.”

Choso looks over from the kitchen. Silent. Cold.

“Yuji—” you warn.

“I’m joking. Damn. Mostly.”

But Choso doesn’t laugh.

He just sets the knife down. Quietly. Wipes his hands.

And stares at the back of Yuji’s head like he’s calculating murder.

You catch it. You feel it.

And that’s when you know— He’s planning something.

The next day, Choso’s weird. Too calm. Too casual.

The three of you are watching something. You’re in the middle, Yuji to your right, Choso to your left. Halfway through the episode, Choso suddenly stands up.

“I’m gonna shower.”

You blink. “Now?”

“Yeah. Keep watching.”

He disappears down the hall.

You turn slowly. Yuji raises a brow.

“…That was weird, right?”

You nod. “Very.”

And then—like clockwork—Yuji shifts.

His hand finds your thigh. Resting. Lingering.

“So uh… if I wasn’t joking before—would that be a problem?”

You smile to yourself. So this is the game.

Choso wants to see what you’ll do. Wants to test if you’re loyal enough to pull away.

He’s watching. Listening. You know it.

So you lean in to Yuji. Lower your voice.

“You want to know what would happen if you tried anything?”

He grins. “Tell me.”

You drag your lips near his ear.

And whisper: “I’d let you try. Then I’d make Choso watch me ruin you. And still not let you come.”

Yuji blinks. Throat bobs. “…Jesus.”

You stand up, slowly. “Let him know his little test failed—he’s the one getting punished tonight.”

You enter the bedroom.

Choso is already there there. Sitting on the edge of the bed. Shirtless. Waiting.

You don’t speak. You lock the door behind you. Walk over slowly.

Stand between his legs. “You thought I wouldn’t notice?”

He swallows hard. “What?”

“That setup. You wanted to see if I’d fold. You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I just—”

You shove him back onto the bed. Climb over him.

“No. You wanted to test me. You wanted me to prove I wouldn’t give in.”

He doesn’t speak. You grab his wrists. Pin them above his head.

“Now you’re going to beg.”

“You’re not mad?”

“No. I’m disappointed. And disappointment gets punished.”

You kiss him hard. Bite his lip. Slide down his chest and pull his boxers down. He’s already hard. Pathetic.

You trail your fingers along him. Touch him lightly. Too light.

“You wanted control? You wanted to see what I’d do? Then take it.”

You don’t let him touch you. You edge him. Over and over.

Every time he moans, you cover his mouth. Every time he thrusts into your hand, you stop.

“Good boys don’t test what’s already theirs,” you whisper.

He’s shaking by the time you crawl back up, straddle his stomach, lean close.

“Next time you want to know if I’m loyal? Just ask.”

He nods. Breathing wrecked. You smirk.

“You don’t get to come tonight.”

“What—?”

“Sleep with it. Think about what you almost lost.”

You roll off him. Slide into bed.

And leave him there—hard and humiliated.

After denying Choso the orgasm of his life, you walk around like a goddess of vengeance in nothing but his old t-shirt and smugness.

He’s shirtless. Sulking. And hard. You don’t care.

Every time he passes you in the hallway—you press against him.

Every time he turns around—your hand brushes his waistband.

Once, while he’s rinsing his toothbrush, you lean up behind him.

Grab his dick. Slow. Firm. He chokes on mint.

“You like testing people so much, huh?” you purr against his neck.

“Stop,” he growls, half-broken. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I’m gonna edge you ‘til your soul leaves your body.”

He hisses through his teeth.

Later, while watching a show with Yuji, you sit beside Choso and lay your hand casually in his lap.

Innocent.

Until your fingers start rubbing. Slowly. Up his thigh.

Yuji yawns. “You both look suspicious.”

You don’t even look away from the screen.

“Me? Never.”

Choso’s silent. Too silent.

You know you’re winning.

The three of you are having breakfast.

Yuji’s making eggs. Choso’s across from you at the table. Tired. Frustrated. Slightly deranged.

You sit pretty. Innocent. Bare legs crossed.

Then—your foot slides up his shin.

He shifts. You sip your coffee. Your hand drifts under the table, into his lap.

He nearly knocks over his orange juice.

“Stop.”

You smile sweetly. “Something wrong, baby?”

Yuji plates some bacon. Turns around.

“Why does he look like he saw god?”

“Gas,” Choso mutters.

You giggle. Evil. Yuji sits. Narrows his eyes.

“Okay. Whatever’s happening under the table, I want in.”

“Excuse me?” Choso snaps.

Yuji grins. “Let’s make it fair. Brat-off. You versus her. Winner gets head.”

You blink. “You think you can out-brat me?”

Choso: “Please. No one’s touching anything until I get a moment of peace.”

Yuji: “Then you already lost.”

You slide your hand deeper in Choso’s lap. He grabs the edge of the table. Knuckles white.

“You gonna cry again?” you whisper.

Yuji leans his chin on his hand. Watching. “God, I love mornings with you two. It’s like emotional porn.”

You pout at Choso. “You gonna make me beg in front of him, daddy?”

He snaps. Chair scrapes back. He grabs your wrist, hard.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Yuji raises his coffee. “Godspeed, soldier.”

You don’t even yelp when Choso grabs your wrist and hauls you out of the chair.

You just smile. Smug. Smiling.

Until he lifts you off the floor like it’s nothing—throws you over his shoulder like a ragdoll.

Yuji raises his mug. “Goddamn. Carry on, caveman.”

You wiggle your fingers in a goodbye wave. “If I die, tell my story.”

Yuji winks. “She went out teasing.”

Choso growls something unintelligible and stomps down the hall, slams the bedroom door behind you both.

Then throws you on the bed.

You bounce once—grinning, breathless.

He stands at the edge, looming. Breathing hard. Sweatpants barely hanging on.

“You think this is a joke?”

You bite your lip. Spread your legs slightly. “A little.”

He rips his shirt off. “Then I’ll give you something to laugh about.”

You’re already soaked.

When he climbs over you, hands dragging up your thighs, you feel it—rage and lust colliding in his bloodstream like a drug.

“You touched me under the table?”

“Mmhm.”

“With him watching?”

You nod.

“Why?”

“Because you denied me. Because you tested me. Because you deserved it.”

That breaks him. He grabs your wrists, pins them over your head with one hand, and yanks your panties down with the other.

You’re already squirming.

“You’re gonna learn what teasing costs.”

He doesn’t warm you up. He knows you’re wet.

He drags the head of his cock through your folds and shoves in—deep.

Your mouth opens on a silent moan.

“Too loud?” he whispers. “Wanna let Yuji hear now?”

You gasp. Shake your head.

He laughs, dark.

“No? That brat started this. Maybe he should hear how I end it.”

He fucks you like he’s trying to hammer sense into your soul.

Every thrust is hard, brutal, unrelenting.

And yet—it’s exactly what you asked for.

Your thighs shake. You’re almost there—already.

“You don’t get to come yet.”

“Please—”

He pulls out. You sob.

“No. Not until you beg like you did at the table.”

You whisper it:

“Please. Choso. Fuck me. Ruin me. Show him I’m yours.”

His eyes flash. And when he slams back in, one hand around your throat, the other gripping your thigh—you know he’s going to mark his name into you.

You’re crying out beneath Choso, soaked and aching, throat raw from moaning—but you’re not done.

Not even close.

When he leans down, panting, flushed, one hand gripping your jaw to kiss you again—you move.

Twist under him. Use your legs. Leverage.

He’s surprised. Let’s you flip him onto his back, straddle his hips in one fluid move.

“What—?”

You grin down at him. Hair wild. Chest heaving.

“Thought I’d let you finish without getting what I want?”

His hands reach for your waist—you grab them. Pin them to the bed.

“No touching.”

His jaw clenches. You sink onto him slowly.

Both of you moan at the same time. But you? You keep it slow. Devastatingly slow.

Rocking your hips just enough to drive him insane.

He’s breathless. “Fuck—[y/n], please—”

“Beg prettier.”

You roll your hips harder. Ride him deeper. You know he’s close.

You lean down, lips barely grazing his.

“Say it.”

He gasps. Tries to hold back. You squeeze around him.

He shatters. “I’m yours. I’m yours, fuck—I’m—”

You kiss him then. Deep. Desperate.

You both come at the same time—hard—with your name and his tangled in the air like a sin.

You fall against his chest. He’s shaking beneath you.

“I hate you,” he mumbles.

You’re asleep when he leaves it. Choso’s passed out cold, sprawled beside you like he’s been hit by a truck.

Yuji walks down the hallway—hair messy, shirt off, water bottle in hand—and pauses by your door.

He’d definitely heard most of it. He slips something under the door.

Just a piece of notebook paper. Folded. No signature.

Just five words: “I get it. She’s yours.” (…Lucky bastard.)

It’s late morning.

Sunlight spills across the couch. The TV’s on, low volume. Some dumb reality show playing in the background.

You’re sitting in the middle cushion—as always—legs up, hoodie on, hair messy.

Yuji and Choso are on either side of you. And arguing. Again.

“I’m not the one who left their wet towel on the goddamn floor, Choso.”

“You live in a garbage heap of protein powder and shame. Don’t talk about towels.”

Yuji glares. “At least I’m not one existential crisis away from writing poetry in the bathroom.”

“I write it in the bedroom, thanks.”

You sip your coffee. Unbothered.

Then reach for the banana in your lap. And peel it.

Slowly.

The argument pauses.

You don’t look at either of them. You just peel. Inch by inch. Like it means something.

Yuji’s voice falters. “Anyway, you’re—uh—still dramatic.”

You look up at him. Smile. Take a slow bite.

He looks like someone punched the air out of his lungs.

Choso sees it too. And he knows that look on Yuji’s face.

“Are you—” Choso starts.

You chew. Grin.

“Just getting some potassium, boys. It’s important to stay hydrated when you’re getting railed every night.”

Yuji chokes on his orange juice.

Choso sighs like a war veteran.

“You’re insufferable.”

You wink.

“And yet, here I am. Your insufferable little problem.”

Yuji wipes his mouth, still staring at the banana.

“She’s a menace.”

“A brat,” Choso agrees.

“A pervert,” Yuji adds.

You nod proudly.

They exchange a look over your head—some unspoken masculine “she’s out of control” moment.

You lean back, arms behind your head. “Y’know,” you hum. “This is probably what my life will look like forever.”

Two bratty men. One couch. One ridiculous morning after another.

And suddenly, it doesn’t feel like chaos. It feels like peace.

Flirty. Loud. Slightly inappropriate peace.

You glance at Yuji. Then at Choso.

“You two can keep arguing. I’ll just keep being hot.”

Choso snorts. Yuji throws a pillow at you.

You catch it. Grin.

A random Tuesday. No fighting. No sex. Just the three of you folding laundry like a cursed domestic throuple who never agreed to be one.

It starts with socks. Mismatched.

Three pairs of feet, one overflowing laundry basket, and exactly zero emotional stability.

Yuji holds up a bra like it’s evidence. “This yours?”

Choso: “It’s a 34C. Does it look like mine?”

Yuji shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re into.”

You walk past them both. Snatch the bra.

“You’re both idiots.”

Choso mutters something about sanctity and separating delicates, while Yuji’s folding a t-shirt like he’s in a speed round of “Who Can Be the Most Useless.”

Then Yuji holds up one of Choso’s dark, oversized hoodies.

“Smells like her perfume.”

Choso snatches it. “That’s the point.”

You raise a brow.

“You’re scenting your clothes like a deranged Victorian husband?”

Choso shrugs. “Sue me.”

Yuji throws a sock at his face. It lands. No reaction.

You fold one of Yuji’s sleeveless shirts, then lean over and whisper:

“Yours still smells like fabric softener and repressed feelings.”

He nearly drops the basket. When all’s folded, you flop backwards onto the warm pile of clothes.

Choso lays beside you, head in your neck.

Yuji dramatically starfishes across the other end of the bed.

It’s quiet. Soft music plays from someone’s phone.

None of you say it—but this is bliss. Domestic. Stupid. Mundane.

And somehow—it’s everything. You hum.

“You know we’re weird, right?”

Yuji: “Painfully.”

Choso: “No complaints.”

“Same.”

You grab a folded hoodie. Toss it over your head.

It’s Choso’s. Yuji’s shirt lands on your stomach.

“Mine’s softer.”

“Debatable,” you smirk.

Choso sighs. “We need better laundry boundaries.”

Yuji: “We need therapy.”

You, stretching: “We need snacks.”

All of you groan. No one moves.

And for the first time in weeks—you feel it deep in your chest:

You could never complain about this.

Not this couch. Not these idiots. Not this life.

Because it’s yours now.

And it’s home.

🪲 The End.

໒꒰ྀི ˶• ༝ •˶ ꒱ྀི১ hope you like it!!

be sure to check out my other stuff too <3

[ns-imagines]

Nikto никто

Nikto Character Introduction

If you find yourself drooling over possessive and obsessive!Ghost or König lemme introduce you to Nikto…

SFW [ all cannon information ]

Word Count: TBA its a lot

Warnings: Disorder mention; Torture mention; dissociative disorder mentioned;

A/N: Lemme talk to you for a moment…

My new masked crush. Heart and coochie go brrrrrrrrrrrrr

Post has not been checked for grammar corrections / Not requested :D

Cannon Information:

Nikto (Neeek-toe) is a Operator in Spetsnaz for the Allegiance faction which is within the KorTac Organization. Basically hes a contractor for the contractors. Its cannon that he has facial scarring which is why he wears a mask. Not a turn off for me ah ha ha

So he isn’t necessarily a good guy like the 141 guys (even though now they’re considered war criminals I suppose) but he’s also not a bad guy. In summary, man does what he gets hired to do.

Anyways, after going AWOL in October 2022 from the Russian contracting military group he resurfaced in June 2023 (also the introduction of his character in the game). He resurfaced being the leader of a military group which was overtaking the Dutch city of Vondel.

On the Official Wiki he is only given two paragraphs of biography. You can read it here -> https://callofduty.fandom.com/wiki/Nikto

Also mentioned on the page [ for the COD Mobile universe ] is that theres cannon beef between Ghost and Nikto!! Yes, you heard me right. So on the wiki it is mentioned that Nikto was working for a guy named Templar. Whom is betrayed and killed by Ghost. Then when Ghost went after everyone else in the helicopter he shot Nikto. It was thought that Nikto died from the shot but he didnt….

Nikto reappears when he takes a group of people hostage and records a video explaining that the world has failed them and has left people like (Nikto) to beg and then fight over the scraps. Price (yes Price) tries to convince Nikto to let the hostages go and to basically chill out but Nikto wins by blowing up the building. With the hostages inside.

Okay maybe he has beef with all of 141… and is kinda a bad guy I can change him

SO then time passes and Nikto reappears again seeking a gun deal with a dude named Gunzo. Gunzo asks Nikto “why a man wanted on every continent, doesnt have guns” this pisses Nikto off. Nikto replies with “i dont need guns” then proceeds to buy the guns from Gunzo. Then Nikto gasses the fuck out of Gunzo and his men with Nova Gas. Nikto explains to Gunzo that the world is failing blah blah. He then goes on to brag about how he doesnt need a gas mask to breath like everyone else because hes that edgy and then he just executes Gunzo. We can fix him

Nikto disappears again only to reappear flying a F-85B Bullshark and leading a military riot. He then orders a attack on Prices convoy (video below) and basically down their helicopter. In the video below you can see small arms fire, an RPG, and then a finishing shot. Which was shot by Nikto’s aircraft. Okay maybe he is bad, we can fix him ?

Which you can watch here -> https://youtu.be/dDaCTCu82t0

In game bio from MW, CODM, and MW2

It is referenced in his bio MW and CODM that he has acute dissociative disorder. Which according to WebMD

“Dissociative disorders involve problems with memory, identity, emotion, perception, behavior and sense of self. Dissociative symptoms can potentially disrupt every area of mental functioning. Dissociation is a disconnection between a person’s thoughts, memories, feelings, actions or sense of who he or she is.”

Which is explained to be from when he was tortured by Mr. Z. That event is also where he got his facial scarring from. Although he is Russian; in current MW2 timeline his nationality and language is [ REDACTED ]. I was looking around on the internet for why and Reddit believes its due to current world current events/tension. Rewording to: we can accept and love him. I dont think we can fix him.

I don’t expect this post to get a lot of attention but for those who like it my requests are fully open ❤️

i will definitely be posting more Nikto content and what I think Nikto looks like and how he acts.

Thank you for reading! -Kiv

[burningfudge]

thunderbolts* spoilers

I liked the movie, but I feel like I already watched it ten years ago. It was a movie called Guardians of the Galaxy. A group of misfits who are aimless and feeling lost, regret, and loneliness, and then band together to fight a threat. This is the Earth Guardians 😭

Bucky and Ava had nothing to do lol. This was pretty much Yelena and Bob's movie, but they were fantastic. I did want to see more of Ava, but her character wasn't fleshed out that much compared to the others, which I found disappointing.

I was open to the idea of Congressman Bucky before watching the movie to see if they did something with it but they did absolutely nothing. It seemed like an out of character decision anyway. Like the same man who went on the run from the US government is going to turn around and then become a part of the government? Steve should’ve just signed the Accords in that case lmfao.

The scene with Bucky on the motorcycle was sick though. Loved it!

I didn’t get a good look, but was Bucky’s new outfit in the post credits a Revolution-inspired outfit from the comics? I’m like 85% sure that the red star design is like his Revolution one. I’m glad Bucky’s going back to the red star design.

Bob beating himself up :( My boy. I had such a big soft spot for him when I read New Avengers for the first time, and while they changed the Void from the comics, I really liked this interpretation.

"Taco shield" lol Walker was so funny in this movie. He even kept the taco shield in the post credits scene. His stupid little beret cracked me up too.

Walker’s “Bobby” became so endearing by the end too. They give me big brother and little brother vibes.

Valentina shooting a snide remark at Ross during the hearing is so funny because he's the one who appointed her as the Director of the CIA lmaoo. They were both up to shady superhuman things and trying to "bring the Avengers back".

And Congress holding a corrupt government official responsible? Unrealistic. At least Bucky's the right age to become a Congressman.

New Avengers is my favorite comic of all time, so I have mixed feelings about the name. But it's funny that Norman Osborn's Dark Avengers storyline was given to Valentina, with Valentina manipulating Bob and taking over Avengers Tower just like how Osborn did. Ox Corp even sounds like Oscorp.

Did Tony sell the tower to Ox Corp or something?

I think Abomination would've been a huge plus in the movie. He, thematically, fits in with the rest of the team, and they would've gotten a Hulk on the team too. Because let's be honest, the team is a little weak on the power side, and Sentry's pulling all the heavy weight. Doom's going to slaughter them in two seconds.

Idk why Sam is upset about the name. Like dude, your Avengers team is just you and Joaquin. What Avengers team does he have? Go call up some of your friends first, at least the New AvengerZ are actually a team. He didn’t even call Bucky to join his team 😭

Poor New York. They just went through a blackout, riots, and looting, and now they were in the Void. At least Fisk probably saw his traumatic childhood memories again, which is a plus. But Matt probably saw Foggy's death again :( And poor Peter probably saw Aunt May and Tony dying.

FANTASTIC FOUR MY BABIES I CAN'T WAIT. It's going to be really funny that the first people the FF are going to meet in the MCU are going to be the Thunderbolts lmao. I think Alexei and Ben will get along really well or absolutely hate each other. It can go either way. Walker and Johnny would 100% get on each other's nerves, though.

But did they spoil how the movie ends? Everyone basically knew that they're going to travel to the main MCU universe eventually, though. RIP FF universe, Galactus probably found the planet delicious.

ADFHJKL IM SO EXCITED FOR THE FANTASTIC FOUR

I’d give this movie a 7/10. For post-Endgame movies, I’d rank it right below No Way Home and GotG Vol 3, and on par with Shang-Chi.

[heyaheiya]

hi sweetie, I love your work (◍•ᴗ•◍)

here's my request: pro hero katsuki x influencer quirkless reader. like how started the relationship and maybe some headcanon like hand placement, if there's pda in some events or awards, what he would answer if some1 ask him about his relationship, etc.

I hope you like my request, thank u and have a great day 💗

Omg I love the idea of katsuki with a famous non pro hero partner.

You were surprisingly popular for what you did. Makeup tutorials, reviews, grwms, ootd, vlogs. A part of your popularity was how it seemed you lived the dream life, inspiring teens all across Japan to strive for your aesthetic. (Wonyoungism lmfao).

You officially met Katsuki when you were asked to be the main interviewer on this year's annual Pro Hero Billboard Chart red carpet. When you read the email offering you this once in a lifetime opportunity, you slammed your laptop closed and sped walked laps around your bedroom. You were just a random person who posted silly footage of themselves. But now you were going to be on national TV, being on screen with the most famous faces of Japan. You were shitting yourself.

The company in charge of everything didn't really give you anything to prepare, not terrifying at all!! You spent days researching the heroes, trying to dig deep to find actually interesting things, rather than the repetitive "What made you want to be a hero?". A part of you really wanted to find embarrassing and creepily personal things to entertain the audience, but you quickly found there was a reason why you weren't a detective. 3 days straight, you attempted to stalk the heroes, and nothing. NOTHING!

The event was coming up quickly, and you had absolutely nothing. Your thick stack of cards, all decorated with the iconic design, were blank. You cried for 7 hours.

Eventually, you wrote down some questions, but rereading them, they were the most pathetic excuses for questions ever. You were spiralling. The next day, you were probably going to bomb, have no chemistry with any of the heroes, broadcasting hours upon hours of awkward tension, ruining your reputation and career, destroying the image you had spent years creating for yourself. You cried. A lot.

With a blink of the eye, you were at the red carpet, all dolled up, with less confidence than ever before. Great. The first hero you were stuck with was Deku. You assumed production noticed your panic and decided to throw you a bone.

"So, Deku, if you had to describe your pre-hero days with one word, what would it be?"

"Hmm," he took a second to think, "Bad."

Huh. No, Deku, No!! You were supposed to be the easy one! You cried internally.

"What? A nice, handsome boy like you? I bet you were popular in middle school!"

"I was bullied horrifically."

Damn.

Eventually, you'd managed to get past Deku, Red Riot, Sun Eater, and more. And it was awful. Just one more until your break. Just one more.

Praying to get an easy one, out walks Dynamight. Why do you hate me, God????

He was tall, brooding, and bad with interviews. You were hoping he'd just kill you so you wouldn't have to live with the memory of fucking up infront of the country.

"So- Dynamight. What inspired that name?" Fake it till you make it ig. You grit your teeth in discomfort.

There's a long pause before:

"Dynamite."

"Yeah, what inspired it?"

"Dynamite."

"Dude I just wanna go home, please don't make this harder."

"FUCK! DYNAMIGHT COMES FROM THE ENGLISH WORD DYNAMITE! I JUST CHANGED THE SPELLING OF "MITE" TO "MIGHT" CAUSE ALL MIGHTS FUCKING COOL AS FUCK!"

"Don't yell at me! :("

Dynamight's PR team advised him to keep his answers short and to hold in his anger until he was off screen. You'd assumed he'd been holding in his sass for the past 5 hours, so it was only natural he'd blow up soon. (Like dynamite lol)

As soon as you got home from that shit show, you quickly noticed how your name was trending on twitter.

Welp, time to see how badly I ruined my career. Goodbye fame, it's not like I spent years on you..

You slowly scrolled through your tag, skimming the posts about you. However, the more you read, the more you realised people didn't hate you. In fact, the most popular video of the night was you and Dynamight's interview. And people were.. SHIPPING YOU???

You avoided anything and everything for around a week, not even opening your blinds to let in the light. The only contact you had through those 7 days was your ugly orange cat. That was until you got a knock at your door.

That's weird, I only ordered food 2 minutes ago.

You pulled the door open, saw Katsuki, and slammed it back closed, a tuft of his fluffy blond getting stuck between the door and the frame.

"FUCK ME DEAD!"

"Sorry!!"

You yanked the door back open and looked up at the man. The commotion made your cat, Miso, perk up in fear and scratch at the tall beast of a man.

"JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! First you avoid me like the plague, then you assault the shit out of me!"

"I'm so so sorry (ToT)"

------

Headcanon time 😼😼:

This man has his hands around your waist 24/7.

However, in the privacy of your own homes, he'd be a massive cunt and keep you in a headlock, knowing you can't do anything about it. He'd stop in a second if you asked him to.

At first, he wasn't big on pda. He felt it ruined his tough guy reputation. But his PR team begged him to keep a hand on you at all times, noticing how it kept his hashtag trending. Although he makes a big fuss, he secretly likes showing you off to everyone, and showing how you're all his.

Whenever he's asked about you, he insults the shit out of you.

"Huh, y/n? Never heard of them."

"They're an influencer? Yeah, no I only keep up with actual relevant people."

He means it with love. And he makes sure you know it, smothering you with love when he gets home.

Despite him bullying you about your only real job being promoting brands in your videos, he constantly buys you stuff. You make sure to show them off in your vlogs too.

Hope you enjoyed <33333

[magnagaruzenmon]

Stay Alive

The first part of heavy metal, and woo this is a doozy to start on…fuck you dino. Also happy new years. I hope you've been having fun with Daigo's holiday specials, because this is the last one for now

I just wanna thank @coldfanbou and @lustspren for writing cool stuff. No smut yet needed to world build hope that’s okay.

“Ah, come on, Daigo, it’ll be fun! Picture this: a three-day music festival entirely dedicated to girl groups. Some of your favorites—Dreamcatcher, Twice, Eunbi, and so many more! How could you say no to that?”

Jonas’s enthusiasm was infectious, but I wasn’t in the mood. I leaned back in my chair, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The chaos from recent riots at music festivals played on a loop in my mind—overcrowding, fights breaking out, people getting hurt. I’d seen it up close before, and I wasn’t eager to put myself in the middle of it again.

“I don’t know…” I hesitated, glancing at the stack of bills on my counter that never seemed to shrink. “It’s just—with all the violence lately, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Jonas let out an exaggerated sigh on the other end of the line. “Daigo, you’re killing me here. Look, I need someone I can trust for this gig. You’ve got experience, you’re good under pressure, and—let’s be real—you’re the biggest fangirl I know when it comes to these groups.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Fangirl? That’s rich coming from the guy who cried when LOONA disbanded.”

“That was different, and you know it!” Jonas shot back, feigning indignation. “Tell you what, though. You help me out this one time, and I’ll sweeten the deal: I’ll get you backstage access for your top three groups. You can say hi, do the whole meet-and-greet thing, and—” he paused for dramatic effect, “I’ll pay you double time.”

“Double time and a meet-and-greet?” I raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “You must be desperate.”

“Desperate doesn’t even cover it,” Jonas admitted. “But I know you, Daigo. You’ll do it. You just need a little incentive.”

I leaned forward, considering his offer. The idea of meeting Dreamcatcher, Twice, and Eunbi backstage was tempting. Hell, it was more than tempting—it was a dream come true. But I wasn’t about to let him off easy.

“Okay,” I said, dragging the word out. “I’ll do it. But on one condition: you pay me in advance for the regular eight-hour shifts. When overtime inevitably hits—and we both know it will—you can pay me after.”

I expected him to balk, to try to negotiate or talk me down. Instead, Jonas practically shouted into the phone. “Fine! Deal!”

I sighed, shaking my head. “You’re way too excited about this. I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I?”

“Only if you don’t bring something for your bias to sign!” Jonas teased, and before I could respond, he added, “I’ll send you the details. And, Daigo? Thanks, man. I owe you big time.”

As I hung up, I stared at my phone, torn between dread and anticipation. The job might be chaos, sure, but the thought of meeting my idols backstage was enough to nudge me into action. Maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t be so bad.

The first two days of the festival passed in a blur. I worked with Lightsum alongside a guy named Dinozen, a chill dude with a sharp sense of humor, and covered the super-secret IZ*ONE reunion stage with someone named Dexter, a no-nonsense guy who seemed to have everything under control. Unsurprisingly, the girls were all the sweetest. Chowon, Sakura, and Eunbi even signed my photocards, which was an experience I’d never forget.

Hyewon, though, surprised me. She noticed my Night of the Living Dead phone case while I was setting up security near the backstage area.

“Oh my God, is that Romero’s Night of the Living Dead?” she asked, her eyes lighting up as she leaned in closer to get a better look.

“Yeah,” I said, holding up the phone so she could see it better. “You’re a fan?”

“Are you kidding? I love zombie movies. Do you like Train to Busan?”

“Of course! A classic,” I replied, and we spent a few minutes geeking out about the genre before she got whisked away for rehearsals.

The last day of the festival was intense, to say the least. The lineup was packed: IVE, LE SSERAFIM, QWER, GFRIEND (yes, Eunha and Lil Uzi Vert were there), KISS OF LIFE, Dreamcatcher, and finally, Twice.

For the first two stages, Sakura, Chaewon, Yujin, and Wonyoung spotted me lingering around during the early morning soundchecks.

“Did you even sleep last night?” Wonyoung called out, grinning mischievously as she approached with the others in tow.

“Barely,” I admitted, stifling a yawn.

“You’re here earlier than us! Are you secretly a sasaeng?” Sakura teased, elbowing me lightly as the others burst into laughter.

“Yeah, what’s your bias list?” Chaewon added with mock suspicion, crossing her arms and squinting at me.

“Okay, first of all,” I said, holding up a finger, “I’m not a sasaeng. Second, I’m here working. You know, security?”

“Uh-huh. That’s what they all say,” Yujin quipped.

“Don’t worry, oppa, we’ll keep your secret,” Wonyoung said, winking.

“Oppa?!” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes at their antics. “You’re all impossible.”

Truth be told, I didn’t mind. Their teasing broke the ice, and by the end of their set, they were thanking me profusely for keeping everything running smoothly.

Later, I found myself working security for GFRIEND. Eunha caught me lingering backstage and decided to strike up a conversation.

“You’re awfully quiet for a security guy,” she said, tilting her head. “Do we intimidate you?”

“Not at all,” I said with a smirk. “I’m just professional. But since we’re chatting—big fan, by the way.”

Eunha grinned, leaning in slightly. “Oh? Do you have a favorite song?”

“‘Time for the Moon Night.’ No contest.”

“Good choice,” she said, clearly pleased. “You’ve got good taste. But…” She paused, her expression turning playful. “What’s your bias list for Twice?”

“You’re not getting that out of me,” I said, laughing.

“Oh, come on!” she said, punching my arm lightly before getting called away for rehearsal.

QWER was an entirely different vibe. From the moment they showed up, they were absolute chaos gremlins. Magenta spotted my Ultraman keychain dangling from my belt and let out a gasp loud enough to make heads turn.

“Is that Ultraman?!” she exclaimed, running over.

“Yeah. You a fan?”

“Am I a fan?!” she said, practically bouncing on her heels. “Ultraman Tiga is my favorite! What about you?”

We ended up on a massive tangent about tokusatsu, until Hina chimed in about Final Fantasy when I mentioned I love girls who can fight like Tifa from FFVII. “Tifa’s the best, hands down,” she said, crossing her arms as if daring anyone to argue.

“Agreed,” I said, nodding. “What’s your go-to build for her?”

“Oh, don’t get her started,” Chodan cut in, laughing. “But seriously, what’s your take on League of Legends?” After hearing me say someone was inting in the previous conversation.

That led to another rabbit hole of nerd talk, with Chodan grilling me about champs and strategies while Magenta playfully teased her for his “tryhard vibes.”

After their performance, Magenta pulled me aside. “Hey, if you want a job after this, come to Korea,” she said, a surprising seriousness in her tone. “I’m sure we can find a spot for you.”

I rolled my eyes, thinking it was just more teasing. “Yeah, sure. I’ll get right on that.”

“No, really,” she said, locking eyes with me. “Think about it. You’d fit in.”

Her sincerity caught me off guard, but before I could respond, she was already running off to join the others.

Sure! Here’s an expanded version of the scene with more dialogue and detail:

Dreamcatcher’s set was a whirlwind. They came in, stole the show with their energy and charisma, and left just as quickly. It was clear they were pros, used to the hectic schedule of being on tour. I barely had a chance to speak with them, but as I was walking backstage, Yoohyeon caught sight of my shirt peeking out from under my security uniform.

“Wait—is that a Kaiju No. 8 shirt?” she asked, pointing excitedly.

I froze, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. Big fan of the series.”

“Same here!” Yoohyeon said, her eyes lighting up. “Dami got me into it. Isn’t Kafka’s transformation just the coolest?”

Dami, standing nearby, smirked. “Yoohyeon keeps trying to get everyone in the group to read it.”

“It’s worth it!” Siyeon chimed in, adjusting her jacket. “But, seriously, where’d you get that shirt? I’ve been looking for merch everywhere.”

I laughed nervously. “Online. Limited drop, though, so it might be hard to find now.”

“Lucky,” Dami said, shaking her head. “Anyway, we’d better go. Tour schedule’s tight.”

They waved as they hurried out, leaving me feeling both starstruck and a little bummed that I didn’t have more time to talk to them.

As Dreamcatcher’s bus pulled away, Twice was arriving. Their energy was palpable even before they stepped out, fans screaming from behind the barricades as they made their way inside. I was checking the perimeter when I heard a familiar voice.

“You were at our LA concert a few years ago.”

I turned to see Dahyun, smiling warmly as she approached. For a second, I was stunned.

“Uh, yeah,” I stammered. “How did you remember that?”

Dahyun tilted her head, still smiling. “We don’t have many fans that look like…you, so I always try to remember their faces. Plus, you brought that light-up ring instead of our Candybong.”

I laughed, embarrassed but also flattered. “Yeah, the Candybong was sold out, so I improvised.”

“Well, it worked! We all thought it was cool.”

Before I could say anything else, the ground beneath us seemed to shift. setting everyone on edge.

“What was that?” someone whispered behind me.

And then the screams began.

From the crowd near the main stage, people started to thrash and convulse, their movements jerky and unnatural. Others began growling, their voices guttural and animalistic. The sight was surreal—like something out of a horror movie.

“Everyone, move!” I yelled, springing into action.

I turned to Dahyun and the rest of Twice. “Get to the evacuation buses. Now!”

They didn’t argue, following my lead as I herded them and the remaining girl groups backstage toward the buses. The screams and chaos grew louder as the infected began attacking others in the crowd, tearing into them with horrifying ferocity.

“Keep moving!” I shouted, adrenaline surging as I kept the idols together, forming a protective barrier between them and the chaos.

One by one, the groups boarded the buses. I stayed behind to make sure everyone was accounted for, scanning the area for any stragglers.

“Daigo, get on!” someone shouted from inside the last bus.

As I turned to board, a hand grabbed me, yanking me backward with incredible strength. The bus door shut just as I lost my footing.

The man who had grabbed me was no longer human. His eyes were bloodshot, black veins bulging across his face and neck like spiderwebs. He growled, the sound primal and terrifying, before lunging at me.

I struggled against him, barely managing to shove him off, but not before his teeth sank into my arm. Pain shot through me as I kicked him away, slamming a nearby door into his face before scrambling to my car.

Blood was dripping from my arm as I started the engine, my hands shaking. My phone buzzed with an emergency alert:

“EMERGENCY ALERT: FERAL RAGE VIRUS OUTBREAK IN LOS ANGELES. AVOID INFECTED INDIVIDUALS. IF BITTEN, SELF-ISOLATE IMMEDIATELY.”

A wave of dread washed over me as the words sank in. A zombie apocalypse—and I’d been bitten.

By the time I got home, I was running on autopilot. I found a note from my family on the kitchen counter:

“We evacuated. Stay safe. We love you.”

I smiled faintly, relieved that they had made it out, even as the reality of my situation settled in. I sat down on the couch, clutching my arm as I waited—waited for the inevitable.

But as the hours passed, nothing happened. No fever, no loss of control, no primal urge to attack. Just silence.

Something was wrong—or maybe something was right. Whatever it was, I wasn’t turning. At least, not yet. 28 weeks later

California had been decimated by the undead in a matter of days. The infection spread faster than anyone could have predicted, turning the Golden State into a graveyard of abandoned cities and roaming hordes of the infected. Military barricades crumbled, evacuation plans failed, and those who were lucky got out while they could. Planes were packed with desperate refugees, cars clogged the highways leading east, and boats left the coastlines overcrowded with those willing to risk open waters.

For me, leaving wasn’t an option.

I didn’t have the luxury of escape, not because I couldn’t find a way out, but because of the bite on my arm. By the time the infection reached its peak, there were no confirmed cases of immunity. A bite was a death sentence—or worse, an eternity as one of the infected. The thought of being trapped in that kind of existence kept me grounded, unwilling to risk spreading the infection to anyone else.

But something strange happened.

I didn’t turn.

Days turned into weeks, and then months. The black veins that had crawled up my arm after the attack faded away within hours, leaving only a faint scar where the infected’s teeth had punctured my skin. I waited for the fever to come, for the primal urges, for the hallucinations people had described before losing themselves. None of it happened.

In fact, the only time I got remotely sick was from a bad batch of shrimp I’d scavenged off an abandoned food truck near the Santa Monica pier.

At first, I thought maybe I was just a late bloomer, that the virus would eventually catch up to me and take over. I avoided people, avoided crowded safe zones, not wanting to risk spreading whatever was inside me. I spent most of my time moving quietly through the ruins of Los Angeles, scavenging supplies and avoiding the Zs as best I could.

The thing was, the Zs avoided me too.

It wasn’t immediate, but over time, I started noticing that they didn’t react to me the way they did to others. If I stayed still, they would stumble past as if I weren’t even there. If I walked into a horde, they would part like a school of fish around a predator.

It was unsettling at first, terrifying even, but I couldn’t deny the advantage it gave me. I became a ghost in the city, slipping through once-busy streets and long-abandoned suburbs. I didn’t need to hide anymore.

Whatever was inside me, whatever had stopped the virus from taking hold, had made me different.

And in a world where survival was everything, being different wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

At first, surviving felt like an achievement. I kept moving, kept scavenging, and avoided any unnecessary risks. But as the weeks bled into months, that sense of urgency faded, replaced by something else: boredom.

The excitement of sneaking through an abandoned city, the thrill of dodging Zs, even the satisfaction of finding a can of beans in the back of an overturned truck—it all started to feel routine. The days blurred together.

Wake up. Scavenge. Avoid Zs. Sleep.

For a while, I wandered aimlessly. I retraced old memories, revisiting places I’d once loved. The Santa Monica Pier, now eerily quiet except for the creak of its abandoned rides. Griffith Park, where the Hollywood sign still stood, a crumbling symbol of a bygone world. But eventually, even nostalgia wasn’t enough to fill the emptiness.

So I headed south.

San Diego seemed as good a place as any to settle. The Zs were thinner here, the population having fled or been wiped out in the first waves of the outbreak. The weather was mild, the ocean breeze cutting through the silence, and the naval base offered plenty of resources for the taking if I could get past the wreckage.

I found an old house in a quiet suburb, tucked away behind overgrown trees and hedges. It was small but sturdy, with thick walls and a decent vantage point from the second floor. The backyard had a rusted swing set, a reminder of the family that had once lived here.

Over time, I turned it into my safe haven.

The front door was reinforced with scrap metal I’d scavenged from a nearby junkyard. Windows were boarded up, and the second-floor balcony became my lookout point. I rigged up a crude rainwater collection system with a tarp and some old gutters and managed to get a small solar panel working, enough to power a single lightbulb and charge my radio.

I spent my days scavenging for supplies, fortifying the house, and exploring the surrounding neighborhoods. Grocery stores, gas stations, and even old military supply depots had been picked clean, but every once in a while, I’d find something useful—tools, canned food, medicine.

It was a life, I suppose.

But it was also mind-numbingly dull.

I tried to keep myself busy. I’d read old books I found in abandoned houses, patch holes in my clothes, and even attempted to learn how to cook properly with the limited ingredients I had. But there were only so many ways to make canned beans and rice interesting, and only so many times I could read Dune before the words started to blur together.

The worst part was the silence.

I used to think I hated noise—traffic jams, crowded malls, loud neighbors. But now, I would have given anything to hear another human voice, even just in passing. The only sounds were the distant groans of Zs, the wind rattling through broken windows, and the occasional creak of the house settling under its own weight.

Sometimes, I’d sit on the roof at night, staring at the stars and wondering if there was anyone else out there. Were there other people like me, survivors trying to rebuild? Or was I really the last one left, wandering through the ruins of the world?

Whatever the answer, one thing was clear: this life wasn’t sustainable.

I needed a purpose. Something to do, somewhere to go. Anything to break the monotony.

But until then, I kept moving through the same routine, day after day, wondering how long I could keep going before the boredom consumed me entirely.

Life alone in San Diego wasn’t just about surviving anymore—it was about mastering survival. The boredom had driven me to find ways to fill my days, and in doing so, I’d turned what was once a simple safe house into a fortress of modern conveniences.

The first breakthrough came with the solar panels. I’d stumbled across a half-abandoned solar farm about a mile from my safe house. It had been overrun with Zs, but they didn’t notice me as I worked my way through the facility, scavenging what I could. I started small, hauling back a single panel and an inverter to test if I could rig it up to charge my car battery. When that worked, I went back for more.

It took weeks of trial and error, piecing together wiring and jerry-rigging connections, but eventually, I had enough solar power to light my house, charge a working phone, and even run a small TV. The TV only played old DVDs I found in people’s basements or streaming content saved offline, but it was better than staring at the walls in silence.

Next, I tackled the water situation. Collecting rainwater was easy enough, but I wanted something more. I scavenged pipes, valves, and even an old water heater from a hardware store and figured out how to reroute collected water through the system. After several failed attempts—and one near-disaster involving a busted valve and a flooded basement—I managed to create a working setup. Hot water was a luxury I never thought I’d have again, but on cold nights, a hot shower made all the difference.

Siphoning gas was easier than I expected, though it came with risks. I learned to be fast and cautious, always checking my surroundings before sticking the hose into an abandoned car or truck. Over time, I built up a stockpile of fuel, which I stored in metal barrels I kept in the garage. The gas wasn’t just for the occasional use of my car but also for running a small generator when the solar panels didn’t get enough sunlight.

The freezers were my crowning achievement. I found a pair of them in a strip mall appliance store that had been untouched—probably because most people didn’t think about long-term food storage during the chaos of an apocalypse. Getting them back to my safe house was a nightmare involving a borrowed pickup truck, a makeshift ramp, and more muscle than I thought I had. But once I hooked them up to the solar grid, they became indispensable.

One freezer was stocked with frozen food I’d scavenged from long-abandoned grocery stores, still surprisingly edible thanks to the cold temperatures in the freezers I’d found them in. The other I filled with supplies I processed myself—vacuum-sealed meats, vegetables, and even some wild game I managed to hunt with a crossbow I’d picked up along the way.

Over time, I built up reserves that would have made a doomsday prepper jealous: shelves lined with canned goods, jars of pickled vegetables, packets of instant coffee, and more tools and spare parts than I’d probably ever need.

I even managed to get my hands on a working smartphone, though the lack of cell service meant it was little more than a glorified camera and notepad. Still, I found ways to make it useful, storing downloaded survival guides, maps of San Diego, and even the occasional audiobook.

It wasn’t the life I’d imagined for myself, but it was a life nonetheless.

Yet as I sat in my makeshift living room one evening, surrounded by the quiet hum of the solar-powered TV and the faint glow of LED lights, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of the silence pressing down on me. I had everything I needed to survive and more, but I still felt the gnawing emptiness of isolation.

I’d conquered boredom with ingenuity, but what I couldn’t conquer was the longing for human connection. For someone to talk to, to laugh with, to share all these little victories with.

The sound of glass crunching underfoot woke me, followed by the unmistakable creak of the front door being pushed open. I sighed, sitting up and grabbing the mattock I kept leaned against my nightstand. Another break-in. It had been months since any zombies had even stumbled across my safe house, and I’d started to think I was truly alone out here.

Guess not.

Descending the stairs quietly, I prepared for the worst. My muscles tensed as I reached the ground floor, but when I rounded the corner into the living room, I froze at the sight of the intruders. They were surprisingly not undead.

A group of about ten people stood huddled together, illuminated by the dim glow of my solar-powered lights. Among them were familiar faces that stopped me dead in my tracks: Loona alum Hyeju, Twice’s Jeongyeon and Dahyun, Yunjin from Le Sserafim, Chodan from QWER, and Yena from IZ*ONE.

Their wide-eyed stares mirrored my own surprise, though for different reasons.

“You know,” I said, breaking the silence and hefting the mattock onto my shoulder, “you could have just knocked.”

The group flinched slightly, but Dahyun and Chodan were the first to recover.

“Daigo?” they said in unison, their voices filled with disbelief.

I nodded, leaning the mattock against the wall. “The one and only. Now,” I said, gesturing toward the group, “how can I help you survivors out?”

Dahyun stepped forward, her face a mix of relief and confusion. “We didn’t think… I mean, we heard rumors that someone was living out here, but we didn’t expect it to be you.”

“Well, here I am,” I said, crossing my arms. “Looking exactly like I did last time you saw me, minus the security guard uniform.”

Chodan laughed, though it was more from nerves than humor. “Leave it to Daigo to survive the apocalypse and somehow look like he’s thriving.”

“I’ve had some practice,” I replied, motioning toward the group. “Now, you all look like you’ve been through hell. Sit down, and let’s figure out what you need.”

Hyeju finally spoke up, her voice quiet but firm. “We’re out of options. Supplies are running low, and we’ve been moving nonstop for weeks. We need food, shelter—anything you can spare.”

Yunjin, standing close to Hyeju, added, “We didn’t mean to break in. We thought this place was abandoned.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at the reinforced door now hanging slightly ajar. “Does this look abandoned to you? The lights didn’t give it away?”

Yena chimed in, her tone apologetic. “In our defense, we’ve seen plenty of powered-up places that were overrun. We didn’t want to take any chances.”

“Fair enough,” I said, letting out a breath. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous today. Follow me.”

I led the group into the dining room, which I’d converted into a makeshift supply depot. Shelves lined the walls, stocked with canned goods, first aid supplies, and neatly folded clothes. Two freezers hummed quietly in the corner, a rare sound in the apocalypse.

“Holy crap,” Jeongyeon whispered, her eyes scanning the room. “You’ve got more here than most of the settlements we’ve passed through.”

“Like I said,” I replied, opening one of the freezers to reveal vacuum-sealed packages of meat and frozen vegetables, “I’ve had practice. Take what you need, but don’t get greedy. This isn’t a charity.”

The group quickly got to work organizing supplies, redistributing their belongings, and planning what they needed most. Meanwhile, Dahyun lingered near me, her expression unreadable.

“You really made it out here on your own,” she said softly, her voice tinged with disbelief and something close to admiration. “I thought… I thought you might’ve been gone, like everyone else.”

“Would’ve been,” I replied with a small, wry smile, “but I got bit. Bright side? Didn’t turn.”

Her brows furrowed slightly as she digested that information. “You’re immune?”

“Guess so. Though it wasn’t a walk in the park,” I admitted. “But what about you? Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Dahyun shrugged, her gaze dropping to the floor. “We’ve been running since day one. Some of us made it; others didn’t. It’s been… rough.”

I nodded, understanding more than I wanted to. “I can imagine. Well, you’re safe here for now. Take a breather. You’ve earned it.”

The tension in her shoulders eased slightly, and she gave me a small, grateful smile before joining the others.

For the first time in months, my house felt alive. Voices filled the air as the group settled in, sharing stories and laughter over the first real meal they’d had in days. They were hesitant at first, like the silence of survival had been ingrained into their instincts. But as the night went on, the weight on their shoulders seemed to lift, even if only temporarily.

After everyone had eaten and showered, Chodan approached me, her sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

“You know,” she began, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, “you’re living like a king here. You could easily take your talents to a settlement and help a lot of people.”

I sighed, setting my water bottle down and rolling up my sleeve to show her the faint remnants of my bite mark.

“I’m infected. Can’t really risk being around people. I could turn at any moment.”

Chodan raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Really?” she said, before lifting her shirt just enough to reveal a faint scar near her side.

My brain short-circuited for a moment. It had been months since I’d seen anyone this close, let alone someone this… distracting. I quickly looked away, feeling the heat rise in my face.

“Relax, caveman,” she teased, lowering her shirt. “Just showing you my bite mark. I got bit three weeks ago. The gestation period is supposed to be 48 hours max, and yet… here I am. Still human. So, either we’re both lucky, or we’re both immune. Oh, and by the way,” she added with a mischievous grin, “Dahyun got bit too. Day before yesterday.”

“Wait, what?” I blinked, looking over at Dahyun, who was now watching us with a sheepish expression.

“It’s true,” Dahyun admitted, stepping closer. “I was afraid to say anything at first, but… then I collapsed. As you can see i got better.”

I nodded slowly, piecing it together. “Well, I got bit 28 weeks ago—so I guess I’m either immune or just incredibly unlucky.”

Chodan’s eyebrows shot up. “Twenty-eight weeks? That’s… day zero.”

I nodded again. “Yeah. It happened during the initial outbreak.”

Her expression shifted, a mix of curiosity and intrigue. “Did you hear anything on the first day? There were reports of a high-pitched whine right before people started turning.”

I frowned, thinking back. “Nope. Didn’t hear a thing.”

Chodan’s eyes widened. “Oh. Then you’re truly immune.”

I squinted at her, confused. “What do you mean?”

She leaned closer, lowering her voice as if delivering a secret. “The virus can’t infect you at all. If you didn’t hear the sound, it means your body isn’t affected by the signal it sends. You can’t turn, period.”

“But,” I interjected, “when I got bit, my veins turned black.”

“Did you have any other symptoms? Fever? Rage? Loss of consciousness?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought,” Chodan said, standing upright again. “You’re not a regular immune, though. You’re not a Slayer either.”

“Wait—Slayer?” I asked, now thoroughly confused.

Hyeju, who had been quietly observing, chimed in. “Slayers are people who’ve had the virus evolve them instead of killing or turning them. We’re stronger, faster… better, basically.”

I glanced around at the group, now realizing the mix of reactions on their faces. “Wait—you’re all Slayers?”

Chodan grinned. “Me, Hyeju, and Dahyun, yeah.”

“Oh, thanks for explaining it so thoroughly, Hyeju,” I said, shooting her a grateful look.

Hyeju smiled sweetly. “You’re welcome, Daigo. Oh, and thanks for the food.”

“You’re very welcome,” I replied, shaking my head. Of course, my safe house had gone from a sanctuary to a den of superpowered survivors in less than a day.

After the group had cleaned themselves up and prepared to leave, I directed them to the vehicles scattered throughout the neighborhood.

“They should still be working,” I explained, gesturing to the trucks and sedans.

The group looked at me in surprise. “Wait, you’ve been keeping all these in working condition?” Dahyun asked, her eyebrows raised.

I shook my head. “Not exactly. I haven’t repaired them or anything major, but I’ve kept the batteries charged, fluids topped up, and tires inflated. Basic upkeep,” I said with a shrug.

A few of them smiled as they hopped into the trucks. The group packed quickly, clearly practiced in loading supplies efficiently, though their movements carried the exhaustion of constant survival.

As the last of the supplies were loaded, Chodan and Dahyun approached me. They exchanged a glance before Dahyun stepped forward, her voice almost pleading.

“Please come with us,” she said.

Chodan chimed in, her tone more assertive. “We kind of need someone like you.”

I raised an eyebrow, leaning casually on my mattock. “You need a socially awkward hothead?”

Chodan laughed, but Dahyun shook her head, her expression serious. “No. A leader.”

I blinked, caught off guard by her sincerity. My gut reaction was to brush it off, but something in her tone gave me pause. I mulled it over for a moment before sighing. “Sure. Why not?”

The group let out a collective breath of relief, and I found myself helping them secure the last of their supplies before climbing into my car and following their convoy.

When we arrived at their settlement near the military base, my optimism took a nosedive. The place was barely holding together. Makeshift walls surrounded a cluster of tents and scavenged buildings. People wandered the grounds with hollow eyes, looking malnourished and weary.

“Jeez,” I muttered under my breath. “This is what you’re working with?”

As we parked, Eunha stood with a young man near the entrance. They were holding hands, their expressions tinged with equal parts hope and surprise as they saw the trucks pull in.

Yunjin jumped out of one of the vehicles, her voice ringing with triumph. “We got food! And water!”

The settlement erupted into cheers, a wave of relief sweeping over the ragged residents.

I, however, was less than impressed. “Wait, wait, wait,” I called out, holding up a hand. “You have access to water, energy, and military-grade weapons, and yet you look like you’re on the brink of starvation?”

The young man was the first to respond, his voice heavy with frustration. “The base proper is overrun. If you’re so eager to fix it, be my guest.”

I turned to the group, stunned. “So you’re telling me you haven’t even secured the base?”

The residents nodded sheepishly. I groaned, rubbing my temples. Without a word, I popped the trunk of my car and began pulling out weapons: a pair of customized gauntlets and boots I’d tinkered with during my long months alone.

“What are you doing?” one of the settlers asked nervously.

I sighed, strapping on the gear. “Making sure you all don’t die,” I muttered.

Before I could head toward the base, Chodan and Dahyun stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“You can’t go in there,” Chodan said firmly. “There are rippers and changers inside.”

I froze, the names sparking a connection in my mind. Rippers—zombies with bladed arms capable of slicing through steel—and changers—fast, intelligent zombies that evolved in real time. Apex predators in a world of monsters.

“Are there whippers and spitters?” I asked, scanning the group for confirmation.

Everyone looked at me blankly. “What?” Chodan asked.

“Big zombies that spew acid, napalm, or spikes,” I clarified. “Or ones with long tongues that whip around like grappling hooks?”

Chodan and Dahyun exchanged a glance before shaking their heads. “No. None of that,” Dahyun said.

I gave them a thumbs-up. “Great. Then I’m going in, pummeling anything that moves and isn’t human, and we’ll secure the base so we can all stop living in this mess.”

I started toward the base, but Chodan stepped closer—so close I could feel her breath on my chest. My heart stuttered for a moment, and I cursed my brain for its caveman reaction.

“Daigo,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “For how I fight? Not really. Besides, as long as I follow the first rule of zombie apocalypses, I’ll be fine.”

The group stared at me, confused. “What’s that?” Dahyun finally asked.

I grinned. “Be smart, not scared.”

Without another word, I climbed the fence.

Before I could take another step, Chodan effortlessly vaulted over the fence after me in a single, graceful bound. I looked at her and realized she could easily fend off whatever was in there.

Chodan smirked, falling into step beside me. “You’re going to need me in there,” she said.

I glanced at her, then back at the base. “Guess we’ll see.”

We walked in with weapons raised, every sense heightened as we approached the entrance to the base. The stench of rot and decay hit us like a wall, the ground littered with body parts and unidentifiable chunks of flesh. The once-pristine military structure was now a grotesque tableau of death. Every step squelched against blood-soaked concrete, a grim reminder of what waited for us inside.

The first zombie to spot us let out a guttural screech, its twisted body lurching forward at an unnatural speed. Its milky-white eyes locked onto me as it sprinted, claws outstretched. I snapped my fingers, and flames erupted from my gauntlets and boots, wrapping around them like living entities.

With a single step forward, I swung my fist. The punch connected with the zombie's head, obliterating it in an instant. The headless body collapsed to the floor in a heap, twitching violently before going still.

I glanced over at Chodan, who raised an eyebrow in surprise, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Not bad,” she said, her tone impressed but still teasing.

I shrugged, brushing off her compliment. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”

Over the next few minutes, more zombies emerged from the shadows, drawn by the noise and the scent of fresh prey. Five of them charged at me in quick succession. I moved through them with a fiery ferocity, each punch igniting their decaying flesh. With every strike, I could feel the heat coursing through my body, the fire making short work of the infected.

Just as I finished off the last one, I turned to see Chodan spring into action. She unsheathed a short katana—I think it’s called a wakizashi or something like that—and moved with a lethal grace that was mesmerizing. Each slice of her blade was precise, every motion deliberate.

She ducked and spun, her strikes fluid and elegant as she danced through the undead. Her blade flashed in the dim light, leaving trails of crimson in the air. Within moments, the horde around her lay in pieces. It wasn’t just impressive—it was downright sexy. (What can I say? I like women who can fight, and after six months of isolation, watching Chodan in action was… distracting, to say the least.)

Together, we made our way deeper into the base, clearing out every corridor, room, and hallway we came across. Along the way, we gathered access cards and files, carefully choosing the ones that weren’t completely soaked in blood or viscera. Mapping out the base was crucial if we wanted to make it a safe haven.

Two grueling hours later, we emerged from the base, our task for the day complete.

The camp was waiting for us when we returned. Their faces lit up in shock and awe at the sight of us alive and—well, mostly intact. Thanks to the fiery nature of my weapons, I was relatively clean, save for a few smudges of soot. Chodan, on the other hand, looked like she’d walked straight out of Kill Bill. Her clothes were drenched in blood, and her katana was dripping crimson.

The group stared for a moment before breaking into cheers. Their joy was infectious, and I found myself smiling despite the exhaustion.

Over the next two weeks, the slayers and I worked tirelessly to clear the rest of the base. The deeper sections were overrun, and each encounter with the infected felt like a battle against time and attrition. We couldn’t risk leaving a single zombie behind, knowing even one could cause a mini-outbreak once the camp moved in.

During this time, we also worked to fully map out the base, identifying areas that could be repurposed for agriculture, water purification, and living quarters. One of the larger open-air courtyards became the designated zone for growing vegetables and fruits, a necessary counterbalance to the endless supply of fish we’d soon be consuming.

By the end of the second week, we had restored power to the base and set up a desalination system to provide fresh water. The once-derelict military base was beginning to transform into a functional, self-sufficient community. By the end of the month, we had fortified the perimeter, secured resources, and established a sustainable living environment that could endure the apocalypse indefinitely.

Yet, despite our progress, I couldn’t shake the restless feeling gnawing at the back of my mind.

Sensing this, Yunjin and Hyeju decided to lift everyone’s spirits by organizing a celebration. The party was small but lively, with music, laughter, and a rare sense of warmth filling the air. People danced and shared stories, the weight of survival temporarily forgotten.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt connected—to them, to this place, and maybe even to something greater than myself.

The celebration was in full swing by the time I made my way to the center of the courtyard. Lanterns we’d scavenged from the base cast a warm glow over the party, and the air buzzed with a mix of laughter, music, and the clinking of makeshift cups. For the first time in months, the weight of the apocalypse seemed to lift, even if only temporarily.

I leaned against a crate of supplies, enjoying the scene as I nursed a glass of something Yunjin had proudly labeled “party punch.” (It tasted like motor oil with a hint of lemon, but hey, it was the thought that counted.)

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Dahyun making her way toward me. Her smile was soft, and there was something unspoken in her eyes. “Hey,” she said, holding up her cup as she leaned against the crate beside me.

“Hey,” I replied, offering a small smile.

“I was just thinking,” she began, “none of this would’ve been possible without you. Clearing the base, organizing everything—you’ve done more in a few weeks than we’ve managed in months.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “It’s not like I did it alone. You all worked just as hard.”

She shook her head, her expression earnest. “Don’t sell yourself short, Daigo. You brought people together. That’s not something everyone can do.”

Before I could respond, Chodan appeared on my other side, seemingly out of nowhere. She slid in smoothly, her confident smirk firmly in place. “Are we talking about how great Daigo is? Because I’ve got a list.”

I blinked, caught off guard by her sudden arrival. Dahyun stiffened beside me, her relaxed posture shifting as her grip tightened on her cup.

“Didn’t realize I had a fan club,” I joked, trying to ease the tension.

Chodan ignored me, her gaze focused on Dahyun. “You’re right, though,” she said, her tone just a little too pointed. “Daigo’s been a real asset. Honestly, I don’t know how we managed without him.”

“Guess you’ll have to start getting used to it,” Dahyun replied, her smile polite but strained. “It’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

Chodan tilted her head, her smirk widening. “Oh, I don’t know. He might decide to come on a few missions with me. You know, something more exciting than farming and base maintenance.”

“Farming is exciting when it’s keeping people alive,” Dahyun shot back, her voice calm but firm. “Not everyone needs to play the hero to make a difference.”

I glanced between the two of them, sensing the subtle sparks flying. “Uh, you guys okay?” I asked, trying to break the tension.

“Perfectly fine,” Dahyun said quickly, taking a sip of her drink.

“Just fine,” Chodan echoed, crossing her arms as she leaned closer to me. “Speaking of heroes, Daigo, you’ve got to tell me how you learned to fight like that. I’ve never seen anyone take on a group of zombies the way you did.”

Dahyun raised an eyebrow. “It’s not all about fighting. He’s got other skills too, like keeping the base running and making sure we don’t starve. That’s just as important.”

“Of course,” Chodan replied smoothly, her tone dripping with faux agreement. “But let’s be real—there’s no base to run if you can’t keep it safe.” She turned to me, her expression playful but loaded. “Right, Daigo?”

I felt like a deer caught in headlights. “Uh… I mean, both are important?”

Dahyun rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression now. “Nice save,” she said, bumping her shoulder lightly against mine.

Chodan laughed, the tension easing slightly. “Guess that’s why he’s the leader, huh?”

The three of us stood there for a moment, the awkwardness lingering but not entirely unpleasant. As the party carried on around us, I couldn’t help but feel a little flattered, even if the attention was overwhelming.

Yunjin’s voice cut through the noise, calling everyone to the center for a toast. I used the opportunity to excuse myself, slipping away from the growing crowd and finding a quieter corner to breathe.

As I leaned against the wall, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. The apocalypse sure had a funny way of complicating things.

The camp had grown exponentially since we first cleared the base. Word spread fast, and survivors from across the region trickled in, desperate for safety and stability. Among the newcomers were two slayers: Hyewon, a quiet yet sharp-eyed scout from a decimated group, and Tsuki, a high-energy fighter with a knack for unconventional tactics.

Their arrival was a turning point.

I was inspecting the desalination system one morning when Hyewon approached me, her movements were measured but purposeful. She didn’t say much at first—just hovered nearby, watching as I adjusted a valve. Finally, she spoke.

“You really run this place?” she asked, her tone neutral but her eyes cautious.

“I guess so,” I replied with a shrug. “Not much of a title, but I try to keep things running smoothly.”

She nodded, her expression softening slightly. “You treat slayers… differently.”

“Differently how?”

“Like people,” she said simply. “My last group didn’t.”

Before I could respond, Tsuki bounded up, her energy a stark contrast to Hyewon’s reserved demeanor.

“This place is amazing!” she exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels. “Food, water, even showers! And no one’s looking at us like we’re monsters.” She paused, giving me a wide grin. “You’re the boss, right?”

“I wouldn’t call myself that,” I said, standing up and wiping my hands on a rag. “But I try to keep everyone alive.”

“Well, count me in!” Tsuki declared, sticking out her hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Hyewon, still standing a few feet away, added quietly, “Me neither.”

At first, their attachment was subtle. Hyewon would shadow me during supply runs, her sharp eyes scanning for threats. Tsuki, on the other hand, was more overt, always offering to help with repairs or sparring with other slayers under my supervision.

But as more survivors arrived, the camp’s dynamics began to shift. With new faces came new opinions—and new power struggles.

One evening, after a long day of clearing more space in the base for new arrivals, a meeting was called in the main hall. It was supposed to be a discussion about resource management, but it quickly spiraled into a debate over leadership.

“Daigo’s done a great job, but we need more structure,” a man named Mark, one of the newer arrivals, said. “We can’t just rely on one person’s decisions.”

“I agree,” chimed in Lisa, a former teacher who’d quickly become a voice for the non-slayer survivors. “We should have a council or something. It’s too risky to have all the power in one person’s hands.”

“I don’t think he’s been abusing it,” Dahyun countered, her voice calm but firm.

Mark shot her a look. “That’s not the point. The camp’s grown too big for one person to handle.”

Before I could speak, Tsuki jumped to her feet.

“Are you kidding me?” she said, her voice rising. “Daigo’s the reason this place isn’t a pile of ash. If it weren’t for him, half of you wouldn’t even be here!”

Hyewon, still seated, added quietly but pointedly, “He treats slayers like equals. That’s more than I can say for most of you.”

The room grew tense, the divide between slayers and non-slayers suddenly glaring.

“I’m not saying we don’t appreciate him,” Mark said, his tone defensive. “But this camp belongs to all of us, not just the slayers.”

“And yet you’re here because of us,” Chodan interjected, standing next to Dahyun. “You think you’d survive a day out there without us?”

The argument grew louder, voices overlapping as the group fractured into factions. Some sided with Mark and Lisa, calling for more democratic leadership. Others, particularly the slayers, stood by me, pointing out the unique challenges we faced in keeping everyone alive.

I raised my hand, and slowly the room quieted.

“Enough,” I said, my voice firm but not angry. “This isn’t about me, or anyone else. It’s about survival. We can figure out the leadership structure later. Right now, we focus on what matters: keeping this camp safe and functional.”

The room was silent for a moment, then Lisa spoke up. “Fair enough. But this conversation isn’t over.”

She and Mark left the hall, and slowly, others followed, leaving only the slayers and a few loyal survivors. Tsuki crossed her arms, glaring at the door.

“They don’t get it,” she muttered.

“They’re scared,” I said, leaning against the table. “Can’t blame them for that.”

Hyewon stood, her gaze steady. “You’re too nice, Daigo. But that’s why we trust you.”

Chodan nodded, and even Dahyun offered a rare smile.

As the others filed out, I sat alone in the hall for a while, the weight of the growing camp pressing down on me. Leadership wasn’t something I’d ever asked for, but it seemed I didn’t have much of a choice.

Later that night I found myself struggling to sleep. My quarters were as simple as it got: a small bed with a lumpy mattress, a desk buried under maps and scavenged files, and a single lamp casting just enough light to keep the darkness at bay. After the day I’d had, all I wanted was to pass out. But sleep wasn’t coming easily. Too many faces were swimming in my head—worried faces, hopeful faces, faces looking to me for answers.

I was lying there, staring at the ceiling, when a soft knock came at the door.

“It’s open,” I called, too tired to sit up.

The door creaked open, and I glanced over to see Chodan stepping inside. She looked calm, but I knew her well enough by now to notice the subtle tension in her posture.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. “Figured you’d still be awake.”

“Barely,” I muttered, letting my head fall back onto the pillow. “What’s up?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she walked over to the bed and knelt down beside me. Before I could ask what she was doing, I felt her hands on my shoulders.

“What are you—”

“You’re tense,” she interrupted, already working at the knots in my muscles. “Let me help.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come. Her hands were strong, and as much as I wanted to protest, I couldn’t deny it felt good. So I just sighed and let her work, the tension slowly melting away.

“You’ve got your hands full,” she said after a while, her tone light. “Especially with your little ducklings.”

“My what now?” I asked, glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.

“Hyewon and Tsuki,” she said with a smirk. “They’ve imprinted on you like a couple of baby ducks.”

I groaned, rolling my eyes. “They’re not ducklings. They’re just… adjusting.”

“Adjusting to following you around like lost puppies?” she teased. “You can’t take two steps without one of them popping up to ask if you need anything.”

“They’re slayers,” I said defensively. “They’ve been through hell. Of course they’re going to stick close to someone who treats them with basic respect.”

Chodan’s smirk softened into something more thoughtful. “And that’s exactly why they follow you, you know. Most people don’t look at us the way you do.”

“The way I do?”

“Like we’re just people,” she said quietly. “Not monsters. Not weapons. Just… people.”

I was silent for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. “Because you are just people,” I said finally. “You didn’t ask for this any more than the rest of us asked for zombies. You’re just trying to survive like everyone else.”

Chodan’s hands stilled on my shoulders, and when I looked over, her expression was softer than I’d ever seen it.

“That’s not how everyone sees it,” she said. “Since more survivors started showing up, Dahyun and I… we’ve felt it. The whispers, the stares. It’s like we don’t belong here anymore. Like we’re dangerous.”

I sat up, brushing her hands aside so I could look her in the eye. “You belong here,” I said firmly. “Both of you. I don’t care what anyone else thinks.”

She studied me for a long moment, then smiled—a small, genuine smile that made her look younger, almost vulnerable. “You’re a strange guy, Daigo,” she said. “But I think that’s why people follow you. Even when they don’t agree with you, they trust you.”

I chuckled, leaning back against the wall. “Strange, huh? I’ll take it.”

Chodan tilted her head, her smile turning sly again. “You know, you’ve done more than any of us. You’re not a slayer, but you’ve taken down more zombies than all of us combined. And you’re immune on top of that. It’s like you’re something else entirely.”

“Just a guy with a lot of stubbornness and a decent punch,” I said with a shrug.

She shook her head. “No, you’re more than that. You’ve earned a title.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A title?”

She nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Yeah. From now on, you’re ‘The Vanquisher.’”

I laughed, shaking my head. “The Vanquisher? That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Maybe,” she said with a grin. “But it fits. You’re the guy who doesn’t back down, no matter what’s in front of you. And you’ve given all of us hope. You deserve it.”

For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. Finally, I managed, “Thanks, Chodan. That… means a lot.”

She stood, stretching and giving me one last playful look. “Get some rest, Vanquisher. Tomorrow’s another busy day.”

As she left the room, I lay back down, the weight on my chest feeling a little lighter. For the first time in weeks, I drifted off to sleep with a small smile on my face.

The door to my quarters closed softly behind Chodan, but her teasing smirk lingered in my mind as I lay back down. Her parting remark about my “little ducklings” had been a low blow. She wasn’t wrong, though. Tsuki and Hyewon had latched onto me like lost kids, which wasn’t a problem—until you factored in Chodan and Dahyun, who had both been… friendlier lately.

I didn’t know what to make of it. They were strong, capable women, and maybe I was imagining things, but their lingering glances and playful jabs felt like more than camaraderie. It was something I’d need to ask them about. Tomorrow, I decided.

Only tomorrow didn’t start the way I planned.

The yelling pulled me from a restless sleep. I threw on my boots and stepped out into the chilly morning air to find Gil, Eunha’s boyfriend, squaring off with one of Martin’s goons.

“You left her to die!” Gil snarled, shoving the guy hard enough that he stumbled.

Martin’s man pushed back, and before things escalated further, I stepped between them. “What’s going on here?”

Gil’s chest was heaving, his hands clenched into fists. “Eunha’s out there, Daigo. Alone. She got bit because of them!”

Martin sauntered up, wearing his usual smug expression. “It’s simple,” he said, shrugging like this wasn’t life and death. “She wasn’t cut out for supply runs. Not my problem.”

For a second, I was too stunned to respond. I glanced back at Gil, who looked ready to explode, and said the only thing I could. “Let’s go get her.”

The commotion had drawn a crowd. Lisa’s group, always eager for drama, arrived first. Mark wasn’t far behind, his posse trailing like shadows.

“What’s going on?” Lisa asked, her tone sharp.

“This crazy bastard is going to help that lovesick idiot find his zombie girlfriend,” Martin sneered.

I ignored him, turning instead to Chodan and Dahyun, who had pushed their way through the growing throng. I handed them the site keycards without a word. If something happened to me, they’d keep the camp together.

Before I could leave, Tsuki and Hyewon appeared, weapons already strapped on.

“We’re coming with you,” Tsuki said, her tone resolute.

I sighed but didn’t argue. It wasn’t worth the fight. The four of us set out, Gil fuming silently at my side while Hyewon and Tsuki kept pace behind us.

Once we were out of earshot of the camp, my frustration boiled over.

“Those idiots are going to get everyone killed,” I growled, my voice low but seething.

Gil, Tsuki, and Hyewon stopped in their tracks, stunned.

“They’re so caught up in their fear and egos that they’re making stupid choices,” I continued, pacing now. “And when they screw up, people die. Or worse, they turn into slayers.”

Gil looked at me, shocked. “I… I didn’t realize…”

I stopped and pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to keep my temper in check. “It’s not your fault, Gil. You’re good. They’re the ones twisting everything. These supply runs? They’re not about survival. They’re about power. Credibility. They’re trying to build themselves up while tearing the rest of us down.”

The others didn’t reply, their silence heavy. We reached the edge of the horde soon after. Eunha was there, fighting for her life, her movements erratic but fierce.

I whistled, drawing the zombies’ attention away from her. “Let’s get her out of this mess.”

When we returned to the camp, Eunha was barely conscious. Her slayer transformation was starting, and it wasn’t going to be pleasant. I sent Gil to the infirmary with her while I headed back toward the center of camp.

That’s when I saw them—a new group of survivors, all slayers. And among them, three familiar faces: Momo Hirai, Sana Minatozaki, and Mina Myoui.

Dahyun’s cry of joy echoed through the air as she ran to embrace her friends. The reunion was heartwarming, but it didn’t last long. Lisa, Mark, and Martin arrived like clockwork, their expressions darkening the moment they spotted the new arrivals.

“Who are they?” Lisa demanded, her voice like a whip crack.

Sana stepped forward, her radiant smile disarming. “We’re survivors, just like you. And we’re slayers. We can help.”

The word “slayers” hit like a bomb. I watched as Lisa’s face twisted in disgust, while Mark and Martin exchanged uneasy glances.

“No,” Lisa said, her voice dripping with venom. “We have enough slayers already.”

Something inside me snapped.

I stepped forward, my presence enough to silence the crowd. “I am sick and tired of your bullshit,” I said, my voice low and measured, every word cutting like a blade.

The tension in the air was palpable as I continued, “We’re all just trying to survive, and you three are doing the absolute most while somehow doing the least. You put people in danger, then leave them for dead. Why? For what? Por qué? 무어?”

Lisa, to her credit, didn’t back down. “You protect these freaks because two of them are your paramours,” she spat.

The camp went deathly quiet. My vision blurred at the edges as my anger surged. For a brief moment, I felt something—something primal, something dark—stir within me.

I stepped closer to Lisa, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Do you know what the Black Rage is?”

She hesitated, but her defiance didn’t waver. “No.”

I leaned in, my gaze locked on hers. “It’s from Warhammer 40k. There’s a militia cursed with it because their leader, Sanguinius, sacrificed himself to save the galaxy. It’s a state of murderous blind rage that festers in the soul, brought out under massive stress. Your words, Lisa, are pushing me there.”

She paled but didn’t respond.

I straightened, addressing the entire camp now. “If you don’t want slayers here, you can leave. But while I’m leading this settlement, you will treat them with respect and dignity. Am I clear?”

The silence that followed was deafening. Finally, Lisa turned and stormed off, Mark and Martin trailing behind her.

As I looked back at the camp, my eyes met Sana’s. She smiled softly, a look of gratitude and understanding that made the tension in my chest ease just a little.

Scene: “The Breaking Point” (Revised Ending)

The silence was unbearable as Lisa stormed off, Mark and Martin following behind like shadows. I exhaled deeply, trying to steady my racing heart. The crowd began to disperse, though I could feel their eyes on me—some wide with awe, others wary, as if they’d seen something they couldn’t quite explain.

My knuckles ached. I looked down and realized my fists were clenched so tightly they’d gone white. Slowly, I loosened them, flexing my fingers as I willed the anger to fade.

That’s when I heard it—a whisper, faint but undeniable.

“Daigo?”

I turned to see Tsuki and Hyewon standing nearby, both looking more shaken than I’d ever seen them. Tsuki’s usual bubbly demeanor was gone, replaced by an unease that didn’t suit her. Hyewon seemed like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice rougher than I intended.

The two exchanged glances before Tsuki stepped forward hesitantly. “Your eyes…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What about them?” I asked, frowning.

“They… changed,” she said. “For a second, they weren’t… normal.”

Hyewon nodded, adding softly, “And we heard something.”

“What do you mean, something?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

“It was like… a crack,” Tsuki said, her hands gesturing as if she could grasp the sound. “Not outside. Inside you. Like something broke open.”

I stared at them, my mind racing. A part of me wanted to brush it off, to say they were imagining things. But the way they looked at me—half in awe, half in fear—told me they weren’t exaggerating.

“I don’t know what you think you saw or heard,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. “But I’m fine.”

Tsuki frowned, stepping closer. “Are you? Because I don’t think anyone else could have stood up to Lisa like that. Or said what you did.”

Hyewon nodded again, her voice gaining strength. “You didn’t just talk to them, Daigo. You commanded them. It was… different.”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “I’m just tired of their crap, that’s all.”

“But it’s more than that,” Tsuki pressed. “You don’t act like the rest of us. You don’t feel like the rest of us. Even the slayers here—none of us have done what you’ve done. It’s like…” She hesitated, searching for the right words.

“Like what?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.

“Like you’re something else,” she said, meeting my eyes with a mixture of curiosity and reverence.

Hyewon nodded one last time, her expression solemn. “Something more.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. I didn’t know how to respond, so I didn’t. Instead, I turned and walked away, their voices echoing in my mind.

Scene: “Something More” (Expanded)

Something more.

The words lingered in my head like an echo, an itch I couldn’t scratch. As I made my way back to my quarters, exhaustion hit me like a freight train. My legs gave out beneath me, and the world went dark.

When I came to, the sterile smell of the infirmary greeted me. My body ached in ways I couldn’t describe. The faint hum of machinery filled the air, and the soft glow of fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.

A familiar voice pulled me back to reality. “Well, you did turn,” the nurse said, her smile a mix of wariness and curiosity.

I frowned, propping myself up on the thin cot. “I’m immune,” I replied, my voice gravelly.

The nurse raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into an almost playful smirk. “Didn’t say normal,” she retorted.

She moved to the counter and grabbed a set of charts and X-rays, holding them up for me to see. “Take a look at this.”

The first X-ray showed something alien—a massive growth in my chest, a twisted knot of tissue that seemed to intertwine with every major organ. My stomach churned just looking at it.

“What the hell is that?” I asked, the unease creeping into my voice.

“That,” the nurse said, flipping to the next image, “was in your chest.”

I blinked. The second X-ray was… different. The growth was gone. In its place was something just as bizarre: a second heart, perfectly formed and sitting comfortably next to the first.

I stared at the images, my mind struggling to process what I was seeing. “How?” was all I managed to say.

The nurse set the charts down and folded her arms. “When you were exposed to the necrophage virus, your body didn’t react like a normal immune person’s. Instead of fighting it off or succumbing to it, your body… evolved. It built that growth to house the virus, to contain it. And then, over time, your body started to metabolize the virus, integrating it into your cells.”

I rubbed my temples, trying to keep up. “So, what? I was a carrier?”

The nurse shook her head. “Not quite. The virus never spread from you like it would from a typical carrier. Instead, it stayed inside that structure. But yesterday, something changed. That growth cracked open. Your body finished… whatever it was doing.”

I felt a cold sweat forming. “What does that mean? Am I a slayer now?”

The nurse tilted her head, studying me like I was some rare specimen. “Honestly? I don’t know what you are,” she admitted. “But here’s what I do know: your body has fully integrated the virus into its DNA. You’ve got new cells—ones I’m calling D-cells, because, well…” She grinned. “Your name’s Daigo. Thought it was fitting.”

I rolled my eyes, but her grin didn’t falter.

“These D-cells are doing things I’ve never seen before,” she continued. “They’re healing you, regulating you, enhancing you. And that second heart? It’s not just an extra organ. It’s part of the whole system now, like your body’s leveling up in ways I can’t fully understand yet. I’ll need to do more tests, but…” She hesitated.

“But what?” I pressed.

She leaned in slightly, her tone turning serious. “Daigo, you’re not human anymore. Not entirely, anyway.”

The words hit me harder than I expected. I sat there, letting them sink in.

After a moment, I swung my legs off the cot and stood up, testing my balance. My body felt… different. Stronger. Lighter, even.

The nurse watched me carefully. “Also,” she added with a sly smile, “don’t tell anyone about this. I’m the only one who knows, and honestly? I like you in charge. My boyfriend is a slayer and you make us feel welcome. Don’t want anyone getting ideas.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Just don’t go growing a third heart or sprouting wings, okay?” she teased, already jotting down notes on her clipboard.

I walked out of the infirmary, her words replaying in my mind. Not human anymore.

And yet, as unsettling as that was, a part of me couldn’t help but wonder what that meant for the future.

I barely made it ten steps from the infirmary when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. I turned just as Dahyun came barreling toward me, her eyes wide and shimmering with emotion. Before I could say a word, her arms were around me, clutching me like I was about to disappear.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly.

“For what?” I asked, startled.

She pulled back just enough to look at me, her hands still gripping my jacket. “For Momo, Sana, and Mina. For bringing them in, for standing up for them. For keeping them safe.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the intensity of her gratitude. “Dahyun, they’re survivors. Of course I’m going to protect them.”

She shook her head fiercely. “No, it’s more than that. You didn’t just let them in; you defended them. You treated them like people. You don’t know how rare that is for slayers—how rare that is for us.” Her voice wavered on the last word, and I realized she was trembling.

I placed my hands on her shoulders, steadying her. “Hey, it’s okay. They’re here now. You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

Her grip on my jacket tightened. “You don’t understand. Do you know what it felt like to see them again? To see their faces after thinking I’d never—” She stopped, her voice catching in her throat.

I waited, giving her the space to collect herself.

“They were my family,” she continued softly. “Before all of this, before the outbreak… we were together. We were everything to each other. And then I lost them. I thought I’d never see them again.”

Her tears spilled over, but she didn’t seem to care. “And now they’re here, alive, because of you.”

I didn’t know what to say. Words felt inadequate, so I did the only thing I could think of: I pulled her into a hug. She buried her face in my chest, her sobs muffled against me.

“You’re safe now,” I said quietly. “All of you.”

For a moment, we just stood there, the weight of everything unspoken between us.

When Dahyun finally pulled back, her expression had shifted. The tears were still there, but her gaze was steady, determined.

“You’re more than just a leader, Daigo,” she said. “You’re… you’re a protector. For all of us.”

I scratched the back of my neck, feeling a little uncomfortable with the intensity of her praise. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

She smiled, a mixture of sadness and warmth. “You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

Before I could respond, she leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. It wasn’t romantic—it was more like a gesture of gratitude, of trust.

“Thank you,” she said again, her voice steady now. “For everything.”

Scene: “Two Heartbeats”

As Dahyun hugged me, her head pressed against my chest, I noticed her shift slightly. Her body stiffened, and she pulled back just enough to stare at me, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wait…” she whispered, her hands pressing gently against my chest. “Daigo…”

I froze. “What is it?”

Her gaze darted to my chest, then back to my face. “I… I felt two heartbeats.”

I tried to play it off, forcing a dry chuckle. “You must be imagining things. Probably the adrenaline—”

“Don’t lie to me,” she interrupted, her tone firm, her eyes narrowing. “Daigo, I know what I felt.”

For a moment, I debated what to say. The nurse’s words about keeping it secret echoed in my mind. I let out a slow breath, keeping my voice calm but firm.

“You can’t tell anyone about this,” I said, lowering my voice. “Not a soul. Promise me.”

Dahyun’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “I promise. But… Daigo, what’s going on? What’s happening to you?”

I hesitated, knowing I owed her some explanation. “It’s… complicated. I’ll explain later, okay? Just trust me for now.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded slowly. “Okay. But I’m not letting this go.”

“Fair enough,” I said, offering her a faint smile to ease the tension. “Just… keep it between us.”

She nodded again, reluctantly letting the subject drop, but the concern in her eyes didn’t fade as she walked away.

Scene: “Confrontation”

Later that evening, I was back in my quarters, sprawled on my bed, trying to process everything. My body felt heavier than usual, like my own heartbeat—their rhythm—was a constant reminder that I was no longer the same.

A knock on my door snapped me out of my thoughts. Before I could answer, the door creaked open, and Dahyun and Chodan stepped inside.

I sat up, my instincts telling me this wasn’t a casual visit. “What’s up?”

Chodan folded her arms, her gaze sharp. “Don’t ‘what’s up’ us, Daigo. Dahyun told me.”

I shot Dahyun a look, but she raised her hands defensively. “I didn’t tell her everything! Just… enough. We’re worried about you.”

Chodan stepped closer, her voice softer now. “She said you’ve got two heartbeats. What’s going on? Are you okay?”

I sighed, knowing there was no avoiding this. “Close the door,” I said.

Dahyun obeyed, and both of them sat down on the edge of the bed, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity.

“I went to the infirmary earlier,” I began. “After I collapsed. The nurse ran some tests… and apparently, I’m not human anymore.”

Both of their eyes widened.

“Not human?” Dahyun echoed.

Chodan leaned forward. “Explain.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the weight of their stares. “The virus… the necrophage or whatever it’s called. It didn’t infect me like it does everyone else. My body ignored it, adapted to it instead. It built this… structure in my chest to house the virus, and eventually, it merged with me on a cellular level.”

Dahyun looked horrified. “So… you’re infected?”

“No,” I said quickly. “Not like that. I’m immune, but the virus evolved inside me. It’s part of me now. My body has these new cells—D-cells, the nurse called them. They heal me, regulate me, even enhance me a little. But when that structure in my chest broke open, it triggered something… different. That’s when the second heart formed.”

Chodan whistled low, sitting back. “Damn. That’s… a lot.”

“You think?” I said dryly.

Dahyun looked at me, her voice trembling. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“The nurse told me to keep it secret,” I admitted. “If people find out, it could cause chaos. They already look to me as a leader. If they knew I wasn’t… normal, it could go either way. They’d either worship me like some kind of savior or fear me like a monster. Neither is good for the camp.”

Chodan nodded slowly, processing. “Okay, I get it. But Daigo, you can’t keep this to yourself. If something happens—”

“Nothing’s going to happen,” I cut her off, my tone firmer than I intended. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually. And for now, the fewer people who know, the better.”

Dahyun hesitated, then reached out to place a hand on mine. “We won’t tell anyone. But you have to promise us something.”

“What?” I asked.

Chodan leaned in, her tone serious. “If anything changes—if you start feeling worse, or different—you come to us. No hiding, no tough-guy act. Deal?”

I looked between them, seeing the genuine concern in their eyes. I nodded. “Deal.”

Dahyun exhaled in relief, and Chodan gave me a faint smirk. “Good. Now get some rest, Vanquisher. You’ve got a camp full of idiots to deal with tomorrow.”

I chuckled despite myself. “Thanks for the reminder.”

As the door clicked shut behind them, I hesitated for a moment before speaking.

“Hey… can you two stay the night with me?”

Dahyun and Chodan both turned to me, their eyes widening in surprise. They exchanged a quick glance, silent communication passing between them, before Dahyun gave a small smile and nodded.

“Of course,” she said softly.

“Sure thing, big guy,” Chodan added, her tone teasing but warm.

I felt a small wave of relief as they started settling in. At first, there was some debate about the sleeping arrangement.

“You’re in the middle,” Chodan declared, pointing at me.

Dahyun laughed, shaking her head. “No way. If he’s in the middle, he’ll be too stiff to sleep. I’ll take the middle.”

Chodan raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“Positive,” Dahyun replied, giving her a playful shove.

In the end, Dahyun ended up sandwiched between us. Somehow, it felt… right. Too right.

As we all lay there, I couldn’t help but notice the way their warmth seeped into me, calming a part of my mind that was always on high alert. Their presence, their quiet breathing, the shared comfort—it was disgusting how good it felt.

I slept better that night than I had in years.

The morning light filtered through the cracked blinds, and I woke to find Dahyun already sitting up, her hair slightly mussed as she stretched. Chodan was still sprawled out, half-asleep, but her eyes opened when she noticed me stir.

“Morning,” Dahyun said with a smile, her voice soft and pleasant.

Chodan grinned lazily, propping herself up on an elbow. “You look like you actually slept for once.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I did.”

As I sat up, I glanced between them, both looking so at ease, so… perfect in this moment. My chest tightened with something I couldn’t quite name, and before I could stop myself, the words came out.

“Okay, it’s official. I love both of you.”

The room froze. Dahyun’s cheeks turned a deep red, her lips parting in surprise. Chodan, for once, looked genuinely caught off guard, her usual confidence replaced with wide eyes and a blush creeping up her neck.

“W-What?” Dahyun stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chodan let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of her head. “Well, uh… that’s one hell of a way to start the morning.”

I ran a hand through my hair, suddenly feeling more exposed than I ever had in my life. But I pressed on, because if I didn’t say it now, I might never.

“Listen, I don’t want to hurt either of you,” I said, my voice quieter now. “But I also don’t want to be alone anymore. I… I don’t think I can handle choosing between you. I care about both of you too much.”

They both stared at me for a long moment, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I couldn’t read the room.

Dahyun finally broke the silence, her voice trembling but sincere. “We… we don’t want to hurt you either, Daigo.”

Chodan nodded, her usual bravado replaced with something softer. “Yeah. We get it.”

The tension eased slightly, and I gave them a small, grateful smile. “Thank you. For understanding.”

I stood up, stretching and preparing myself for another day in the chaos outside. “Let’s just take things one step at a time, okay?”

As I headed for the door, I glanced back at them one last time. Dahyun was fiddling with the hem of her shirt, her blush still lingering, while Chodan gave me a look that was equal parts amused and thoughtful.

I stepped outside, the weight of the camp’s problems settling back onto my shoulders. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel completely alone.

The morning air was crisp, the faint hum of the camp stirring to life all around me. But the moment I stepped into the central yard, I could feel the tension in the air like a cord stretched too tight. Mark, Lisa, and Martin were waiting for me near the supply tent, their expressions carefully neutral. Too carefully neutral.

“Daigo,” Lisa greeted, her voice dripping with faux warmth. “We wanted to have a word with you about some… concerns.”

I stopped a few feet from them, crossing my arms. “Concerns about what?”

Martin stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back like some kind of self-appointed general. “Leadership. We’ve been talking, and we’re worried you might be… overburdened.”

The words were polite, but the tone was anything but.

“Overburdened,” I repeated, my eyes narrowing.

Mark, who had been quiet until now, leaned against a nearby crate, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not personal, Daigo. It’s just… you’re young. This camp needs someone with experience, someone who knows how to make the hard calls.”

I felt a flicker of something at the edge of my vision—something imperceptible to anyone else but clear as day to me. My mind was racing, processing their every movement, every twitch, every glance they cast at each other. Their words didn’t align with their bodies.

Lisa’s arms were crossed tightly, her fingers gripping her elbows like she was holding herself together. Her gaze darted between Mark and Martin when she spoke, looking for approval she didn’t fully trust she’d get.

Martin’s jaw was clenched, his shoulders slightly hunched, as if he were bracing for something. He avoided making eye contact with Mark altogether, his focus squarely on me.

Mark’s relaxed posture was an act, his fingers tapping a subtle rhythm on the crate’s edge. The tapping stopped every time Lisa spoke, only to resume when Martin chimed in.

They weren’t united. Not really.

They weren’t a team; they were a loose coalition of distrust, bound together by their mutual disdain for Slayers—and for me.

“You think I’m ill-suited for leadership,” I said, cutting through whatever diplomatic phrasing they were about to throw at me.

Lisa hesitated, her lips parting as if to argue, but Martin stepped in quickly. “We just think the camp might benefit from a more… collective approach.”

“Right,” I said slowly. “A collective approach where the three of you call the shots.”

Mark smirked, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We’re not saying that. We just think you’ve got a lot on your plate. You’ve been making some questionable calls, like bringing in more Slayers. It’s upsetting people.”

I tilted my head, my mind still cataloging every twitch and glance. Lisa didn’t agree with Mark’s phrasing; her lips pressed into a thin line when he spoke. Martin didn’t either—his fingers flexed briefly, like he wanted to grab Mark by the collar and shut him up.

They weren’t here for the camp. They were here for themselves.

“You know what I think?” I said, my voice calm, almost conversational.

Lisa raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“I think the three of you don’t trust each other any more than you trust me,” I said bluntly. “And the only thing keeping you from tearing each other apart is your shared desire for power.”

Their reactions were immediate, though none of them spoke. Lisa’s arms uncrossed, her hands balling into fists. Martin’s shoulders squared, and his mouth opened as if to argue, but I cut him off.

“You think because I’m younger than you, you can manipulate me. Make me doubt myself. Convince me that I’m not capable of leading this camp. But let me tell you something.”

I took a step closer, my voice low but firm.

“I’ve seen what fear and desperation do to people. I’ve seen what happens when you let ambition cloud your judgment. This camp doesn’t need more politicians. It needs people who are willing to get their hands dirty. People who put survival over ego.”

Lisa took a step back, her confidence faltering. Mark’s smirk disappeared entirely, replaced by a tight-lipped glare. Martin, for all his posturing, looked like he wanted to be anywhere else.

“I don’t trust you,” I said plainly. “Not because you disagree with me, but because I see through you. And if you think you can divide this camp, undermine me, or turn people against each other, let me make one thing clear: I won’t let that happen.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Are we done here?” I asked, my tone making it clear the conversation was over.

Lisa opened her mouth, then closed it, glaring at me like she wanted to say something but thought better of it. Mark and Martin exchanged a glance, their earlier bravado now replaced with unease.

“Yeah,” Martin finally muttered, his voice lacking the confidence it had earlier. “We’re done.”

They turned and walked away, their uneasy silence speaking louder than any argument could have.

Lust’s voice slid into my thoughts before I even saw her.

“Brooding doesn’t suit you, Daigo.”

I turned and found her leaning against a pole, arms crossed, watching me like I was some puzzle she’d already figured out. Lust always had this effortless confidence about her, like she knew exactly where she stood and where everyone else didn’t.

“Lust,” I said, keeping my tone neutral. “What do you want?”

She tilted her head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Saw you dealing with the Three Stooges over there. Figured I’d save you before your brain melted from their bullshit.”

I huffed out a faint laugh despite myself. “Thanks, but I’m good. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”

She pushed off the pole and took a slow step forward, her smirk fading into something more serious. “Alright, then. Let’s cut to the chase. We need to talk about the Slayers’ place in this camp.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected, but I kept my face blank. “Go on.”

She gestured around us with a sweep of her arm. “This camp is crumbling, Daigo. You can feel it, can’t you? The survivors are scared of us. Some of them outright hate us. And those three idiots you just dealt with? They’re not going to stop until they take control. They see us as a threat—something they can’t predict, something they can’t control.”

“They’re wrong,” I said firmly.

“Of course they are,” she shot back with a shrug. “But what does that matter? What matters is perception. And right now, we’re the monsters under their beds, the things keeping them up at night.”

I folded my arms, trying to keep my frustration in check. “What’s your point?”

“My point,” she said, stepping closer, “is that maybe it’s time for us to move on.”

Her words threw me off balance. “You’re suggesting the Slayers leave the camp?”

“Not all of us,” she clarified. “But yeah, most of us. Think about it, Daigo. We’re stronger, faster, harder to kill. We don’t need the same resources they do. Half of them are terrified every time we walk past. We could be more useful out there—clearing zones, securing supplies, doing what we do best—without dragging this camp deeper into its own mess.”

I clenched my jaw, my thoughts racing. She wasn’t wrong. The tension between the Slayers and the regular survivors had been growing for weeks. Still, leaving? That felt like giving up.

“And what about the people here?” I asked. “The ones who rely on us? The ones who see us as hope?”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she dropped the smirk she always wore like armor. “You think I don’t care about them? I do. But you can’t save everyone, Daigo. And if we stay here too long, we’re just going to make things worse—for them and for us.”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit. I looked away, staring at the horizon as doubts churned in my mind. “And where would we go?”

“That’s the thing about Slayers, isn’t it?” she said, her voice quieter now. “We don’t belong anywhere. We carve out a place for ourselves, or we die trying.”

I let her words sink in, the weight of them pressing down on my shoulders. She wasn’t wrong, but leaving wasn’t a decision I could make lightly.

“You’re not wrong,” I admitted, finally breaking the silence. “But I can’t make this decision on a whim.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” she said, her tone softer now. “You’re the leader. It’s your call. But think about it—for all our sakes.”

She turned to leave but paused and glanced back over her shoulder, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve got a good heart, Daigo. Even if you’ve got two of them now.”

A few days later, I woke up to chaos. Shouting, pounding on my door—it felt like a nightmare I couldn’t wake up from. Still half-asleep, I fumbled for my gauntlets and boots, instinct kicking in. Before I could even ask what was happening, the door slammed open, and a tide of bodies surged into my quarters.

They were on me before I could process anything. Arms grabbed at me, forcing my weapons from my hands. I swung once, twice, but there were too many. Too many voices, too many hands pulling me down. My head was spinning, and the shouts all blurred together until they were just noise.

“Traitor.” “Unfit.” “You’ve failed us.”

I heard bits and pieces, but none of it made sense. The more I struggled, the tighter they held me, their grip like iron as they dragged me out into the open. The morning sun was too bright, and the cold bit into my skin as if punishing me for something I didn’t even understand.

I tried to speak, but no one was listening. I stumbled as they pushed me forward, my boots scraping against the ground. The gauntlets weighed heavy on my wrists, my only connection to the strength I once thought I had.

They forced me past the camp’s main gates. My camp. The place I’d fought to protect. The people I’d bled for. And now, I was being tossed out like I was nothing.

The crowd gathered, a sea of faces filled with contempt, distrust, and apathy. No one spoke for me. No one stood in my defense.

Mark stood at the front, smug as ever, his voice carrying over the noise like a judge pronouncing a sentence. “You were a fool to think you could lead this place. You were never cut out for it. Now, get out.”

I clenched my fists, the leather of my gauntlets creaking under the strain. “You think this will end well for you?” My voice sounded weak even to me, the weight of it all pressing down.

Mark just smirked. “It’s not about you anymore.”

With that, he shoved me hard, sending me stumbling into the dirt. Behind me, the gates slammed shut, the echo like a final punctuation to the betrayal.

For a moment, I didn’t move. I couldn’t. My chest felt hollow, like someone had reached in and pulled out whatever kept me standing all this time. My gauntlets and boots—the only things they’d left me—felt like relics of a life I no longer belonged to.

I got to my feet eventually, numb and directionless, and started walking. Each step away from the camp felt heavier than the last. The cold air stung my face, but I didn’t bother wiping the tears that streaked my cheeks. They froze against my skin like scars.

By the time I reached my old safe house, I felt like a ghost, moving on autopilot. My motorcycle sat there, still as I’d left it, a reminder of a time when I thought I was building something good. I climbed on, gripping the handlebars, and kicked it to life.

I drove for hours, the road stretching endlessly ahead of me. California disappeared in the rearview mirror, replaced by the barren landscapes of Arizona. At a checkpoint, a guard asked for my name and my race.

“Daigo,” I said, my voice dry. “And I’m a Vanquisher.”

The guard laughed. “Well, you’re definitely not a zombie. Too funny for that.”

I forced a chuckle, but it felt hollow.

Eventually, I found myself in Colorado. The air was quiet there, too quiet. There were no zombies, no people, no purpose. Just me and my thoughts. I settled into a rhythm: work, eat, sleep. Repeat.

But the loneliness clawed at me. Nights were the worst. I’d lie awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking of Dahyun, Chodan, my ducklings. The camp. Even the ones who betrayed me. I missed them all, and the ache never went away.

Twenty-eight days passed like that. I told myself I was healing, but really, I was just surviving. Then I heard the news: a new group of slayers was moving into the area. I didn’t think much of it until I saw their vehicles rolling in.

The sight of familiar license plates made my chest tighten. I sat on my porch, sipping fruit punch, watching them unload. It was all too familiar. Too close to home.

Then I heard their voices. Two voices I’d know anywhere.

“Do you hear that?” “Yeah, it sounds like someone on this block has two hearts.”

I froze, my drink forgotten, and stood. When I saw them—Chodan and Dahyun—my heart felt like it might break all over again. They turned, and when they saw me, Chodan’s eyes welled up with tears as she rushed forward to hug me.

“Hey, big guy,” Dahyun said, her voice soft but steady.

I tried to smile, but it faltered when I saw the two men behind them. Slayers, obviously, their postures protective as they approached. My heart sank as Chodan and Dahyun introduced them—boyfriends.

I nodded, polite and distant, the ache in my chest threatening to swallow me whole. “Daigo,” I said, offering a handshake. “Just an old friend.”

They smiled, the moment slipping through my fingers like sand, and left me standing there.

As I walked back into my empty house, I felt the weight of my exile all over again. Even now, even here, I was still on the outside looking in.

[magpod-confessions]

Ok this is a funky one i PROMISE I'm kot making it up. I do not listen to the magnus archives. I have friends who listen to the magnus archives. I simply have this strange affiliation with eyes which has become what I'm associated with. Eye necklace eye earring eye shapes bad them on my cloths themes Yada Yada I like eyes that's not my main point. This is so long but I feel I need to say it somewhere and I don't think yall will beleive me but I'm saying it anyway

I KEEP KNOWING THINGS ABOUT THW FUCKING PODCAST

I have a theory about what's happening thqt I'm subconsciously putting together pieces and not realizing it till it comes up and then I seem to MaGiCaLlY know. But deadass this keeps happening and my friends find it really funny whenever it happens and I don't know why It happens almost entirely with this podcast but it does and I'm trying to think through this logically without doing my normal thing where I take everything to the weirdest but MAN. my weird obsessed brain I'd having a riot. I've learned a decent amount about it to know why me knowing things about this podcast in particular is so especially coincidentally fitting especially considering my eye-sthetic and I know this sounds fake but I SWEWR TO TO THE EYES I'm not making this up

I think it might partially be that now said friends take anything that seem to be me "knowing" something even if it's a long shot and noticing it because we're sorta looking for it now but idk. I made a charicter almost exactly like one of the magnus protocol ones with similar abilities and the same name before the magnus protocol came out (I think I can actually find proof of this) I made a charidter incredibly similar to Gertrude which one of the friends pointed out and i joked about her being secretly alive and burning down the archives and then one came up later saying that that did happen. I've made jokes and said some random stuff that seemed (at least to friends again i don't really know) strangely referential. It's like I KNOW the podcast while not really knowing anything about it. It's weird

I would like to say I would fully embrace becoming some strange inhuman eye creature but I have to say this is more real and I'm probably not being targeted by funky eyes. Though one of the friends says I'm "so aligned she wouldent be suprised if the eye reached through the magnus archives into our world to grab me". Whih... hey I'll take it but from what I've seen eye peeps are depressed old English teacher soundin dudes who want everything orderly and I'm a chaotic hyper rainbow thing who wants everything weird as possible. I'm ready to be eyeified but-

In realistic terms what's happening? is this all some funky coincidence? Are we just looking for things now? Noticing barely visible patterns that wouldent be there if we weren't looking? Am I piecing things together unknowably? Is someone playing the podcast in my sleep? Should I just actually listen to the magnus archives? I want yalls thoughts cause again I dont listen and I'm just going off what my friends keep saying but they seem as questioning and amused about it as I am. Probably less actually but- you get it. So since you guys actually know the thing I'd be glad to hear your thoughts

.

[princess-glassred]

I finally made a Bowers Gang OC! ❤️‍🔥👹🤬🎈🩸💉🗡🪓🧃🍊

Barbara Dahl Midland

•She was born September 11th 1974, making her fifteen and her star sign Virgo

•Her family moves to Derry when she was fairly young, but considering she's a total bitch she acclimated extremely well.

•Her sexuality is straight and her gender is cis

•Despite identifying with punk music and dressing punk and calling herself as such, i cannot emphasize enough, that she is a total fucking poser. She doesn't stand for anything politically, and she's about close minded as you can imagine. Whatever your preconcieved notions about cool anarchist punks are throw em away because Barbara is no anarchist, she only acts in her own self interest and her self interests can be very bigoted. There's a reason she's in the bowers gang.

•Barbara is about as mysoginistic as a woman can be, she's actually probably the most mysogistic member of the bowers gang. She hates women, ahe always makes jokes about how whiney women should just shut up and make her a sandwich or some shit. The bowers gang find this oddly confusing considering she is a woman but they just roll with it.

•She is a total pick me not like other girls girl, she just want boys to date her so fucking bad she will do anything to endear herself to them. She also spends a lot of time seperating herself from other "bimbo skanks" because she doesn't wear dresses or excessive makeup or enjoy typical girly things. She's actually interesting /j.

•She just wants one of the bowers gang boys to date her so bad, she honestly doesn't care who it is.

•Ironically all her pick me girling is in vain, because the bowers gang are 100% totally disgusted by her. It's not even based on her looks or anything, she's not particularly ugly or pretty, but it's just her weird ass personality that makes all of the bowers gang see her like she's some kinda of disgusting mutated frog monster. She just wants a boyfriend more than anything but all the guys she likes thinks she's the most repulsive thing in the world, solely because she's doing too much.

•Barbara is genuinely a very unlikable person. She's abrasive, loud, rude, obnoxious, aggresive, attention seeking, really you name it. This has led to Barbara not having any friends, even the bowers gang don't really enjoy being around her. She doesn't particularly care, all she wants is a boyfriend and she hates women so much she cant stand to be around them, but it's a little sad.

•Belch actually thinks she's a dude, which only makes her attempts to hit on him sadder. It's not based on her appearance at all, it's solely based on the fact that women are fun to be around and likable and barbara is a soulless void of charisma.

•For all of Barbara's not like other girls postulating she'd probably LOVE to get married, have a son and be a housewife. I can picture her being a boy mom so hard its disgusting.

•Her favorite colors are orange and black

•her favorite food is sweet potato pie and her favorite drink is energy drinks

•She likes punk music, goth fashion, riot girls, moshing, live music, putting other women down, putting men on a pedestal, being attractive to dudes, hating everything, watching MTV, anime, bullying other kids, thrifting, tail gaiting, fast cars, any guy with a slightly edgy style, action movies, getting into physical fights, dancing, and destroying personal property.

•She dislikes other women, dresses, anything remotely feminine, her parents, madonna, new kids on the block, really any song on the radio, her braces, makup that isnt eye liner or lipstick, high heels, barbie dolls, anyone prettier than her, super models, soap operas and teen dramas, most of the stores at the mall, people who can see right through her cool girl image and don't buy it for a second.

•The bowers gang make jokes about her appearance all the time, right to her face. They usually compare her to large animals like really big fish or marsupials, mostly just cause they find her so repulsive. They never call her fat or say she has specificically bad facial features because she's not and doesn't have any really, their insults are more dehumanizing.

•Her one and only goal in life is for dudes to think she's hot, even tho all she ever does is act like other women are shallow bimbos.

•Out of all of the members of the losers club, Ben Hanscom and Beverly Marsh are her least favorites

•She's very overdramatic about everything all the time

•She's the kind of girl to he really protective of her ugly ass boyfriend that nobody wants

•Barbara's parents are as stereotypically perfect and 1950's american as can be. Her father is Bobbie Darren Midland, car salesman and her mother is Betsy Dana Midland, beauty pageant organizer. They are as nice and affectionate as can be but oh lord she hates them both. They're very indulgent with her and give her just about everything she wants, all the while praising her like she's the best thing ever. They really love barbara, but barbara acts like they are ruining her life by trying to hug her and take her places. The bowers gang love to tease her for her square upbringing, especially because it only adds to the narrative that she's a poser. Somebody like henry is still an awful person but he never had much of a choice in becoming a bully considering the nightmare living situation he was in. Barbara is well off and has two parents that are crazy about her but she acts like she's living in hell.

•Her favorite method to bully others is verbal abuse, but since nobody is really intimidating by her it's just kind of annoying. She has been known to get in physical fights before tho, and she's actually pretty good at that.

•Her nicknames include Barbie (most kids call her that and she HATES IT), henrietta bowers (by bill denbrough, she thought it was a compliment but it wasnt), tennis ball tits (by richie), repulsive attention seeking hag (by victor criss), dude (by belch huggins), and buttercup, pumpkin pie, and sugar blossom (by her parents).

•Her name is a reference to Barbie Doll (Barbara Dahl Midland) and her last name midland is a pun about hiw generic her home life is. It's mid.

•She has a horrible fear of thunderstorms and dinosaurs, she's always been terrified of storms for how frequent they are in maine and the terrible loud noises they make, and her fear of dinosaurs stems from when she was really little and wound up getting lost in a museum. She found herself in the dinosaur wing and when she was surrounded by the giant dino skeletons she had a fucking panic attack, made only worse when she got to the end of the exhibit and saw mock up pictures of the dinosaurs going extinct. Dinosaurs suffocating from fumes, some burning to death, others being drowned in things like molasses or trapped in caves where they would starve to death. Ugh, safe to say she was traumatized.

•As an adult i think she'd end up working a constant rotation of jobs because she'd constantly get fired, but that doesn't really matter tho cause she dies before she ever reaches adult hood.

•one day when lurking down in the sewers with rhe gang to find a knife that henry dropped she got turned around seperated from the group. She ended up in this big room with a very high ceiling. Suddenly, rain began to fall down and barbara thought that she had mistakenly walked under a leaky pipe, until she realized that no- somehow clouds had forrmed above and a whole ass indor storm had clicked up. The rain poured down as thunder boomed through out the echoey sewer room, the exit blocked off so she couldn't get out even if he tried, the water in the room rising and rising until it reached her waist- the constant rain and wind making her eyeliner drip as she started to cry. Then a door opened, and out walked her worst nightmare. A giant dinosaur of no species she'd ever seen, hungry and with it's eyes pointed directly at her. She couldn't even bring herself to run, she just stared up at it with wide, horrified eyes and a quivering lip. And then she screamed snd banged on the door some more, begging for literally anyone to come help her before its too late. And then, in a perfect twist of irony, the bowers gang did hear her, but they decided to ignore her. After all, nobody liked barbara and she was well known for wanting attention. Every woman wants dudes attention, she said it herself, its all they ever think about. This is definitely some ploy to make the boys go rescue her or some shit, and they ain't fallin for it. Barbara midland was gobbled by pennywise in the form of a dinosaur and declared missing the following week. She's a suspected teenage runaway due to how miserable she always was, and nobody really misses her besides her parents who often wander where she is now or what she's doing- ignorant to the fact that she's rotting in their sewer system. Her death is a very good reminder that you can try to be one of the good ones all you want, but when push comes to shove, you're still low on the totem pole.

Soooo yeah, that's basically barbara. She doesn't have a voice claim yet but ill get to that. I wanted to make a female oc who was in the bowers gang but just as terrible as they were. I didnt want her to be the stick in the mud or the voice of reason or just a pretty girl who follows them around. She's terrible, just like all the bowers gang dudes. I based her off of dee from its always sunny if you couldnt tell lol. Hope you love to hate her as much as i do.