#man I have been looking forward to writing this nonsense all day and it was a good time

[lightseoul]

cw. worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (we're getting there, dw), a lot of cussing (bkg-typical), it's time to meet the bakusquad!, mentions of alcohol, a tiny ass mention of smth nsfw

words. 4.3k (this is getting out of hand. this was way too fun to write, tho!)

masterlist | part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 7, part 8, part 9

You check your reflection through your phone’s front camera for the umpteenth time, lurching a bit forward and almost smashing your face with the device when the bus you’re riding drives over a bump.

With a sigh, you glance through the window to your right, spotting the familiar landmark that Kirishima mentioned in passing a few days ago.

A few days ago when he waltzed into the conference room in the middle of your heated conversation with Bakugou.

Right when he dropped that nonsensical one-liner, Bakugou was on him in a flash, shoving your other boss so hard that the man stumbled a few steps back in surprise. You watched as they had what seemed to be a wordless exchange, before all the blood appeared to drain from Kirishima’s face, leaving him so pale that you thought the redhead was about to pass out any second.

“Freaking finally—” you recall Kirishima repeating, voice wobbly, “Y-you finally have a g-girlfriend!”

Bakugou didn’t seem too pleased at the shade, encasing his co-founder in a headlock, eventually releasing him after the latter cried out his pleas and apology.

After the man managed to catch his breath, he came up with the suggestion that you hang out with the rest of their friend group.

“It’ll be fun!” he said. “We’d love to get to know you.”

“Tch.” Bakugou merely replied, seemingly not too keen on the idea.

“I don’t know…”

“I can ask PR about it,” Kirishima ignored you, “I bet you being seen with us is good for your image!”

Which leads you to the present moment.

The mechanical voice announces your arrival at the nearest station to the trendy, new, upscale restaurant that Mina specifically picked out for today’s get-together. Kirishima assured you when you, again, showed reluctance when he ran down the details yesterday, saying Kaminari and Sero vouched for it, that it had a built-in arcade or something.

Deep in your thoughts and on autopilot, you hop off the bus and begin your slow but steady trek toward the venue. By the time you reach it, it’s already 6:37 PM, a bit later than your agreed-upon meeting time.

Pushing the glass doors open, you enter the space and swiftly scan the area. Bakugou’s friends, who you just remember also happened to be top pro-heroes, are already packed in a booth near the back of the restaurant. As you walk towards them, you see that Mina, Kirishima, and Sero are seated beside each other while Kaminari is looking a bit lonely on the extra chair at the tail-end of the table. You’re guessing the empty seats in front of the aforementioned three have been reserved for their close friend and you, the fake girlfriend.

Right, you say to yourself. Time to put on a show.

Kirishima is the first one to spot you, and you can’t help the squeeze your heart makes as he visibly brightens up when he does. “Bro, over here!”

At that, you plaster on the friendliest smile you can muster and trudge towards where they are.

“Sorry I’m late, you guys,” you say as you slide into your seat, “I had to call an emergency meeting at work. I came as fast as I could…”

You look at the three, (not really) new faces (because you see them on TV all the time), suddenly feeling nervous and singled out.

Desperate for something familiar to have near you, you ask: “Uh, where’s Bakugou?”

The moment you stutter the question out, you find yourself immediately wanting to take it back, because the air in the room suddenly changes. Sero smirks, Kaminari guffaws, and a devilish grin exponentially grows on Mina’s face.

“Awww, it hasn’t even been ten seconds since you got here and you’re already looking for your mans!” Mina winks at you, “He’s just in the restroom.”

“Bro, it’s about goddamn time Bakugou finally got a girlfriend,” Sero adds.

The girl nods enthusiastically in agreement, “It’s been a long time coming, indeed. Do you have any idea how long he’s been pining for you?”

Negative thirteen days, you think to yourself. But you settle for a hesitant shake of your head.

“Dudes—” Kirishima tries to interject, although his voice is drowned out in the chatter and the marginally too-loud pop music playing in the background.

Sero snorts, “She probably doesn’t, knowing Bakugou. Though—” a look of pure mischief takes over the tape hero’s face as he turns to face you, “—wouldn’t you want to know?”

“I, uh—”

“Remember the first time Bakugou got a text message from her when we were out getting drinks for Ei’s birthday two years ago?” Mina asks the guys, although the question seems more rhetorical than not. “He choked on his beer so hard I was surprised he didn’t cough his freaking lungs out.”

“Mina—” Kirishima tries again.

Sero barks out a laugh at the memory, “That’s nothing compared to when he got so red in the face when I first insinuated he might have a crush that one time he helped me move into my current place. The big guy didn’t even think twice about hurling a box of clothes at me.”

“Sero—”

“Please!” Kaminari finally pipes in, before gesturing the group to get close with a cheesy, ‘come-wither’ gesture. From the corner of your eye, you see Kirishima mouthing something to the blonde but you don’t quite catch it, eyes drifting back to the latter, more curious than you’d like to admit, even if you’re 99% sure they’re making all of this up to humor you.

The electric hero smirks to himself before prolonging the suspenseful air. “Don’t tell him this, but I sneaked into his bedroom during that sleepover we forced him to host during Thanksgiving last year, supposedly to play a harmless prank on him. And get this—I heard him mumble your name in his sleep.”

“Guys!”

Startled, everyone looks at Kirishima, who’s doing the ‘slicing his neck with his hand’ gesture before sheepishly bringing it to rub at his nape when he feels the group’s attention on him. You scan their faces one by one, not knowing how to react yourself, and you notice what you think is realization dawn on everyone’s faces.

Well, everyone except Kaminari.

You look at the guy who’s apparently been looking at you this entire time, and your reaction to his made-up, albeit intriguing story must be priceless because he puffs up with pride before blurting out: “And it sounded like a moan, too!”

Before you can even choke at your spit in response, you see Sero’s long arm appear behind the blonde a split second before he smacks him on the back of the head.

“Hey!” Kaminari cries out, clutching his head in pain, and you can only stare at the situation in front of you, bug-eyed. “What was that for?!”

“That’s for not knowing when to shut up,” Sero hisses, before shifting to face you, a blinding smile now having replaced the chastising look that was on his face just a brief moment ago. “Now, where were we?”

“Aren’t you shitheads going to order?”

You jump at the gruff voice on your left, and you look up to see Bakugou, decked out in his usual black tee and joggers, frowning at you before his eyes dart to study his friends. Wordlessly, he slides into the booth beside you, and you automatically scoot over to make room for him. Suddenly it makes sense to you why his friends designated this entire side to only the two of you—you sometimes forget that their grumpy friend is abnormally huge—a fact that you get reminded of as he brings his arm around to rest on top of the back of your seat, his wingspan covering almost the entire length of it.

It takes a few seconds for everyone to gather their bearings and faithfully decide that no, he probably didn’t hear all of that—he couldn’t, if they wanted to keep their heads attached to the rest of their bodies—but when they do, they all scramble for the menus and act too innocently like they weren’t just making ridiculous shit up behind Bakugou’s back.

You give the man a hesitant smile yourself when he peers at you, before simply passing you the menu Kirishima handed over your direction.

“Hurry up and choose,” he huffs, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “We ain’t got all day.”

Since your boss arrived at your table, the squad hasn’t said a single thing about Bakugou from the past, particularly stories involving you, which further supports your robust theory that they were just trying to embarrass the guy in front of his alleged girlfriend.

No one brings up what has been said, too, and you take that as your cue to follow suit and keep your mouth shut.

Instead, and to your chagrin, they’ve resorted to buzzing around you, asking all sorts of questions about your life like how long you’ve been working at Bakugou and Kirishima’s agency, what kind of work you do, what you like to do for fun, how many siblings you have, and so on. But they’ve especially enjoyed asking you about Bakugou and your budding relationship, dropping a teasing remark or joke every now and then.

Every now and then as in every other sentence.

You’ve been trying to play it off cooly, lying out of your ass while seeming as natural as you can, but Bakugou isn’t taking it as well as you.

Apparently, and you know now, that the man detests being teased—it’s almost comical how red he gets at the slightest taunt, and you failing to repress a chuckle at the sight nearly grants you a shove from the hotheaded blonde. You look at the sole other girl for help, but Mina only grins at you while wiggling her eyebrows playfully as she sits back to witness the exchange.

But aside from all that, you find yourself quickly bringing down your guard and joining in on the conversation every once in a while, eventually coming to the realization that you’re actually having fun.

It doesn’t take a genius to recognize that Bakugou’s friends are great people, and seeing the man in a different environment than the one you usually find him in is interesting, to say the least.

In the midst of great conversation and in the blink of an eye, dinner is served and devoured, and before you know it, it’s 9 PM and everyone except Bakugou and you are around two to three drinks in.

“Come on, man!” Kaminari thrusts a glass of whiskey in Bakugou’s direction. “Let loose a little!”

The man in question merely lets out a ‘Tch’ before swatting the hero’s hand away.

“Don’t worry about him, bestie,” Mina calls out to you reassuringly, noticing you’ve been watching the two as you sipped on your own iced tea. “He just gets cranky when he’s not in bed by 9 PM sharp.”

“How ‘bout you, bro?” Kirishima asks you, this time a glass of gin and tonic in hand. “Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

You muster the most polite and grateful smile you can. “No thanks, Kirishima-san. I kind of have plans early tomorrow morning.”

Yeah, right, you think to yourself. You just don’t want to risk making a fool of yourself in front of your two bosses and their closest friends.

“Ooooh, is that why Bakugou isn’t drinking as well?” Mina chirps excitedly, “Are you guys doing something tomorrow?”

“Uh, no,” you say, hesitant and irrationally guilty, which swells when Mina’s face drops in palpable disappointment. You scramble to pull out a palatable lie from your ass, “I’m going out of town to meet a good old friend of mine who just got back from the States.”

A chorus of oohs and aahs erupt from the table at your answer; luckily, they don’t press for more details, which you’re grateful for, because you’re running out of lies for the evening.

You feel Bakugou eyeing you at the side, as if trying to figure out if what you just said is true when Sero suddenly speaks up, pointing to the far end of the restaurant.

“Hey, they have a photo booth! Whaddya say we give it a go?”

Everyone cheers in agreement and you find yourself getting ushered into the said photo booth. Kaminari, Kirishima, and Mina plant themselves on the front while you get smushed between Bakugou and Sero at the back. You try not to let the close proximity with your boss get to you as Mina starts handing out the props, which you readily accept with a thanks. You look down at the ‘I’m awesome’ signage and rainbow-colored wig you’re holding, weighing your options, before ultimately deciding to make the sacrifice and give Bakugou the former. His crimson eyes trail to you when you tap his shoulder lightly, and down to the sign when you make the gesture of offering it towards him. He wordlessly takes it off your hands, and you can’t help but snort at how out of place he looks with it. He tosses you a glare, although it seems harmless enough.

“Ready?” Mina shouts, and the rest of you say your affirmation. You go through the motions, everyone changing up their poses and swapping props shot after shot, and you find yourself laughing along with the group as the ruckus unfolds around you. After the last click of the camera, you finally move to return the paraphernalia to the front with Bakugou shadowing you, and follow the rest as they hurriedly pile out of the small space when the sliding door suddenly slams shut.

“What the—” you reach for the indented groove and pull it open, but the door refuses to budge.

“Hey,” Bakugou’s booming voice ricochets within the small space, making you jump. “Quit fucking around, you guys.”

A chorus of laughter erupts from the outside, and only then does it dawn on you that you didn’t get locked in because of some stupid gust of wind.

Kaminari, who’s probably the one holding the door shut sounds positively evil when he pipes up with: “You’re not getting out of there until you do a round with just the two of you.”

“Yeah!” Mina adds excitedly. “And y’all better do those cute poses, you hear me? We’re not going home unless you do the classic kiss on the cheek!”

“Just the cheek?” Sero asks, “You should just go all out, Bakugou!”

“This is their idea, bros. I’m not involved here,” you hear Kirishima say in the background.

Oh motherfucking god.

Refusing to accept what’s happening, you try to pry the door open again, but Kaminari’s not letting up by the slightest. You stare at the door, unable to look at Bakugou and what feels like five minutes pass before the man finally speaks up.

“…Let’s just fucking do it.”

You turn around to gape at him, “E-excuse me?”

He sighs, looking as defeated as you’ve ever seen him, a tinge of pink tinting his cheeks in what you think is irritation. “They’re not gonna back down unless we fucking do what they say. Trust me,” he says as he plops down on one of the seats in front of the camera, “I know them.”

Hesitantly, you take the seat to his left, the feeling of resignation blooming in your stomach at his words. “O-okay, then. We can just quickly take the pictures like normal and we’ll be on our way.”

“No—” he starts, and he looks like it pains him to argue with you, “—if we don’t do this as they instructed, the shitheads are just going to make us do it again and again until we do.”

You flush at the implications of his words, “But—what—surely they’ll be reprimanded for hogging the photo booth?”

Bakugou shakes his head, seeming like he’s already surrendered his soul to the antics of his friends. “They don’t normally abuse their power as heroes, but they will for stupid shit like this.”

You can only blink at him, at a loss for words. If you think about it, it’s unnerving how calm and level-headed he’s being right now when you’re getting close to having a major freakout yourself.

“Well?” The man has the audacity to ask.

You shift awkwardly in your seat, choosing to look at the monitor in front of you instead of the pro-hero who you now realize is way too dangerously close for your comfort. “Okay, so the least number of shots we can go for is four.”

Bakugou grunts in what you think is approval.

You continue, “We can do one where we just sit and smile, another where we form a small heart with our hands to appease Mina, and—fuck, two more…”

You expected you’d be the one to do the agonizing task of directing your poses, so you’re surprised when Bakugou chimes in.

“That’s not enough for bug-eyes,” he says as a matter-of-factly, and you find yourself gulping in nervousness despite yourself. “We’ll have to get closer…”

Closer than this?

Bakugou seems like he’s debating something in his head before he gives you a firm nod. “The third one we can place your head on my fucking shoulder or something, and for the last—” he shakes his head in defeat, “just go and fucking kiss me on the cheek.”

“What?”

He shoots you an appalled look as if you jolting away from him at the mere suggestion is a criminal offense committed against him. “Don’t sound so fucking disgusted, idiot.”

You’re not about to tell him you’re the farthest from being disgusted and rather veering dangerously close to flustered. Instead, you croak: “Are you sure about this?”

Bakugou scoffs, “Does it look like we have a choice?” He pauses, before shaking his head rather adamantly, “It’s not like I want to do this…”

You frown, itching to argue that you, in fact, have a choice, but the man is so evidently resigned that any rebuttal dies down in your throat. He does know his friends better than you do. Obviously. You can’t accurately gauge how far they’re willing to go for you just to take these photos with the grump.

Heaving a heavy sigh, you mumble an ‘okay’ before standing to press the Start button.

And so you, once again, go through the motions.

Only this time you’re not laughing.

You can feel your smile straining as you pose for the first photo, and you’re guessing Bakugou is looking like he’s being forced to smile at gunpoint beside you.

Click.

At the tell-tale sound, you lift your left hand, forming half a heart, and bring it next to Bakugou’s right. Beside his, your hand is significantly smaller, and you’re staring at the shape you’ve formed together when the camera goes off again, catching you off guard.

Click.

You’re disoriented and barely registering the pace at which everything’s going when you feel a hand gently tug your head to the right, placing it firmly on top of a firm shoulder.

“Smile, you dumbass,” Bakugou says through gritted teeth. You obey.

Click.

You chance a glance at the man, whose eyes are downcast—staring at the floor. You hesitate, wary of the countdown, “…Can I?”

Bakugou merely closes his eyes in what you think is dreadful anticipation before opening them again, choosing to look straight into the camera instead of meeting your gaze. “Just do it.”

You’re not about to waste any more time and risk missing the timing and having to do this all over again, so you do.

It takes everything in you not to cringe the second your lips touch Bakugou’s cheek, suddenly becoming very aware of how chapped they are. But the thought is almost instantly replaced by the realization of how deceivingly soft his skin is, and you have to fight yourself from jerking away at the ridiculous observation.

The seconds go by so agonizingly slow, and as you wait for the shutter to go off, you notice how tense Bakugou is, whose eyes are now closed again. It occurs to you belatedly how weird it would come out in the photos if you had your eyes wide open this close to the guy, so you immediately slam them shut.

You do it just in time before you hear the all-too-familiar click, at the sound of which you promptly pull away and stand up.

“Great,” you chirp, too cheerily.

“Good,” he grunts at the same time as you.

You look at each other in surprise, and you can’t help the chuckle that bubbles out of you. The corners of Bakugou’s mouth twitch ever so minutely, and you could’ve sworn a smile is fighting to take over his lips.

You’re about to say something remotely embarrassing—just anything to fill the air, really—like ‘thanks’ or worse, when the door suddenly opens, startling the both of you.

Mina pokes her head through the small opening, squealing as her eyes dart back and forth between the two of you. “Well, come on, you two! They turned out amazing!”

You didn’t have to be told twice.

It’s about half past 10 when you finally decide as a group that it’s time to wrap things up and go home. Of course, you had to first sit through roughly thirty minutes of Mina gushing on and on about how cute your photos turned out, with Kaminari and Sero at the side teasing Bakugou about how uncharacteristically shy he looks. As you expected, Bakugou turned almost as red as a beet at the teasing, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with the group before getting silenced with a sharp glare from the man.

Despite the plethora of dirty looks he’s tossed your way the entire evening, Bakugou still went out of his way to offer you a ride home as you walked with the group to the exit. You were about to politely decline when you realized everyone else was watching and that it would be weird for you to turn down your boyfriend’s proposal this late into the night.

And so you reluctantly accepted.

Which is how you find yourself waiting by the restaurant’s front door with Mina while Bakugou fetches his car. The other three guys already hit the dirt and carpooled home together, not one of them having bothered to drive here in the first place knowing they’d get drunk, or at the very least, tipsy.

The silence is comfortable as you breathe in the cool, evening breeze, while Mina sways side to side beside you.

“If you ask me, Bakugou didn’t drink tonight because he wanted to drive you home safely.”

You whip around to look at the pink-skinned hero, “Huh?”

Mina only shrugs in response, not bothering to repeat herself. Instead, she reaches for something in her purse, digs through it for a couple of seconds, before pulling out a strip of film that you instantly recognize is that of you and Bakugou from a while ago.

“Sorry, but I’m keeping the one of us as a group,” she sing-songs, not sounding the slightest bit apologetic, before thrusting the string of photos towards you. “But you get to keep the one of you and Bakugou.”

Not knowing what else to do, you gingerly accept it from the girl.

She grins at you, “Keep it safe for him, ‘kay?”

You refrain from telling her that he most definitely doesn’t care about whether or not you keep these photos safe, and instead give her an affirmative nod. Looking down at the object in your hands, you study the images one by one.

Your smile does look a bit strained in the first, and you’re not even smiling in the second, dumbly staring at the heart instead, but you’d say you appear decent enough in the third yet downright foolish in the last. It’s Bakugou that leaves you dumbfounded, though.

He’s not smiling in the first one—at least, not really—but he still managed to look handsome and exude a boyish charm that’s always been characteristic of him. To your surprise, he’s also not looking at the camera in the second; instead, his eyes are directed towards you, a solemn expression on his face. Against your will, you feel yourself warm at the thought of being the object of his attention without your knowledge. In stark contrast, he comes off stiff as hell in the third photo with your head on his shoulder, and in the last one…

His eyes are closed, eyebrows slightly furrowed. And if you didn’t know any better, you’d think his cheeks are tinged the lightest shade of pink.

Huh.

“You really like him, don’t you?” Mina pipes up out of nowhere, snapping you out of your train of thought.

You flush at her words. “Sorry?”

The girl merely smirks, a knowing expression etched across her beautiful features. “It’s written all over your face.”

Your free hand absentmindedly shoots up to feel your face, and it doesn’t elude you that you’re heating up.

To your relief, Mina doesn’t say anything else. She shrugs again, checking something on her phone before turning to face you once more, “Well, my Uber’s here! Tell Bakugou to drive safely and make sure you get home in one piece, okay, bestie?”

You smile at her concern and the adorable term of endearment she’s assigned to you, “I will.”

Mina seems to hesitate for a second before decidedly stepping closer and bringing you into a warm hug, which you return as best as you can.

You eventually pull away from each other after a moment, and she walks down the stairs and towards the dark maroon car that’s just arrived.

Leaving you with nothing but the space to mull over the ramifications of what has just been said.

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik @bunnysaursushii @beab19 @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @k0z3me @meeeepsworld @asura-rose @dragonscribble @moonz33 @citrustsuki @deadhands69 @lemuhr @rosemarygalaxy @iluv-ace @eyesforbkg @carpe000diem @shushbruv @matchat3a @ttalgi @bakunianadecorazon

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 they really do make a difference! have a lovely day ( ˘ ³˘)♥

[lovifie]

Newdad!Ghost and Newmom! Reader having their child’s first fever…

I did ramble a bit about this before having the baby, I hope you don't mind ❤️ Also, I have no experience with babies so I hope I didn't write anything completely nonsense

Fluff | 1076 words | Back to Masterlist

Simon Riley thought that he was no longer a coward.

That the years spent in the military were enough to make him a brave man.

That there was nothing left to make him stutter on his words or feel his knees wobble.

That's what he thought though.

Because ever since the second you came out of the bathroom, positive pregnancy test on hand; he's been terrified, elated but terrified.

Terrified of something bad happening, to you, to the baby, to him... The thought of leaving you alone terrified him the worst.

But nothing happened.

You were already in the last trimester, almost past your due date and everything was perfect.

Whenever you saw the nerves getting the best of Simon you jumped to console him, reassuring him everything would be fine.

He felt horrible, he should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. So plush and round with his offspring, the baby already sucking your energy.

"Big fucking bairn." As Soap once called it before getting smacked on the back of the head.

It was true, nonetheless, but still.

It was one day, when he saw you wobbling your way to the kitchen that it finally set on his mind.

He was about to be a father.

And fuck if he wasn't going to be the best one out there.

Now that it was the third trimester he could finally put in his parental leave, going home to you and helping with everything.

He finally got to building the crib, fixing the leaky faucet, changing the clothes in the closet for the winter one.

Everything was ready.

He wasn't, of course; when the contractions finally started. And he panicked when you said it was too early to go to the hospital.

5:40. That was the rule you keep repeating.

40 seconds contraction, every 5 minutes.

But he still struggled to stay strong whenever you would groan, holding onto the sink to steady yourself to breathe.

Once he finally managed to get you to the hospital, everything became a blur. He barely managed to send your family a message about the baby coming, and when he went to notify his family, he simply sent Price a message that said: "Baby now. Hospital."

Everything went smoothly, pride overflowing from his heart whenever he would look at you. He was hypnotized by the baby; looking so much like you but his features still looking back at him.

He kissed your forehead, thanking you for reviving Simon Riley. The man he buried so long ago, now rebirth as your daughter's dad.

He could feel people coming in and out of the room but completely ignored them, too busy staring at you and the baby.

Gaz even made you laugh, talking about how he thought pregnancy brain only happened to moms and that he thought Simon must have hit his head on the way in.

The look of unfiltered fear on the four men when the newborn started fussing around from the crib made you laugh. They quickly turned to see what the threat was, only for the baby to start crying at the top of her tiny lungs making the four men jump.

"She must be hungry." You say, leaning forward and looking at Simon. "Can you hand her to me, Si?"

He immediately did, holding the tiny baby with all the care the mountain of a man could muster. Passing her to you, and turning to the men talking about decency and giving you privacy.

They walked out, Price dropping a kiss on your head congratulating you once more on the job well done, leaving you, Simon and the baby.

The three of you.

His tiny family.

That he would kill and die in order to protect.

So he found himself useless, looking at you trying to calm the baby down when she wouldn't stop crying and her fever would keep rising.

He was at the door frame, seeing you pace the room, cleaning the baby's face with a damp cloth. He could see it on your face, the worry, the exhaustion, the fear... How have you hidden it so well? How has he not seen it before?

"She's over 39°, Si." You say, voice trembling with the knot in your throat.

"Let's go to the hospital." He said, grabbing the baby bag and your coat, and opening the door. He could see your doubt, the fear of what taking the baby back to the hospital meant for you. "C'mon, mama. The sooner we get there, the sooner we'll be back."

He needed to be strong right now, he has laid back for long enough. He saw the little cracks on you and he was going to fill them before you noticed them.

Simon Riley thought he was brave.

But he has never been as afraid as when he was driving, baby in the car seat and you sitting beside him in the back. Silent tears sliding down your face as you apologised to the crying baby.

It made him want to skip every red light, get there as soon as possible, so the doctors could tell you that you made the right choice, that you did a good job.

But he would rather relive his nightmare of a life a thousand times before doing such a stupid thing of putting you both at risk.

He sees the way you hug yourself when the nurse takes the baby away, and he quickly engulfs you in a hug. Protecting you from the cold of the night, protecting you from every danger outside and protecting you from every thought inside your brain.

"Everything is going to be alright, mama." He says, kissing your head. Heart sinking when he hears you sob and hug him back. "Everything will be alright, this happens, babies get sick sometimes. It doesn't mean you aren't doing a hell of a job, alright?"

You sob on his chest, tugging his shirt on your hands.

"You are an amazing mother, love. You are doing an amazing job. Our little tadpole has the best mom in the world." He says, swinging softly side to side, rocking you, petting your head. "She'll be fine. She's brave just like you, love. She'll be fine. We'll be fine."

Because Simon Riley always thought he was brave, but as long as you two were alive; he was a coward and losing you both was his biggest fear.

[thejollywriter]

IT'S TIME TO LAUNCH THE BOOK

WELCOME FRIENDS, TO THE BEGINNING OF AN ADVENTURE! Allow me to introduce to you, DELILAH JONES; free-lance Robin Hood and bad-ass extraordinaire.

In the cyberpunk future of The Redwood Files, Delilah Jones is half film-noire private detective, and half western-gunslinger, who rides into a lawless town and fights the bullies and the bastards that hurt innocent folks.

This anthology contains SIX, count 'em SIX short stories and novellas detailing Delilah's Adventures.

Through a Dream, Lethally; When tech CEO Michael Lense decides to hijack the soft-RAM in his employees heads in order to make people do his bidding, things can get awful, FAST. Being forced, without your consent, to be an assassin or a thief or a sex worker, and more. But Lense also has the city under-thumb. Only Delilah's got the brute force to break Lense's control, and free the city from his cruel influence.

Happy Endings, Guaranteed; Delilah has a partner, and after a long day of nonsense, is looking forward to visiting them at work to unwind. Only to get to the club where her partner works, and discover that they've been KIDNAPPED! Delilah races around the city, squaring up with every underworld hard-ass she comes across following every lead to find her partner. Except nothing is what it seems, and a simple (but tragic) kidnapping turns out to be way more nefarious than Delilah expected. . .

Delilah's Heart; recovering from the last adventure weeks later, Delilah meets a handsome butch at a dive bar. Things between the two show promise, but the butch gets called back to work by an abusive bastard who violates and exploits his employees. The butch asks Delilah for help, and as she digs into it, discovers a deeply connected mafia bookmaker who uses that underground protection to kill and exploit people without fear of consequences. Delilah's the only one who can bring justice down on this bastard, but it threatens a gang war if she does. . .

Gutter Medicine; a gang of outta-town skinheads robs an impoverished clinic in a rough neighborhood. Delilah digs into the theft, and promises to recover the medicine, only to discover that the outta-towners are stirring up trouble to pave the way for an invasion from the South. A Kingpin from Los Angeles is hungry for expansion, and Redwood is fertile ground. Unless Delilah can stop the gang, and convince the Kingpin it'd be too expensive to expand beyond the safe borders of LA.

Restitution; Delilah's robbing a rich billionaire's museum-like mansion one night when she's caught by an unlikely sentry, a very old man who'd had plans of trying to embarrass the billionaire for reneging on a deal, and leaving the old man destitute. Delilah invites him to tell his story, and she volunteers to see justice done, according to Delilah's exacting standards.

In a Name?; every trans person's name comes from a personal place and an intimate choice. This story is about a young thief, with big dreams and a hard head, how she picked her name, and the day she was reborn into Delilah-fucking-Jones.

These stories have literally been years in the making. Some of them are personal, all of them are personal favorites, and this anthology is a collection I've worked very hard on.

Genre fiction is deeply important to me, and I love bringing queer characters to this space. Every story published in this book appeared first, both as ideas and in rough-and-final drafts on my patreon.

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thank you for your support, and happy reading <3

[redvexillum]

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, big c♡ck!Val, light degradati♡n kink, Val is in hell for a reason, p in v, naive!reader, dub-con, betrayal, angst, praise kink, sub!reader, rough s♡x, hair pulling, multiple ♡rgasm (f!recieving), dirty talk, daddy dom/sub undertone, fing♡ring, cervix f♡cking, ♡verstimulation, thr♡at f♡cking, g♡slighting, first time writing Val, Val is the warning

WORD COUNT: 5.7K~

SPECIAL MENTION: @crackrodent (my fellow VoxTek Server member), your request has been heard. Here you go.

In your bleakest hour, when the darkness of Hell threatened to swallow you whole, a saviour came in the form of a devil – no, a man. A man, tall and lanky, his grin hidden behind the oversized, heart-shaped sunglasses that glittered with charm. His suit, sleek and pristine, seemed to gleam in the dim light of his studio, its fabric cool against your fingertips. His antennae resembled delicate strands of beads, swaying gently with each movement, while the fur collar draped around his neck was impossibly soft, like brushing your hand against velvet clouds.  

You sank into the plush couch, its cushions cradling you as though welcoming you into his world of luxury. As you leaned forward, the silence of the room wrapped around you, broken only by the gentle press of your lips against his. Valentino’s touch, ever so light, cradled your cheek with the upper set off his arms, the pads of his fingers warm and tender. His lower arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you firmly against him, a possessive embrace that held you still beneath his gaze.  

“Ah, baby,” he cooed, his voice rich and decadent, like the taste of something forbidden and wild. His red eyes, muted behind his tinted glasses, traced every inch of your face. “I’d love to make you a star.” 

Your breath hitched, heat flooding your cheeks. “Val, I…I’m not good at acting,” you murmured, almost shrinking under the intensity of his gaze. You could still remember the days he found you – lost, chased by heartless demons, terrified. He’d stepped in with his effortless charm, offered your shelter, safety, everything you could ever want and more. He gave it all so freely, draping you in luxury that felt like a dream, love that you had never known before.  

He chuckled, a sound so smooth it sent a shiver down your spine. “Nonsense, cariño,” he whispered, each word sliding from his lips like honey. His hand pressed against your chest, gently pushing you back into the couch’s soft embrace. “Look at you,” he purred, a predatory grin stretching his lips, revealing the glint of his golden tooth. “You’re absolutely stunning.” He leaned closer, the heat of his breath grazing your skin like a soft whisper. “You’re sexy,” he murmured, his fingers brushing over your collarbone. “And you voice…” His lips hovered near your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “Absolutely divine.” 

Your body reacted before your mind could process, your pulse quickening as heat pooled in your core. “V-Val…” you breathed, voice trembling with anticipation. He’d made love to you before, always so tender, so careful – his touch was slow, calculated, and worshipful. Every time, he ensured you reached the stars before him.  

He was patient.  

He was kind.  

He was your everything.  

“At least audition for my movie, won’t you?” Val’s voice slid through you like silk, pulling you under the weight of his will. It always did. His hands, those skilled, knowing hands, never stopped their caresses. “You don’t have to worry, I’ll take care of everything for you. I always do.” 

A soft giggle escaped your lips, though your nerves frayed at the edges. “I guess I can try,” you whispered, fingertips tracing the sharp line of his jaw, finding comfort in the familiar feel of his skin. “But…you won’t be angry if I fail, right?” The words were hesitant, the shadow of doubt clinging to your tone. You searched his face, wanting to find reassurance that had always been there.  

“Of course not, cariño.” Valentino placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “I could never be angry at you.” Another kiss followed, but this one felt colder, more distant.  

“I love you, Val,” you sighed, letting your eyes flutter shut as you melted into his embrace, your arms tightening around his chest. His scent – rich, intoxicating, almost suffocating – filled your senses, and you held on to it, onto him, like a lifeline. “I love you so much,” you repeated, your words trembling with a vulnerability you weren’t sure he’d ever truly hear.  

He laughed, a low rumble vibrating through his chest. He never said it back. He never had. But you had convinced yourself it was fine. He’d told you once that love took time, that he needed to learn how to feel it. And you had promised to wait for him – for however long it took.  

“My heart,” Val murmured against your skin, his lips brushing down the length of your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. His fingers slipped beneath your shirt, the tips cool against the flush of your skin. You shuddered, helpless under his touch, every nerve alighted as he traced, slow, deliberate patterns across your bare flesh.  

“A-ah, Val…” Your voice trembled as his fingers roamed higher, teasing, ghosting over the curve of your breast. His touch, light as a feather, sent a surge of warmth coursing through you. But something pulled your attention – a sharp glint in the corner of your eye.  

A camera.  

Its lens was pointed directly at the couch. The red light blinked in the shadows, cold and unfeeling.  

“W-wait, Val!” You gasped, your heart lurching as his tongue, long and sinuous, slid over your neck, leaving a trail of icy wetness in its wake.  

The room’s heat pressed in around you, the air thick with the heady scent of Valentino’s cologne mixed with something far more primal. You barely registered the cool sensation of the leather couch beneath you before Val’s lower arms were sliding under your skirt, his fingers deftly hooking into the delicate g-string he’d gifted you.  

“Mmm, baby, you know that’s my favourite set,” he murmured, his voice dripping with casual possession as the fabric tore under his grip. The shredded lingerie hit the floor with a careless flick of his wrist. “Don’t worry. I’ll buy you plenty more,” he added, voice smooth but laced with that dangerous, predatory edge, as his fingers found the wetness between your legs. His fingers slipped through your folds with a familiarity that sent a helpless shudder up your spine.  

You gasped, your thighs trembling as his fingers danced over your slick heat. He moved with the precision of someone who knew exactly where to touch, how to touch, as each motion was designed to unravel you so. “I…I…ha…ha…” Your words dissolved into breathless moans as he dipped into your core, gathering the wetness there before rubbing slow circles into the swollen nub that made you jolt under his touch.  

“Th-the ca-camera,” you finally managed to choke out, a moan slipping past your lips as he kept circling that sensitive bundle of nerves, your spine arching instinctively toward his touch. You couldn’t stop the sound that escaped from you, something desperate and raw. God, the way he played your body was criminal.  

Val’s breath, hot and tickling the shell of your ear, made you tremble. “Don’t worry about it, baby,” he whispered, his voice a velvety purr that slithered down your spine, pooling low in your belly. “You trust me, don’t you?” His breath brushed against your skin, and you could feel the heat of him, a roaring furnace of want hovering just over you.  

Your mouth opened, another moan tearing from your throat as he pressed two fingers into you, the wet sound of him fucking your slick folds filling the room. “I…I trust you with all my heart,” you whimpered, your hips instinctively grinding against his hand, chasing the pressure, the release. His fingers curled inside you, and you felt the pleasure blooming with each movement, the slow smouldering burn becoming an insistent need.  

“You’re going to come for me, baby,” Val panted, his eyes gleaming with dark hunger, his lips parted, red saliva dripping in thick, viscous lines from the corners of his mouth. “Then you’re going to take daddy’s big cock, aren’t you?” His voice was a low, sultry growl, his fingers quickening their relentless pace, the sound of your arousal slick and obscene.  

All you could do was nod, biting down on your lip to suppress the rising moans threatening to spill from you. Your legs parted wider without thinking, your body offering itself to him as his second set of hands gripped you harder, keeping you in place as he ripped your shirt, skirt, and bra from your body, the sound of fabric tearing like distant thunder.  

The cold air hit your exposed skin, your nipples hardening in response as he held you down, his fingers still driving you closer to that edge, pushing and pulling you into the pleasure with ruthless expertise.  

Your vision blurred, the room narrowing to just the sensations of his fingers, the way they pressed and curled inside you, the pressure building higher, tighter, a coil ready to snap apart. “Ah…ah! F-f-f-” you stammered, each thrust making you shake, your body arching off the couch. His grin widened, sharp and wicked, as he watched you, relishing the sight of you coming undone beneath him.  

“That’s right, baby,” Val cooed, his voice a velvet blade, slicing through the haze of your thoughts as the sound of wet, rhythmic slapping filled the space between you. “Come for daddy.” His chuckle reverberated through you, the final push that sent you careening over the edge.  

With a scream, your body snapped taut, the orgasm hitting you hard and fast. Your heels dug into the couch as you thrashed under his unrelenting touch. He didn’t stop, his fingers still plunging in and out, drawing out ever last wave of pleasure until you were nothing more but a trembling and panting bitch in heat from his hands.  

“Oh, baby,” Val crooned, his eyes gleaming crimson as he watched your chest rise and fall. His lips dripped that unnatural red saliva, a few droplets landing on the curve of your breast. “You look so beautiful when you come.” His voice was thick with desire, but also something darker – something possessive.  

You grinned weakly, basking in the praise despite the exhaustion. Even now, after he’d torn you apart with pleasure, you still craved his approval, his validation. But then you saw him unzip his pants, his cock springing free, thick and veined. Its lilac hue pulsed with each heartbeat, and the tip beaded with evidence of his arousal. Your heart skipped a beat as you took in the sight, the sheer size of him still intimidating, even though you’d been here before.  

But then, though the haze of lingering pleasure, reality crept back in – the audition. Your audition. The reason you were even here today.  

“Val,” you began, your voice small, hesitating. You swallowed hard, the words almost painful to get out. “What about the audition?” You wrung your hands together nervously, your body instinctively curling in on itself. “I…I don’t want to be late. I promised I’d be there on time and I don't want to disappoint you…” 

Val smiled, but it wasn’t the warm, comforting smile you’d grown used to. It was indulgent, knowing. “Oh, my precious little girl,” he murmured, his voice laced with saccharine sweetness as his fingers closed around your wrist, pulling you back into his orbit. His touch was warm, reassuring, and for a moment, you forgot why you’d been so anxious. “As long as you’re with me, you don’t have to worry about a thing.” 

Your breath hitched as he guided your hand to his cock, your fingers wrapping around the solid heat of him. He was impossibly thick, your hand dwarfed by his length, and as you felt the weight of him, all thoughts of the audition melted away.  

You knew what he wanted. The air between you crackled with tension, and with a shy, teasing smile, you leaned forward. Your lips brushed the swollen head of his cock, its heat palpable even before you pressed a lingering kiss against it. The musky scent of him filled your senses, the salt of his pre-cum lingering on your tongue as you opened your mouth, taking in the bulbous tip. The taste was intoxicating, heady, and dizzying.  

Before you could react, his fingers twisted into your hair, a sharp tug, forcing your mouth further onto him. You whimpered, hands scrambling to grip his thighs, pleading with the pressure of your fingers that it was too much.  

But he didn’t care. His hips moved forward, relentless, the thick shaft pushing past your lips, stretching them beyond comfort. Your eyes fluttered shut as his cock slid across your tongue, heavy and pulsing. You felt him filling your mouth, pushing deeper and deeper, and the first flutter of panic set in when he hit the back of your throat.  

“You can take more, can’t you, baby?” His voice was a low purr above you, filled with dark, honeyed encouragement. “Daddy knows you’re such a good girl.” 

Your throat convulsed, trying to adjust, your lips already aching from the stretch as he sank deeper. You gagged around him, tears stinging your eyes, but your determination to please him held you in place. The taste of him, the weight of him, filled your senses completely.  

Your nails dug into his skin, a desperate plea to slow down, but he only chuckled, stroking your head as if you were some cherished pet. “Mmm, that’s it. I knew you could handle it.” 

Every inch of him seemed to demand more, pushing past your limits. You couldn’t seal your lips fully around him; he was far too thick. Your mouth couldn’t close properly, but it didn’t matter. The wet, sloppy sounds of your struggle filled the room, along with your gags and his low, satisfied grunts.  

Drool spilled from the corners of your mouth, trailing down your chin, dripping onto your thighs as your gag reflex betrayed you. Your nostrils flared desperately, fighting for air.  

His grip tightened, forcing your head in rhythm with his hips, controlling you completely. He moaned, and the sound vibrated through your core, making your legs squeezed together, desperate for friction. You could hear his pleasure, feel it in the way his cock twitched as it slipped deeper into your throat.  

The room blurred, tears spilling down your face, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you struggled for breath. Everything was too much – his taste, his weight, his voice, the pressure in your throat as he pushed past the brink of your tolerance.  

Then, suddenly, he pulled out, your lungs heaving as you gasped for air. His cock, now slick with your saliva, glistened in the light as it hovered in front of your face. You coughed, a thick strand of spit connecting your lips to his cock snapped away. 

“Such a good little thing, aren’t you?” His voice was darkly sweet, laced with approval. He tugged on your hair, lifting you, repositioning you with ease as if you weighed nothing. His lower hands cupped your ass, lifting you until you were straddling him, his cock nudging insistently at your entrance.  

“I can’t…” Your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper. You shook your head, trying to regain some control, but even the thought of sitting on him made your body tremble. “Val, please, I can’t take it all.” 

Val laughed softly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Oh, baby, but you will.” His confidence was undeniable, his grin wicked. Unexpectedly, he gripped your hips and pulled you down, forcing the head of his cock inside you.  

The stretch was immediate, intense, and you gasped, your fingers curling into the lapels of his jacket as your body struggled to accommodate his size. “Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, your walls fluttering around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. Every nerve was on fire, pleasure and pain melding together in a dizzying mix as his fingers found your nipples, tweaking and pulling until you cried out.  

“That’s right. Let daddy hear how much you love it,” he crooned, his voice a rough whisper. “You’re doing so well for me,” 

You bit your lips, eyes rolling back as he pushed deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, his cock stretching you impossibly wide, filling you in ways that made your head spin. “So big,” you whimpered, hips trembling as you tried to make space for him, but there wasn’t enough.  

He grunted, and with one swift motion, he pushed even deeper, a sharp gasp escaping you. He was at the end of you, pressing into places you didn’t know could be touched, but he didn’t stop. He kept going, inch by agonizing inch, until you were sure he would split you open.  

“Oh, God…oh fuck,” you panted, your hands falling slack against his chest as you focused on breathing through the intense pressure building inside you. He held your waist firmly, his grip possessive, controlling, as if daring your body to resist him.  

“You’re taking me so well,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear, soft encouragement like music to your soul. “Almost there, mi amor.” 

Tears filled your eyes then. 

This was the first time.  

This was the first time Val had ever called you mi amor.

Mi amor.  

My love.  

Love.  

You could feel him inside you, every thick vein, every inch of his cock as it stretched your body to its limits. Your belly bulged slightly where he pressed against you, a faint outline visible as he finally seated him fully inside you.  

With one final hard thrust, he slammed you down onto his cock, and a scream tore from your throat. Your back arched as the shock of it rippled through your entire body. Your insides clenched around him, helpless to do anything else as he filled you completely, his cock a hard, throbbing presence deep within your core.  

“Look at you,” he growled, his voice thick with pride and lust. “You took it all, didn’t you? Such a good girl.” 

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t do anything but tremble in his lap. Your body shook with the effort of accommodating him. The pain slowly dulled, replaced by an overwhelming fullness that sent pulses of pleasure through you. You could feel him deep inside you, so deep it felt like he was in your very soul.  

A sob escaped your lips, half pain, half pleasure, as he grinned up at you, his gold tooth winking at you. “That’s my girl,” he praised, his voice rich with satisfaction.  

Maybe…he could love you now.

You hoped that he loved you.  

Without warning, he lifted your hips, pulling his cock halfway out, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness. Your pussy clenched, desperate to keep him inside, but he only chuckled, holding you steady.  

“Shh, don’t worry,” he soothed, his lips planting small kisses along your jawline as he spoke. “I’m not done with you yet. Daddy’s going to take care of you.” 

Before you could process his words, he slammed you back down onto his cock, his hips meeting yours with a bruising force. You screamed, hands clawing at his shoulders as he began to thrust in earnest, fucking up into you with a savage intensity. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, your vision going hazy as you lost yourself to the feeling of him inside you.  

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your broken moans and his ragged grunts. He fucked you hard, mercilessly, his cock driving deep into your core with every thrust. The pressure inside you built, spiralling out of control as your body melted against him, surrendering your soul, your heart, your body, completely.  

“I want you, daddy,” you cried into the air. His cock throbbed inside you, twitching inside of you, the pressure making your walls flutter in response. “Please,” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation, a sweet, helpless plea that he loved hearing from you.  

Val’s grin was wide and wicked, that gleaming gold tooth catching the harsh light above. “That’s right, that’s a good girl,” he cooed, his tone low and degrading. The moment the words left his lips, his hips slammed forward with brutal position, pulling you down hard against him once more.  

The scream tore from you before you could stop it, your body overwhelmed by the sensation of being utterly filled. His cock drove so deep inside, you swore you could feel him pressing against your womb. You gasped, chest heaving, as he pounded in to you.  

The wet slap of skin against skin filled the room, mingling with your ragged moans. Every stroke felt like a cruel tease – he would pull away just enough to leave you empty before ramming back into you, your lips red and raw from the relentless friction. You could only hang on, body trembling, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure rippling through you.  

His cock didn’t just touch your cervix; it slammed into it, forcing it open as he claimed every inch of you. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak – only animalistic sounds escaped your lips as he took you over and over again.  

Your limbs went slack, completely giving into his control. Val’s hands gripped you tightly, guiding your body as he pleased. You were a puppet to his desire, limp yet burning alive under his touch. Your head fell forward, and you panted for breath. “Oh fuck, daddy, daddy,” you screamed, nails digging into his shoulders. “I’m so close – so, so, close,” you babbled, the peak just within reach, the sensation building into something unbearable.  

Val’s voice, low and commanding, made your world unravel. “That’s right, come for daddy,” he growled, his hips snapping against you. The harsh slam of his body against yours was all it took to push you over the edge. You tensed, gasping, as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling and slick between your thighs, your mind a haze of white-hot pleasure.  

Your body slumped forward, but Val wasn’t finished. In a swift movement, he pushed you down to the cold floor and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. Your limbs shook, barely able to hold your weight as he grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking you back toward him. You barely had time to gasp before you felt the molten heat of his cock press against your entrance again.  

His cock surged back into you with unrelenting force, and your eyes widened at the new sensation. From this angle, he felt impossibly big, stretching you even more, his girth filled you completely. “Oh, Val!” You yelped as he slammed your head back against the floor, your cheek pressed against it. Drool escaped your lips and pooled beneath you. Your body quivered as he drove in to you without pause, his cock a burning brand inside your slick, swollen walls.  

Your breath came in ragged bursts, the pleasure too much for your already overstimulated body. Your inner thighs were soaked, your juices smeared against your skin as his cock slid in and out with wet, obscene sounds. You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak - just a string of helpless moans escaping your lips as his heavy balls slapped against your hardened clit with each punishing thrust.  

“Oh, fuck, fuck,” you mumbled, barely coherent as your pussy clenched around him again, the rippling spasms of another orgasm threatening to break you apart. But Val didn’t let up, didn’t stop – his grip on your hair only tightened, his hips pounding harder, relentless.  

“Give me another, cariño,” he panted, his words punctuated by the sharp slapping of skin, his balls crashing against your sore, soaked folds. The sharp sting of his balls hitting your sensitive clit made you mewl, your body jerking uncontrollably. You were drowning in pleasure, your body an aching, quivering mess beneath him, unsure how many more times you could come for him.  

“Tell me how good it feels, baby,” Val’s voice was a low growl, his demands sharp and insistent. “Go on, tell me.” 

“It feels good, so good, so good,” you chanted, barely aware of what you were saying. The words spilled from your lips automatically, your mind too fogged by the constant waves of pleasure crashing through you. You could barely see, eyes half-lidded, body vibrating with pleasure as he fucked you deeper into the floor.  

Val’s fingers that were clutching your hair twisted, lifting your head and torso as he changed his angle again. The shift made his cock curve inside you, and a fresh wave of sensation hit you like a bolt of lightening. Your breasts hung heavy, nipples sensitive as his clawed fingers pinched them harder. The pain blurred with pleasure, a delicious sting that you moan in earnest.  

Your thighs trembled, slick with your own juices, as the wet slap of his clock echoed in the room. The slick, wet sounds as he drove in to you, the puddle of your arousal spreading beneath you – you could hear and picture it so vividly in your mind’s eyes.  

As your eyes fluttered open, they caught the blinking red light of the camera across the room. An insidious voice whispered in your mind that the camera was recording every moment of your body’s surrender. The lens must have captured it all – the way your belly bulged slightly, moulding around Val’s cock, the way your cunt greedily pulled him in, stretching to take every inch of him.  

Your head felt weightless, like you were floating in a thick haze. Every inch of your body moved with the rhythm of Val’s relentless thrusts, his cock the sole force driving your muscles. Each push sent a shockwave through you, a reminder of the overwhelming fullness he gave. You never knew it could feel like this – raw, needy, with every nerve igniting under his touch. There was no distance between you now, no barriers.  

“Baby, baby…” Val’s voice rasped near your ear, soft yet demanding. His breath scorched the sensitive tip of your ear. Your hair clung to your damp face as you panted for air. “You love me, don’t you, baby?” His lips ghosted over your neck before brushing against your ear, his cock pressing deep inside, filling every crevice within you. A sharp gasp escaped your lips, the pressure almost too much to bear, but you didn’t want him to stop.  

You craved more.  

“Tell me you love me,” his tongue slid along the curve of your ear, the wet warmth of it sending a shiver down your spine. When he kissed the shell of your ear, it felt like electricity, sharp and consuming. He whispered again, his voice like velvet laced with poison. “Tell me you’ll give me your heart, your soul, cariño.” His words were intoxicating, seeping into you like a drug, making your pulse race.  

“Hah…hah…” You couldn’t catch your breath as he made small, precise thrusts, nudging the edge of your cervix, the pressure so sweet it hurt. “I – I love you, Val, I love you,” you gasped, the need in your voice undeniable. Your body ached for him, craving that raw, reckless connection.  

“Love me enough to sell me your soul,” he murmured against your skin. His hips drew back, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in, his cock hitting that devastatingly perfect spot that made your vision black out with pleasure.  

“Yes, yes,” you whimpered, your voice barely more than a breath as you writhed against him, desperate for more. “I’ll give you my soul, I’ll do anything – anything for you, Val.” 

The words spilled from your lips, raw and uncontrolled, as his cock slowly withdrew again, every inch of it dragging along your inner walls, leaving you trembling with the loss of heat and fullness. You whimpered, your hips arching involuntarily, seeking him, needing him to fill that space again.  

Cold metal kissed your neck, the unexpected sensation making your skin prickle, but before you could make sense of it, Val’s large hand slammed down on your shoulder, pressing you hard against the floor.  

“Oh, baby…” His voice dripped with satisfaction, the weight of it thick in your ears. “I knew you’d say yes. You’re one of my favourites.” His hand enveloped the side of your face, your cheek pressing hard into the cool surface beneath you. You felt his other hands lift your hips, and then his cock drove into you again, quick, brutal, carving out a space inside you, like he was determined to make you his in every possible way.  

The slap of his hips against your ass was sharp, the wet sound of your slickness loud in the air, and the stretch of him was so intense, so consuming, it stole every thought from your mind. Every thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, so overwhelming that it bordered on pain. Your muscles twitched, your body teetering on the edge of breaking from the relentless pounding, but you wanted more. You needed more.  

Your gasps turned to cries as he bottomed out inside you, his cock filling you completely. The pressure was unbearable, yet addictive, your body aching for every inch of him. Nothing existed but the feeling of him, the way his cock stretched and claimed you over and over again. 

Warmth flooded your insides as he released his seed, filling you with deep, hot pulses. The sensation made your belly clench, every muscle in your body locking up as pleasure mixed with the heat of his approval, his ownership.  

As his cock softened inside you, the grip he had on you loosened. Your body, finally released from the tension, collapsed against the floor. His seed leaked from you in thick waves, trickling down your thighs, sticky and warm, mixing with the remnants of your own release. Every nerve in your body was spent, and the simple act of breathing felt like it required all the energy you had left.  

“Baby,” Val’s voice cut through the silence like a blade, casual and cold. He nudged your limp body with the tip of his shoe, roiling you onto your back. You stared up at him, dazed, your body sore, mind struggling to keep up. His cock hung loosely, still glistening with the remnants of both of you, but there was no intimacy in his gaze, no softness.  

Only…detachment.  

“That was a splendid show.” He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. As he spoke, a faint pink mist swirled in the air, wrapping itself around your neck like a collar. A chain, thin and ethereal, extended from it, connecting to his wrist. The weight of it pressed down on you, suffocating, though it barely touched your skin.  

You furrowed your brows, confusion flooding your senses while your body remained sluggish and unresponsive. “V-Val?” You stammered, the word barely a whisper, your throat raw from use and from the screams still lodged inside you.  

His expression shifted, the warmth you had once known dissipated entirely. His eyes curved into crescents, a cruel mockery of joy, and his lips twisted into something sharp and sinister. “I expect you to be at work every day, baby,” he said, his voice dripping with casual cruelty. A chuckle followed, light but empty. “Truly, a pleasure doing business with you.” 

You stared, uncomprehending, as he tucked himself back into his pants with a casual ease, as though nothing had happened, as though you were nothing – not even an afterthought. He patted his clothes, as if brushing away some invisible dust, erasing any trace of the intimacy you thought you had shared.  

“V-Val?” You tried again, your voice cracking, your body trembling as the reality of his words began to sink in. The warmth from his touch, from the act you once thought was love, had already cooled, leaving only a hollow ache. You could feel the crust of his seed drying against your skin, flaking away like something discarded, forgotten.  

His response was swift and brutal. “You work for me now, baby,” he crooned, bending down to meet your gaze as though you were a child who couldn’t quite understand. His hand came down on your head, not with affection, but with condescension, a pat that made your skin crawl. “Now, clean yourself up. The next actors need to use this set.” 

The words crashed into you, sharp and final, and before you could gather the strength to respond, he turned away, his footsteps echoing as he moved toward the door. The sound of the latch clicking shut rang in your ears, the finality of it stealing the breath from your lungs.  

For a moment, you were paralyzed, your mind swirling into a storm of chaos, trying desperately to make sense of the sudden emptiness where warmth had been. 

Slowly… 

Painfully… 

You tried to sit up.  

You tried – oh, you tried, but your body screamed in agony, your stomach and insides raw from the violent way he had… 

You bit your lips. Hard.  

Hard enough to pierce the skin, and a metallic tang blossomed on your tongue.  

He had used you.  

“V-Val…” you whimpered, the name slipping from your bloody, broken lips in a stilted, pleading cry. There was no pride left, only desperation. “Val…Val…” Your voice cracked as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and uncontrollable, spilling down your cheeks in silent rivers. You crawled toward the door, your legs too weak to stand, every movement a reminder of his cruelty, the soreness a mark of how easily he had discarded you.  

“Val…” You sobbed, your throat tight, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. Each attempt to call his name was met with silence, the room pressing in on you, the walls looming over you, the door an impenetrable barrier. The hollow thud of your palm against the cold, unforgiving floor was the only sound left as you clawed your way forward, begging for something you knew you’d never get.  

The truth slithered into your mind, cold and unbearable.  

He was gone.  

He had never cared. 

You weren’t special.  

You had never been.  

A bitter sob tore through you, and as the tears flowed freely, the thought struck you like a knife to the chest.  

He never once told you he loved you… 

...had he?

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

[pettypuppy-jonghyun]

That's Not Your Food, Woo

Summary: bf!Wooyoung is known for stealing your food, but this time he got caught Notes: pure fluff as I'm in my Woo era again 😩 1028 words (how tf did I write two woo fics with the same amount of words???)

A gasp resounded in the room, silence following quickly after. You stood at the entrance of the kitchen, staring directly at the man sitting at the island bar, his form hunched over. Even with his back facing you, you knew what he was doing. The aroma of your favorite snack filled the air.

"It's not what it looks like," Wooyoung mumbles through a mouth full of food, quickly shoving the container behind a roll of paper towels.

You threw your bag on the marble counter, rounding to the other side to catch him in the act. "It's exactly what it looks like!" You pointed an accusatory finger towards him. "You're eating my ramen!"

He wiped his mouth to hide the evidence. "Baby, let me explain-"

You shook your head. "There are no words to defend yourself. I see the seasoning packet by your hands. You can't lie to me."

Wooyoung glanced to his side, finally noticing the torn packet you mentioned and reaching to crumble it in his hand. "I was going to replace it," he confesses, sparing at glance your way. "I swear."

Sighing heavily, you leaned against the counter with both arms. "I should have never given you the key to my apartment."

The love of your life could only sit there, guilty. There he was, eating the last container of your favorite ramen noodles, when that's what you were craving all day. You were devastated to say the least. He had been gone for a few weeks on tour, only to come back and eat your food while you worked.

Wooyoung couldn't help the small smile that grew on his lips as he watched you. Slowly, he stood up to walk around the counter, coming up behind you to give you a massage as an apology. "Hey, I can go to the store and grab some more. Alright? I'm sorry, my love."

You tried to hold the serious and upset facade, but his massage was breaking your composure. "You promised you'd pick up my favorite chips before you left for Japan a month ago and I'm still waiting on those."

He giggled lightly, resting his chin on your shoulder to press his nose to your cheek, giving it a peck. "Okay fine, I'm guilty of not replacing your foods right away. But I'm on break for awhile before our next tour stop. Lemme make it up to you."

You turned to glance at him, raising an eyebrow. "By doing what?"

He smirked, reaching his arms around your waist and tugging you closer. "Oh, I can think of a few things."

Yanking yourself free from his tight grasp, you immediately put distance between you two and pointed a finger at him once again. "No! None of that mushy gushy nonsense. You owe me food! Love doesn't put food on the table, Jung Wooyoung."

His laughter bubbled out of him, watching you move further back with each step closer he took. "That's okay, I have money for the food. I can always go to the store, but right now? I need to make you forgive me."

You tried hard to fight a smile as you found yourself backed into the pantry door, raising your arms as if to stop the man from getting to you. "You know, I've decided you've repented enough. N-no need to repay me anymore. I forgive you."

"How noble," he bemused, suddenly in front of you. His hands grabbed your own, pushing them out of the way as he moved forward, now only inches away.

You started to giggle as he leaned into your face, a huge grin on his face mirroring your own. You attempted to push him away but with as little force as possible. He stood absolutely still against your tries, still inching closer instead. You were cornered with nowhere to run.

You shrunk against the pantry, turning your head to the side as you prepared for a kiss attack. You've suffered from the wet, forceful kisses many of times to know what you were in for. Your hands were trapped beneath his own. What you didn't expect was for him to release one arm, his hand reaching up to grip your chin to turn you enough so you looked at him again.

The mood suddenly shifted with that one movement. His gaze landed on your lips, far more sultry than you anticipated. Your breathing became haggard as you watched him watching you. It was silent aside from your heart beating uncontrollably loud.

"I've missed you," he whispered lowly, a bit of sadness flashing across his eyes briefly.

You hadn't the chance to respond. He immediately pressed his lips against your own, kissing you deeply. Shifting so you were comfortable, he released your other hand to grip your waist and pull you against him. You sighed against his lips, feeling the sweetness in the kiss you missed so dearly. It was all you needed to succumb to him.

He changed directions, dipping his hand passed your ear and into your hair, gripping the back of your neck so you pushed even further into the kiss. The kisses were long and drawn out, soft noises filling your ears. You wanted nothing more than to continue feeling his soft lips, bringing you absolute comfort and sense of security. Your eyes were clenched tightly shut as you tried to enjoy every second of his affection.

When he pulled back, that mischievous smirk was back. "Am I forgiven?"

You barely had enough breath in you to counter his comment. "Fine," you bit, rolling your eyes.

He chuckled at your reluctancy, wrapping his arms tightly around your shoulders and squeezing you. "I love you." You hummed a response as he nuzzled his head on the side of yours. "Say it back."

"I love you too," you mumbled.

You could tell he was enjoying every second of that torture. You finally wrapped your arms around him as well, giving him a firm squeeze. The feeling of his warm cheek pressed against your own made you sigh in comfort and delight. The light of your life was in your arms once again, right where he belonged.

[1chaerry]

Hello dear Chae, please could you write a (platonic) Kim Dokja x male!reader, the reader is a constellation and Secretive Plotter's husband, I hope I don't you mind , take care of yourself 🤍

hii!!! I love anything to do with ORV!! Okay, so this fueling my ORV obsession more. hope you like it!!

A Plot-Twist In The Stars

summary: a sudden sub-scenario appears for Kim Dokja and for some reason, all the Constellations seem excited for it. Kim Dokja skeptically accepts it.

c.w: fluff, fluff, FLUFF, a bit of plot [come on, it's ORV], sub-scenario, platonic love,

w.c: 2.7k

disclaimer: Reader is called 'Saram' meaning 'Human/Person.'

Kim Dokja had long since learned to distrust the Star Stream’s attempts at “entertainment.” So when the system announced a new sub-scenario with a flourish, complete with a suspicious lack of immediate death flags, he instinctively frowned

[A SUB-SCENARIO HAS BEEN TRIGGERED!]

Objective: Accompany [The Secretive Plotter’s Husband] for one (1) day.

Reward: ???

The chat room exploded with excitement.

⎡ Constellation Prisoner of the Golden Headband is rolling on the ground laughing. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Bald General of Justice eagerly leans forward, wondering how this will play out. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Demon-like Judge of Fire clicks her tongue, muttering something about romantic plots. ⎤

Kim Dokja's brow twitched. “Why do I feel like this is going to be humiliating?”

“What's wrong?” Yoo Joonghyuk said gruffly, arms crossed as he eyed the notification on Dokja’s screen.

“No,” Kim Dokja replied flatly. “Something about this feels deeply wrong.”

Before Yoo Joonghyuk could retort, the world around them shimmered, and Kim Dokja found himself somewhere else entirely.

The setting was surreal: a cozy, starlit garden with soft cushions and a low table laden with snacks. Across from him sat a man—tall, elegant, and exuding an aura of mischief. His eyes glittered with a sharp intelligence that made Kim Dokja’s survival instincts scream.

“Ah, so you’re the famous Kim Dokja,” the man said, resting his chin on one hand. “My husband speaks of you often.”

Kim Dokja’s brain short-circuited. “Your… husband?”

The man smiled. “I am [Halo of the Golden Sea], the Secretive Plotter’s beloved, or, Saram, if the moniker is too long. Don't worry, it's a false name, won't cause you probability.”

Kim Dokja stared. “The Secretive Plotter… has a husband?”

⎡ The Constellation Secretive Plotter coughs awkwardly. ⎤

The man—no, the Constellation—leaned back, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “You seem surprised. Did you think he was incapable of love?”

Kim Dokja did not say, Yes, absolutely.

Instead, he cleared his throat and asked, “What exactly is the purpose of this scenario?”

“To spend time with me, of course!” Saram replied brightly, before leaning closer, his voice dropping suggestively. “Don’t worry—I don’t bite. Much.”

Kim Dokja scooted back instinctively.

⎡ Constellation Abyssal Black Flame Dragon bursts into laughter, finding your plight amusing. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter sighs but says nothing. ⎤

Throughout the day, Saram found every opportunity to fluster Kim Dokja.

While showing Dokja the starlit garden that seemed to exist between realities, Saram casually commented, “You know, for someone who deals with life-and-death scenarios daily, you have a surprisingly composed face. It’s almost… infuriatingly unreadable. Are you always this calm, or is this just for me?”

Dokja avoided eye contact, trying to focus on the nonsensical task of categorizing glowing star fragments. “I just… don’t let things get to me.”

Sarambraised an eyebrow. “Really? Not even when I look at you like this?” He leaned closer, his expression playful but his gaze sharp.

⎡ Constellation Bald General of Justice whistles approvingly. ⎤

⎡ Constellation Demon-like Judge of Fire mutters, ‘I ship it.’ ⎤

Saram casts a glance at the Constellations, "Behave, you children."

There's a silence from the Constellations which made Dokja gulp, wondering how much power this man had to quiet them all.

Dokja turned away, his voice clipped. “Do you always tease strangers like this?”

Saram laughed, the sound warm and unapologetic. “Only the interesting ones.”

As the day wore on, Saram grew bolder in his attempts to rattle Dokja’s composure.

At one point, he leaned against a tree, arms crossed, and watched Dokja struggle with yet another nonsensical task involving glowing orbs. “You know,” he said casually, “if I weren’t already married, I might have considered claiming you for myself.”

Dokja froze mid-motion, nearly dropping the orb in his hand. “Excuse me?”

Saram smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction. “What? Can’t I appreciate a brilliant mind and an unyielding spirit? Don’t tell me you’re completely oblivious to how captivating you are.”

Dokja’s face burned, though he quickly masked it with his usual deadpan expression. “I think your husband might have something to say about that.”

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter silently tightens his grip on his sword. ⎤

Saram laughed, completely unbothered. “Oh, don’t worry about him. He knows I like to keep things interesting.”

As the scenario progressed, Kim Dokja began to notice a certain spark in Saram's behavior that made him uneasy, and it wasn’t just the unnerving way he casually teased him throughout the day. It was the subtle but undeniable attention that Saram seemed to give him—like he was studying him, analyzing his every move with a sharp, calculating gaze.

Though the garden was serene, with a gentle breeze rustling the trees and soft light from the stars above, the atmosphere between them felt charged with something far more intense than just casual conversation. Every glance from Saram lingered just a little too long, and every comment was laden with something more than what was on the surface. At first, Kim Dokja brushed it off as part of the oddity of being in this strange scenario, but soon, he realized that there was an unmistakable curiosity behind those bright eyes.

Saram would often watch him intently as they sipped tea, as if waiting for Kim Dokja to reveal something of himself—his thoughts, his plans, his secrets. There was an eerie quality to it, like he could see right through him. And the way he’d occasionally smile, just the slightest curl of his lips, gave Kim Dokja the distinct feeling that he was being toyed with.

“Tell me, Kim Dokja,” Saram asked that afternoon, as they walked side by side through the starry garden, “Why do you always seem so guarded? Are you afraid of revealing too much?”

Kim Dokja stiffened at the question, instinctively shutting himself off even further. “I’m not ‘guarded,’” he replied stiffly. “I’m just… cautious.”

Saram chuckled, the sound warm but tinged with something mischievous. “Cautious, yes. But you’re not fooling anyone. You’re hiding something, aren’t you? Something important.”

Kim Dokja’s eyes narrowed slightly. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was an unsettling truth to what Saram said.

“It’s none of your business,” he shot back, trying to regain his usual composure, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that every word out of Saram’s mouth felt like a carefully crafted move.

And that was when he realized: this wasn’t just a random Constellation. There was something strategic behind the way Saram spoke, something calculated in his interest in him. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that Saram wasn’t simply curious about him—he was intrigued.

The other Constellations had been amused by the sub-scenario, but Saram’s interest seemed far deeper. He wasn’t just playing along for fun. No, he was actively pulling at the threads of Kim Dokja’s life, his story, and perhaps even his own motivations. It felt like he was trying to understand the very fabric of his being, as if he could somehow use it for his own ends—or perhaps to simply learn about him on a more personal level.

Kim Dokja could tell that Saram was a skilled manipulator, one who thrived in situations where he could read others and subtly influence them. And yet, for all his caution, Kim Dokja couldn’t help but wonder…...

Did Saram actually want something from him? Or was this all just a game—one that Saram was determined to play to the very end?

As they shared a quiet moment, sitting beneath the stars, Saram leaned in just a little closer, his gaze sharp but playful. “You know, Kim Dokja… I find you fascinating. There’s something about you that’s both frustrating and intriguing. I wonder…” His voice dropped, almost teasing. “What would it take to get you to let me in? To show me the real you?”

Kim Dokja couldn’t help but tense at the question, feeling a surge of irritation mixed with something else. Was it fear? Or was it just the sense of being cornered by someone who could so effortlessly navigate the intricate web of his emotions?

“I don’t let anyone in,” he said, voice steady but the words betraying him. “I’m not a person you want to know.”

But Saram only smiled wider, like a cat with its prey. “Ah, but that’s exactly what makes you interesting.” He leaned back slightly, as if giving Kim Dokja a moment to reconsider, but the glint in his eyes never wavered. “You’re not as impenetrable as you think, Kim Dokja. Maybe, in time, you’ll come to realize that.”

The rest of the day unfolded with a constant undercurrent of this unspoken tension. Kim Dokja couldn’t shake the feeling that every word, every interaction, was another thread being woven into a bigger, more complex pattern that Saram was crafting with remarkable precision. As much as he tried to distance himself, it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the fact that Saram was interested in him—more so than any other Constellation Kim Dokja had encountered.

And it wasn’t just curiosity. No, Saram seemed to be quietly testing his boundaries, pushing to see how far he could go before Kim Dokja either cracked or completely shut him out.

The more Kim Dokja tried to maintain his distance, the more Saram seemed determined to break down his walls. It was becoming less about the scenario itself and more about the challenge of unraveling the mystery that was Kim Dokja.

By the end of the day, Kim Dokja realized that Saram wasn’t just interested in him because of the Star Stream or the scenario—it was because he saw something in Kim Dokja. Something that made him worthy of fascination.

Whether Kim Dokja liked it or not, he had unknowingly become a part of Saram’s plot—a plot he had no idea how to navigate. But that was nothing new for Kim Dokja, was it? After all, he had been thrown into enough convoluted plots to know that sometimes, the best way to survive was to embrace the chaos and play along.

The day was an utter whirlwind of chaos.

Saram insisted on dragging Kim Dokja through activities that ranged from mildly ridiculous (picking constellations to “adopt” as stars in their garden) to outright absurd (convincing Kim Dokja to play tag while the chat room provided commentary).

At one point, Saram raised a glass of wine and smirked. “You know, Kim Dokja, you’re not half bad. Maybe I’ll convince my husband to let me keep you.”

[ Constellation Secretive Plotter glares coldly. ⎤

Kim Dokja, somehow completely sober, replied, “I think your husband would kill me. Again.”

Saram only laughed. “He wouldn’t dare. I’m the only one who gets to torment you today.”

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter looks away, his ears suspiciously red. ⎤

As the day came to an end, Kim Dokja collapsed onto the cushions, exhausted but somehow… content. Saram lounged nearby, still radiating that chaotic energy, but with a softer, almost fond smile.

“You’re interesting,” Saram said. “I can see why the Star Stream loves you.”

Kim Dokja groaned. “I hate that.”

Saram chuckled, then stood. “Well, this was fun. But don’t think you’re off the hook. If you survive the next scenario, we might meet again.”

The world shimmered once more, and Kim Dokja found himself back with Yoo Joonghyuk and the others.

“What happened?” Yoo Sangaj asked, concerned.

Kim Dokja stared into the distance, his voice hollow. “I… bonded with the Secretive Plotter’s husband.”

The chat room exploded into laughter once again.

⎡ Constellation Secretive Plotter silently vows to make amends for the day’s chaos. ⎤

And somewhere in the Star Stream, Saram laughed.

The garden was quiet now, bathed in the soft, silver light of the stars. The stars above twinkled as if to remind Saram that time was still passing, even if it felt as though the entire world had paused for a moment. He leaned against a stone pillar, his gaze fixed on the starlit horizon, though his mind wasn’t on the scenery.

Behind him, the shimmering air twisted as a familiar presence appeared. It was a subtle distortion in the fabric of reality—one that only someone accustomed to the Star Stream’s constant manipulations would recognize.

"I see you’ve finally arrived," Saram said, not turning around. His tone was calm, almost casual, but there was a flicker of something more behind his words.

The figure that appeared behind him, silent as ever, stepped into the moonlight. The tall, imposing silhouette belonged to none other than the Constellation known as Secretive Plotter. Despite the heavy air between them, the quiet tension was almost… playful.

"Saram," Plotter’s voice rumbled, low and deliberately distant. "That was a rather… interesting day."

Saram allowed himself a small, knowing smile. "Interesting? Or just entertaining?" He raised an eyebrow, turning to face the other Constellation. "You didn’t think it would be easy to keep things simple, did you?"

Plotter’s expression didn’t change, but the glimmer in his eyes seemed sharper, like the gears of a complex plan were grinding slowly into motion. "You are… unpredictable."

"I prefer to think of myself as entertaining," Saram replied with a playful shrug, stepping closer to Plotter. "But I think you enjoyed it more than you’re letting on."

For a moment, there was silence. The kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled, because neither of them were in a rush. Plotter studied him, his gaze steady and unreadable.

"Why him?" Plotter asked after a pause, his tone quiet but cutting through the night air like a sharp blade. "Kim Dokja. Why go to such lengths with him? You know what kind of person he is."

Saram chuckled softly, eyes glinting with mischief. "He’s interesting, that’s why. He’s got this air of… complexity about him. You can never quite pin him down. Don’t you find that fascinating?" He tilted his head slightly, like he was watching Plotter carefully for any reaction.

Plotter didn’t answer immediately, but the corners of his mouth twitched, as though a rare smile had almost escaped him. It quickly disappeared, replaced by the usual, unreadable mask.

"You know him well," Plotter finally said. "But I wonder… do you see something in him beyond that? Or is it just the game for you?"

Saram met Plotter’s gaze unflinchingly, his eyes sparkling with something deeper. "Is it so wrong to want to have a little fun while playing the game? To see how long it takes before he finally cracks, or maybe—" He stepped closer again, his voice lowering to a near whisper, "—to see what lies beneath all those layers he’s so desperate to keep hidden?"

Plotter didn’t react, but the air around him seemed to crackle with the unspoken understanding between them. Despite his cold, distant demeanor, it was clear that Plotter had been watching his every move. And in that silent exchange, the tension between them was palpable. There was no need for words—both understood exactly what the other was thinking.

"And you?" Saram continued, this time leaning in ever so slightly, close enough for Plotter to feel his presence. "Do you ever let your walls down, or is it just me who has the privilege of seeing them crumble?"

Plotter’s gaze softened for the briefest moment, the faintest trace of something that could have been a smile playing at his lips. But it vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the familiar, cryptic expression. "I have no need to lower my guard with you," he said, his voice low and controlled. "But you… you are something else."

Saram laughed, the sound rich with amusement. "I suppose we are something else together, aren't we?" He paused, then leaned in, his tone suddenly more serious, more intimate. "But don’t think for a moment I won’t be keeping an eye on you. This game of ours… it’s just beginning."

Plotter met his gaze evenly, his eyes filled with that same cool, inscrutable depth. "I don’t need your protection, but I’ll be watching, too."

They stood there for a moment, the starlit garden between them, both of them perfectly aware of the unspoken understanding that tied them together. It was a strange alliance, one forged in the midst of games and plots, but it was real in its own way. Neither of them knew what would come next, but neither of them was ready to let go just yet.

As the night air drifted softly around them, Saram smiled—a smile that wasn’t entirely light, but more of an invitation, a challenge. "Shall we see where this story takes us next, then?"

Plotter’s only response was a silent nod. He stepped back, his eyes lingering for a moment longer before turning to leave.

But Saram stayed, watching the stars as they sparkled above.

"Let’s see how far we can push this game," he murmured to the empty night.

[poppadom0912]

New Years Eve

Summary: New Years looks a little different but you don't mind at all.

A/N: After much contemplation, I decided to write this little baby as one last thing to end off the year. I hope you all had a wonderful holiday and hopefully an amazing new year. Thank you so much for all the love and support you showed me this year, I truly can't express my appreciation and just how much it's helped me.

Being a surgeon meant that you had peculiar shifts and sometimes it meant working holidays. You were lucky enough to spend Christmas at home with your family but not so much for new years.

You weren't too bothered however. Your family had no plans this year as they all went abroad and you were stuck.

Despite being unable to maintain traditions this year, you and a few special people could make new ones.

The night was suspiciously quiet, allowing you and Connor to take a well deserved break and have a much needed catch up in the break room.

Laughing at Connor's unfortunate family dinner tale, you were interrupted by a knock on the door which was pushed open before either of you could say anything.

"Mama, mama!" The babbles of your child made it so that your smile widened. Their chubby legs staggering as they were supported by your husband who was helping them 'walk' towards where you were sat.

"Oh hello Daisy! Look at you!" You stood up, opening your arms as she picked up the pace to throw herself forward into your embrace that was one of her favourite places to be. "Mama missed you baby."

Her following giggles brightened up the room, it was as if she understood your words. Her smile, with a few teeth poking out, were a welcomed sight as her hand clutched your scrubs.

"Oh! And whose this?" You questioned her innocently, looking at the other man in wonder.

Connor held in a laugh at the scene before him.

Turning to the direction you were pointing, Daisy babbled nonsensical gibberish that you nodded to understandingly. "Ah I see, you picked up a stray on your way here. That's so generous of you love."

Kelly rolled his eyes, knowing fully well you were indirectly jabbing him for his soot covered face. He clearly hadn't cleaned himself after their latest call.

This time last year, the exact same thing happened. It was almost like deja-vu but instead of being pregnant, this time you had a baby in your arms and... Connor was here.

Looking back at one of your best friends and colleagues, you raised a brow at him, a knowing smile on your face.

Connor laughed, nodding his head with a certain look on his face. "Alright, alright, I know when I'm not wanted."

"You love us." Kelly said, smile filled with appreciation as the man got up.

"Yeah yeah, get out of here Rhodes. Go find Will to kiss at twelve." You half joked, was half serious, your tone giving nothing away.

His laugh came straight from the chest, shocked but also expecting it from you at the same time.

"Kiss this fine specimen twice for me instead, m'kay?" Connor asked rhetorically, firmly patting Kelly on the shoulder as he winked at you, not waiting for a reply before leaving.

"How are my girls doing?" Kelly asked, moving towards you to wrap his hands around you waist.

"I should be asking you that, you two have been having fun at the firehouse together all day." You replied, letting Daisy play with the random junk you had in the breast pocket of your scrubs.

"Little missy here had the time of her life with her aunts and uncles today. She was very spoilt and I'm very surprised they haven't tired her out."

You hummed, the baby in your arms was still buzzing with energy but the concern about her bedtime could be a problem for the new year.

The silence was welcoming. Being a surgeon and a mother meant that it was a rare thing but you relished it every single time.

"We going to make this a yearly thing?" You asked, fixing Kelly's collar. "Working every new years, you coming here to kiss me senseless and run away all smug like you're so cool. I have a strict reputation to maintain - need to keep instilling fear in the students."

"Ahh I see." Kelly nodded, lips pursed as he looked at your daughter when he replied.

"Your mummy thinks she's so scary, isn't she just so adorable?!" He said in the baby voice that he uses when talking to Daisy who knew none the better that he was making fun of you.

"Piss off." You rolled your eyes, shoving his shoulder away but he barely moved, stood firm on the ground even with all the effort you put in.

"Aww, don't worry baby, I still love you." He circled his arms back around you, bringing you into his embrace, holding his two girls close to him.

"No that's it, no more kisses for you." You shook your head, trying your best to be serious as you exchanged the banter that even though it was small, made days like today better.

Kelly hummed, as if he didn't believe your threats. He looked down at you and Daisy with such adoration and love that it was palpable. After such hard days, small pockets of time with just the three of you grounded him in such a way very few could do.

The countdown started, muffled voices counting down from outside, breaking the bubble of your little family was in.

"I love you."

Your smile was identical to the smile Daisy wore. She was your exact carbon copy and to have both of you looking up at him with the exact same look, Kelly was ready to fight the whole world for his two girls.

"I love you too."

"3, 2, 1... Happy New Year!"

Without a second to waste, Kelly's calloused hands cradled your jaw, pulling you into a searing kiss that you instantly melted into, getting lost into it even as little fingers tapped your face, trying to pry Kelly's face off of yours.

The laugh that came from you was unbecoming but this was quite new. Daisy pushed Kelly's face away from yours, ignoring his sour face as she kissed you instead. 'Kiss' being very loose as it was just her open mouth repeatedly smacking your cheek.

Unable to begrudge her, Kelly joined in, kissing the other cheek in unison.

Then, in sync, you and Kelly turned and drowned Daisy in kisses. The sudden onslaught of kisses surprising her, her giggles loud and beautiful, the most wonderful sound you ever heard. Her smile wide, dimples deep and eyes squinting.

Yeah, this was definitely a new years tradition you could get used to.

[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.

[intimidating-fettuccine]

Slenderman with a creative writing s/o who leaves little drabbles for him. Very dramatic ones. When they're upset they write about the world ending, when they're happy they write a lot of fluffy nonsense... Better when they're in a gossiping mood they'll write about the drama and make him guess who it's about before telling him the real deal. Just something cute where they'll even leave little notes around for him to find, including slipping some into his work when he's too busy to see them 🙏🙏

He loves it. This man fully adores you so much, and this truly just really adds to that on so many levels. Slender has always been a reader, so even if your stories could be incredibly short, or unusually long, he's always looking forward to finding the next one to read. He can't always be by your side due to the mountains of work he has to do on a regular basis, so it brings him very great joy to know you have a hobby you can keep up with, especially when it allows you to express yourself and vent your emotions in such a healthy way. I will say though, he did NOT get it at first, that you were leaving them specifically for him.

No, this poor man, he thought you were forgetting or losing your pieces of writing, and so he was just collecting and storing them for a little bit whenever he found them, before handing them back to you. "My dearest, it seems you've been improperly storing your writing. I have found them and cared for them for you, and so I'd like to return them to you." Cut to you standing there in confusion, an amused smile spreading on your face, before explaining to him that you had been leaving them out for him, and were wondering why he never mentioned his thoughts on them to you. He's a little flustered by the understanding, but then he proceeds to excitedly sit down and read through every single one, giving you his thoughts on all of them to make up for lost time. Following that moment, he starts collecting them again when he finds them, but he keeps them for himself (including the originals he tried to return to you), and he stores them in a folder so he can always look back on them and read them again. It really warms his heart, having a way to remember you and think of you when you're apart, and he fondly looks forward to the next ones. He does think it's a little silly where you end up hiding them sometimes.

He goes to make his morning coffee before the sun has even risen, and he finds a neatly folded story in his favorite mug. He goes to get dressed some mornings and finds them tucked away in shirt, jacket, or pants pockets, crinkling as he moves, chuckles leaving him as he already knows what they are before he removes them from his pockets. He adores everything you write, but he does also check in with you regularly depending on the contents. If he finds a particularly dark, depressing one on your sadder days he's quick to set aside his work and check in on you, visiting you and making sure you're alright, always reminding you that you can rely on him for everything. He cares so much for you, and he's learned to pick out little things in your writing that, even if not obvious to those who wouldn't know you as well, point to how you're feeling when writing. Although, much as he is loathe to admit it, he does love your gossipy ones. Especially when he's been having a rough day at work, and after signing another document he moves it to the side to find a piece of paper on it with a particularly juicy story scrawled across it. He's always down for tea, and you provide it so willingly for him, even if he'll never admit to being a gossiper. He also loves finding soft, fluffy stories the same way, though. If you notice he's the one having a rough time, leaving him little loving stories, filled with how much you love him, or reminding him of your favorite memories with him, slipped between his papers for the day. It does a lot to boost his mental health, and he appreciates it more than he can express. Eventually, he'll take after you, in turn leaving you his own stories and little notes hidden around for you to find. You'll both sit side by side with a warm drink at the end of the day, discussing your thoughts about the writings (and gossiping excitedly), and it makes him so unbelievably joyous to be able to have a lover who he can bond with like this.

[writingoddess1125]

PLEASE could you write a buggy x reader where it’s her first time seeing him without his makeup and he’s in relatively plain clothes and he gets super worried that she won’t like him anymore because he’s not all flashy but she comforts him?? Thank you!!!

Oh I love this! I gotcha love

Buggy X FemReader

Tiny spoonful of Angst and Lots of Fluff

Slightly SubBuggy

You had just gotten out of the bath, towel drying your hair after a particular long day in the Big Top. After a very well done raid of a island, a so-so show you had finally gotten time to winde down for the day. But there was one thing missing- Your damn brush! You'd practically torn apart your room to find it.

Groaning you get up and walk a few doors down to Buggy's room. Often leaving your stuff there or him leaving his stuff in your room- It was just apart of your guys relationship.

"Hey Bugs did I leave my brush in your room?"

You called out as you stepped into his room, having been too familiar with the Captian to bother knocking. The two of you being in a romantic relationship with each other, while he was your Captian he was also the man who you held at night and kissed away his fears and doubts.

Opening the door you are invited to a surprising sight, there stood Buggy in the center of his room in simple black trousers and a white shirt, his blue hair was down his back in thick waves that showed off his face very well. His face cleared of any makeup and even looked moisturized.

His eyes were wide in shock at seeing you there and seeing him like this- His face turning bright red as he stared at you.

"Bugs?.. Do you have my brush?" You asked, blinking at him as you still wanted your brush. Walking into the room and closing the door behind you as you walk to him and look at the vanity were you might have left it.

"G-Get the hell out!" He yelled, embarrassed anger on his face as he pointed to the door. You looked at him in surprise, a brow being raises at his words.

"What's you're problem?" You ask, narrowing your gaze on him and walking to the Captian who stepped away from you.

"I just said get the hell out (Y/N)!! Who do you think you are walking into my room like this! I let you get away with lots but don't you dare think I will-" He was cut off as you reached forward and touched his hair, twirling a loc in your fingertips.

"Your hair looks pretty" You commented, seeing his face blow red like a lamp. He started to stutter nonsense at you, watching as you continued to play with his hair.

"Are you self conscious my Love? I've seen every part of you, just as you've seen me. What has you concerned" He shuts up at this, forgetting you can read him like a open book. He deflates slightly at your words.

"I-I don't look flashy- and my makeup is gone" He muttered, keeping his gaze from you awkwardly. You soften and reach up to gently cup his face, kissing his clean cheek.

"Oh Buggy, you look handsome with or without your makeup. You will always be sexy to me I'm the flashiest of clothes or plain. You are perfect the way you are" You said sweetly, caressing his cheek that had the starts of blue stubble on it. His eyes softened at this as he leaned into your touch.

"Here, let's go lay down Bugs" You suggest, feeling him nod against your hands. Gently reaching down tou take his hand and lead him to the bed, climbing in first you watch him follow after you. Crawling towards you and laying his body against yours, running your fingers through his hair gently in reward as his head laid on your pelvis as he cuddled against your inner leg. Eyes closed and relaxed as he laid there, vulnerable and safe in your arms. A content sigh leaving his pink lips.

"Thank you (Y/N)... Also- i broke your brush and threw it out to sea"

He was met with a pillow to his head at that- and he giggled at this as he snuggled in closer.

[lovemybluebully]

A Friend In Need

Inspired by my fellow Tumblr people again as seen here: 😊

https://www.tumblr.com/lovemybluebully/773754398203641856/and-if-in-another-universe-it-is-nicepool-who?source=share

AoA Wolverine is somehow stuck with Nicepool in his universe and although they are the most unlikely of duos it was just too tempting to write a little something with them. 🤣

It's nothing spectacular. Just a drabble really and not as structured as my other fics, but hope you enjoy it anyhow. lol

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

Word Count: 1,829

Nicepool had been jabbering away all day nonstop and it was wearing on the last nerve of the cantankerous Weapon X.

In an attempt at scaring him into shutting up Wolverine lunged with all claws extended, knowing that Wade would get out of the way in time as this was a daily occurrence. But unfortunately, when Wade did move Wolverine got himself into a pickle. He'd thrown his full weight into that lunge and now his claws were lodged into the wall, and he couldn't pull them out.

Wade walked up behind him to glance over his shoulder to get a good look at the situation.

"Aw would you look at that. See what happens? If only you were a little nicer and not always trying to stab me. Kindness really goes a long way in- "

"Will you just shut the fuck up and let me think here?! It's your fuckin' mouth that's got me into this situation!

"Actually it was your questionable mental stability and unprovoked rage towards me that got you into this if you want to be accura- "

"Didn't I tell you to SHUT UP?!"

Wolverine is beyond annoyed that not only did he not succeed in getting Nicepool to stop talking, but now he's stuck in the wall and looking like a complete idiot. He starts snarling and jerking his arms to try to wrench the claws free, but they don't seem to budge. Wade just watches his struggle in silence for a minute before stepping forward to offer his assistance.

"I think this would be a lot more effective if we worked together. You pull while I pull you. Simple concept, right? Are you ready? Just let me get a good grip here..."

He reached out to grab his trapped companion under his arms when suddenly Wolverine jerks and immediately shakes him off.

"Don't FUCKIN' touch me! I'll deal with it myself!"

Wade failed to notice his uneasiness and thinks he's just being his usual ornery self.

"Nonsense Logan, everyone needs help sometimes and there's no shame in that. So no need for the macho loner bit and just let your pal, Wade, help you out."

Before Wolverine can protest the hands have gripped underneath his arms again and he's fails to hold in a very audible snort as the unfamiliar shivers run through him. He tries to control himself but is unable to resist as he frantically twists his body to try to get the hands off of him.

"Hey you, quit being stubborn and let me help. I know it's a hard concept for you to understand, but that's something that friends do for each other."

Wade doesn't relent and follows around with the writhing man, fingers digging in to keep their grip on the sides of his chest.

"Get your damn hands offa me! Let gohoho!"

Logan cursed inwardly as that chuckle escapes him, fighting to keep back a smile, but Wade had heard the outburst and looked at him in confusion.

"Did you just laugh? I've never heard you do that. Do you find something funny about this? How about letting me in on the joke, big guy? Geez, you're so squirmy. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were....."

Nicepool trails off as he finally realizes the source of Wolverine's unexplainable behavior with a predatory smile lighting up across his face.

"Oh I get it now! How did I not see this earlier?! You're just ticklish!"

Dread builds up throughout Logan's entire body with his first instinct being to deny it.

"No, I'm fuckin' not!"

"Oh yes, you fricking are! You know what? I think we should use this to our benefit. I'll bet you'll pull free in a jiff once I really start tickling you."

Logan's eyes almost bulged out of his head at hearing that.

"NO!! Just get away from me! I'm not fucking around, Wade! I will stab you for real this time!"

The fearsome Weapon X hadn't felt this feeling in a long time. It was panic.

"Aww well if you're going to do that then you're going to need the use of your claws, silly goose. And currently they look pretty stuck to me. Now let's get them out of there together so you can go back to stabbing to your heart's content."

All of Wade's fingers buzzed to life and began wriggling and massaging into the wide-open armpits as Wolverine roared out in anger and futilely tried to pull his arms down for protection.

Weapon X was unfortunately just as sensitive as any of his other counterparts, but he'd never had it used against him like this, especially when he was unable to really do anything about it. He is already sans a hand and being trapped like this is almost like he is now missing both of them since he has no way to defend himself.

All he could do was thrash about with his snarling and deep growls being the only thing keeping him from breaking into humiliating noises. The last thing he ever wanted was for someone else to get the best of him and he was fighting it with everything he had in him, determined to get free before the inevitable happened.

"This is such a good plan, wouldn't you agree? And I get to kill two birds with one stone here. I've always wanted to make you laugh. Even getting just a smile out of you has been Mission Impossible. You don't need to hold it back, you know? It's just the two of us here."

He dug around in his armpits for a few more seconds before he moved down to the ribs, causing Logan to snort from the unexpected change in spots as he desperately clung to keeping himself contained. The way the fingers wiggled into the sensitive places between his rib bones was almost unbearable, and to make matters worse and embarrass him even further, Wade had started to playfully tease him.

"Aww come oooon.....Let's hear it.....I won't die happy unless I know what your laugh sounds like...Coochie coochie coo.....I'm just going to keep tickle tickle tickling until you give it up...."

Logan couldn't stand being trapped there and having to listen to Nicepool's ramblings any longer as he attempted to tell him off through gritted teeth.

"I swear.....if ya don't.....shut your- "

This of course was a huge mistake.

Wade's hands flew down and started mercilessly kneading into Logan's taut belly as the typically menacing man's knees instantly buckled from the overwhelming tickling sensations. He was beyond disgruntled to realize that he absolutely could not take it.

Before he knew it, he had broken down into helpless laughter as he fell to his knees trying to get away, though it just put him in a more vulnerable position with his arms suspended at an awkward angle above him.

"Bwaahahahaha! Dahahammit! Cuhuhut it ouuut!"

Wade was now grinning from ear to ear as he leaned down to continue clawing at the man's stomach.

"There we go. See? That's not so bad. Oooh you're tickly all over, aren't you? We keep this up and I'm confident you'll be free in no time!"

"Fuhuhuckin' stahahahap-aahahahaha, y-you useless wahahaaste ohohof flehehehesh!"

"Useless? How could you say that? We're making great progress! I think I saw your claws move at least a millimeter. So do not fret, I'm going to put in all my effort. You can count on me!"

Logan found he could barely get a word in through his uncontrollable laughter as Wade's good-intentioned but tormenting fingers drove him wild. He positively loathed the fact that he had been reduced to such an embarrassing, helpless state and wanted nothing more than to wring Wade's neck for getting him into all of this. But that would all have to wait. First, he needed to get himself freed.

Logan pulled hard on his arms and began throwing his whole body weight in the opposite direction, feeling a glimmer of hope as the wall creaked from the exertion. Though he temporarily lost his momentum, squirming desperately and letting out some involuntary higher-pitched giggles once Wade's fingers dug into his hips on his lower stomach area. Naturally Wade was amused by his reaction and kept up his attack on the sensitive spots.

"Waahaadeeheeheehehehe! Nooohohohohoooo! Gonna kihihihihill yaahahahhahahhaahaah!"

"I don't think you will. You're going to be so happy that I helped you escape that you won't even be thinking about murder. You'll see."

Wade noticed that Logan had stopped trying to pull free and was now only attempting to pathetically curl up and guard his stomach, wheezing desperately from how hard he was laughing.

"Aw what's the matter? Is that too much for you? Did I find your weak spot?"

Even though he thought it was totally adorable how helpless the man looked he eased up and moved back to squeezing his ribcage as Wolverine found his strength again and staggered to his feet before he again was violently thrashing and yanking at his arms.

"Sssss.....Staaahahahahahaap! N-Nohoho mohore of thihihihiiis! Hahahahaahaahah! Juhuhuhust fuhuhuhuckin' leheheheeave me!"

Logan managed to pitifully gasp out as he squirmed like mad and put a foot against the wall to aid in his extraction attempts.

"I'm afraid that's not my M.O. I will never abandon a friend in need. I'm with you until the end!"

Nicepool smiled with blissful ignorance, unable to comprehend that his "help" was not wanted in the least while Logan was practically at his wits end.

"I'll gihihihive yahaha 'til the cohohount of- !"

As he uttered those last words his claws finally came free, instantly retracting into his body as the force of his struggle sent them both hurtling backwards with Logan landing on top of Wade, the weight of his bulk squeezing the air out of Wade's lungs.

As Wade regained his breath, Logan swiftly rolled off of him to stand up. He then reached down and grabbed Wade by the front of his suit, lifting him off the ground to growl ferociously into his face.

"I'm gonna give ya one, and only one warning.....Do not ever EVER fucking do that again."

"Is that a request or a demand? Because I think you could benefit from having a laugh every now and- "

"WILSON....!!"

"Okay okay, fine. No more tickles for the big, grouchy feral with the cutest giggle that I've ever heard."

Wade puts his hand up in the air in concession while crossing fingers behind his back. Weapon X seemed somewhat satisfied with that and roughly set him back down with a glare before turning to walk away.

"One warning, Wade. That's it."

He hadn't made it ten steps before he felt fingers dancing along his sides again, his eyes bursting into flames as he spun around with claws already deployed.

"You're fucking dead!!"

"It was wooooorth iiiiit!"

The last thing that could be heard were the snarls of one pissed off Weapon X along with Wade's screams of pain.

[justgivemethephd]

20.01.2025

Happy Monday everyone!

Now that I'm not sick anymore I really feel like I have my life back. I had a very chilled weekend, so I'm feeling pretty refreshed. I spent all of Saturday evening baking sweet treats for the friends I play D&D with, and needless to say they were a hit! I have now been asked to bake for every single session, so if anyone has suggestions on what I should make next feel free to share! I have a lot of grown men to feed, apparently.

Today was a long but quite productive day. Performed a buffer exchange assay for the first time, absolutely fought for my life to run a gel that for some reason refused to run (I think it was leaking honestly...), and managed to write the entire discussion section of my upgrade report. Granted, I only wrote 1300 words, but that still feels pretty good for one day considering I also wasted some time fixing a figure for my results section. I think I'm on track to finish my first full draft of the report by the end of the week, which means I can give it a little proofread and then send it to one of the postdocs in my lab for corrections. I asked her to be harsh, but now I'm scared she's going to come back and say that I'm bad at writing, or something like that. I wonder why it's so hard to appreciate your own writing... I always feel like everything I say is pure nonsense! Imposter syndrome ftw, I guess.

In other big news, I've officially started my running journey! I managed to run 4.59km in just over 30 mins, which isn't nearly as terrible as I thought I would do for a complete beginner. I've created a plan for myself to slowly build up to a half marathon over the next few months, and I'm really really excited to see where all of this takes me. I know it's not study related, but it's certainly self-improvement which I do feel like has its place here. Anyway, I look forward to giving you guys updates!

Let's kill it this week guys! And good luck to all those who are back in school/uni now. You got this!

_____

🎧 - Real Man by beabadoobee (that whole album is so good hooooly)

🎮 - Baldur's Gate 3

📖 - Brief Answers to the Big Questions by Stephen Hawking

[christinarowie332]

i am his .

matt sturniolo x reader

pt 3 of “i’d be an idiot if i said no to that” and “i win” .

warnings - suggestive ? no droogs (boring ik)

y/n and reader realise maybe it ain’t just tension.

—————-

“matt your not even looking”

i say turning my head to look at him giggling , as i’m sat on his lap sideways at his desk .

“i am looking” he whispers lowly , still not looking away from me .

“oh i know your looking , your just not looking at this!!!” i say tapping the paper infront of us .

it’s been around two or three weeks since i hung out with them all and smoked together for the first time . since then i have barley left their apartment . nick and i have gotten so close , chris too .

turns out me and nick had more in common then i initially thought . we both loved melanie martinez , him ,her new stuff and me her old bangers . we also bonded over more personal things and silly things but it’s fair to say we are now attached at the hip . sleepovers . meeting my girl friends . added to group chats and staying up all night talking absolute nonsense and getting deep out of no where.

chris’s issues with him and his girlfriend were worse then we thought . his ramblings from the other night followed into the morning and ended up with us all realising she maybe isn’t the nicest girl . they broke up. this is one of the things that brought us closer . late night seshes talking and listening to music . walks when everyone else falls asleep . him annoying me for half the day .he’s turned into my little brother and i love tm the kid .

matt .

although there are no labels . i am his . not in a toxic way . i am just trilly enamoured with everything this man does . waking up to him smiling down at me . late night drives ending with not so pg moments . his light touches , speaking more then words . the only other language i would ever want to understand . his smile when he sees me and his brothers getting along well . and it’s the same for me . everytime i see his cold mask and attitude drop , everytime i catch him smiling while his brothers talk , everytime a song plays that he likes , watching his shoulders relax and the corner of his mouth twitch , it seems i can physically feel my heart swelling .

so here we are now , in his bedroom after hanging out all day , trying to get him to learn cursive . a silly thing i realised this man could not grasp for the life of him .

“MATT ITS NOT THAT HARD YOU JUST LINK THE LETTERS TOGETHER!!” i jokingly shout through chuckles . grabbing his hand from my thigh and putting the pen in his hand.

“ugh i dont get it !!! it looks stupid bro” he whines out putting his chin on my shoulder and wrapping his free arm around my torso .

“here” i say wrapping my hand around his and moving the pen for him .

Love.

i write it subconsciously and i feel him take his head off my shoulder . i turn my head at the loss of heat to find him staring at me with relaxed and warm features , his eye brows curled upwards and a smile lazily plastered on his face .

“what?” i say tilting my head slightly and shifting my body towards him .

he doesn’t respond and just placed a hand on the side of my face . moving his thumb up and down my cheek looking between my eyes and my lips before leaning in .

we kiss constantly. not being able to stay away from each other . each kiss saying a different thing . “you look good” , “i like your makeup today” “i missed you” “that was really cute” “i need you” . never has it ever said this . the kiss screamed many things . the loudest being “i think im in love with you”

he pulls away first . we both stay silent as turn on his lap and put both my legs over his , sitting face to face . his hands trail down my back to my ass , pushing me forward so our chests are all most touching . i move his hair from his face , admiring the boy in front of me .

i arch my back slightly as i lean in to kiss him again . hands in his hair and on the back of his neck . his hands are on the underside of my thighs lifting up and down at the movement of our make out . his cold fingers getting warmed by my body every time i move downwards on his lap .

he moved his mouth down to my ear , my neck , my collarbones. anything he can reach from this angle . leaving bruises and pink marks in his wake . making my head throw back at the sensation and stealing soft noises from me .

my hand trails underneath his shirt. fingers running down his chest , rising and falling with his deep breaths . he takes his top off with my help before lifting me and not breaking the kiss as he carries me to his bed . holding me up with both arms under my thighs before dropping me down on his bed and kissing down my chest. before making his way back up to my lips and placing a slow peck on them .

“ i want you all the time . i want to be yours and only yours y/n please” he whispers ,leaning on top of me , holding himself up by outstretched arms

“you have me matt .”

he has me.

_______________

i hate this sm . i’ll give em a spliff ext time i swear guys i just need a spliff myself first !!!

taglst 🤍

@mangosrar @sturnphilia @urmyslxt @biimpanicking @soursturniolo @sssturniolofart @deatthmatch @martyniukpl @parkerssecrets @lividnity @littlebookworm803 @daddyslilchickenfingers

love u all :) -millz / milkie 🤍

[captain-mj]

Bender

Tried to write four different asks, got super indecisive and wrote something about 09 SoapGhost who none of the asks were about

Ghost woke up slowly and a little bitterly. His head was pounding. Mouth dry as cotton. Luckily all of his clothes were intact but there was a certain grime to them As if he had been out in the rain or maybe fell.

Something moved and he instinctively went for the knife stashed under his pillow.

"Morning, Lieutenant Riley."

"Johnny." Ghost relaxed just as his hand brushed thin air. He wasn't at the flat he lived where a knife was stashed under a pillow.

"Don't Johnny me." His Captain spat, looking pissed. "Ya come to my door. Reeking of alcohol and weed. Groveling. You take anything else last night?"

Through the pounding in his head, Simon thought through it. "Don't think so, sir."

His Captain looked at him and something like regret curled inside him, so thick it choked out his lungs. Luckily, MacTavish softened a little when he saw the look in his eyes. "Aye. Get up. You can take a shower. I don't have any tea so coffee will have to do."

Ghost sat up slowly and adjusted his mask. "What day is it?"

"Sunday."

His last sober memory was on Thursday night so not as bad as he thought. He wondered why his drunken, high brain thought this was the best place to go though.

Ghost stood. "I can shower later. Don't want to be these clothes right back on."

"Nonsense. Those are going in the wash. You can wear some of mine."

"Jo-"

"That's an order, Riley."

Ghost bit his tongue. They weren't in the field or on base. He had ever right to tell him to shove it. But no. Johnny was the one person he'd led order him around and he knew it. Took advantage of it.

So Ghost followed the fucking order. He handed Soap his clothes through the door, careful for no skin to show besides his hand and wrists. He turned the water on hot, deciding if he had to take one, he was also going to use all of Soap's hot water. It felt nice as the water worked some semblance of life back into him.

Soap must've gotten out the good stuff cause he could smell the coffee even in the bathroom. He used Soap's vanilla scented stuff and the man's loofah since he hadn't had the foresight to give Ghost something else to use.

Ghost even used his fancy hair stuff, working the "Clarifying shampoo", whatever that meant, and conditioner into his hair in turn. He wrapped a towel around himself and checked outside the door for clothes. When he didn't see anything, he called for Soap, waiting patiently.

Soap appeared almost immediately to give him underwear. "I have bandages. You injured anywhere."

Ghost's heart spasmed in his chest as he looked over his body. He slid on the underwear during his inspection. "No, I'm in good condition."

A beat of silence before Soap responded. "Don't believe you."

"Want to check yourself?"

"You offering?"

Ghost's turn to be quiet. He glanced at himself. As far as he could see, he really did look fine. If he told Soap he wasn't offering, they'd move on like nothing happened.

"That was inappropriate-"

"Yes. I'm offering." Ghost cut Soap off.

The door opened and he used the towel to dry his hair, doing his best to seem a lot more confident than he was.

Soap didn't look at him in disgust. That was a good place to start. He reached forward and grabbed Ghost's jaw gently, tilting his head back and forth. "Got some bruises."

Ghost tried to remember anything happening. "Don't think I slept with anyone."

It was a piss poor attempt at a joke, but the way Soap's grip tightened on him... a flutter ran through his chest. Close to fear, but too closely related to trust. If Soap hit him, he'd know it was cause he deserved it.

Soap swallowed hard, searching over Ghost for... something.

"Do you not like the idea of me sleeping with someone else?"

"I don't care about that." His body language told a different story. All tensed up like a bowstring. Jaw rigid.

"You purposely have me stripped to my fucking underwear, Captain. You have a death grip on me. And you look pissed. Starting to think you might like me Captain."

Soap frowned. "Course I like you, Simon." It was too honest. Too open. Ghost broke the moment, even if he didn't forgive himself for doing it.

"You promised coffee."

Soap forgave him. Course he did. "I did, didn't I? Let me get you more clothes." His eyes roamed over him one more time. Just... making sure. But Ghost was fine.

Simon wasn't. Simon wished very much he deserved the concern Johnny was showing him.

There was something firmly between them. If they just... knew how to get around it. If Ghost knew how to get around it.

Soap made him a cup of coffee. "Don't have any more benders like that."

"yes sir."

[poetryandfluffycats]

Hi! Can I request a one shot with an afab!reader riding sub!himeru while praising and being all sweet and comforting because he was stressed? Thank you in advance 💕

A/N: HELLO OKAY never in my life did i think id write this much for himeru of all people but uh, it is what it is i guess?? i went off the rails with plot

Pairing: HiMERU x fem!reader

Content: As Crazy:Bs producer, you have lots of duties that tire you out so when your day off does cone you look forward to taking a much needed nap. The world has unfortunately got other plans for you, however.

Warnings: NSFW, porn with plot, dry humping, oral over clothes(m receiving), riding, kind of sub himeru, minimal amount of biting, messy making out, shared orgasms, mentions of depressive tenancies, rinne + niki have screentime, lots of praise and comfort, ooc himeru(?) he breaks character like once

Words: 5.6k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

Ring, ring, ring. The phone stored safely in your pocket was vibrating, alerting you to the incoming call you were receiving. With a sigh, you stopped in your tracks and pulled out the device to check the caller ID.

A part of you hoped it was a scam caller rather than a member of the unit you produced. Not that you didn't like speaking to the members of Crazy:B, you enjoyed their company more than anything! The reason was that today was your off day and you had hoped to spend it catching up on your missed class work and then sleeping for the rest of the afternoon, not dealing to whatever new problem the boys had encountered.

Luck wasn't on your side today, unfortunately. The caller ID read 'Rinne Amagi', the smirk of the infamous redheaded idol staring you down through his contact photo, as if taunting you to get ready for whatever nonsense was about to spill from his mouth.

Another, much longer, sigh left your throat as you tapped the answer button. Duty calls, you supposed. Surely whatever he wanted couldn't have been too hard for you to handle. "Hello?"

"(name)! My dearest lil' producer, hows ya day off? Doin' alright without me? Missin' my handsome face?" Rinnes voice was as smug and as loud as ever through the speaker, so much so that you found yourself pulling your phone away from your ear so you didn't go completely deaf.

His cheeky tone didn't go unnoticed by you, and you let out a scoff at his sheer childishness. "Fine, yes, and no. Don't butter me up, what do you want?"

"Straight to the point, I like that in a woman!" There was a laugh cut off by a loud cough and 'ahem', Niki most likely, before the man on the other end continued speaking. "Ah, well, ya see. HiMERU didn't show up to practice today, and he ain't answering when we call"

Your eyes rolled so far back into your skull you nearly saw your brain. Of course on the only day you had off in forever would be the day Rinne decided to come and give you an unskipable side quest. And for such a mundane task as well, something he could have easily done himself if he bothered to get off his ass. Seriously, how typical.

"We were hopin' ya could go and get 'im for us? Since ya know, yer the most wonderful producer in the whole world and ya love me so much"

"Sure I do... and why can't you go get him?"

"I got shit to do! Leader stuff, important stuff! Ya wouldn't understand. I'm real hard at work here-ow! Niki! Stop hittin' me dammit! That fuckin' hurt! Whatdaya mean 'don't cuss'? She ain't a baby!"

The line went silent for a few seconds, the only sounds going between the two of you being the muffled groans and slaps of Rinne and Niki fighting like toddlers. You swore you could also hear Kohakus sighs of disappointment from across the practice room.

It was a mintute or two before Rinne came back on the line, breathing heavier than usual and voice more strained. Niki 1, Rinne 0. "Got no time left ta talk! Go find that bastard and bring 'im back here, alright? I'm countin' on ya!"

"Wait, I never said I would-"

"Fuck! Shit! Niki, let go of my phone! No! Don't bite me!"

"(name)? Its Niki! I'll make you dinner if you go and get HiMERU-"

"NIKI!"

Click, line dead.

Your phone screen was now black, Rinnes smirking face replaced by your dumbfounded reflection staring back at you. Typical of you to become involved in Crazy:Bs shenanigans even when you weren't in the same room as them. That nap you had longed so gracelessly for was seemingly drifting further and further from your grasp, all thanks to the laziness of your idols. How wonderful

No use trying to escape your faith now, unless you wanted to endure the wrath of the group when they forgot the routine for the next live due to not practising at all. You did a 180 turn on your heels and began walking back in the direction of the dorms. When people asked what you did on your day off, maybe you could say you exercised?

/----------

"HiMERU? Are you in there? The guys want you at practice"

HiMERUs apartment door stared you down like a lion stalking its pray, mocking you like this was some sort of sick game. "Gonna come in?" It seemed to ask, or maybe that was just some voices in your head, "or are you just gonna stand there like a weirdo?"

You'd really outdone yourself this time. Half an hour later and you had searched half the school for the blue haired man. Before coming to his doorstep you had come to two different conclusions to his absence. Either, he had gained the ability to teleport and was somewhere on the moon, or, he had died and you had lost one of your best idols. The former, unlikely, but knowing the strange man HiMERU was it wasn't entirely impossible. The latter? You sure hoped not.

Despite your wishes of being able to go home and take a well deserved nap, you held your hand in a fist and knocked on the door once more, louder and harder this time. "I swear to God if you don't open this door I will break it down HiMERU! This is ridiculous! I could have been relaxing right now if it wasn't for you!"

As you spoke, there was a shuffling sound from inside the room, accompanied by a few soft thump-thumps of feet against the floor. Finally, the door opened, revealing the man you had been searching for.

"You are giving HiMERU a headache"

HiMERU stood before you in all his glory, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and a long sleeved shirt that due to the nature of his pants, showed off his mid-drift. Blue hair was a flattened mess atop his head, and you noted that he looked far less formal than usual. You had to mentally slap yourself before you stared for too long. "(name), you are aware you are not a wild animal, correct? HiMERUs door does not require barking to open"

"Practice, now. I don't care if you've got a headache or if you're in a mood, Rinne wants you there now" You ignored his snide remark, crossing your arms over your chest in attempt to look more authoritative. It didn't seem to work all that well, however, as HiMERUs facial expression remained unchanged.

"What if HiMERU had a lady friend over? Or perhaps a gentleman friend? Such loud noise would have disturbed imitate times with a special friend. What if HiMERU had been having some fun with his body?"

The urge to punch the man in front of you was stronger than ever before. Was he really trying to gaslight you into believing that he couldn't practice because he had been having sex? HiMERU of all people? You doubted he even had a dick, let alone someone to get it wet. Anyone else, sure, you could believe that. Not HiMERU, no matter how good looking the media made him out to be he was still a whackjob. Whackjobs didn't have sex.

"Were you?"

"No. HiMERU was reading a nice book and drinking some lovely herbal tea, he was simply making a point that you should be more considerate of others"

"I don't care-"

"You don't care about HiMERU? How crude, is this how CosPro treats its idols now? HiMERU will not be attending practice, he has other duty's to attend too"

The audacity of this man. Here you were, trying to be as nice as possible, just trying to get him to do his job, and he can't even do that! How much of an ego could one man have? Sure, you weren't perfect yourself, but at least you did what was expected of you, like right now even when you weren't meant to be working!

You could feel a vein pulsating in your forehead, your patience wearing thinner and thinner by the second. If you had to stand here for any long, you swore you would explode in several tiny pieces. You had to keep your composer if you wanted to keep your job, however, so you chose to remain silent instead of ripping him a new one. You narrowed your eyes at him, shooting lazer beams through his body with your pupils, praying to whatever God was out there that it would scare him into listening to you.

HiMERU seemed to get the memo, finally, his lips forming into a massive pout that nearly hit the floor, a bad look on the usually stoic idol you noted. "As you wish, producer. Please, come inside and wait whilst HiMERU gets ready" He moved out of the way of the door, outstretching his arm in invitation for you to come inside.

You took the invitation, kicking your shoes off and bowing your head slightly as you walked inside. You had never been inside HiMERUs apartment before, besides on the off occasion when you dropped him off. Considering who HiMERU was, a prim and proper diva who seemed to think he was far better than you, you fully expected for his apartment to match his personality. Clean, neat, not a speck of dirt on the ground. Maybe a few plants here and there, real plants that were watered everyday and cared for to the full extent.

As you soon came to realise, you had been wrong. Dead wrong.

"Holy shit..."

HiMERUs apartment was the polar opposite of what you thought it would be. The lights were off, curtains pulled shut, and a musky smell of tea bags long gone cold lingered in the air. A messily made futon laid out in the middle of the floor, blankets and pillows thrown atop it like it was a fort for children rather than a grown mans bed. Finishing touches to the pigsty of a room were the dirty clothes scattered across the floor-some of which resembling his idol uniform, but you couldn't quite tell through the mess-and a book opened in the middle of the floor.

"HiMERU would prefer if you kept your opinions to yourself" His monotone voice hissed from behind you, a sigh evident in his words. "Take a seat anywhere you'd like, be careful not to trip on anything"

How could he be so relaxed? You'd been in many idols rooms before, seen many of them doing things you hadn't expected before, some of which made you want to bleach your eyes out thinking back at them. But none of them had ever been this messy, you didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or just stand there in shock.

"I... huh? Is it always like this?" You squeaked out, eyes trained on HiMERU as he walked past you and into the kitchen, picking up a mug from the counter and taking a long sip.

"No, not usually" He admitted, leaning down with his elbows against the countertop and staring at you with that unreadable expression of his. Dead cold blue eyes trailed up and down your figure, and you almost felt as if he were dissecting your soul. "Does it bother you? Are you offended? Does mess make you upset? Are you going to cry?"

"What? No!" You shook your head. "I'm just surprised is all"

"A crying woman in HiMERUs home, that would be a sight to behold, wouldn't it? Please, sit down, HiMERU will be ready in a moment"

You were at a complete loss for words. The longer you spent with HiMERU the more he confused you, like a never ending puzzle that only got harder the more you tired to solve it, or a board game where every round new rules that contradicted the old rules were added. Was there even a word to describe such a man? A person whose identity was so clouded and muddled it was impossible to grasp them?

Trying to guess what HiMERU was thinking about at any given time made you want to jump off a cliff, live, and then jump off another cliff for good measure. You were going to get Rinne back for this, he owed you big.

Taking a seat on the floor next to his futon, you crossed your legs over one another and watched as the blue haired man pottered around his dorm. He seemed to be moving in a daze, similar to a zombie or a sleepwalker. He would take a sip of tea for a moment, then stop to put away a dish, then drink some more tea, then inspect one of the plants on the counter, then back to his tea, repeat until you found yourself even further in bewilderment.

"You're weird" You commented, resting your chin on your knees and bouncing your heels up and down. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Like what, (name)?" HiMERU raised an eyebrow, finishing off his tea and placing his mug in thesink, now moving to rummage through a pile of clothes.

"I don't know, like... drugged or something? Like a dead man walking? Stranger than usual I guess" Your eyes darted from him to the book laying on the ground. It was a normal looking book, white cover with some black writing on it, thick but still slim enough to be a causal read. "Do you like reading?"

A small laugh came from HiMERUs lips at the question. "That book is not very good. The information inside is not factual and rather silly, things about mediation and healing your inner child. An interesting read, but a waste of HiMERUS time. He does not believe in those things"

It was your turn to raise your eyebrows now. "Then why buy the book?"

"HiMERU has had a rough week, he wanted to indulge in some self-care. Alas, you and your begging interrupted him"

You had half a mind to snap at him for that comment, but you bit your own tongue before the insults could come pouring out, instead opting to obverse his actions. Having been in the industry for awhile, you were aware of the basic signs of burnout, and HiMERU was the poster child for it

Dark circles under his eyes, sluggish movement, a general state of being out-of-character, the sudden urge to skip training and sleep instead. It wasn't unusual for idols to suffer from fatigue and stress, it came with the job after all, but HiMERU had never been one to let his emotions get in the way of work. For him to be this out of it, it was concerning to say the least.

"Are you okay?"

HiMERU froze mid action, hands hovering over a t-shirt in the pile of clothes, staring at you like you'd just asked for a thousand dollars. "Excuse me?"

"I asked if you were okay, are you?" You stood up from your spot on the floor, brushing the dirt from your pants as you slowly approached him, snatching the book from the ground and reading over the blurb. "I didn't take you as the type to read these types of books, you must be really stressed to pick this up"

"Before you were yelling at HiMERU to go to practice, now you are acting concerned for him? HiMERU said, he has had a tough week, that is all"

"There has to be some way I can help you. Look, you don't have to go if you don't want to, I'll tell Rinne you were feeling ill" You opened up the book, scanning through the pages and reading over some of the content.

The language was a tad confusing, obviously made by someone with a higher knowledge in psychology than you, but it was still readable. "Some of this actually looks helpful, maybe we should try some of it? Like, I could give you a massage, or I could-"

"Turn to page 77, please"

You nodded, turning to the page in question. On top of the page were two separate drawings, one a diagram of a mans body and the other a sketch of a man and a woman in the classic missionary position. You could feel your face growing hot with embarrassment at the images, but continued on reading the page. Underneath the drawings were a few paragraphs of text, some certain words having arrows pointing to different parts of the pictures.

Taking a large gulp, you shut the book and looked back up at HiMERU, pupils wide as plates from what you just read. You noticed that he was closer now, only a few mere inches away from your body. Had be always been this tall, this handsome? You couldn't recall.

"HiMERU? I don't understand, these are pornographic, what are you talking about?-"

"Page 77, healing through sex. It says here that orgasms can be a natural stress reliever, and that regular intercourse is healthy for a persons body and mind" One hand came up to brush your cheek, thumb stroking up and down in a way that made your heart flutter, "You wish for HiMERU to go to practice, yes? Then he expects something in return"

His lips were on yours before you had time to blink. You dropped the book in your hands, it hitting the ground with a loud 'bang!' and laying open on page 77. Wet lips moved against your own, hand the once stroked your cheek now moving downwards to grip your waist, spinning the two of you around to press you against the countertop.

What little emotion HiMERU showed in his face, his kiss made up for. It was filled with desire, passion, lust, all the things that were so silent but still screamed the same three words. 'I want you'.

He pulled away before you had a chance to deepen the kiss, the both of you panting with your lips swollen and glossy with each other's saliva. A lewd sight, sure, but who else was there to see? No one, just the two of you in the dimly lit apartment.

"HiMERU-no, I need you to help me. Please, please help me" His voice was barely a whisper, so quiet you had to strain your ears to hear him. His desperation was all the same, however, and it was enough to make your brain go fuzzy. "I don't like to beg, you know, but you're making me lose it"

If you had have been standing on a tightrope, that would have been what broke the string holding you up. Those damn eyes, once filled like a endless void of indifference now spilling with want and need, the need for you to make him feel good, the need for you to relieve his tension by fucking him. How could you deny him?

"Let's move to the futon, yeah?" You pecked his lips once more, watching as his eyes lit up like a puppies. "We can take it slow, if you'd like"

The smile that overtook HiMERUs face almost made your heart burst wide open. "Yes... thank you, (name)"

You wiggled out of his hold, taking his hand and guiding him slowly to the futon on the floor. He sat down first, scooting backwards until he was sat just below the pillow, stretching his legs outwards to allow you to climb in between his legs and straddle him.

It was a position you never thought you'd find yourself in, and yet here you were, tugging at the hem of HiMERUs shirt and pulling it over his head. The skin underneath was pale and cold to the touch, causing goosebumps to creep up your arms. You ran your fingertips up and down his chest, lingering on the dip of his collarbone and the ridges of his ads. They were only little, like tiny hills on the plains of his over wise flat stomach, but they were sexy all the same.

HiMERU watched you with half-lidded eyes, glazed over and unfocused. His lips stayed parted, a whine leaving his throat each time your fingers traced over his skin. You leaned down to kiss him again, this time wasting no time in plunging your tongue straight inside the wetness of his mouth, sucking on his own tounge and feeling around on the inside of his cheeks.

HiMERUs hips buckled upwards to meet yours, earning a moan from you and a louder whine from him. His sweatpants strained with the growing budge in his crotch, poking against your thigh and leaving a small wet patch on your skin from the pre-cum leaking through. He must have been super desperate.

"(name)~" HiMERU whimpered as you pulled away, a sticky line of spit still connecting the two of you. You licked the excess saliva from your lips whilst a grin spread wide across your face. "Please, (name). HiMERU would you to-ah!-"

His pleas quickly transformed into moans as you rolled your hips against his, savouring in the pleasure of your clothed crotch rubbing on his now fully erect cock, The friction was like heaven, and the fabric of your shorts didn't do much to hide the wetness gushing out from your panties. You'd probably need to buy new ones after this, you thought, but that was a problem for future you.

HiMERUs hands flew up to hold your waist, guiding you backwards and forwards over his budge and rutting his hips in time with yours, the two of you humping like horny dogs in heat. A light pink flush had spread all the way from his cheeks to his ears, down his neck and even to the tips of his shoulder blades, the most sinful look of pleasure on his face as he threw his head back on the pillow.

"Do you like when I do this? You seem to be really enjoying yourself" You cooed, leaning down to suck a lovebite onto the underside of his jaw. "You're pretty, you know? Real pretty, real handsome for me"

The only response you got from HiMERU was another moan, louder and raspier than the others. The sounds made you clench around thin air and your thighs quiver with anticipation. Each time your core met his covered tip you could feel him twitch and throb beneath you, and every time the feeling had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

Like an awaiting forest fire, the atmosphere was getting hotter by the second, the heat of both your body's pressed together creating a sensation indescribable.It was the most bliss you had ever experienced and you were yet to even be undressed. You were panting, HiMERU was panting, sweat was forming on your forehead and dripping down onto HiMERUS bare chest.

"More, HiMERU wants more" The man below you whined, fingernails digging into the flesh of your hips to leave tiny marks for later. "HiMERU wants you to fuck him, don't make him-augh!-say it again!"

"Fuck.." You breathed, bracing yourself by placing your palms flat against his chest. You lifted your hips up, giving the both of you a short break to catch your breath before you reached downwards to tug at the waistband of his sweatpants. With a tiny bit of a struggle they were off, revealing the dark blue boxers beneath that were nearly bursting from the strain of his erection. He was huge. Certainly bigger than you had seen in porn anyway. "I-, fuck"

Your loss for words assumed HiMERU, who took a deep, shaky exhale before speaking again, that desperate tone still clear as day in his voice. "Are you impressed? Is HiMERU that big?"

"Yeah... it is. I can't wait to have it inside me"

You purred out your words, moving down to rest on his thighs rather than his hips, your face in eye-line with his throbbing budge when you leaned down. The entire front of the fabric was wet with pre-cum, it having spread all over the area due to his impossibly long length. Your lips came into contact with the tip, your tongue swirling around and lapping up the sticky stains.

It pulsated at your touch. HiMERU let out a groan of pleasure as you continued your ministrations, kissing, licking, and sucking him through the thin cotton. One vein that you could feel was particularly sensitive, causing HiMERU to basically jump each time you grazed your teeth over it.

"Wait! No, stop! HiMERU will cum if you keep doing that!" The bluenette suddenly cired out, his legs kicking you in the sides as he tired to pull you off. Of course, you obliged, but not without giving one last farewell lick to his tip. You sat up on his thighs and tilted your head to the side, studying his expressions carefully and awaiting his next words. "HiMERU would like to cum inside. He thinks that would be the best way to get rid of his stress, not finishing in his pants like a pathetic teenage boy"

You nodded, "so you want me to...?"

"Sit on it" You'd never seen HiMERUs puppy dog eyes until now. There was such a longing in them, desires hidden in the ocean of his irises that only you could bring out in the moment. "Ride HiMERU, use him like a chair. HiMERU just wants to feel you"

Denying him would be a criminal felony. Climbing back to straddle his hips once more, you grabbed a hold of his waistband, gently pulling it downwards to finally free his cock from its confinements. Once the fabric was completely removed and his cock had sprung free you tossed the underwear away somewhere in the room to be dealt with later.

To say the least, HiMERU was large. Slender, and long, with balls that were tight and full against his shaft, pent up and waiting to be emptied inside your cunt.

The vein you had been nibbling on was a blue colour that rivalled his hair and ran down and up the underside of his cock, stopping just below his head. Speaking of the head, it was glowing red, dripping with arousal. You were pround of yourself for having caused that kind of reaction, especially when it came from an idol you knew as emotionless and cold hearted. Your own heart pounded inside your ribcage as you began to strip yourself down. You tired to make a show of it, pulling your shirt over your head in slow movements that you prayed to God looked seductive rather than silly.

As if he could read your mind, "You look beautiful" HiMERU barely whispered the words, but they were still heard all the same by you. You thought he might be staring at your breasts, or at the spot between your legs as you removed your shorts and panties, but no. Instead of your body, his blue gaze was solely fixated on your face.

"Thank you, you are too. Beautiful, I mean" A small smile graced your face as you thanked him. With your shorts now gone and your pussy exposed to the air, you lifted your hips once more, slinging your entrance with the very tip of HiMERUS cock. "Are you ready?"

"HiMERU has been called many things before when he has been stressed. Annoying. Selfish. A nuisance. Never beautiful"

You didn't have much time to respond, or even react to his comment before a hand was on your shoulder, pushing you down and impaling you on his cock. It hurt, but not in the way that made you want to scream and cry, but more so in the way that made your walls clench around him, your eyes roll into the back of your head and your toes curl in your socks.

He filled you up to the brim, tip poking against your cervix and each vein and ridge moulding your walls into the prefect fit for him. A raspy whimper left your throat as you adjusted to his size. HiMERU allowed you to take your time despite the twitch of his hips just begging for any sort of friction, instead opting to rub gentle shapes into your shoulders while the both of you huffed and heaved.

"HiMERU is sorry, he couldn't help himself" HiMERUs lust clouded eyes avoided your own, staring at the wall behind you instead. "You won't judge HiMERU if he finishes early, will you?"

You shook your head, grinding down on his pelvis to give him and yourself some of that desperately needed pleasure. "Not at all. You're amazing, so good. You fill me so well, I don't think I'll last long either. And even if we don't, we can always go again"

A faint nod from HiMERU was all you needed before you lifted your hips, placing your hands on his chest to balance yourself as you released him from your velvet walls, leaving only the tiniest amount of the tip in before slamming your hips back down. A loud "plop!" was made as your body smashed against his, the heat from your shared arousals filling your brain with no thoughts other than HiMERU.

HiMERU. HiMERU. HiMERU. HiMERU!

You set a gentle, but fast pace, bouncing your hips up and down in smooth rhythm, sounds of your wet cunt squelching and sloshing mixing in with the groans leaving HiMERUs lips. Him inside you felt like heaven. Hot and sweaty heaven. Your walls dragged along his cock like the prefect fleshlight, sending waves of electrical pleasure down his spine and all the way to the very tips of his toes.

Althought a little bit more stable, you were in a similar state to HiMERU. Each time you slammed back down onto him it felt as if all the nerves in your body were being twisted, pulled, and knotted in a way that had that oh so familiar warmth beginning to pool in your belly.

Praises spilled from your mouth, coating the inside of HiMERUs brain with words of encouragement and affection rather than whatever he had been feeling before. Right now, in this moment, you would have been lying if you said you didn't care for him, and not just in the way you would care for the other idols of Crazy:B.

One particularly hard bounce had you crying out, "HiMERU! H-hey, you know your a good boy right? So good to me, gonna make me cum, huh? You wanna cum too? I wanna see your pretty face when you're filling me up"

HiMERU only grunted in response, but you could tell your words had worked when he started thrusting his hips to meet yours. You could tell he was close, too, his eyes had become so dilated that his irises were only a thin string of blue around his pupils.

You felt bad for his neighbours, no, actually, you felt bad for anyone within 10ft of the building. The walls of the apartment were basically shaking from the sheer noise of you both, and what happened next didn't help that much.

HiMERU gripped your hips, nails digging in hard enough to leave marks, then pulled you flush against him. Chest to chest, skin to skin, you were as close as two people could possibly be as your lips found his in a sloppy open-mouthed kiss. Your teeth clashed together in an ugly way, tongues went anywhere but where they were supposed to and if your younger self could see you now, she'd probably throw up at how your saliva dissolved into each others.

"(name!)"

"HiMERU!"

You weren't sure who came first, or even how long the two of you spent whining and moaning into each others mouths, but you felt HiMERUs seed filling you up, dripping out of you and for sure staining the futon. Your own orgasm washed over you like a wave, a tsunami wave that destroyed cities and uprooted trees, leaving you breathless and trembling atop HiMERU.

It took you a few mintutes to come down from your high, since your vision was clouded with white spots and you could almost feel the tiny sperm cells swimming around trying to reach your uterus. Thank God you were on the pill, over wise you would have been in deep shit. One day, maybe, if whatever just happened was to happen again, but that wasn't something you liked to think about.

"Are you alright?" You whispered as you pulled yourself off of HiMERUs now softening cock, laying down on your side besides him. "How do you feel?"

The man in question seemed to be in a daze, staring at the ceiling with no thoughts in his eyes. You poked his cheek with a finger, quickly jolting him back to reality as a smile tugged at his lips.

"HiMERU feels good, thank you" The smile on his face was genuine. Sometimes you questioned whether HiMERU was real or not, whether his personality was as fake as your gut told you it was. Here, you could see how your gut was wrong. That smile was real, this feeling was real. "HiMERU feels he should get stressed out more often, no?"

You scoffed, crossing your arms over your bare chest, "Don't push it, I won't help you if your doing it intentionally!"

"Then a date? HiMERU will pay, all you will need to do is be pretty for him"

You smiled back at him, "I'd love too"

You spent awhile on that futon, just chatting and staring into each others eyes like any old couple would do. When you did leave, it wasn't without a goodbye kiss and a promise to meet up again soon.

And, you would've let Rinne off the hook for making you go over there in the first place, if it wasn't for the message you received later that night.

Rinne: what position he put u in??

[thankssteveditko]

About Marvel's timeline

Here's something else important to keep in mind as I made my way through these comics: the way Marvel handles its timeline.

Marvel's comics have always been set in a fictionalized version of the present day real world that just so happens to also have superheroes and aliens and magic and whatnot. They've never been shy about referencing real world events or pop culture to ground the comics in our reality. The first ever Spider-Man story mentioned that he should go on The Ed Sullivan Show. Iron Man's classic origin story involves the Vietnam War. In the far, far future, I'm gonna have to cover the infamous 9/11 issue of Spider-Man where Marvel's heroes AND villains mourn at Ground Zero.

Marvel's main universe has also never had a true full-on reboot. They'll do their big dumb crossover events that Change Everything Forever™, sure. (God, I am not looking forward to having to worry about crossover events.) But, like... the stuff that came before still happened, for the most part.

So, combine these two facts, and you've got 60+ years of comics referencing then-current events that are basically all still in continuity... but the characters haven't aged 60 years. Things operate on a floating timeline - or a "sliding timescale," as Marvel seems to prefer. But unlike, say, The Simpsons, where the characters never age, some time HAS passed for Marvel's cast! Spider-Man isn't 17 forever, he's grown up over the course of the series. There's of course some timey-wimey nonsense that was invented decades later to explain this bizarre chronology, but basically, the characters get a year older about once every four real world years.

So, long story short: those 60+ years of comics get compressed to about, say, 15 years of in-universe history.

What of all the topical references, then? Just... don't think about it too hard. Marvel continuity supernerds will tell you those aren't supposed to be literal, and most get retconned out with enough time. (A few years back they invented a fictional all-purpose southeast Asian war that can perpetually be pulled forward with the sliding timescale, to replace outdated references to the Vietnam War and the Korean War.) If you go on the Marvel wiki and try to edit references to real world history into a character's biography they'll bust your fuckin' kneecaps.

On the other hand: it's funnier if you take them literally. So as we go through these early Spider-Man comics where characters reference things like twist music, just remember that - at the time of writing this in 2023 - the events of those comics are now considered to be set in about 2008 or 2009.