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woahjo · 9 months ago

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The People We Became (Bakugou x Reader)

masterlist | ao3

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Summary: Zombie Apocalypse Au.

The world fell apart almost a year ago and you refused to go with it. Left alone and to your own devices in a world full of monsters, where the dead come back to life, you believe that maybe surviving isn't living.

When Katsuki finds you alone in the woods and on the precipice of collapsing from exhaustion, he decides to bring you back to the house his group calls home. Against your better judgement and hesitancy to become attached, you decide to stay. In this world, everyone has lost someone. No soul is spared the violence, and you start sleeping with Bakugou Katsuki to dull the ache. Somehow, peace finds you anyway, but not without sacrifice.

Chapter Content Warnings: fem!reader, gender neutral pronouns, strangers to lovers, violence typical of zombies, blood, gore, romance, slow-ish burn (for the emotional stuff), angst, kissin', questions of identity, loss, grief, graphic depictions of death and/or violence, mentions and descriptions of starvation/exhaustion typical of an apocalypse setting, very slight implications of possible sexual violence typical of an apocalypse setting, derealization, depersonalization, weapons (guns, blades, and traps), loss of identity

All content warnings can be found on ao3 with the rest of the series.

Word Count: 14.4k — 53k total on ao3

A/N: it's finally done... i'm sweating. i screamed. i cried. i bled. you know the drill. i am posting this a little differently than my other fics and series. only the first chapter will be posted here on tumblr (this post), with the rest of it broken up into chapters and posted on ao3.. purely because it was originally meant as a one shot and i don't like posting chapters on tumblr. it's not built for that and im tired. anyway, im nervous this is my new baby and im pretty sure my soul is somewhere in here. if u read this, pls come tell me what you think.. it fuels me. enjoy, cry, sweat, or whatever else you do when you read. as always, thank you and i love you.

Two hundred and seventy six. It’s been two hundred and seventy six days since the world completely went to shit. You don’t really count the initial outbreak. The initial outbreak was relatively contained once people found out about it. You quarantined. You stayed inside. All it really took were a handful of idiots. Someone selfish. Someone who panicked and ran instead of facing the world honorably, and that was it. It only took days to lose almost every semblance of a normal life and a week to lose everything else.

The light of your fire is dim, embers burning low as you sit in a foldable chair beside it. The chair is from a friend, someone you’re not with anymore and who went somewhere you couldn’t follow, and you've got a metal spatula in your hand. You're not sure why you grabbed it when you fled, but panic does weird things to the mind. You absentmindedly wonder why you’ve brought it along with you all this time. There’s no logical reason for you to tote the thing around. A friend had told you how strange it was that you thought to toss it into your bag and continue carrying it. This, along with a few other oddities, are all you managed to take from your house when the world fell to ruin. Everything else are things scavenged along the way or from people you'd met, joined, and lost.

Maybe it’s because the spatula is somewhat normal, like somehow when you cook the game on your makeshift tin over your shitty fire, you can pretend you’re in your kitchen. A smash burger sounds good right now, with grilled onions on a brioche bun like the ones from the place by your apartment.

The night is near silent and trees creak and crack like the hulls of great ships under heavy pressure, but the birds don't sing and nothing in the crowded wood you're taking shelter in makes a sound. Well, except for you and the gentle crackle of your fire.

It’s easy to miss the noise that used to irritate you when the world goes quiet. You used to hate the sounds and lights of passing trucks when they’d cross on the street below your apartment window. Now, you’d do anything for the familiar comfort. The world is so dark and quiet, like it’s holding its breath and waiting for this to be over. The silence is almost too much, so loud that it hurts your ears. You huddle closer to the fire, craving its quiet sound. Focusing on it lessens the anxiety of the other noises. The ones you don’t want to hear.

Your head is on a swivel. It has been for months. Ever since the outbreak, ever since the dead rose and began consuming and infecting the living, you've kept watch. A paranoid, never ending cycle that you suppose—if left on your own—will burn itself out. You swallow thick and return your attention to the fire, watching the tree line just in front of you for any hint of movement or monsters.

A branch cracks just behind you. A swift sound, followed by rapid footsteps. You stand, quickly turning your head, only to see a figure a few feet away from you. They move quickly and the dancing light of the fire obscures their features from view. Their eyes, most importantly. You can always tell if someone is dead or alive based on their eyes and the sounds that their joints make. In this light, should this stranger have that milky white film over them, you wouldn't be able to tell.

You make a small noise, something between a whimper and a shout, as the person comes to a stop in front of you and holds a flashlight directly into your face. You squint, panic in your veins as your eyes adjust as best they can to the sudden assault. It takes you a moment to realize that there is a gun pointed directly at your forehead. The living. This person is alive. You're not sure yet if encountering one of the dead would have been worse.

"Shut up and drop your weapon," he says in a hurried voice. It's aggressive and threatening. It comes from deep in his chest, like somehow fear has gripped and mutilated it into something violent.

You raise your shaky hands to your head quickly at the order, screwing your eyes shut in the beam of the flashlight.

"It's not a weapon!" you shout, voice cracking. "It's a spatula. It's a spatula."

The words are rushed and heavy, fear seizing your chest as you look down the barrel of the gun. The flashlight turns off, sending you back into the dark. Your eyes fight to adjust, catching the firelight that glints off of the barrel, and you begin to makeout the man’s features. He's big, blonde under the grime, you think. A man, not the best thing to encounter alone at night in times like these.

You see him hesitate for a moment, eyes darting between you and the silver kitchen item in your hand. You drop it quickly, hoping to appeal to his humanity.

"Do you have a weapon on you?" he questions, voice a little less urgent.

You shake your head in response and then shakily look beside the chair, choking out the word “ground”. There's a knife there and a pistol with no bullets. You're a poor shot and you had run out of ammo the previous week. He glances at it, the gun still raised at you, and sidesteps to grab the two items. When he does, he cautiously lowers the weapon and you start to lower your trembling hands.

Then, as if struck by some realization, the man stomps towards the fire and you jump as he does.

"The fuck are you doing lighting a fire this late?" he says angrily, opening the clip of your pistol. "And with no fucking bullets. Those things may be dead, but they can still fuckin' see. That's a good way to get yourself killed."

He stomps out the fire as he talks, urgently stamping out what's left of the low-burning logs.

"I didn't think there were many in the area," you justify, furrowing your eyebrows as you step away from him.

"And that's a risk you want to take?" he says indignantly. You wonder briefly what business he has worrying about you.

"What do you want?" you snap, "My food? Weapons? Life? What is it?"

The man scoffs, "Jesus, none of that. I don’t want your shit."

You narrow your eyes and take a step back. One thing this world has done is remove trust from every chance encounter, and that was already hard enough when the place was sane.

"Not all people who camp out in the woods are good," he says. "But I sure as shit didn't expect to find someone like you alone lighting a damn fire. Stupid."

"There were others," you say indignantly, like somehow that makes it better. "Force of habit, I guess."

The man pauses for a moment as understanding passes between the two of you. It's a relatable feeling. Everyone has lost someone now.

"Got a name?" he asks.

You hesitate in giving it to him and the pause causes him to roll his eyes. “You want me to call you Idiot-with-no-bullets instead?”

You give him your name and the man nods as if he likes the sound of it, turning it over in his head before inhaling.

"I'm Katsuki," he furrows his eyebrows. "You're alone?"

You nod, swallowing down the grief that pushes at your throat.

"Wasn't always," you respond, "but yeah. Now, I am."

He nods his understanding.

"Come with me."

"Where?" you say instinctively, a defensive edge to your voice. Katsuki looks at you as if you’re stupid, or maybe it's pity, like you're a wounded animal. Probably both.

"Where the fuck do you think?" he retorts. "We've got a camp a little ways from here. I saw your fire from the watch post we have stationed."

You look at him like he's a little crazy for even thinking to bring you. Kindness, especially the selfless type, is so rare now and you find it difficult to believe that he’s willing to take you there at no cost.

He scoffs and rolls his head over his shoulder. "Look, we've got men and women," then he pauses. "Used to have children. We're not gonna hurt you. World's gone to shit, do you really wanna keep at it alone?"

He's probably right. You've been alone for weeks now, exhausted for longer, and though your common sense tells you not to go off with a strange man in this kind of world, the promise of rest is far too tempting. You nod and glance back to your camp. A measly collection of supplies haphazardly put together. You suppose that it doesn’t look so promising.

"We'll come back for it when it's light," he says. "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not spend longer in these dark ass woods than I have to."

"Okay," you say. The presence of another person both sets you on edge and makes you feel the press of fatigue even more. A gun's barrel on your nose followed by the promise of safety and you're going with him? You must be stupider than a horror movie protagonist. "Do you take in a lot of strays?"

Katsuki looks over his shoulder and you think you see him smile a little at the phrase.

"If that's what you want to call it," he says begrudgingly. Then, with a softer tone of voice, barely noticeable with the quiet whisper you both have been speaking at. "I'm sure the others won't mind one more."

You nod a little and follow him through the wood, stepping over obstacles. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you feel unsteady on your feet. Everything you’ve ever learned about this world tells you that maybe you shouldn’t go with him. What if they’re dangerous? It’s easy to lie about women and children, about a community that doesn’t exist. Or worse, it’s easy to fool yourself that where you are is good, but you don’t know yet if he’s the type to delude himself. He doesn’t seem it.

The two of you walk for what feels like forever, even if it is only a little over half a mile. Your feet have been aching for days and every step you take feels like a blade into the heel. Katsuki seems steady, his gun secured at his hip and a large knife in his dominant hand. He doesn’t have the flashlight out, but he seems sure-footed and takes every step in stride, as if he’s too heavy to be swayed by any missed step.

As you move, you can barely make out his back in the white tank top he wears. You use it as a landmark, following the glowing white as it catches the light from the moon. Like chasing a ghost through the trees.

Then, the wood eases up. The trees grow sparse and the suffocating humidity of the forest eases into a more breathable, open-air breeze. Katsuki steps out into a clearing. It’s relatively small, for how large the world is, but it’s some of the most open space you’ve seen in a while. The feeling of stepping out into the tall grass, where you’re both visible to any wandering thing, sends a rush of fear through you.

By the edge of the clearing, there’s a small house with a short steeple. It almost looks like a Christian church, but you get the sense that it’s likely a barn. That must be the watchtower and you wonder just how good the view of the forest is from up there if Katsuki managed to see the light of your fire. How many other people had seen your fires over the weeks and not made it out to confront you? How close had you come before to safety or annihilation?

"Hey!" a girl's voice calls. "He's back!"

In the near distance, you can see a large and dimly lit house. It looks a little worn down, but soft and hardly noticeable light emanates from it in a way that makes it seem inviting.You can’t make out its exact silhouette and night blurs just how broken-down it is, but you can tell that people live there in the same way you can tell when someone has just left a room.

Someone runs across the field to you both. It looks like a man and a woman, maybe around Katsuki's age. They move quickly through the tall grass and for a moment, the urgency that they move with frightens you. You worry that your presence will ignite some protective sort of panic. You linger back, letting Katsuki grow a little farther from you as they call out to him.

“Yeah, yeah," he half-shouts, no longer seeming to care about keeping quiet. Guess that's what happens when there's a group. "I found the fire I mentioned."

The two come to a stop in front of him, resting their hands on their hips as they catch the breath they lost.

"We started to get a little worried," says the girl. She's pretty, with big eyes and curly hair that looks like it probably used to be dyed. "You've been gone for a while."

"Well, I'm back," he says.

"And you brought a friend," the other man says, sounding shocked. His tone is noticeably kind. The boisterous type of kind and when he smiles, you can see that he has sharp canines. His hair is straight, sticking out in different directions, and tinged with red in this light.

"More like an acquaintance," Katsuki says. “I found them in the woods with a fire and an empty clip. Felt like their blood would be on my hands if I didn’t bring them back.” The red-haired man gives him a telling look and Katsuki scoffs in response and turns to the girl. "Get them settled, Mina, will you?" The girl called Mina nods and Katsuki takes off toward the house without another word.

"You're lucky," she says, pausing when you flinch as she steps closer. "You're gettin' the last solo room in the place. Kirishima, is it set up?"

Kirishima shrugs his shoulders. "You'd have to ask Izuku. He'd know all about that, but I can go check."

Mina shakes her head and turns her attention to you, giving you a quick once over with her eyebrows pulled together.

"You must be tired.”

When you nod, she gives you an empathetic smile and motions for you to come with her. "We'll fix that. You hungry?"

"What do you think?" you manage, saliva pooling in your mouth. "Do you have food?"

"Plenty," she smiles. "not quite enough for leftovers just yet though, don’t tell anyone."

You smile awkwardly. Who on earth would you tell?

"Sounds like a good deal," you say.

You follow Mina up to the house. Around it, there are a few parked cars. They look like they could pull out at any moment, and through the dust covered windows, you can just make out supplies in the back seats as you pass. In the distance, you can see the fuzzy silhouette of the barn you’d assumed was a watchtower in the dark of the field and you figure that maybe it used to be a place to keep livestock.

Mina doesn't say much to you as you pass through the field, and when you walk into the door, the first thing you notice is a large group of people seated at a dining table. They all look up at you when you enter and it's with a bit of shock that you register their faces as healthy. Well, healthier. These people live well. Something stirs in your chest, both anxiety and excitement at the thought of possibly having found somewhere safe. They blink at you for a moment, exchanging looks that all end up landing on Katsuki.

"This is the group. Well, most of us," Mina says pleasantly and with a light huff. "That's Izuku, Denki, Ochako, Sero, and you already know the handsome guy on the end there. Kiri's probably checking to see if the room is half decent.." They all greet you with a glad murmur. "Group, this is..."

She looks at you expectantly. When you tell them your name, you can't help but look at Katsuki who already knows it. He raises his eyebrows unconsciously and turns his attention to the glass in front of him.

There’s an awkward pause as you stand in the doorway, suddenly conscious of just how dirty you must look. Remnants of an older world, you suppose. No one really worries about things like that anymore.

“Uhm…” you search for something to say, but your people skills seem to have left you.

“You’re okay,” Mina says lightly. “Plenty of time to get to know you when you’ve rested and had something to eat.”

Mina sits you down at a chair that she pulls in from the other room. It doesn't match the other ones in the dining room, but you suppose no one is really thinking of the decor in their house anymore. It's only now that you realize the house has electricity.

"You have power?" you say incredulously, looking at the center light in the dining room on its low setting.

"Mhm," Mina hums as she sits down next to you and spoons a helping of vegetables onto your plate. "It's got a generator. We got lucky finding this place. I don't think many of us would be alive if we hadn't."

Those listening in the group nod their affirmation.

"It draws from well water too," she adds. "With the right care, the place practically runs on its own. Hard work but what isn't nowadays?"

“Like you do any of the heavy lifting," Sero scoffs across from her.

"That's not fair," Katsuki adds with a slick smirk, "you know damn well none of our vegetables would be so well socialized if she didn't use them like a damn diary all day."

The group laughs a little and Mina rolls her eyes and sits back in the chair. You avoid looking at anyone, shoveling the food into your mouth. You’re salivating an almost embarrassing amount, struggling to eat at a normal pace. There’s something about food cooked inside, about the way food tastes when you can smell it wafting in from the kitchen.

"Don't worry," she turns to you, as if you’re at all concerned with the implication that she doesn’t do much work, "they know we’d hardly have vegetables at all if it weren't my job to tend them. I used to garden quite a bit before all of this."

Sero tosses her a sideways glance and you get the sense that maybe it isn’t just her doing it.

"Mina does a lot of the garden stuff," Ochako pitches in, her voice hesitant. "We all sort of just do what we can."

You can’t really keep up with the conversation and instead just blink at her for a moment before turning back to your food. Maybe that’s rude, but you don’t have the energy to consider it. There’s food in front of you. Food that doesn’t taste like it’s been poorly slaughtered or rotting in a cabinet for months.

The group at the table with you shifts back into what you feel is their normal conversation and you watch them through your peripheral. You can’t relax yet, maybe you never will. Always on watch with your guard up.

They pass the dishes around the table, plates going from hand to hand over mismatched sets of silverware. The action feels strange to you. Your chest squeezes at the thought. Just a few weeks ago, you’d done this around a fire with the people you loved. You’d passed a too-hot-to-touch pot around a circle of friends, laughing quietly at the little moments of joy you could find. It feels far away now and jealousy rouses beside hope as you sit.

“So, where did you come from?” Izuku at the end of the table asks.

It takes you a moment to realize that he’s talking to you and there’s an edge to his voice that has everyone at the table sitting up with curiosity. You stare at him for a moment, exhausted and defeated and unable to muster the words.

“Leave them be,” Katsuki says, looking up from his plate. “They just got here. They’re probably freaked out.”

The table goes a little quiet, a hush falling over it. You look around as glances are exchanged before Mina stands up quickly and quietly claps her hands together.

“I think,” she says with an awkward laugh, “it may be time for bed.”

Mina turns to you. “I’ll show you where you can sleep.”

You nod, standing up and turning to the group with furrowed eyebrows. You want to thank them, to tell them that you’re grateful for the meal and their kindness, but the words don’t come. Instead, you meet Katsuki’s gaze, grateful for the intervention, but suspicious at such forthcoming kindness. He scoffs a little and turns away.

—

“It’s just up here,” Mina says as she guides you through the house.

You pass rooms with their doors ajar. They are lived in, with unmade beds and glasses of clean water on nightstands. It’s like something out of a life gone by, with a few less amenities. You can imagine a family moving through this house. Girls in school uniforms calling through the halls about a stolen hair clip. Now, you picture these people doing that. Living and not just surviving.

“The bathroom is across the hall,” she says. “You can take a shower if you want. I’ll leave a towel and some clothes in there just in case.”

You nod.

“No worries if you don’t,” Mina adds in a whisper. “When I first met everyone, I didn’t undress to bathe for days so… take your time. We won’t be offended.”

She shuts the door behind her when she leaves and you stumble back onto the bed, shocked by just how soft it feels after spending weeks on the floor. It’s not much, but it’s nicer than anything you’ve experienced in the last nine months, and there's a working shower. You haven’t had a shower since everything fell apart and the layer of grime on your skin is so thick that you can feel it. You haven’t felt safe enough to properly wash since you’d lost the rest of your group, only stopping to rinse your body in streams you pass if the thought occurred to you. The idea of running water and a shower is near euphoric.

You probably shouldn’t. It may not be wise to shower tonight. You still don’t know these people or what they’re capable of, but the temptation of being clean is too great and as soon as you hear Mina close the bathroom door and walk away, you hurry across the hall on the balls of your feet.

The bathroom looks old and the sink is white porcelain, eggshell now with a lack of care. The shower has a bathtub in it and though it’s cloudy, there’s a mirror over the sink where you catch the first clear glimpse you’ve had of yourself in weeks.

You don’t know who you’re looking at. The person in the mirror is nearly unrecognizable. Their eyes are wide and frightened, wild like an animal’s, and their face is covered in a layer of grime that looks like it can never be washed out. Their hair is unruly, sticking out in some areas and matted down with blood in others. This is a person you’ve never seen or met before. Someone you would have avoided only a year ago if you’d ever encountered them.

You reach up to touch your face, running your hand over the dried blood that has made a home on the underside of your jaw. How long has it been there? Have you always looked so unwell? So sick in mind and body? The promise of a shower grows unbearably pleasant.

The knob squeaks when you turn it, screeching as the pipes hum and clang to life. Water spits out in a few bursts before raining down from the faucet and hitting the back of the tub in a steady thrum. It sounds a little bit like music to you, constant and heavy, and it gives the impression of normalcy as you begin undressing.

The fabric of your clothes sticks to your skin, peeling from your body in an unbearable and disgusting way. You don’t look at your body in the mirror. In fact, you avoid it entirely. Not recognizing your face was enough, but your body—a part of yourself you never really recognized—would drive you over the edge.

Then, you pull the shower curtain back and stick your hand under the water, stepping into it fully with a deep sigh. The water is lukewarm. They probably turned off the heater to conserve power and allow the main generator to function for longer. That’s fine. Beggars can’t be choosers and everyone is a beggar nowadays. Besides, it’s warm enough outside that the water isn’t too cold as it is. In the winter, you probably wouldn’t be able to shower and the pipes might freeze entirely until the following spring.

There’s a normalcy that you settle into as you wash your body. You return to muscle memory, running your hands over your skin and scrubbing the grime out. It’s simultaneously like the first shower of your life and as if you’ve been doing it every day. You return to a state of pleasant, familiar humanity as you wash away dirt that has built up for weeks. You feel as it pours off of you, see it run down your body onto the porcelain of the tub and swirl down the drain. It’s dirt and dried blood that has been caked onto your skin. You worry that even after washing, it will leave a permanent mark.

The person in the mirror when you get out of the shower is in stark contrast to the person who went into it. They’re someone that you recognize. You could almost convince yourself that nothing ever changed. Your water-soaked skin is so familiar to you, that you could be getting out of the shower and dressing to go to work. If it weren’t for the look in your eyes, you could have fooled yourself. Something undefinable has changed in you, something that you will carry with you forever. You glance at yourself in the foggy mirror and think that there is no going back.

The house is quiet when you dry yourself and open the bathroom door. You step across the hall on the balls of your feet, careful not to make any noise, and when you push the bedroom door open, you do a visual sweep to make sure that it’s safe out of habit.

Your body is exhausted. You are so thoroughly tired that you think you could collapse at any moment, but when you sit down on the bed in your fresh clothes, you find yourself restless. This place is new to you and you’re unsure if the safe feeling is your mind playing desperate tricks on you or the real thing. The lamp by your bed is on, casting a yellow glow across the bedsheets and the dark wood furniture. Come to think of it, you didn’t get a good look at the house when you came in and the thought starts to bother you as you stare at the closed door to the hallway.

Someone could be behind it. They could be waiting for you to lay down, to sleep, before doing something awful. You almost feel guilty for thinking this way about them. They’ve fed you, given you a shower, given you fresh clothes. Luxuries you weren’t sure even existed anymore, yet you’re sitting here doubting them, wishing you had your pistol or knife.

The bedroom door creaks as you open it. You wince, nervous that you’ve disturbed the quiet peace of the house and that everything will come crashing down as quickly as it seemed to come together. The hallway is dark, save for some light coming from under two doors at the end of the hall. One of them turns out as you creep past it to the stairs, and you hear the distinct sound of box springs squeaking as someone crawls into bed. You let go of the breath you’d been holding, straightening up as you relax into the late-night environment.

The house looks old even from the inside. It gives the impression of having once been dirty and in near disrepair. There are dust stains and dull spots that no amount of scrubbing could get out. You can almost picture how this place may have looked when they found it and it’s entirely possible that it had been abandoned before the actual outbreak. Someone run out of their home for lack of money. What a trivial thing now.

The stairs are sturdy, probably held together so well by the foundation of the house, and they’re made of dark wood. They’re steep too, the kind that a baby or old person might trip over, and you hold the railing to calm the shaking of your legs as you slowly feel your way down. You can see the light on in the kitchen from around the corner, spreading out onto the floor of the old fashioned drawing room. Dishes clink in the kitchen, like someone is washing them, and you jump a little at the noise as you creep around the corner.

Kirishima is standing at the sink with his back to you, whispering something to someone beside him. The expanse of his back is broad, moving every time he goes to run his hand over the dish in front of him. Then, he turns to look at you and you see Mina pop her head around the corner.

“Oh,” Kiri says, “did you need something?”

You shake your head. “Not really, I just couldn’t sleep.”

Kiri nods sympathetically as if he knows the feeling. “Well, you look like you feel a little better at least.”

You pad over to where he’s doing the dishes and Mina offers you a soft smile and a knowing look. It all seems so normal. Doing the dishes, whispering quietly as they do. Something about it screams a kind of humanity you haven’t experienced in a long while, even with your last group.

“Are you sure we can’t get you something?” Mina says, furrowing her brows.

“Why are you all being so nice to me?” You ask. “You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“Is there some reason why we shouldn’t be nice to you?” Kiri says over his shoulder.

“No,” you shake your head. “I just think it’s reckless, that’s all. I could have been anyone.”

Kirishima and Mina exchange a look. They glance at each other, like they’re debating on saying something, and then Kiri turns and rests his palms on the back of the sink. He looks at Mina.

“We don’t usually decide to do this so quickly,” she admits. “We’re friendly, but nobody’s that friendly anymore.”

Kiri nods his agreement and you listen quietly, trying to determine if they plan to toss you back out into the woods in the morning.

“But, Katsuki doesn’t usually bring people in,” she continues.

“He’s a little more closed off than the rest of us,” Kirishima adds. “He’s a good guy, just takes a while to warm up, is all.”

“Mhm,” Mina says.

“What does that have to do with me?” you ask. “This is nice and all, but I’m sure you get why I’m wary.”

“He’s a good judge of character,” Kiri adds earnestly. “He doesn’t bring people in often, but when he does, he’s usually right.”

You nod, not quite understanding. Sure, you don’t plan to do anything terrible. In fact, you’re content to accept their kindness and stay, if they’d let you. Anything is better than being alone, but their blind trust in one man’s judgment of character makes you uneasy.

“He was alone for a really long time,” Mina adds. “A lot of us were. I got lucky meeting Kirishima early on, but Katsuki’s luck was a little less fortuitous.”

“So you all just… happened upon each other by chance?” You ask.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Mina says. “It was me and Kiri for a long time. Just the two of us. We’d found Izuku and Katsuki together a while later, but they didn’t seem to like each other all that much. We still haven’t really figured that out, especially because they’re so close now. Ochako and Sero ended up cornered together by accident. We found them just before we found this place, and Denki just sort of showed up here one day and promised to fix the generator in exchange for safety. That was months ago. We’ve been like this since.”

“So you’re all strays,” you say and Mina laughs a little and looks at Kiri.

“Sure,” she says. “We’re all strays. There were others too. Shoji. Jirou. She was Denki’s girlfriend.”

“I’m sorry,” you say with a frown. It feels pointless to apologize for the dead, if you get caught up in it, you’d be apologizing forever.

“Don’t be,” Kiri adds. “But best not to bring her up. It was pretty recent and Denki’s only just started to get over it.”

You swallow thick and nod a little.

“Anyway,” Mina says, “we can’t really explain it. We just trust him. We trust Katsuki. That’s all.”

“Hm,” you hum, understanding that to a degree.

You trusted the people in your group. If they believed in someone, you were willing to as well, so you suppose you can understand a little where they’re coming from.

“What are you talking about,” Katsuki rounds the corner, walking into the kitchen and putting his water bottle under the sink.

“Nothing really,” Mina says.

Katsuki furrows his eyebrows and then looks at you. He gives you a once over, taking in your new clothing before scoffing lightly.

“Don’t you look cozy,” he says. “You get settled?”

“When can I go get my stuff?” You ask.

“Someone’s eager,” he says through lightly gritted teeth. “Didn’t I tell ya we could go in the morning? Besides, what’s there really to miss in that lot of junk?”

“Katsuki!” Mina quietly chides.

“I have things I care about there,” you say. “Things I’m not ready to lose.”

Katsuki blinks at you for a second before swearing under his breath. “We’ll leave when you get up in the morning.”

“You don’t have to come with me,” you say, frowning a bit at his sour attitude.

“Like hell,” he scoffs. “What if the dead are waiting back there for you?”

“I made it this far on my own,” you respond.

Katsuki nods for a second. “I’m going. Come find me in the morning.”

He walks off and around the corner. You hear him go up the stairs, followed by the distinct click of a bedroom door shutting.

“Don’t pay too much attention to that,” Mina says. “It’s past his bedtime.”

“You’ll get used to him,” Kiri adds.

“Right,” you say, swallowing down your frustration in favor of trying to be appreciative of the help. You sway on your feet a little and then steady yourself. “I’m going to go to sleep. Thank you for the meal and the bed.”

Mina and Kiri nod, but you don’t stick around to hear a response. Fatigue creeps up on you. It ambushes your senses and you go from feeling dream-like to delusional in a matter of moments. You make your way up the stairs, your body feeling heavy as lead, and wobble your way into the bedroom they’re letting you stay in.

When your head hits the pillow, you’re out. The world around you fades to dark and just before you sleep, you swear that you can hear the sounds of cars passing on the highway. A busy night, Saturday maybe, and people go about their daily lives outside of the window the way that they always have. They live, never the wiser to just how quickly things fall apart and how little it takes for our humanity to leave us.

—

Mornings in this place are boisterous. The sun coming through the lone window in your room wakes you up and you can hear the calls of busy people getting to work outside. There are voices from the porch out front that your window looks over and though you can’t see them, you get the sense that they’re having a pleasant conversation.

As you rouse, you come to the realization of just how exhausted you’d really been. They probably saved your life by bringing you to this place, feeding you, and offering you a bed. In hindsight, it’s easy to see just how little you had left in you. You get the sense now that you’d been running on an empty tank for days, slowly coming to an inglorious, gruesome, sputtering stop.

Things seem a little clearer, like the sunlight is somehow less bleak than it had been the days previous and you feel a little bit like you have a new lease on life. There are no big emotions, no swells of hope or humanity just yet, and you dread the moment you are rested enough to let grief consume you. Right now, you can’t feel it, but there is a fear in you that as you get to know these people who live relatively beautifully in an ugly world, it will weigh you down so much that you’ll never be able to outrun it.

You wonder if they’ll let you stay. They very well may not, even with the way they were talking last night. Strangers are more dangerous than they’ve ever been and if they ask you whether or not you’ve killed someone, you refuse to lie to them. Sitting up on the bed, you mull over the very real possibility that you could be back out there on your own again in a matter of days and you don’t even have that many good acts under your belt to plead your case. You’re just a person and you’ve done what you needed to in order to survive. Now, you’re not sure if that’s enough.

You swallow thick, wandering over to the mirror on the dresser. It’s fogged, though less than the bathroom mirror, and you can make out your features a little better than you could last night. You feel a bit more sane, though you still don’t recognize the frightful and distrustful look in your eyes. Like a wounded animal. Inside your head, you acknowledge that you are completely different from the person you were two hundred and seventy seven days ago.

The voices grow louder as you climb down the stairs, more secure on your feet than you felt last night. You can hear them talking about the generator, as well as a name you don’t recognize.

“He should be back by now,” a woman says. “Shoto’s never gone longer than a day or two, max.”

“We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,” another woman says with a worried bite in her voice. Mina, maybe? “We’re only a few hours into the day. He probably got holed up somewhere.”

“Someone needs to go look for him,” a man says.

“And what? Risk getting yourself killed?” the first woman says. “No, it doesn’t make sense. We need you here.”

“You’d rather we leave him to die on his own?”

“No one’s fuckin’ dying.”

You recognize Katsuki’s voice.

“He’s perfectly capable of going on a gasoline run,” he continues. “He’s done it before.”

“I should have gone with him,” says the same woman.

“On that leg? You wouldn’t have made it halfway to town, let alone there and back,” his voice raises a little. “Don’t be stupid. He’ll be back.”

You clear your throat and step around the corner. The group turns to face you quickly at the sound, their eyes wide for a moment before relaxing. You can’t sneak up on anyone nowadays.

“Sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. Is everything okay?”

It’s not your business, but you ask anyway, wondering for yourself about the safety of Shoto.

“Fine,” Izuku says, shaking his head. You recognize him to be the one who'd vouched for going after their friend. Katsuki takes a step away from the broad man as he says this. “Nothing for you to worry about. Did you rest?”

Izuku smiles gently at you, his chest inflating a little at the question. The movement broadens his shoulders and you realize that he stands almost a head taller than Katsuki. You look briefly between the two of them before nodding.

“I did,” you say. “Thank you.”

“Nothing wrong with a little hospitality now and then,” he smiles and you can’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the distinct hesitance in his voice.

“I don’t think we’ve met,” the woman standing across from Izuku says. “I’m Momo. Sorry I wasn’t there to meet you last night. I’ve been a little under the weather.”

You introduce yourself to her and glance down at her leg. Her ankle is swollen and wrapped in a bandage. Her sneaker laces are untied at the top to make room for the swelling and you can see that she’s guarding that side of her leg.

“Is it…?” you grimace, taking an instinctive step away from her. You almost feel bad for it, but sometimes good people make bad decisions when loved ones get bit.

“No,” she says quickly, “no, it isn’t. Caught an edge in an old chain link fence on the property a couple days back.”

Momo smiles slightly at you as if to reassure you. She’s really beautiful, with thick dark hair pulled back into a somewhat messy ponytail. Her eyes are bright, like she’s engaged in lively conversation, and you find yourself feeling a little sad for her. She’ll need medicine soon, if they can get it. Infections set in easily these days and you get the sense that even she knows that she may not have long without it. Maybe that’s something else their friend Shoto set out to find.

“I assume you’ll be wanting to go get your supplies?” Katsuki says, cutting the conversation short. Maybe he could sense the sour turn of thoughts.

“Ready when you are,” you respond with a nod.

Katsuki glances at Izuku, who gives him a slightly disapproving look.

“Someone get them something to eat,” Katsuki says. “...I’ll get my shit ready.”

“Fig jam…” Mina mumbles as she motions for you to follow her to the kitchen.

You oblige her, not exactly jumping to turn down a meal. She walks you into the kitchen and opens up a cabinet, where she pulls out a jar filled with a dark and seed filled paste. It’s a jam, sealed in a jar that looks older than what’s inside of it. The seal breaks open with a pleasant pop.

“This stuff is so good,” she says to you over her shoulder, pulling out a package of crackers that have likely gone stale. “You won’t believe it.”

She spreads the jam on a few crackers and sets it in front of you on a plate, pushing it across the counter towards you.

“It’s fig jam,” she says with a smile. “Homemade.”

You look down at the plate, your mouth watering at the prospect of something sweet like this. It’s been so long since you've had fresh jam. It could be as long as 10 years. You don’t think you’ve had it since you were a kid, when jam came easily and you preferred the processed brands at the supermarket to the ones your mom used to make sometimes.

You raise the cracker to your mouth and stuff it in with little grace. The sweetness spreads across your tongue as soon as you bite into the stale cracker. It fizzes and pops almost, the sugar melting across your tongue as the seeds crack softly between your teeth. The smile that hits your face is completely involuntary and though you know that nine months ago, this jam wouldn’t have been much, today it is something extraordinary.

Mina nods a kind of girlish agreement, like the way people used to when they had their friend try something at their favorite restaurant.

“We got here in the fall. I want to say late October or early November?” she offers. “We were starving and there wasn’t enough food to feed all of us. By that time there were like… nine of us.”

You listen as you eat your crackers.

“This place was in such an awful state,” she laughs. “I mean, really terrible. But, it was big and there was a fig tree in the back. A little thing, probably only a few years old and it had fruit on it. We ate so many of them that if the world were normal, we’d have sworn off of them forever. When we realized that the house actually had some old food in it,” she interrupts herself “-nothing good, canned stuff mostly- we decided to jar up the rest of the figs so that they didn’t rot.”

She smiles at you like it’s a pleasant memory, but you can only think about how hungry they must have been. Your stomach growls as you eat.

“I know it doesn’t sound like much,” she says, “but for some reason it’s a really nice memory. Honestly, we’re lucky we didn’t die.”

Mina laughs a little.

“I mean,” she continues, “we didn’t even clear the area before we started pulling at the figs and throwing them into our mouths.”

You tilt your head at her and furrow your eyebrows with a small smile.

“You’re really forthcoming with information.”

“You just seem a little hesitant, is all,” she answers.

“Can you blame me?”

Mina shrugs her shoulders but doesn’t really offer an answer. You assume it’s because she can’t, because Mina has the same doubts everyone carries with them in this world. All of the what ifs people would think about before they slept have become more prevalent than anyone would have ever liked.

“The jam is good,” you say, trying to be friendly in the same way she is. “Even if it is months old.”

“Things keep well in jars,” Mina defends softly, smiling a little as she gets another out of you.

This place feels like a little slice of paradise. A blessing from whoever lived here before and kept a garden stocked with vegetables. From someone who lived in an old house with stables and well-water, who kept canned food past its expiration date. It feels almost too good to be true, like these people live in a bubble bound to pop.

“You ready?” Katsuki thuds into the kitchen with an empty backpack slung over his shoulder.

You turn, startled by his sudden appearance and nod as you quickly finish chewing the last cracker. Katsuki furrows his eyebrows as he watches the way you scarf it down.

When you stand from the table, Katsuki turns on his heel to make for the front door and you follow with a light step. Mina says something about staying safe, but you don’t respond, glancing once over your shoulder at the girl.

It’s strange, the world has made you wishy-washy and uncommitted. You never used to be like that, never so distrusting as to second guess someone’s kindness the moment your back is turned to them, and you’re certainly not the type to be friendly one moment and closed off the next. Now though, you find that doubt creeps in easily through cracks and any foundation that didn’t exist before, seems to be swallowed before you can finish building it.

Katsuki leads you back across the small clearing you’d come through the night before. It looks different in the day, almost romantic, and it lacks any of the ominous feeling it had the previous evening. He steps over mounds in the dirt from moles and gophers that have made lawns their new home and you try to mimic his steps, sinking occasionally into a particularly soft patch of dirt. Every now and then, Katsuki glances behind him to check that you’re still there and you offer him a forced smile that he never returns.

You catch up to him when you hit the trees, sticking close at his side like something will come and take you away if you’re not. It’s unintentional, but you don’t have a weapon on you. Your knife is back at your makeshift camp, along with the unloaded pistol and your trusty spatula.

“How do you know where we’re going?” You ask in a whisper.

Katsuki tosses a look at you over his shoulder. “I’m good with directions.”

His tone is clipped, like he’s pissed about something, and your expression sours at it. Sure, you get it but it irritates you to some small degree. You hadn’t asked him to come along. In fact, you’d have been fine getting back here to collect your stuff on your own. You’d have asked for a knife and set out without a second thought, if only because being alone in the woods with some guy was less preferable than doing it by yourself. Of course, some guy also probably saved your life, but you’re not quite ready to relinquish your trust completely.

“Thanks for coming,” you decide. A peace offering.

Katsuki doesn’t answer and you furrow your brows a little bit. You wonder if he’s always been like this or if the end of the world brought on the loss of his manners.

Then, he stops, taking you by the arm and pulling you down beside a bush. You gasp and he puts his hand over your mouth to silence you. There’s the urge to bite him, to catch the fleshy bit connecting his thumb and pointer finger between your teeth and bite down till he bleeds, but you stop when you catch what he’s looking at.

Two of the living dead crouch by a tree, clicking their tongues as they eat something just out of sight. You furrow your eyebrows, eyes widening at the horror of it. For some reason, seeing them always brings about a round of momentary shock. You’ve yet to let go of the hounding thought that they used to be people and sometimes have to reorient yourself to the world you’re in now.

You catch Katsuki’s eye behind you, his calloused hand still clasped over your mouth, and nod your head. It’s a silent communication that you’ve seen what he has and he removes his palm from your face to grab a knife tucked into his belt, passing it to you quickly.

The two infected haven’t noticed the two of you yet, but they will soon, if only by the smell of your flesh which has yet to rot. You hear Katsuki let out a breath, as if to calm his heart, and do the same. There’s time to look at them like this and you’re struck by how human you can pretend they are in your head. Well, you suppose they were human once, now they’re a disease using someone’s skin as a mask.

Infected people aren’t quick, that’s one thing to be grateful for. Back when the outbreak first started, the CDC had released information on what to look out for in those who might have contracted the virus. The first was obviously a bite wound from another infected person, but you can tell from other symptoms. Early symptoms are average. Body aches, fever, lethargy, and delirium. All things you might see with a nasty flu. Then, infection of the wound site, twitching, foggy eyes—like low-grade cataracts—that develop within a matter of hours or days, severe disorientation, aversion to food, insomnia, with the final symptom being a coma that no one ever wakes up as themselves from.

These are the symptoms that people are conscious for. The ones they feel. The sickness that people tried to nurse others back from. There is no coming back though, not alive at the very least. The virus attacks the nerves throughout the brain and body, that’s what causes the twitching and convulsions. It’s what ultimately kills us, and it's what they think causes the bodies to come back.

Most infected will crack when they move. It’s the cartilage breaking down as the bones grind together and crack as they’re weakened from the marrow out. They twitch like rabid animals, unable to keep masterful control of their bodies because they are run like puppets from the brain stem. You don’t know if they think. If somehow the people they used to be are still in there, unable to stop themselves from consuming and spreading the virus to others. All you really know is that they twitch and click, functions of the brain that still remain. Tiny impulses sent through the synapses. You imagine it to be like the way you twitch when you sleep, an arm here or a leg there, the way someone might call out with their voice to a room with no one in it.

Maybe the infected think they’re dreaming. A nightmare that they never wake up from, like those of us who have to put them down. You could see it as a mercy from that perspective. You have an easier time rationalizing putting a knife in someone’s skull if you convince yourself that they’re silently begging for it.

Katsuki shifts his weight and looks at you. He mouths the words no guns and you nod, briefly wondering where the fuck he thinks you could have gotten a gun from.

Then, you kick off and run with Katsuki towards the infected. They don’t really have time to begin moving towards you both. You’re faster than them, but you hear the crack of their legs as they stand from their crouched positions, pulled in at the idea of their next meal.

Katsuki takes the farther one, sinking the knife into the soft spot of its temple with relative ease. You switch yourself off and take the one closest only a few moments later, sending your blade through the top of its skull. That happens to you when you have to do this. You turn yourself off for a bit, just so that you don’t have to remember the way it feels to hit the soft part of someone’s brain. You didn’t used to do that, only starting when you realized that there’s no going through this world anymore without it.

Katsuki wipes the blood on his pants. It’s brown, no longer oxygenated, and the area around you begins to reek. You notice, but for some reason the smell of decomposition doesn’t register in your brain and you continue on behind him.

There are a few beats of silence, save for twigs breaking under your feet, before Katsuki speaks up.

“You okay?” It’s barely above a whisper and you wouldn’t have caught it were you not listening for the distinctive crack of human bones.

“Yeah,” you say, continuing forward.

The campsite rounds into view and in this light, with your full night’s sleep under your belt, you can see just how pitiful it looks. A tent that you’d hastily put up before nightfall, the remains of your stamped out fire, the folding chair which has since been knocked over, and your weapons on the floor covered by a few leaves disturbed by the wind.

You snatch them up and move to grab your backpack out of the tent. The inside is shitty too and your torn sleeping bag hadn’t even been rolled out yet. You pick up the bag, returning to the folding chair as Katsuki begins to take down the tent. The polyester and nylon blend zips together as he makes quick work of folding it. Then, he kicks some dry brush over the remains of the fire, like he’s covering your tracks.

“The next person that comes through here might not be alone,” he says plainly. “And they may have more bullets than you did.”

“Right,” you respond. Your voice sounds a little far off and you settle your backpack on your shoulder in one quick motion.

“Got everything?”

You nod, following him as he heads out in the direction you both came from. The two of you pass the bodies of the infected you’d killed. The smell has permeated the air, lingering like how it does in cities, only less pungent. Their fogged eyes stare blankly at nothing, expressions plain and unreadable. You pass and try not to think much about it.

Katsuki is a few feet ahead of you and he doesn’t glance back to make sure you’re following. You could leave now and never get attached to these people. You could head off in another direction and never have to think twice about it. No more worrying about who you could lose, about who’s next to become one of the sick masses. Just you by yourself. Then, when you finally kick the can, someone else can put you down the way you did to those strangers.

Is there really a point to it anymore? To community or living in general. No one is as they once were. Does that make it fantasy to live in their beautiful bubble? Could you even find it in yourself to pretend again, to make nice and play house in that place? They saved your life, sure. They fed you, clothed you, bathed you, but for what point? Tomorrow, you could end up back in the woods, lighting fires with twigs you found in the brush, paranoid that someone would find you or the fire would spread.

You watch Katsuki’s back as he moves, shoulders shifting with each step. His shirt is stained, white turned eggshell from the wear and tear of time. It seems so off to you that he looks relatively clean, like he lives well.

Fear strikes you as you realize that your rambling thoughts have merit. Anything you fear now has become real and loss is so tangible to you that you can squeeze it in your hand. They could turn you out. Tomorrow night you could begin the starve and step all over again, moving from place to place, talking to yourself, filling your hours with paranoid thoughts like these that plague you when you’re alone. Is that worse than loss? If you’re alone long enough, you’d probably forget what you’re missing. Losing anyone else could make the wound fresh. For now, the hunger wins out.

Katsuki jogs ahead of you to get to the house. Momo is on the porch waving him in and he hurries up the steps and bursts through the front door. As you approach, you can hear voices, some of which are relieved, others hurried. When you enter the room, you find a man standing there whom you’ve never seen before, Shoto maybe.

“A plus one,” the man looks up, tilting his head at you in an odd way.

“Katsuki’s,” Kiri says with a low smirk.

Shoto’s eyes widen as he peers at his friend, clutching what looks like an injured shoulder. Katsuki just huffs his irritation.

“Well, that’s rare,” Shoto says.

“What’s rare?” Katsuki spits. “They were in the woods with a fire. What was I supposed to do? Let ‘em die?”

“Maybe,” Shoto says, a light smile creeping onto his features. Then, he turns to you. “What’s your name?”

You give it to him and he nods his head, tilting it at you again.

“How long are you staying?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question. In fact, no one is, and it feels like more of a test than it does a genuine inquiry. Kiri and Mina exchange a glance and Katsuki tosses a somewhat dirty look towards Shoto. Ochako gives Shoto a knowing glance and Sero and Denki shift uncomfortably on their feet. Then, Momo clears her throat, spurring Izuku to say something.

“Shoto,” he says. “You’re probably hungry, you should eat something and lay down. Ochako? Could you take a look at his shoulder?”

“Sure,” the girl says softly, giving a closed mouth smile to Shoto as she takes him by the arm.

She glances at you as she passes, almost like she’s too embarrassed to look at you fully in the face. You suppose this is what happens when people are forced to think about whether or not they will potentially leave someone else to die. It’s like the trolley cart question and though in this case there is always the possibility of a better outcome, it’s not likely in this world.

“Just until I’m rested,” you add with a small tilt of your head. “A few days.”

Shoto looks at you over his shoulder and gives you a small smile. It’s funny, you can see kindness there. His actions aren’t kind, but you can feel that he has kindness in him, though his rudeness stems from something different than Katsuki’s, you think. Like he’s strange in some way.

“I’ll start on dinner,” Sero says. “Kiri, give me a hand.”

The group disperses and you head upstairs without speaking to anyone else. A few days to rest and then cut the first people you’ve spoken to in weeks loose. What sort of idiot gives up something like this to avoid a little awkwardness? Not that you necessarily had your mind made up. You wonder briefly if you’ve just sealed your own tomb.

—

After dinner, you go upstairs to sleep after eating as much as they would offer you. Your stomach has ceased its constant growling and the shakiness that comes with hunger has receded almost entirely into the background. The bed is soft, with a slight dent in it from whoever slept in here before. The thought unsettles you that they’re probably dead now, but you try to push it from your mind as you steel yourself for what comes within the next few days.

You had volunteered yourself to leave. To what? Save yourself the embarrassment of pleading? Did you even want to plead? Why are you regretting not asking to stay? These people don’t know you, what trust can you have built with them in only a few days? Your skin crawls at the expanse of possibilities in front of you after so many weeks without any.

You think that if you let yourself walk away, you’ll probably die. You’re out of bullets and don’t know where to find any food except by luck. You can try to catch prey, but prey hides whenever infected are around, and they’re everywhere nowadays. It’s spring, water wouldn’t be a problem, but running water has its clear comforts. Then, there’s the possibility of loss. You’d come to care for these people if you stayed, you know it.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at the ceiling. There’s really no choice to be made. You’ll let them make it for you, even if you don’t know them. It’s their house and you won’t walk in uninvited or try to take it. You’re not about to become a monster just because the world is full of them now.

The darkness grows and your eyes drift to the dim light wandering in under the crack of the door. Hushed voices whisper in the living room, you can hear them. It’s a heated discussion, lively, but deliberately quiet. It’s been hours since everyone went to bed, yet you get the impression that many people are chiming in. You’re too nosey to leave it be.

You open the bedroom door silently, turning the cool knob with a wince as it clicks out of place. When you peer into the hallway, every upstairs bedroom door is open with the room empty. The light is coming from down stairs and around the corner, and you can see shadows move as you inch closer to the source.

You pause at the top of the stairs, knowing that they creak, and crouch by the bannister to listen. You’re out of sight. The only way they’d know you’re listening is if you made a sound, but you won’t. You’re good at being quiet.

“We don’t even know them,” someone says in a rushed whisper. “We don’t know what they’ve done before.”

“Everyone’s done things they’re not proud of now, Shoto,” a woman adds. It’s Mina. She’s spoken enough to you that you recognize her voice.

“I agree with Shoto,” says another woman, her voice higher pitched. She sounds guilty and her voice is tight as she speaks “We have no clue who they are. They could be dangerous.”

“You mean like me, Ochako?” A man adds. “I could have been dangerous.”

The group grows quiet for a moment.

“No,” Momo says. You recognize the cadence of her voice. “Shoto might be right, Denki. It’s been nearly six months since you got here and the world has changed a lot. We don’t- we can’t know for sure.”

“Can we really know anything for sure?” Another man adds, Kiri.

“What about you guys?” Shoto says, presumably to the rest of the group.

“I don’t know.”

“I’m hesitant, but I don’t know either.”

“Jesus,” another man with a baritone voice, harsher than the rest. That’s Katsuki, the first voice you’d heard of the group. “You guys make me a little sick.”

“That’s not fair,” Ochako says.

“No,” he interrupts. “It is fair. You guys want to… what? Send them back out there to die?”

“It’s not like that,” Shoto says.

“It is like that,” he says, raising his voice and then lowering it back to a whisper. “You didn’t see them when they got here, Shoto. They- they didn’t look… shit. The rest of you, you saw them. You really want to send them back out there to fuckin’ waste away? I don’t know about you all, but I won’t do that to a person.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Katsuki’s right,” Izuku says with a bit of conviction, like he’s finally made up his mind. “Sending someone out there alone is a death sentence. How does doing that make us any better than the people we’re trying to protect ourselves from?”

“What if there are more of them?” Ochako says quietly. “What if they’re not alone?”

“Trust me,” Katsuki says, “They were alone.”

“But what if they’re not?” She insists at a whisper, a bit of shame creeping into her voice. “What if people come for us?”

“See?” Shoto says gently. “There are so many what-ifs.”

“That works the other way too,” Mina adds.

You don’t listen to hear the rest of their conversation. They’re going to run themselves in circles debating about you. They’ll go around and around and land on whichever argument ends with the most votes. They’ll convince each other of one thing and it will happen totally out of your control.

The bedroom door shuts with a low click that makes you wince again. You think about the people who went to bat for you and the people who didn’t. You don’t blame those who opposed. You’d have probably reacted similarly if your old group were still alive and you understand very clearly why they do it. One person’s stupid reaction can be catastrophic and they don’t know enough about you to be certain that you’re not one of those stupid people. It’s how the world went to shit in the first place and though nine months ago you’d have surely condemned someone for making the same decision, you know that fear has warped humanity beyond comprehension. You didn’t get it until you lived it.

Still, Katsuki’s humanity feels intact somehow, more so than yours at least. His response is something you probably never would have said under the same conditions and you can’t help but feel some sort of fondness bloom in you for him. Call it connection, gratefulness for his willingness to stick his neck out for you, a trauma response. You still feel it. Mina and Kiri had said that Katsuki was a good judge of character and that’s why they were willing to back him. You wonder briefly if maybe Katsuki sees something in you that you don’t recognize in yourself anymore, or maybe something you don’t expect other people to recognize. What is it that he wants so badly to protect?

Someone stomps down the hallway, heavy boots against the old creaky floors. You hear the steps recede down the hallway, maybe a door or two down, before it shuts quickly. The sound makes you wince and you listen as the house grows quiet and then hums quietly with the sound of others coming upstairs a few moments later. Someone pads to the end of the hall, pushing the door open.

You hear a woman’s voice, so muffled that you can’t make out what she’s saying. Then, you hear the sound of a man’s affirmation before the bedroom door shuts and the visitor moves back down the hall to a separate bedroom. Information passing through the house.

Someone is moving around in a room below you and you figure that there are probably bedrooms downstairs as well. From the outside, you’d never guess that the place could house ten people. Inside though, the bedrooms are small. That’s probably why so many can fit. You’d guess that the place used to have multiple generations living in it, or maybe even rented out rooms to people for a few months. It sort of has a boarding house feel to it, like many people have come and gone even before people stopped staying in one place.

That’s a good thing to call it, the boarding house. It certainly has that sort of feel to it, many of its spaces undeniably communal.

You turn over in the bed, facing the bedroom door. The lights have gone out completely now and the house is quiet save for the occasional creak or thud from someone preparing to sleep. It’s been a long while since the sounds of living have been so prevalent near you. You’re eased by the sounds of the house settling, a familiar reminder of what living used to be. Your group had been on the road long before you lost them and the comforts of an interior are almost overwhelmingly nostalgic. You’re better rested to notice it now and shutting your eyes, you savor the feeling.

—

“Need some help?” You say.

Denki turns around, grease smeared across his nose where he likely wiped it with his dirty hands. He’s holding a wrench in a glove so tattered that it hardly counts as a glove anymore. He looks startled, amber eyes widening before he uses his forearm to brush stray hairs out of his face. The rest of it is pulled up into a messy ponytail, revealing the moist back of his neck.

“Oh, sure,” he says, a bit surprised. “Do you know how generators work?”

He crouches back over the machine and you step up behind him.

The machine is rusted near the bottom and between the exposed winding pipes. Its paint has chipped away, leaving the weather-damaged metal open for you to see. On the side, a fan-like piece spins slowly in circles and the machine whirs and sputters softly as it… generates power, probably.

“Not quite, but an extra pair of hands is always helpful,” you say softly, passing him a tool he’d been reaching for. “Did it break?”

“No,” Denki says, “but it’s probably on its last legs. The thing’s almost as old as we are, probably older, so it’s good to tune it up a bunch.”

You hum your agreement, tilting your head as you stand and watch him work.

You’re not necessarily comfortable with Denki, but he feels like a safe person for some reason. Maybe it’s because he’s got a sort of ditzy, non-threatening vibe to him. You can almost distinctly picture him tripping over his own feet and something about that makes you feel considerably safer than someone who wouldn’t. That and he was the first person you’ve come across this morning who you don’t think distrusts you too badly.

“Are you dodging something?” Denki smirks up at you from his crouch.

“Who on earth would I be dodging?” you snort a bit defensively.

“Shoto,” he says with a light smile. “He put you in a tight spot the other day.”

“Yeah, well,” you say, glancing over your shoulder. “It wasn’t anything he didn’t have a right to ask.”

“Right, but it sure was rude, huh?”

Denki laughs to himself a little and you’re surprised by how easygoing he is. You subconsciously begin to categorize him with Mina and Kiri. The dichotomy of this group baffles you a bit, but you can certainly see all nine of them as a collective. Tightly knit and well acquainted with the habits of others.

“Oh!” He exclaims, “I have something you can do for me.”

You tilt your head.

“There’s a bucket over there,” he says, pointing absentmindedly to a shitty plastic bucket against the side of the house. “We use the water from the creek as coolant. It’s not factory grade, but it does the trick. You wanna go fill it up and bring it back for when I’m done tuning this thing up?”

You furrow your eyebrows, not sure where the creek he’s talking about is.

“The creek is just over there,” he points behind the house to the edge of the treeline. “I know you can’t see it from here, but if you walk in a straight line, you’ll hit it. Katsuki should be down there too, so you can use him as a landmark.”

When you don’t immediately answer, Denki whines a little.

“I mean,” he says, “I’d go myself, but-”

“I’ll do it,” you laugh a little and Denki seems surprised that you do.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I’d like to pull some weight at least while I’m here. Plus, I offered.”

Denki mumbles his pleasure and you walk to the bucket without another word and set off in the direction Denki pointed. You’re much more willing to go out to the treeline now that you have a knife back at your side.

The walk to the trees is longer than it looks, like how sometimes the horizon looks like something you could reach out and climb up onto. The walk stretches with each step you take and you become a little more understanding of why Denki didn’t want to do it himself. But the walk is actually pleasant, the warmth of mid May collecting evenly on your skin as the humidity grows more intense with the sun.

You wonder what Katsuki would be doing by the creek. Maybe he’s fishing, or crouched over himself sharpening an arsenal of knives that you think he might keep in a roll attached to his belt sometimes. You’re not sure why, but Katsuki sort of has that expression to him. He’s handsome, but the scowl projects something hostile that makes him seem unapproachable.

As you cross through the middle of the clearing, you could almost imagine that this is a normal day. Humidity collects on your skin, making you sweat a little as you dodge gopher holes and soft spots of dirt. It almost feels like summer camp, if it weren’t for the looming idea that you’re contributing to something you may not be a part of. Denki’s attitude though, has you hoping for a more favorable outcome, if you want to call it that.

You’re only a few steps into the line of trees when the earth dips into a sand-lined ravine. The trees leave room for the sun to beat down on warmed rocks, making the area seem brighter with their subtle reflection of the light. The noise of the creek drowns out the sound of your footsteps and you shuffle toward where the earth flattens just before the water starts. A little ways to your right, you can see Katsuki sitting on a rock in the sun, his hands dipped into a large bucket. You narrow your eyes as he pulls what looks like a cloth out of the water, rubbing the fabric together before dipping it in the cool water of the creek.

As you approach, you realize what it is that he’s doing. It’s laundry. On the other side of him, you can see a bin of what look like dirty clothes and water-soaked clean ones. Talk about misjudged character.

“Katsuki,” you say as you approach him, the bucket still empty in your hand.

He squints up at you, shifting his face so that it's in your shadow.

“You’re still here,” he says plainly, returning to his task.

“Clearly,” you respond, watching as he runs his fingers over the next piece of clothing in the bucket.

“Why are you down here? Did Denki pawn the generator water onto you?” He says, like he’s somewhat frustrated. “He does that shit to anyone he can.”

You shrug your shoulders and continue to stare at him.

“Are you just gonna stand there?” He huffs out.

“You’re doing laundry.”

“Yeah?” he furrows his eyebrows and looks at you. “So?”

“Nothing,” you say. “I just didn’t expect that.”

“Yeah well,” he stops for a moment like he’s struggling to find the words. “It needed to be done. Figured I might as well.”

“How progressive of you,” you joke with a straight face.

He looks at you out of the corner of his eyes and sighs, not justifying your comment with a response. You find yourself smiling a little bit.

“If you’re going to linger, sit down and do it,” he says. “You’re creeping me out.”

You oblige him and sit down on a rock next to him, far enough that you’re not touching, but near enough to hear him if you speak in a low voice. For some reason, you feel a sort of kinship with Katsuki. You’d thought longer than you’d like to admit about his willingness to vouch for you and find that you want to live up to his expectation of your goodness, even if it’s not what you believe yourself to be anymore. Maybe it’s because you’ve slept well the past few nights and feel more like yourself, but there’s a certain casualness to conversing with him that you enjoy. He’s not looking at what you could be, but rather what you’re showing him that you are. His lack of doubt in that is something you find relatively attractive.

You watch his arms out of the corner of your eye in between gazing at the treeline and the sky. Your field of vision catches on them, his sleeves cut short to expose his biceps, a bit muddied near the elbows where the mud has begun to stick.

Katsuki doesn’t seem all that bothered by your presence, but now and then you’ll catch the sideways glance he gives you, almost like he’s trying to figure out exactly why you’re lingering.

“How long have you been with them?” You ask, more as a way to fill the silence.

Katsuki’s hands pause as he thinks about answering, then, they continue their steady pace.

“A decent amount of time,” he says. “I met Izuku first, probably in November just before Mina and Kiri. The rest came later.”

You furrow your eyebrows.

“No offense,” you start, “but you don’t really seem like the group type.”

“And you don’t seem like the type who’d be alone,” he retorts, like your statement was stupid.

You press your lips into a tight line, not really knowing how to respond.

“Sorry,” he says, shaking his head a little.

“Were you?”

“What? Was I sorry?” He furrows his eyebrows at you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Were you alone? Before Izuku.”

He goes silent. You’ll take that as a yes, but you regret asking a little. It had just slipped out. If someone were to ask you something like that, you’d probably react the same way. That’s just as well, you don’t really need to know him like that anyway.

You wonder briefly if anyone does. He seems closed off, but Mina and Kiri spoke about him a few days prior like they knew him well. Well enough at least to allude to a history you’ll likely never be privy to. Then there’s Momo, who whispers little things to him that he answers in kind. Curiosity gets the better of you, if only to tease.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you ask and Katsuki’s response is to rest his elbows on his knees and let out a dry laugh.

He turns his head and looks at you from the side. “And what the fuck are you asking me that for?”

“Just curious,” you say. “Is it Momo?”

“Momo?” He makes a sour face at you. “Yeah, right.”

“She’s pretty,” you say.

“Sure is,” he responds dryly. “If you’re into the mom type.”

“What? You’re not into moms?” You grin a little and Katsuki furrows his eyebrows at you.

“So you do have a personality,” he scoffs a little.

There’s a pause. You haven’t felt this in a while. The feeling of bonding with someone new, compatibility on the human level that feels nearly instant.

“I’m kinda serious though,” you say, tilting your head down to catch his eye. “Do you?”

You’re leaning a little closer to him now.

“You seen any nice restaurants to take a person out to these days?” he questions, clearly a little frustrated with you in the way someone gets when they’re a bit amused.

“You don’t have to take someone out to a restaurant to fuck them, you know?” You laugh a little.

Katsuki’s lips part and he swallows like his mouth has gone dry.

“Yeah, well,” he starts, looking away from you. “I’m a romantic. Sue me.”

He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he? You find that you’re captivated by this feeling, this humanity, that exists in him. It’s something alive between you both, something left behind from the old world, and you crave it the same way you crave food.

Katsuki continues scrubbing the clothes, rubbing the fabric together and then dunking it in the bucket before plunging it into the freshwater creek. You’re not sure why you do it, but the next time he looks at you, you kiss him.

It’s not as if you like him, but it’s something to feel. Some remnant of the butterflies you used to feel on dates and the kiss makes you feel like you could be close to human again. You pull away almost as soon as you put his lips to yours and you can tell that the expression on your face is one of surprise.

Katsuki blinks for a second, looking at you with his brows knitted together. The expression doesn’t leave him as he places a wet hand on the side of your face to kiss you again. It’s an anxious kiss, confused and slow but—like someone riding a bike for the first time in years—it quickly becomes something familiar. Muscle memory that you both let yourselves sink into.

You can feel his expression as he kisses you, something between confusion and desire, like his own actions are perplexing. You feel the same way, hesitant, but reaching in the dark for the promise of some sort of normalcy. You want to feel like a person again. You haven’t felt it in so long and you push yourself against him as the ache swells in you.

The two of you continue like this for a moment, Katsuki’s fingers pressing lightly into the skin of your neck. You moan softly as his tongue slips into your mouth, taking a sharp inhale at the sensation of skin on skin. The sound of the creek drowns out the clicking of your mouths, but you can feel the way he hums into your mouth. They’re little sounds, involuntary ones driven by the nervous, desirous feelings inside of you both.

Then, Katsuki pulls away, swallowing thick as he takes his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment. You appreciate the way they look. They’re swollen, anxious to continue and keep forgetting where you really are. He drops his hand from your face with a sigh and almost seems like he comes back to himself. You do the same, moving back into an upright position.

“Denki will want that water soon,” he clears his throat and motions to the empty bucket by your feet.

“Oh,” you say, laughing a little. “Right.”

You stand, dusting off the back of your pants and dunking the bucket into the water. It sloshes, the liquid hitting the back of the plastic with a satisfying elastic sound. You begin to walk away without another word, heading down the way you came to climb up the gentler part of the slope.

“Hey,” Katsuki calls softly. “You should stay. We talked it over last night. You can if you want to.”

The last part, he says facing the wash, his hands moving as if he hadn’t said anything at all. You don’t respond, knowing that the obvious answer is already yes.

Dread settles in your stomach. It’s an icky, swirling feeling that threatens to make you double over. You climb up the bank, the water in the bucket sloshing as you move through the trees and enter the clearing. The feeling doesn’t dissipate, growing as you leave the cover of the trees. You probably wouldn’t have kissed him if he’d asked you that earlier.

The boarding house comes into view and you can see Denki sitting beside the generator, conversing with who appears to be Shoto. They turn and Denki waves you down, Shoto turning away and starting around for the front of the house.

Denki jogs to meet you, taking the bucket from your hand. You flex your fingers as the weight is removed, wincing a little at how stiff they feel.

“Jeez, what took you so long?” Denki laughs and with your new information, you understand his willingness to be friendly with you a little better.

“I asked Katsuki for his life story,” you respond dryly, following him back to the generator.

Denki looks over his shoulder and laughs at you. “Did he tell you?”

You pause for a moment, watching as Denki unscrews something and pours the water in.

“Nope,” you say. “Not a thing.”

Click Here to go to the second chapter and find the rest of the series on ao3. The remainder will not be posted on tumlbr, but please feel free to reblog!

#bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #mha x reader #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader smut #mha smut #bakugou fanfiction #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #apocalypse au #tw.violence #tw.blood #tw.loss of identity #tw.derealization #tw.depersonalization #tw.exhaustion #cal.writing #char.bakugou

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everafterwhat · 6 months ago

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Okay I’m working on a lot of stuff right now and it’s very chaotic so I’m just gonna post some older mlp art while I’m working on stuff!

Not to brag but I started this before the whole mlp infection au thing🤭 but that’s beside the point, there’s a lot of background lore but I’ll keep it brief.

Basically the apocalypse happened (bombs that created a radioactive fallout and disease) and some people were able to stay sheltered in bunkers! The mane six were all together when shit went down hill but after a series of events the group fell apart into two groups; twilight, rarity, Apple jack, and fluttershy, and the other being just Rainbow and Pinkie. Twilight took it upon herself to try and develop a cure but when that didn’t work she began messing with time and space to try and find an escape through dimensional jumping. Unfortunately she, along with her smarts, died during a raid on bunker 479. Cadance (ik I spelled her name wrong don’t come after me) was left to pick up Twilight’s pieces, determined to figure out how to find another dimension that is safe. In a downward spiral of madness she has lost her way, unable to find any futures or presents without the apocalypse or disease, and is now only focused on trying to to find another Twilight but it seems she was lost across space time completely.

Okay that’s all for now!

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voidbeomgyu · 1 year ago

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ALONE (Teaser)

In which you meet your bias in the worst circumstances.

PAIRING Idol Jake Sim x Fan Fem Reader

GENRE Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, Slow Burn, Romance/Strangers to Lovers, Suggestive (Maybe smut, not sure yet.), some fluff

WARNINGS 18+ MDNI, Descriptions of violence, death, blood, etc., All members except Jake died so keep that in mind (I'm sorry), Cursing, Crimes, Mental health talk and experiences, Death, Sickness (Throwing up), Making out, Smut(?), It's an apocalypse!au idk how else to warn about that LOL

SUMMARY The group Enhypen get on a plane to the US and when landing are met with the worst. Jake makes it out alive... but alone. Since the dead are attracted to areas where the population is saturated, your best bet is to stay low in the areas usually considered dangerous (alleyways, abandoned buildings, etc). He made his way into the country and found a nice cabin alongside a lake. His further inspection led him to believe it was abandoned for whatever reason, maybe it was a vacation home? Little did he know his inference was correct, and soon he was met face to face with a member of the family who owned it. How would she react to seeing her favorite artist rummaging through the cupboards of her new--hopefully permanent--home? And how would he be able to explain to a loyal fan of his that he was the only member left?

TEASER WORD COUNT 1,625

RELEASE DATE To be determined.

TAGLIST Comment on this post or send an ask to be added. (Have your age on your profile or you will not be tagged)

Endless walking while trying to find a suitable place to stay was slowly driving Jake insane. The exhaustion from travelling, fear of death, and anguish from the scene at the airport was weighing down on him heavier and heavier every second. Having watched his best friends, his brothers, his family all being taken away from him without being able to do anything but listen to the oldest’s words, “Run”.

Jake had not yet cried, there was no time for it. It’s been almost thirty six hours since then, he’d stolen a bike around a mile away from the airport. It’s helped him a lot on his journey to safety. He never stole, he wasn’t like that, not that type of person. But in the moment he didn’t have the time nor energy to feel guilty about it.

Jake didn’t know exactly what he was looking for, but he wanted quiet. Not knowing wether or not it’ll be safer in the city or the country side, he chose the latter. Cities are crowded with people, meaning they must be crowded with the dead by now, right? No matter; either way he knew he’d feel much better being in the middle of nowhere, or at least in the middle of what looked like nowhere. All alone in an abandoned farm house, maybe a lake house, any house on the country side would do. He was being too optimistic, he knew, but he couldn’t help it. Finding a safe home to live in alone with no one around for miles sounded comforting.

The Jake from two days ago would’ve shivered at the thought of being completely alone. Though no extrovert, he needed people. He needed that connection, that interaction. His reasons to smile and laugh were mostly based around the people around him or the entertainment he consumed. Entertainment was out of the question now, and it seemed like people were too. Most dead, and others probably too violent to give Jake a chance due to the circumstances.

All he held on him was his and Sunghoon’s carry-on bag from the flight. Note to self, don’t try to save your friend by holding onto their bag. Thoughts like this crossed his mind every few minutes, tragedies sentenced as jokes but he wasn’t laughing. What’s wrong with me? How could I think something like that? Maybe it was the dehydration, starvation, overall fatigue? He hadn’t eaten anything since the flight and was savoring the small amount of water he had on him. Either way, thinking of his beloved friends didn’t do much to help his mood. Trying to think of the good times? Those good times will never happen again, they’re gone forever and I’ll never get them back.

More days passed like this. With a stop at a gas station probably being the reason he’s even alive right now. It was abandoned, for the most part. It was the early morning, and he was literally starving now. The cashier was still there, but his neck was chained so tightly to the wall that it was on the edge of ripping his head clean off. Oh, he was a living corpse too. Jake could tell that much by just looking at him, muffled grunts and groans coming from the pale body every minute. Luckily, he didn’t seem to care much of Jake’s criminal activities there. Stuffing whatever foods and drinks he could into the bags he had on him. They were even heavier now, but he couldn’t feel anything. He was numb to all feeling, mentally and physically.

At day four he had started keeping track of how many days passed with a calendar he found on the wall of the gas station that morning. He didn’t stay there though, he didn’t have it in him to kill the cashier, and he knew that if he somehow got loose while he was sleeping it would all be over. The past few days he hadn’t slept or rested much at all actually. Napping for at most an hour at a time, waking up to the slightest noises and scurries of nearby wildlife. He knows he’s incredibly lucky to not have encountered any of the dead, besides the one at the gas station, but it’s a little stressful to not have seen any either. Where could they all be? He had made it out of the city, the once bustling streets on day two, he knew many people weren’t out here to begin with. But knowing there are creatures that could kill him in seconds lurking while having no idea where they are was terrifying.

It’s been six days. His legs started feeling numb just hours after finding his bike due to the frantic pedaling, now he felt like his legs were asleep all the time. The feeling of pins and needles covered his lower body as they worked on auto pilot to keep him going. His back felt horrible, slouched from his broken spirit. Endless cramping and soreness of his hands and fingers from gripping the bikes handles for hours at a time. His knuckles were white, and now so was his once tanned and alive skin.

His lack of proper meals, sleep, and rest was now obvious. Jake hasn’t seen himself since that day in the airport, but from looking at his now thinner, paler, vein visible arms, he could take a guess at what his face looked like. Hell, he could feel the bags under his eyes whenever he blinked now.

It’s been quiet and empty for a few miles. Nothing but grass, and a dirt trail he’s been following in sight. How long is this damn trail? he thought. Jake started following the trail at the sunset of day five; he remembers because of his calendar. It was coming to the end of day six, the sun starting to set in the distance behind him. He found a flashlight at the gas station and used it to find himself a place to “rest” for the nights he faced, it neared the time to find a spot to sleep.

Trees were all around him now, the area looked more alive here, not dried out and dead like the miles before. He must be getting close to some sort of building, forest trails usually have a building as a starting point, right? Unless this trail wasn’t made for hikers, in that case he was hoping in vain.

It was almost completely dark now. Jake had usually found somewhere to stay by this time, but something was telling him to keep going. Using the flashlight to illuminate the shadowed forest, he heard his friends voices cheering him on over and over again.

“Keep going Jake!”

“Just a little longer!”

“You’ll be okay!”

Tears were unconsciously streaming down his face now, though he still didn’t feel anything. His body just gave up on the effort of keeping them in.

Jake pedaled faster. He couldn’t hear anything but his heavy panting, it felt like someone had covered his ears with their hands and muted the sound of everything around him. He saw something in the distance, the roof of a building; he padaled faster. A house, the roof made of wood, looked like a cabin; he padaled faster. He could hear the muffled sound of streaming water; he pedaled faster.

Face to face with a cabin, going so fast he couldn’t stop himself from crashing into the wet grass below him. Still struck with adrenaline, he pulled himself up quickly and dragged his bike to the front door. His broken and unused voice sounded through his pants as he tried frantically to open the damned door.

The door handle had a key hole but was locked with a rusty padlock. He could turn the handle and wriggle the door, that padlock was what he needed to remove. He pulled a hammer out of his bag; he grabbed it from the gas station floor, it was covered in dried blood. Obviously used by someone prior to leaving it there. Jake slammed the hammer into the padlock, over and over again. The loud bangs from striking the lock were null to Jake’s ears, his desperation coating over all his sense.

Smash. The padlocks body is broken away from its handle and the door is free from it’s hold on the wooden frame.

Jake shoves his way inside, throwing the bike onto the hard floor of the entry way before turning to lock the door. It was locked from the outside but had a perfectly working lock on the inside, though he didn’t care to question it. He made it, he was safe, he felt like he could faint.

He had no time to think, let alone find a good source of light before he threw up. Keeling on the once clean floor, liquid from his stomach poured out from him. His throat burned and ached at the feeling, like his throat was made of sandpaper. Falling back he sat on the floor, staring at the door and the mess he made on the ground. He laid back and let his eyes rest for the first time in nineteen hours. Jake fell asleep there on the hard floor, knee propped up on the backside of a couch.

If he was thinking clearly, he would’ve checked the entire cabin, then scavenged for any foods that may be there. But he was broken, body and mind. Luck had been on his side since the beginning though. The home was completely vacant before he entered, and when he wakes up he’ll have found himself a place to live in safely. Away from the corpses living in the surrounding cities, and away from any still living people, all alone.

(A/N: Hello friends! I'm finally writing LOL I've had this wip since December and I'm finally going to finish it. This post is just to see if people would even be interested lol. The total fic word count I don't know yet because I haven't finished it, but I am close! I won't give y'all any hints but I will apologize in advance for the angst I'm about to put y'all thru<3 sorry love you guys muah. Don't know exactly when I will publish the full fic, maybe right when I finish it, maybe a month after I finish it IDK I haven't written seriously in months so I'm not too confident anymore but I am excited. Hope y'all are as excited as I am :D )

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epicbuddieficrecs · 20 days ago

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Weekly Recap | October 28th-November 3rd 2024

To my American neighbours, I hope you've all exercised your right to vote or will soon do so, and I'm hoping for all of our sakes for a good outcome after Tuesday. 🙏

Complete

all dressed up (with somewhere to go) by 42hrb / @exhuastedpigeon (S8, Halloween, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): “Hey,” Buck grinned when he reached Spider-man, grabbing him by the wrist to turn him around. He peeled the mask up just enough to kiss him. That was weird too, he’d never had to lean down to kiss Tommy before, even if it was only by an inch. Maybe the boots Buck was wearing had a bigger sole than he’d realized. Buck wrapped his arms around him and deepened the kiss, groaning just a little when he felt Tommy wrap his arms around Buck too. “Evan?”

Cleaning Up After Communion by Pansys_goth_gf (Post-S8E5: Masks, Friends to Fiancés | 3K | Teen): “I want to fuck a priest.” Across from him, Frank blinks. Pauses. Then sets down his notebook and leans forwards. “Do you want to fuck a priest, or do you want to fuck God?” Or, Eddie crushes on a priest, figures out his feelings, and does something selfish

never believe it's not so by rainbow_nerds/ @rainbow-nerdss (Magic AU, Maddie POV | 6K | Teen): Maddie Buckley never expected to enjoy hanging out with her little brother's best friend. She just didn't think they could have all that much in common. Turns out they've got more in common than she could have expected. And she can't tell Buck. In which Maddie has magic. And so does Buck. And so does Eddie. And she can't tell either of them. Or: 5 times Maddie has to listen to Buck and Eddie talk about each other without spilling their secrets, and one time they actually talk to each other.

i put a spell on you (because you're mine) by teenytinytomlinson/ @littlefreakbuckley (S8, Infidelity, Getting Together | 11K | Explicit): Tommy bails on Buck's Halloween plans, Eddie offers to take his place in the couple's costume contest, and Buck goes home with a grand prize.

🔥we won't look back, we won't be lost by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Post-S7, Dad Buck | 37K | Teen): Over six years after the 118 rescued a baby from a pipe, Buck meets that same child again on a different call. And in all that time, she never found a home. OR: Buck adopts Pipe Baby while Eddie waits for Christopher to come home.

WIP

eddie diaz vs. the dating apps by savemebobbynash (Post-S7, Getting Together | 5/8 | 10K | Mature): Newly out as gay, Eddie Diaz explores dating apps with the help of his teenage son and his chaotic best friend.

🔥 go and kill, go and die by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 11/14 | 48K | Mature): The 118 are a group of survivors in a small California town in the wake of a zombie apocalypse. For months they've been isolated and safe. But the arrival of some new players, the search for some missing loved ones, will shake everything up and put their little team in jeopardy.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fanfiction #buddie fic rec #buddie fanfic #buddie fic

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inklore · 1 year ago

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🩸 — 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍!

since the spooky season is fast approaching, and as a little kinktober appetizer, @psychedelic-ink and i have decided to do a little writing challenge to get us all excited and in the mood to be gripping the sheets from the spooky thrills of course.

and to keep this fun we have given you many many options! we have compiled a twelve day prompts list you can go by, or if that's not your thing we have listed twenty three different pick and choose options to create whatever kind of fic you want, even if you want to do half the days daily prompts but switch out this prompt dialogue for that au or trope or kink, you can literally do whatever your heart desires!

THE RULES.

the challenge will go on from the 19th - 30th of this month. you can do as many or as little amount of days as you choose.

any fandoms are welcome, literally any characters, ships, but please no rpf.

no minors should be interacting with let alone posting for this challenge.

dark content, light content, dubcon/noncon, is all welcomed but please tag everything accordingly. grooming, underage, and incest however are not allowed.

there are no word limits but please use that readmore.

tag #hauntedhoedown so we can read and reblog your work!

DAY ONE: taboo au + "i'll be your dirty little secret, if that's what you're into."

DAY TWO: murder plot au (lets kill this person together) + "crawl to me"

DAY THREE: inspired by your favorite lana del rey song (if not a lana fan then any fav song of yours) + stalker / yandere au or love triangle gone wrong

DAY FOUR: artificial intelligence au + "here, you are. you tiny thing."

DAY FIVE: gothic au + “worship me. until i tell you to stop.” + a masquerade au or a good ol' priest au

DAY SIX: animal shapeshifter au + "he's a monster" + "he's perfect"

DAY SEVEN: stranded au or slasher / summer camp au + sex in the woods or somewhere public (added bonus if it includes knife, blood, hunter x prey kink)

DAY EIGHT: cosmic horror au + "you're a fucking nightmare. kiss me."

DAY NINE: “do you like it when i bleed for you?” + the toxic exes trope or cult au

DAY TEN: zombie apocalypse au + "every moment might be our last, let's make the most of it."

DAY ELEVEN: black swan au or inspired by your fav psychological thriller + “they die for love, you kill for it.”

DAY TWELVE: vampire court au + "forever isn't long enough for me to forgive you."

if following the above isn't your thing and you want to pick and choose yourself that's great! we also highly rec this random generator if you wanna live life by the edge, each category has 23 options to pick and choose from so customize the generator accordingly!

AUs:

steampunk / cyber punk

fairytale retelling

revenge

mythology / monster

virtual reality

gothic

taboo (see great options here)

slasher

game gone wrong

witchcraft

addams family

bonnie and clyde

spy / secret agent

assassins

x-files

circus / carnival

hitch hiking

basement wife

time travel

urban legend(s)

american horror story inspired

vampire / supernatural

pirate / mermaid

DIALOGUE PROMPTS:

"do you like when i touch you like this? i can keep going if you want me to."

"i can see how badly you want this, so i'm going to make sure you get it."

“this fear you feel? it won't last.”

“you are mine, whether you agree or not.”

“why do you keep following me?”

"i can't stop thinking about how perfect we would be together."

"you're not actually scared are you? of me?"

"i'm so close, can you feel it?"

"tell me what you want me to do and i'll do it, no matter the cost."

"you're like a sickness, a disease, and the only way for me to be cured of you is to let you completely consume me until my body has no fight left."

"i want to see you bleed."

"they're dead...because of you."

“i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you.”

“everything i've done.. every horrible atrocity, it's been for you.”

"it's just a little blood."

“don't you know how sick with love i am for you?”

“i would burn the world for you.”

"this is so fucked up." "you like it."

"finders keepers."

"what's your favorite scary movie?"

"tell me you want me back. tell me i'm forgiven."

"you're a monster." "that's never stopped you before."

"i've killed for you, who else can say that?"

TROPES:

mob / mafia

soft!dark

dubcon / noncon

soulmate / fated mates

mind control / telepathy

cheating

final girl

once is not enough

haunted manor

dark academia

enemies to lovers

haunted object

vengeful ghost

coven

ritual / sacrifice / blood magic

unrequited love

creation / creator vs monster

'i'll find you in every universe / century'

reverse harem

cursed / fuck or die

curiosity killed the cat

theatre phantom

fate worse than death

KINKS:

biting

corruption / authoritarian

somnophilia

begging

dacryphilia

breath play

knife play / blood play

jealousy / sharing / possessive

aphrodisiacs

hunter / prey

humiliation / degradation

mirror sex

deprivation / immobilized / bondage

costume

size

orgasm denial / overstimulation / edging

body worship

shotgunning / swallowing / facial

gagging

torture / surrender

hate sex / make up sex / phone sex

magical healing [redacted]

soft!dom / pleasure!dom

ETC PROMPTS:

a summer fling gone horrible wrong, or right

1970s porno filming (turned into a blood bath)

touch her and die except who the hell are you and why are you obsessed with me?

a trip to the circus (or carnival) ends with you stuck there...forever

you just inherited this creepy mansion where people where murdered what could go wrong?

a ritual gone wrong and now i'm bound to a demon

if 'this person' ever found out about this they would kill both of us (literally)

oh no i'm dating the town serial killer

passionate professor tells me to prove my devotion to the craft / class by doing something insane

we're the last people on the planet and you will be mine

daydreaming about being with you is better than actually being with you because i missed all the red flags and now it's too late

i got casted out of my world and ended up wounded and bloodied in your backyard, convince me why i shouldn't destroy your world out of anger

vampire has a taste for specific blood and looks like you have it

the creepy neighbor is too hot to be insane, right?

i keep seeing them in my dreams and i wake up with bruises and marks on my skin, it's definitely just wild dreams, right?

loving you is easier than hating you

got stranded in some little town that seems so cute, until night hits

'this person' ordered me to kill you but i actually think i'm in love with you

my lover is wearing the same costume as you and i can't tell the difference but i'm pretty sure it's them i'm fucking in this closet...pretty sure

confessing to a murder via a silly little ghost story around a campfire (but someone reads through the lies)

how far would you go for love? for the one you love?

in a past life you were the cause of my death so i'm here to exact revenge now that i've found you

we're at a fun little horror movie reenactment except people are really dying

we tried to make this writing challenge as fun and very 'choose your own adventure-like' as much as possible because we know how hard it is to stay motivated when doing these things.

so please feel free to use any and all of the prompts, tropes, kinks, etc as you wish. we're just super excited to see what ya'll come up with!!

so good luck and stay slutty spooky <3

#if yall don't participate in this i will actually cry lmao #haunted hoedown #writing challenge #kinktober #! challenges

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nekohime19 · 2 months ago

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🌟Neko Shadowpeach Au Guide!🌟

I have so many Shadowpeach Au I can't even 😭

This post is mainly for me to organize myself bc I'm beginning to have a lot of ideas for Au, and a lot of Au in general and I need to write that somewhere or I'm gonna get lost, 😌.

But also it's to let you guys know about future Au I would probably write and see if you like them.

Of course if you guys have any questions about any of my Au's, even the unpublished one, feel free to ask, 😁.

alright here we go :

Published

Monkeys silly love life :

Summary : Macaque never met the great sage, nor the brotherhood, he simply lived like a hermit until his lantern was stolen by a thrall. He finds himself coming to Megapolis in search of his lantern, there he meets MK, his friends and one particularly insistent golden-furred monkey who seems keen on flirting with him despite the Lady Bone Demon taking over the world.

Fic : series of three fic on Ao3

Who said you can't flirt in an apocalypse?

Monkeys discovering the wide world of dating.

I know the world is ending but will you marry me?

Status : all fics completed

Vibe : fluff and humor

Heart behind the lie :

Summary : Sun Wukong's mind is severely damaged by the Lady Bone Demon's possession, leading him to act like a beast. Macaque being the only person he trusts in this state, he is designated as his babysitter. Macaque refuses at first but then finds himself needing magic to survive and decides to accept being a babysitter to better steal Sun Wukong's magic. He might became more attached than he planned for.

Fic : fic on Ao3 + being re-published on Tumblr with two chapters a day

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : emotional angst, feels and fluff

Publishing day : At least once a week

Tumblr tag (including fanarts /answers /memes /chapters) : Heart behind the lie

Mini Mac :

Summary : One day Sun Wukong discovers that a little black-furred monkey had been living in the walls of his stone mansion and decides to befriend him. Problem is, the little black-furred beauty is not keen on deepening his relationship with him, thus the sage has to gain his trust first.

Fic : one fic on Tumblr and Ao3

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff, humor and very light angst

Publishing day : Two to three chapters a week

Tumblr tag (including memes / answers / fanarts/chapters) : Mini Mac au

Bimawen :

Summary : What if Heaven actually gave weight to the title of Bimawen and treated Sun Wukong with respect, even if reluctant? Sun Wukong would have never gone on a rampage and quietly taken care of the horses. Years after Sun Wukong has taken his horsley duties Heaven found another celestial monkey, the Six-eared Macaque causing mayhem in the mortal world. The macaque is judged and if he wants to avoid his execution, he has to become the bimawen's assistant. The problem is the monkeys don't really like each other.

Fic : one on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff, humor and feels / JTTW oriented

Publishing day : Once to twice a month (often more bc I'm inspired)

Tumblr tag (including memes / fanarts / answers / chapters) : Bimawen au

Share my glow (co-writing with Pen-Women)

Summary : Macaque never met Wukong in his life. He is known as the Shadow Weaver, a mysterious entity who guides the one lost in the night. His lantern is the last artifact LBD needs to complete her mech and take over the world. When his forest is frozen by the Thrall he has no choice but to follow a troublesome team of heroes with a particularly flirty Monkey King.

Fic : one in Ao3

Status : uncompleted

Vibe : fluff and angst / ABO

Publishing day : Once a week (every Sunday)

AITA for sleeping with the guy my girlfriend is cheating on me with? :

Summary : A reddit style story with interactive comments about Wukong mess of a love life (and his gay awakening). Wukong learns his girlfriend is cheating on him so in an act of pettiness he confront the secret side boyfriend. What he didn't expect was to get along with Macaque and, after explaining the situation and discovering Macaque had no idea he was a side piece, to get hammered and sleep with him.

Fic : on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : completed (for now)

Vibe : crack and humor

Tumblr tag : AITA shadowpeach

Unpublished

So here is are my ideas for different Au's! Of course, bc those are still ideas in working, summaries might change a lil bit when I actually write them. Idk if I'll write them all though. They're classed from the one I want to write the most after I'm finished with Heart behind the lie and Mini Mac to ideas in passing.

Love Addicts :

Summary : Macaque and Sun Wukong find themselves feeling miserable after season 5. MK lost his powers when he jumped in the pillar, and both monkeys can't help but feel guilty. Sun Wukong then stumbles upon an odd door in his treasure trove and discovers the existence of a bar selling love potions. Despite hating each other, both monkeys decides to drink one potion to recover some sort of happiness, letting themselves be in love for one week. They take another one after the end of this first week and soon become addicted to the taste of love, even if this love is fake.

Fic : will be on Ao3 (debating if I'm gonna add it to Tumblr)

Status : unwritten / I'm planning this one after Heart behind the lie

Vibe : angst, fluff and feel, smut

Love rings true :

Summary : Sun Wukong took the throne of the Jade Emperor after the attack on Heavens orchestrated by the brotherhood. One day, Wukong gain a new jester, the most famous entertainer of the mortal realm : the Six-eared Macaque. Wukong becomes very enamored with his new jester but he doesn't know how to talk to him. As such he decides to approach him in an unusual way... He becomes a bell and spend the day at his jester's side, on his hat.

Fic : will be on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : unwritten / Planning this after Mini Mac

Vibe : fluff and humor

Pacific rim Au :

Summary : For a long time, Sun Wukong and Macaque were the best Rangers in the world. Their performance was flawless, their compatibility undeniable, they piloted the Shadowpeach as if it was a part of their own bodies. But after a particular incident, they were never able to pilot together again. Years after, Macaque is required to pilot with Wukong for one last time. One last mission. Maybe having the world on the line will push them both to rekindle what was once lost.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3 and Tumblr

Status : unwritten : fleshing out the lore

Vibe : feels and fluff, smut

Tumblr tag (including lore) : Shadowpeach pacific rim au

Monkey Cop Mania :

Summary : Both monkeys find themselves being transported to a movie-like dimension in which Sun Wukong is the insanely famous Monkey Cop and Macaque a world-wide known thief accused of murder. If they want to get back to their own dimension, they have to solve a murder and finish the movie's scenario. Problem is neither mystic monkeys turn out to be great detectives.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten

Vibe : Humor and feels

Once upon a monkey

Summary : various long one shots of shadowpeach being in different fairy tales.

How to bewitch the witch : Wukong is the prince of the Sun Kingdom and falls in love with the cruel sea witch, Macaque, while said witch was destroying his wedding with the mermaid prince, Azure. Once Azure returns to his kingdom and their wedding falls void, Wukong does everything in his power to court Macaque. Turns out, courting a sea witch is quite difficult.

The strongest of them all : Macaque is a magic mirror with the ability to hear past, present and future terribly in love with his owner, the King Sun Wukong. One day Sun Wukong learns that he's not the strongest anymore, but that he's step-son, MK, is. Macaque, after listening to the future, fears for his King and tries to better the relationship between MK and Wukong.

Fighting Beauty : Macaque is prince Sun Wukong personal guard, in charge of guarding him until his betrothed comes to rescue him from the sleeping spell casted upon him. Things get awkward when Macaque awakens Sun Wukong on his first night on duty. Sun Wukong, impatient as ever, decides to slay the dragon himself and not wait on his betrothed, Macaque is dragged in the quest despite himself.

Midnight Illusion : Macaque is at day the mistreated step-son of the Lady Bone Demon, and at night the leader of the most fearsome thieves of the Sun Kingdom. He's unfortunately caught by the royal guard in the middle of a thievery. He's given two choices by the Sun King himself : either spend the rest of his life in prison, or spy on his own step-mother while also pretending to be the Sun King betrothed. Naturally, he chose the second option.

The Mage and the Monkey : Sun Wukong is cursed by the wandering mage, Macaque, after refusing to give him shelter on a stormy night. He's now the Monkey King, and he'll stay in this beastly form as long as he cannot find true love, according to the Mage, at least. But Sun Wukong is not one to stay idle, he finds the Mage huts after a lot of searching, and bugs him everyday to undo the curse. Macaque is tempted to accept, only because Sun Wukong is getting annoying.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten / rough ideas really

Vibe : Humor and fluff and angst

Narcissist :

Summary : Sun Wukong was lonely. He felt like there was a wedge between him and the world, that no-one could ever understand him. Even his successor couldn't hope to breach his shell. Pushed by his loneliness, Wukong stole a forbidden book from the gods with the vilest spells written in it and bring his shadow to life.

Fic : unwritten / will be on Ao3

Status : unwritten / very rough idea

Vibe : angst, fluff and horror (Mac being an eldritch horror)

I'll add Au's to this guide if I have any more that I think of, but that's all for now.

#shadowpeach #Au Guide #six eared macaque #lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid sun wukong #Sun wukong #lmk #shadowpeach fanfic #jttw

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stayxlix · 1 year ago

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off the deep end. (07)

~(part seven) the last nail in a shared coffin~

pairing: rebel!felix x reader (f)

genre: non-idol au, post-apocalypse/dystopian au. wc: 20.6k

series rating: 18+ **minors do not interact**

chapter warnings: violent mature themes, explicit sexual content (consensual, unprotected sex, oral sex), nightmares, mentions of murder/death, mentions of parent death, mentions of hunger, oppressive government, fighting, weaponry (knife use, gun use), panic, injury, blood, language, a whole lot lot of angst, please lmk if i missed any!!

a/n: thank you all so much for your patience and continued support, it really does mean the world to mee.<3 any feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are more appreciated than you know. im so excited to share the next part of this journey with you!! as always, i hope you enjoy.♡♡

series masterlist

"fear and love are like interwoven threads—immutable and bound together by celestial forces. the sun and moon navigate the intricate dance of light and darkness for eternity, echoing the delicate balance between the two emotions that every heart must learn."

Felix had always been able to divide fear into two distinct entities.

The first was immediate, tangible. The kind of fear he’d grown accustomed to like an old, unwelcome acquaintance. The kind that crept beneath his skin when he could no longer ignore hunger’s gnawing ache. When he observed the hollow eyes of his companions after scouring the barren landscape, only to return empty-handed. It was the frigid air that seeped into his bones during long winter nights, the kind that set his pulse racing when footsteps echoed too closely in the darkness.

The second was deeper, a phantom kind of fear that stained the recesses of his soul. It was a desperate gasp for air in the suffocating grip of hands that devoured the weak. The cool touch of a steel barrel against skin that bore the marks of a merciless world. It was fear in the phantom weight of invisible chains that had once coiled around his neck—chains wielded by demons from a past that clawed relentlessly at the barriers of his sanity.

It was the dread that he would wake up one morning to discover a void where seven—no, eight souls had once stood beside him. To find his humanity stripped away again, replaced by the savage instincts he had fought so hard to overcome.

The kind of fear that crept into his dreams belonged to the second category.

Nearly six hours had slipped away since the first glimmer of morning light, when you had woken Felix from the nightmare.

"Felix,” your voice—your real voice—not the distorted echo from his nightmare, had called out. Clear and reassuring, summoning him from the depths of his own subconscious.

“Felix, wake up. You’re dreaming.”

His eyelids shot open, pupils dilating wildly as they struggled to adjust. A sharp gasp pierced the stillness as his body surged forward. Disoriented, his hands instinctively sought you out as he struggled to untangle the threads of the nightmare from reality.

"It's okay,” you whispered, fingers gently gripping his shoulder, "you're safe."

You’re safe, you'd said. And those words, while meant to comfort him, had almost caused Felix to laugh, at the absurdity of the idea that he could ever be tormented by a nightmare involving his own harm.

His head lifted, glossy eyes still clouded with the remnants of fear. Yet, relief began to glimmer within their depths. Because your lips were not stained red, there was no blood-soaked knife clutched in his hand, no imaginary blade pierced through your chest.

Felix drew in a shuddering breath, reality slowly stitching itself back together. Piece by piece, thread by thread.

You watched him closely, concern dancing in your eyes as you tried to grasp the torment of whatever horrors he had witnessed in his sleep. And then you’d sighed, heavy with affection and a touch of sadness, before shifting closer.

Your arms enveloped his shoulders and, to his own surprise, Felix didn't resist your touch—though maybe he should have, given what his subconscious had just inflicted upon you. But he couldn’t find the strength to keep his arms from making their way around you in return.

His head dropped to your shoulder, the tension in his muscles easing. Warm touch met cold, trembling skin. The physical contact was grounding—you were grounding. A lifeline anchoring Felix to the reality he so desperately needed to return to.

He strained to listen until the steady rhythm of your heart found his ear. In the stillness, the sound grew and grew until it was the only thing he heard. Every beat was proof that you were real, breathing and alive. But as the moments stretched Felix began to fear that it might slow, that every beat might be the last before an eternity of silence, that he would look up to find a dagger buried in it once again and—

The air in his lungs became thin, his grip tightened, fingers digging into your back. “I couldn’t do anything," his voice rumbled low, muffled by the fabric of your shoulder. And he didn't even know what he was saying but the words had come out trembling. As if the nightmare had lodged itself in his throat, constricting his vocal cords.

“It’s okay,” you hushed, your lips grazing his ear in a soft caress. “It’s just a dream, it can't hurt you."

But it's not about me, he thought. It's not about me, it's never been about me. But it remained a silent confession. Because he could not bring himself to tell you the real reason the nightmare had left him so shaken. A quiet truth that hung heavily in the air, tethered to the gruesome image of you that still clung to his mind.

With a gentle tug, you encouraged him to join you in lying back down. Felix hesitated, his gaze falling toward the cave’s entrance—a reminder of the harsh reality waiting outside. But you cupped his cheek and, with a tender smile and the quiet utterance of his name, convinced him to stay.

Your bodies melded together against the uneven contours of the cave floor. Your fingers threaded through his disheveled hair, tracing the curve of his scalp with each gentle stroke. Another hour might have unfolded as you clung to each other in silence, but it never would have been enough. Time slipped away, ignoring Felix's silent plea for it to slow.

When the rest of the boys began to stir, you shared a hesitant glance. Despite his obvious reluctance for you to withdraw, slowly, gradually, you did. Your fingers left Felix’s hair and his hands slid away from your back. He let you go, eyes following your retreat, and the ache in his chest returned at full force.

As you reclaimed your original spot a few feet away, you stretched, covering a yawn. Your casual expression revealed nothing of the profound moment—the profound night—you had shared with Felix. A night of stolen intimacy, waiting to resurface again in the quiet moments when the world turned its back.

As he drove the motorcycle, squinting against the pale brightness, Felix used the sun’s position in the sky to track the passage of time.

Early afternoon, he figured. Maybe eight hours now since the group had abandoned the safety of the cave. And despite the solace he’d found in your touch that morning, a growing shadow of guilt threatened to consume his mind.

With every hour, the weight of the nightmare's horrors slowly eased, though they never fully vanished. Every time he dared to close his eyes, that agonizing image of you returned—a cruel reminder of the violence he had once been capable of.

The violence that he was still capable of.

Felix had always recognized his nightmares as a manifestation of his deepest guilt. They had always been sinister—disturbing, and yet, this particular nightmare was unlike any he had faced before. Because he wasn't afraid for himself, he'd never been. But he was terrified for you. Of what he might be capable of doing to you.

Even if Felix knew deep down that he could never intentionally hurt you, there was that persistent voice in his head reminding him of every mistake he'd made, every violent impulse he'd ever had.

His fingers flexed on the motorcycle, feeling as though the handlebars would slip through his grasp at any moment. He squeezed until his knuckled turned white, trying to hold on to some semblance of control. Because Felix was acutely aware of his capacity to lose control. Giving in to that dormant beast lingering just below the surface.

As the nightmare replayed in his mind, Felix couldn’t help but wonder if it had also been a consequence of what he’d said to you that night in the tavern—that you would already be dead if he'd had things his way. Such a careless thing to say considering that, even if he hadn’t known it then, his affection for you had existed in those early moments too.

With every jolt of the motorcycle, Felix fought the nausea that settled in his empty stomach. Caught somewhere between the past and the present, the sensation of your arms around his waist served as a physical reminder of how far he'd come since that conversation. How he'd transformed from someone potentially willing to end your life, to someone committed to protecting it at all costs.

Felix killed the engine and dismounted the bike, muscles rigid from hours of tension. Late afternoon now. Half a day had gone by when the group unanimously agreed that it was time for a break.

As he refueled the bike, its exhaust pipes still crackling with heat, he wondered how long he and Chan were going to ignore the diminishing weight of the fuel containers. But the thought was quickly drowned out by Minho and Changbin—bickering over the now unfolded map.

Felix tuned them out, making note of the way you lingered by his side. He sensed the silent inquiry in your eyes, seeking reassurance about his well-being after this morning’s ordeal. But now wasn’t the place or the time to talk about the nightmare. It was still too heavy, too raw, and to be honest Felix wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to find the words to articulate it all.

He didn’t even know where to start.

So, despite the solace he found in the quiet strength you exuded, Felix distanced himself from your side. He sought out a flat rock, its cool surface soothing against the back of his neck as he reclined. The setting sun caressed his face, and if he had summoned the courage to close his eyes completely, he thought he might have been able to envision himself back on the rooftop. To the moment Chan had first revealed the plan for the raid—a memory bathed in similar sunlight, when the breeze had carried the scent of a world that felt unrecognizable now.

Felix allowed himself to wonder, only briefly, if he should long for the simplicity of that memory. At a time when he hadn’t felt much of anything at all aside from his love for the seven boys around him. But even that, he had done his best to dull. The numbness had been a shield, but it was a defense he no longer seemed to possess. Because now, every gust of wind seemed to carry the whisper of your name. The moon, a constant observer of his fondest memories and reflections, couldn't even come close to the comfort he found in your embrace. Even the warmth of the sun on his skin could never compare to your touch. Feelings he couldn’t begin to comprehend had taken place of that numbness, battling the darkness that had lingered for far too long.

With a slight tilt of his head, Felix cast a subtle glance in your direction. He found you seated next to Seungmin a short distance away, and he wondered whether you were truly managing the way you’d claimed you were last night. Maybe it was the weariness displayed in the lines of your face, the slight downturn of your lips, the way your shoulders always seemed to carry an invisible weight—things that didn't escape his notice because he understood them all too well.

Because Felix was beginning to understand you too well, maybe.

After discovering your identity the night of the raid, Felix had done everything he could to convince himself that you were just the daughter of a monster—a pawn in a cruel game. But despite his best efforts, he could never bring himself to see you that way. He'd failed miserably at hating you, he couldn’t even dislike you, and what terrified him most was not just the acknowledgment of his potential to love you, but the possibility that maybe he always had. From the very beginning. From that fateful moment in the alley when your paths had crossed, and your lips had met, and you’d saved his life for the first time.

Of course, he hadn’t known who you were then, he’d had no clue what you might be running from, but he saw the desire to escape it in your eyes. Almost leading Felix to believe that if he'd extended his hand and whispered for you to come with him that night, you would have said yes.

Somewhere nearby, the argument between Minho and Changbin dissipated, fizzling out under the weight of exhaustion or hunger, or the recent encounter with your father's guards—undoubtedly still on everyone's minds.

Felix couldn't help the way his ears perked up when Seungmin filled the silence by engaging you in a conversation about archery, debating the finer points of how to hold a bow. Seungmin—who’d always had a very particular knack for reading the group's dynamics. Whose trust in you was something that hadn't gone unnoticed by Felix, either.

As he immersed himself in the melody of your voice and the subtle accent woven into your speech—how you pronounced words like Minho once had in those first few months after he'd joined the group—Felix allowed his heavy eyes to drift shut.

Even if he'd always been skeptical of it, Felix suddenly found himself clinging to the hope that Chan so fervently believed in—the fragile hope for a better world. And if it really did exist, then he would do anything in his power to make sure you would be there to see it.

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when it had happened—maybe he would try to figure it out some day if he lived long enough—but all he knew for certain was that somewhere along the way, the mere thought of you experiencing harm had become more terrifying to Felix than any of the horrors that had marred his own existence.

And so, he resolved to protect you from the brutality of your world, from the looming threat of the war against your father, and, most importantly, from the darkness that still dwelled within himself.

With a grin, you held the bow aloft. “See? It's all about the grip. If you don't hold it just right, your aim will be completely off."

Seungmin—who you'd quickly come to realize was never one to back down from a challenge—shook his head, streaks of chestnut in his hair catching the sunlight. Rising to his feet, he extended an arm.

“I get that you’ve had official lessons, but you’re missing the point. It's all about intuition and feeling the shot,” he continued as you handed him the bow. “You can have the perfect hold on it any day but if you don't connect with it on a deeper level, you'll never hit the mark.” He mimicked drawing an invisible arrow from the string to emphasize his point.

Intrigued by your banter, Changbin strolled over with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I don't know, I think it’s more about the stance," with a nudge, he disrupted Seungmin's balance, causing him to stumble. Changbin reached for the bow, and a smile tugged at your lips as the two began to fight over it.

A gentle breeze swept over you, carrying with it the faintest hint of distant pine, and your attention was immediately drawn away.

A few strides to your left, Felix lay reclined with his hands resting comfortably behind his head. His eyes were closed, raven-dark locks absorbing the sunlight. To anyone who didn't know the circumstances, he would have appeared content. To anyone who didn’t know Felix, he might have appeared relaxed, even.

Yet, you wondered what might be taking place beneath that calm exterior.

Felix had felt unusually distant since that morning. His glazed-over eyes seemed to wander endlessly, in every direction but to you. Something had claimed his thoughts, and you could only hope that whatever it was had nothing to do with the torture that had unfolded in his past.

You watched as he ran a hand through his hair—a habitual gesture for the boy with the freckles and the stars in his eyes. The boy with a narrative of scars on his back and a tapestry of secrets in his soul. Secrets you feared you wouldn't have enough time with him to uncover.

The muscles in his forearms flexed as he sat up, fingertips trailing across the stone beneath them. The memory of those fingers on your skin from the night before sent a tingle down your spine, igniting that familiar heat between your legs..

A small pebble came tumbling down the hillside behind you, landing gently on your outstretched hand. Startled, you glanced over your shoulder to find Minho and Jisung making their way back down the rocky incline. "Nothing as far as we can see," Minho reported.

The absence of your father's guards on the other side offered a momentary respite, but it was a fleeting moment of safety that you were well aware wouldn't last forever.

“Nothing for now," Jisung added, meeting your eyes as if he had tuned into your thoughts.

"We should keep moving," Chan appeared at your side, taking in the surroundings. "The longer we stay in one place, the more vulnerable we become."

Sure..unless the path ahead leads to an even greater danger.

Unless your father was paranoid enough to figure out where you were headed.

If he'd sent guards after you on a more direct route, you wondered if they might make it to Miroh before you. The thought of them lying in wait in anticipation of your arrival stirred up a new, particularly unsettling, concern. But when Chan turned his focus to you, you responded with a firm nod, tucking away your fears to discuss with him later.

The days were waning, leaving you to realize that summer had quietly begun to slip away. It didn’t take long for the sun to complete its descent below the jagged horizon, plunging the world into shadows once more.

The scattered rock formations took on menacing shapes—their outlines frequently obscured by passing clouds above. Under the veil of darkness, each turn of the wheels became a gamble, increasing the chances of veering off course or stumbling upon unforeseen obstacles.

Amidst the growing danger, Chan's voice cut through the rhythmic hum of the motorcycle as he called for Felix to slow down.

Felix, however, seemed determined to press forward. His muscles tensed, ignoring Chan's plea as the engine roared defiantly. And you had a feeling it wasn't just the desire to reach your destination that drove him, but a reluctance to stop and rest.

To sleep, perhaps.

"Felix,” you urged, leaning in, "it isn’t safe.”

A sudden acceleration of the bike was his only response. It surged forward as if he were trying to outpace not just your words, but the night itself.

You squeezed his waist, a silent plea for him to listen. "Lix—"

In a single, decisive motion, Felix abruptly yanked the motorcycle to the side of the rugged path. With wide eyes, you watched as he stepped down, his movements reflecting restless energy. As the dust settled, he deliberately avoided meeting your eyes, turning his focus to the rover as it pulled up beside you.

"I'll take first watch," he declared, boots crunching on loose rocks as he left your side.

You’d intended to follow him but Hyunjin was quicker. He leaped down from the rover before it’d even slowed to a stop, darting ahead to catch up with Felix.

You watched as they approached the edge of a cliff that lie straight ahead from where you stood. A frown tugged at your lips as your mind went to the twin rings they wore.

I've known Felix a lot longer than you.

As you considered the unspoken dynamic between them, whatever the hell it might be, a shadow fell over the periphery of your vision.

Jisung slipped beside you, his eyes flitting from you to the two figures now seated at the edge of the cliff.

"I spoke with him earlier," you said, eyes tethered to the outline of Hyunjin’s back. "It didn't exactly go well."

"Sometimes Felix gets like this—"

"Not Felix."

"Oh.." Jisung sighed with understanding, following your gaze to Hyunjin. "Hyunjin is protective, especially when it comes to Felix. It's been a long time since someone new joined our group, and considering your.."

"My background.."

"Yeah..that," Jisung mumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “There's history between those two, but it's mostly things that happened before I found my place in the group."

"When did you join the group, Ji?" you turned to face him, dragging your eyes away from whatever was unfolding at the cliff.

Jisung shrugged. "That is a story for another time," he said, flashing his signature grin. "Promise."

You surveyed him for a moment, sensing layers and layers of depth behind his carefree demeanor. His eyes held a narrative waiting to be told, but it was a chapter he wasn't yet ready to reveal. "I'm holding you to it," you replied, and Jisung's smile grew a little wider.

Devoid of any trees or significant cover, the wind howled through the surrounding space, sweeping up from below the cliff where Hyunjin and Felix remained. An exposed campsite meant that, to avoid the risk of drawing unwanted attention, there would be no warmth from a fire tonight. And so, the blankets were spread in a circle on the cold, uneven ground. Pulled close together for warmth.

You settled in, rummaging through your nearly empty backpack, picking at your nails, brushing the dust from your pants over and over again—anything you could to keep your eyes from straying back to the cliff.

Chan claimed the space to your right, handing over a portion of stale bread that was noticeably smaller than usual—a clear indication of your dwindling supplies. But you accepted with a grateful smile nonetheless, pushing down another concern to discuss with him later.

Too much later though, and you may need to start a list.

Unlike the night before, when adrenaline after the chase from your father's guards had fueled the sharing of memories, tonight carried something different. Animated exchanges had been replaced by contemplative silence as the boys seemed lost in their own thoughts behind heavy-lidded eyes. The exhaustion that had been building throughout the day had finally caught up with them, it seemed. And you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel it too.

Your head lifted a bit too eagerly to be discreet when the sound of approaching footsteps reached your ears. A spark of anticipation flickered within you, only to be extinguished as your eyes landed on Hyunjin.

Hyunjin settled down on Chan's other side, their words too hushed for you to catch the details. Slowly, their whispers melted away, a seamless transition from hushed dialogue to the ambiance of rustling blankets and the occasional creaking of the rover.

Your gaze wandered skyward where the stars blinked in and out of view. You watched them for a while, chewing on your bottom lip as you tried to pick out constellations Jisoo had once taught you the names of. Names you had long forgotten, not that it mattered now. Tears pricked at your eyes at the thought of your former best friend, but you didn’t let them fall.

Shifting on your side, you cast a glance at the solitary figure that remained unmoving at the cliff's edge. Moonlight painted his frame in pale shades of silver as he overlooked the expanse below.

The rational part of your mind whispered that you should let him be.

Chan’s body heat would keep you comfortable enough to fall asleep, no doubt about that. And to your other side, Jisung's familiar presence offered an added measure of comfort.

But it was your name Felix had called in his sleep that morning.

And your heart that had a tendency to rebel against the logic in your mind.

You sat up, mindful not to disturb the sleeping figures around you. The water canteen felt light in your hand as you retrieved it from your bag, quietly making your way to where Felix sat. His head turned in acknowledgment as you approached, and although his expression remained guarded, he shifted to make room for you on the beside him on the rocky outcrop.

It gets easier with time.

If this was easier than you didn’t want to know what it had been like for him before.

“You should rest. We're safe tonight,” you said through chattering teeth as the frigid earth seeped through the fabric of your clothes.

Daring a cautious glance over the edge of the cliff, the world seemed to disappear. Swallowed by a pitch-black void, the perilous drop was only discernible thanks to scattered dots of flickering light below—tiny beacons of firelight.

Felix shifted, dangling his legs over the edge. “Any one of those fires down there could belong to them."

Them.

The mention of your father's guards stirred up that uneasy feeling in your stomach. Their pursuit would be relentless, safety tonight would never guarantee safety tomorrow. But as you looked to Felix, you knew there was more to it than that. Something had changed since that morning. The distance he'd kept, the guarded look in his eyes—it mirrored the same intensity that gripped him when he'd faced down the man from his past at Yellow Wood.

And it dawned on you that maybe he wasn't referring to your father's guards at all.

You extended a hand, offering him the canteen. "At least drink something if you're going to stay awake all night.”

Felix pressed the cool metal to his lips and took a long, necessary drink before handing it back. “Thanks,” he said, fingers brushing across your own.

As the minutes stretched, the cadence of his breathing created a soothing backdrop. The heat from his body called out to you, a magnetic pull that made sleep even more inviting.

And the next time you opened your eyes, the world had shifted. Your head had found a resting place on his shoulder, your eyes having closed long before the conscious decision to sleep was made.

"You don't have to stay," Felix murmured, a subtle indication that he'd sensed you stir from the drowsy embrace of sleep. His fingers tugged at your jacket, pulling it snug around your neck to fend off the biting cold. "I'm fine, princess,” he added, making your heart flutter at the nickname. “I just don't want to close my eyes right now."

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked quietly, lifting your head from his shoulder.

"Not really. It was just a dream," he said. But his voice carried a defensive edge, leaving no doubt that it was in fact not just a dream.

“We don't have to..But I can tell its bothering you,” your brows raised in gentle invitation, urging him to share the burden.

Felix stilled before letting out a breath, a hint of frustration taking over the exhaustion in his eyes. "Why do you care?"

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden question.

You thought of everything you'd been through—the stolen moments entangled within the danger and chaos, the intimacy you'd shared up to that point.

“I thought it was clear.." you replied, looking away. But as your words hung in the air, doubt crept in. Maybe it hadn't been clear to him that it wasn't only physical for you.

Had you even allowed yourself the chance to fully accept that?

"It's not that simple," he muttered, shifting his gaze back to the distant firelight below. He toyed with the rings adorning his hands, and you tried to ignore which one his fingers gravitated to first.

Vulnerability danced in his expression, and for a heartbeat, the desperate wish that life could indeed be that simple was palpable between you.

Felix reached up to claw through his hair, tugging at the strands. When his eyes finally returned to yours, you realized it wasn't frustration you had seen in them moments ago, but something akin to fear.

"Felix.."

And Felix winced—he winced at the sound of his name falling from your lips. A subtle movement that might have been imperceptible to most, but painfully evident to you.

“You should go get some sleep,” he stated, jaw tensing with the effort of holding back words begging to be said. The quiet command held a touch of finality, causing a knot to form in your chest.

You took a steadying breath, the crisp night air stinging your lungs.

And maybe you shouldn’t have, but you said, "I care because I see more than the darkness in you, Felix. Those moments from the past that you think define you, they don't. I know you don't see anything good in yourself, but I do."

You set the canteen down beside him with a resounding clang before rising to your feet. "I care because I see someone worth caring for," you sighed. And then, with a slow shake of your head, you cast a final glance over the vast expanse below before turning to walk away.

Had Felix not been broken a very long time ago, your words that night might have shattered him completely. He fought hard to keep his eyes open, determined to avoid the return of the nightmare, but he fought harder against the overwhelming urge to chase after you.

Too many silent hours stretched before him until the sun would rise. Too much time for Felix to wrestle with the echoes of your words—for him to question exactly when he had begun to fall in love with you, and if it really was going to get you killed some day. Leaving him restless and tormented, alone beneath the sprawling canvas of a starlit sky.

The morning unfolded in a haze, draping the landscape in layers of fog that hung low and thick. Changbin had the map spread out on the hood of the rover, tracing the faded lines that marked the outskirts of District 5. "According to this,” he said, “we should be nearing the border of District 4 soon.”

Beside you, Seungmin leaned forward to catch a glimpse for himself. "What do we know about District 4?" he asked.

Changbin disguised any tension in his shoulders with a casual shrug, and it struck you then that you might not be the only one unfamiliar with the outer districts.

Chan tossed an empty supply bag into the back of the rover. "As we go further, we don't stop unless absolutely necessary," he said. And maybe you would've asked him why, if your attention hadn't been drawn to Jeongin at his side. His slender fingers grasped at the frame of the vehicle, strained knuckles betraying his effort to conceal the pain as he noticeably favored his injured foot.

You walked around and dropped an armful of folded blankets into the vehicle, making a mental note to keep an eye on Jeongin.

While the group prepared to continue the journey, the silence between you and Felix pulled at your thoughts, too. You’d hesitated for a moment before climbing onto the motorcycle behind him. His stoic expression, like always, did an exceptional job at masking whatever he was feeling.

Summoning a deep breath, you nudged the thoughts surrounding him to the edges of your mind. The urgency of outrunning the guards, reaching Miroh, an inevitable confrontation with your father some day—there were far more pressing concerns that demanded your focus.

And so, when the motorcycle roared to life you shifted your arms around Felix, intentionally loosening your hold.

If the freckled boy sensed the subtle change, he didn't let it show.

The moisture in the air hinted at an impending change.

It wasn't long before thick raindrops began to break free from low-hanging clouds. The motorcycle's wheels fought for traction, skidding on the slick terrain. Puddles formed in the lowest areas as the rain intensified, visibility deteriorating rapidly.

Raindrops pelted Felix's leather jacket as he lifted an arm to shield his eyes from the downpour. Casting a fleeting glance behind, you struggled to discern the faint outline of the rover.

Your head snapped forward again as the bike slipped, threatening to lose balance. With one hand, Felix firmly corrected the course of the motorcycle. His free hand reached out unexpectedly, and you felt the warmth of his touch as he intertwined his fingers with yours. He pulled one of your hands further around his waist, ensuring with subtle pressure that your hold around him was secure.

When he lifted his hand, you maintained the grip, fingers securely entwined.

The rain poured and poured, drenching you both. Yet, steady progress was made. You entered a narrow mountain pass, the landscape unfolding in glimpses as you pressed forward.

Steady progress was made, until the ground beneath you gave way without warning—sending the motorcycle into a sudden descent.

Even with his seasoned reflexes, Felix barely had enough time to react as it plunged downward. The air was stripped from your lungs, a dizzying mix of exhilaration and fear coursing through your veins. Your eyes squeezed shut against the onslaught of wind, and you didn't open them again until—with a jarring thud—the motorcycle reached the bottom of the incline.

The impact sent vibrations through your bones, mud spraying in a messy wave as Felix steadied the bike with a foot.

Rain-soaked strands of black hair clung to his forehead when he whipped around to face you, droplets streaming down his face. “Shit are you alright?!” his voice cut through the thunderous pounding of your heart in your ears.

But you hardly registered his words at all.

Your focus was entirely captivated by what lay over his shoulder.

A vast expanse of towering evergreen trees stretched before you. Tall and imposing, they stood like sentinels guarding whatever secrets lie inside from the rest of the world. The branches swayed as if the forest itself was alive, pulsing with energy that seemed to beckon you closer.

You were almost certain that nothing like this had been marked on the map. And it was massive. A beast all its own.

With a scowl, Felix dismounted the bike, boots sinking into the damp soil beneath. As he approached the forest, you turned to survey the steep incline behind you.

The landscape extended high and wide, like a colossal step down in the earth, stretching as far as you could discern through the curtain of rain. As you studied it, the rover appeared at the top. A sudden apparition against the stormy backdrop, the glimmer of its headlights and the silhouettes of the boys appeared as faint outlines.

Blinking against the rain, you took a few steps over to the foot of the incline. As you strained to comprehend Minho and Chan's growing shouts, Felix materialized at your side. His voice joined the chorus in an attempt to shout back however, like them, his words were swallowed by the storm.

Abandoning their efforts to communicate with you and Felix, the boys leaned together to discuss something amongst themselves.

“What are they doing?” you questioned as the rover began to make a cautious retreat from the edge above.

Felix craned his neck, squinting against the rain. "Probably going to find shelter to wait out the storm, I saw a cave entrance not too far back—"

A brilliant streak of lightning slashed across the sky, illuminating the entirety of your surroundings in a bluish-white glow. The accompanying crack of thunder tore through the air, the sheer force of the noise making your heart lurch in your chest.

Felix lowered his eyes, a softness creeping into his expression upon discovering your hand clasped tightly onto his sleeve. “If they’re going to wait it out, we'll do the same,” he said, taking your hand.

He led you across the tree line, to a colossal evergreen. Its base was substantial, the lowest branches forming a natural canopy like the skirt of a dress—large enough for both of you to slip underneath. His grip on your hand tightened briefly before pulling away. “I’ll be right back. I need to get the bike."

Reluctantly, you let go of his hand. "It’s just a little rain, princess,” he said softly before darting back out in the direction of the forest’s edge.

Beneath the the sheltering branches of the evergreen, you huddled closer to its trunk. Rough bark dug into your back as you pulled your knees up. Thunder rumbled overhead, shaking the earth beneath you.

You shut your eyes—counting the seconds, the breaths.

You thought of a refreshing cave spring echoing with deep laughter, a motorcycle ride underneath the stars. You pictured freckles like constellations, dark eyes reflecting the night sky.

Relief flooded your veins when you looked up to find Felix slipping back beneath the branches.

His shoulder brushed against yours as he sat down beside you with a tired sigh. Stretching his legs out, shadows played on his face as he gazed up through the lattice of pine needles above. “You really don't like storms, do you? You had the same look on your face that night in the tavern.”

“I’m fine,” you protested, the words coming out sharper than you'd intended.

“So fucking stubborn,” he grumbled under his breath before shrugging out of his jacket. Every flex of his muscles was accentuated by the wet fabric that clung to him.

Not that you'd been staring.

When he draped the jacket over your shoulders, the urge to protest simmered beneath your skin, a lingering effect of your earlier frustration with him. But it was warm, familiar, and for some reason, his scent was more comforting than you'd ever understand.

So, you said nothing.

Your bent knees found a resting place on his thigh. And beneath the heavy weight of his jacket, the thunder and lightning gradually began to lose their intimidating edge.

When you crossed your arms for added warmth, your fingers brushed against the handle of your mother’s knife. With a subtle flick, you pulled it out and tossed it into the ground. Your eyes traveled from the gleaming blade to the engravings on the hilt, the dried blood in the crevices. And as you watched the rain wash it away, you were reminded that your father's guards weren't the only thing Felix was running from.

There was a different kind of sinister out there—a malevolence engraved into the scars you'd felt along his back. You'd wielded the knife to free him from one of them, but you weren't naive enough to think that there weren't more out there.

The mere thought of how many might be hunting him at that very moment sent a spark of something searing up your spine.

Not fear, or sadness, but anger. A raw, primal hatred that surpassed even the disdain you felt for your own father.

“Keep clenching your jaw like that and your teeth are going to shatter,” his deep voice pulled you back from your thoughts. One of his hands found a resting place on your knee. “What’re you thinking about?” Another ominous rumble echoed from somewhere above, and he added, “Aside from the big scary thunder."

You rolled your eyes, sorting through the myriad of thoughts in your head.

Having to relive what you've been through in nightmares.

What I said to you last night.

What we did the night before.

You took a deliberate breath, the scent of rain and earth filling your lungs, and nudged his shoulder with yours. “You first.”

His head, still resting against the tree, tilted to the side. The way he met your eyes asked, do you really want to know?

When you refused to look away, he sighed. There was a flicker of hesitation in his expression, letting you know he was on the verge of revealing something deeply personal.

“Most of the time," he began, "my memories feel like someone else’s," his throat moved, swallowing down the weight of those memories.

"But there are moments where it all comes back."

Moments.

Moments, as in those nightmares.

Your next thought slipped past your lips, spurred by genuine concern. “Lix, are you okay? Not just after yesterday morning but..I know you've been through a lot, and..”

"I'm fine, princess," Felix managed a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "If you want to know the truth, in a strange way I’m thankful for the nightmares.”

Because I feel like I deserve them.

The unspoken words were written all over his face.

You noticed the subtle tremor in his fingers as they began to tap against your knee. You adjusted your position so that you could look. at him. Really look at him.

His dark eyes, pools of endless regret, met yours. And in them you found a well of profound sadness, a lingering ache from wounds that would probably never fully heal.

A delicate touch trailed from his thumb as he brought it up to caress your bottom lip, gently drawing it back. Your breath hitched in response to the intimate contact. A sigh escaped him as he contemplated..something. And then his thumb retreated, leaving behind a tingling trail of longing in its wake.

"You wouldn't look at me like that, if you knew everything.”

You frowned at his words, at the sudden shift in conversation and the evident self-loathing in his tone.

Before you could come up with a response, his head crashed back against the tree. “When I asked why you care last night, it's because you shouldn’t," he said.

"What do you mean?”

”I mean you shouldn't be worrying about me or my nightmares or any of the shit I carry with me," he answered immediately. "There is so much you don't know about the way I've lived, the things I've done..I am not who you think I am."

“Then help me understand,” you urged.

But there was a flicker of something in his expression that suggested he didn’t believe he was worth your understanding.

“You can’t,” Felix emphasized. A distant look clouded his eyes, a flash of whatever it was that had crossed his features after the nightmare seemed to resurface. “You grew up with servants to meet your needs while the rest of us bled for every scrap of food and warmth. You can’t understand, y/n. And even if you could, it won't change who I am or what I've done. The blood on my hands will never wash away.”

For a moment, the only sound was the relentless percussion of rain on the forest floor. Then, you felt something inside you snap. The princess role, the sheltered naivety that had plagued your entire existence—the pressure from pushing it all down was suddenly released under the weight of his words.

“Is that all you see when you look at me?" your voice was sharp, edged with years of pent-up frustration. "Just a sheltered princess? Do you think that was my choice? You think I’ve never felt pain, Felix? That I haven’t seen things that will haunt me for the rest of my life?”

You shifted, the jacket slipping from your shoulders and dropping to the mud. “And who are you to decide what I can or cannot understand? You of all people should know that there is more to someone than the history they carry.”

Ignoring the bewilderment in his expression, you stood and pushed through the dense branches, pine needles scratching across your face as you stepped into the open forest. Cool droplets splashed across your skin, mingling with the heat that had begun to fill your veins. Your vision blurred with rain and tears that threatened to spill over—the culmination of years spent hidden away, a lifetime of being taught not to care about anything finally starting to unravel.

Footsteps splashed behind you. “Wait—I’m sorry,” Felix pleaded, his hand finding your shoulder with firm, gentle strength. “I didn’t mean to belittle what you’ve been though," he said, stepping in front of you.

He blinked against the falling rain, freckles glistening. "Please, y/n. I see your strength and I see how much we—I need you. And that terrifies me more than anything because—”

He caught himself, choking on the words. The voice in his head told him to let you walk away, just like he had done last night. But Felix was so goddamn tired of acting indifferent to everything around him. Whether it was the lingering tension between him and Hyunjin, the fact that the nightmares had been devouring him for years, or the way he tried to ignore how losing you would obliterate whatever small part of himself he thought might actually be worth something.

He wasn't tired, he was fucking exhausted. And the fatigue of pretending that he wasn't human was killing him.

Maybe it had been for a very, very long time.

And maybe that is why Felix found himself unable to bear it any longer. The accumulation of secrets, and pretense, and hidden emotions, it pushed and it pressed against his chest until it hurt. And it made him want to live—to experience the complete depths of life that he had been depriving himself of for as long as he could remember.

“When I said you were my weakness, princess. I meant it," he confessed, taking a subtle step closer. "There are very bad people chasing me, and they always catch up. They will again, and I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to you because of me. The things they will do to you if they find out what you mean to me," he took a steadying breath, "I'm only trying to protect you, because what I feel for you is..”

His throat bobbed, preparing to continue. But before he could, you lifted a finger and gently pressed it against his lips.

With a feather light touch, you traced a path from his lips to his cheek, to his temple and down his jawline. You stopped to caress the sensitive skin on his neck, as if trying to erase the memories burned there beneath your fingertips.

You felt his warmth, the rapid beat of his pulse.

And you weren’t entirely sure your own heart was beating when you leaned forward to connect your lips with his.

His breath caught, as if not quite expecting it. He kissed you back, applying a tender pressure against your lips before abruptly pulling away. “If you knew what I am capable of—"

“I don’t care what you have done, Felix,” you interrupted, "I. Don’t. Care," you drowned his protests in another kiss, and his lips tasted like rain and longing and everything you were afraid to lose. "I want you, I want every part of you. And if you choose to share your past with me, although I might not fully comprehend it, it won’t change that."

You pulled back and held his gaze. "I am not afraid of you. Pushing me away won't protect me, and I'm not asking you to change, Felix, but I need you to see me for who I am now. Not the person I was expected to be in that palace. I was so broken and alone, and I don't think I even realized it until I met you. And I don't know who I am yet, but I am figuring it out because of you—because of all of you. So don't take that away from me by telling me that I shouldn't care."

As your words settled in the space between you, you decided that Felix had never looked more human to you than he did in that moment.

A lone droplet slid down his cheek, and when you leaned in to kiss it away, the taste of salt lingered on your lips. Revealing something far more profound.

Before you could react, his hands slid to your waist, warm and possessive as his lips claimed yours. He guided you until your back collided with the bare trunk of a dying tree. "I'm sorry," he whispered, thick accent sending shivers down your spine. "I'm not good at things like this, but I care about you, too. Too much, sweetheart. More than I should." The sincerity in his voice resonated with you. He meant the words—truly meant them. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep you safe. You know that, right?" he added, thumb brushing your cheek.

And you did. You'd felt it in his touch, when he kissed you, the way he looked at you. You nodded, tracing the contours of his face, "I’m yours, Lix."

The words came out quicker than you could register, but you didn't regret them.

Maybe it made you fucking selfish, to crave losing yourself in him when the entire world was perched upon your shoulders, but you didn't regret them.

"You were always mine," Felix breathed, "before we met, before all of this, you were never their princess," he leaned in, pressing his lips to your forehead. "You were always mine.”

And then, Felix kissed you like he was making up for all of the wasted time before you’d met—for all of the time you would lose when fate inevitably ripped you apart. He kissed you like he had been chasing you through every life before this one, and would follow through every one after.

When he ground his hips against yours, the intensity of his desire was evident in the way he murmured your name. A low, rumbling growl escaped his throat, making you acutely aware of the silence around you. The rain had ceased, leaving only the sounds of your heavy breathing and the occasional rustle of branches above.

When you shifted to grant his wandering hands access to your backside, his boot slipped in the mud. Your lips curved into a smile against his as you realized the absurdity of the situation—how ridiculous you must look shivering and drenched in rainwater, wrapped up in each other like this.

"Smooth," you teased.

Felix responded with a subtle shake of his head, a shy smile playing on his lips. Closing his eyes, he groaned softly and pressed his forehead against yours. "I hate this," he said.

You pulled back, your puzzled expression prompting a low chuckle from him.

"I just wish there was somewhere we could go," he clarified, "somewhere warm and dry," he swiped the lingering raindrops from your cheeks.

"Somewhere we could be alone," you added, lifting your arms to wrap around the back of his neck. "Just us."

Felix hummed in agreement. The desire was reflected in his eyes, a shared longing that resonated between you. But the idea of a place where the two of you could exist peacefully, away from the unforgiving grasp of reality, felt like an elusive fantasy that might always be just out of reach.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been flipped, Felix's expression gave way to a surge of profound intensity.

"Some day," he dropped his voice, "When all of this is over, I'm going to carry you back into that palace." His lips found the curve of your jaw, trailing a heated path down. "I'm going to take my time with you, princess," he nipped at the sensitive skin on your neck, causing your core to flutter with anticipation. "And then," he whispered, "I'm going to lay the world at your feet."

You held your breath as he brought one of your hands to his chest, spreading your fingers out over his beating heart. "Its yours," he said, "and I don't care what you do with it."

With your palm still pressed against his heart, a quiet realization rippled through your mind.

You might love him.

You might be a fool to think there was any part of you that didn't love Felix. And maybe you were a coward, too. Too hesitant to say the three little words hovering on your tongue, for fear that you might become addicted to how it would feel to hear them back.

Your eyes widened as another realization crossed your mind—the understanding that, in some way, loving Felix might always have been inevitable.

And you wondered if he had known it long before you.

Don't let me love you.

You hesitated, the weight of the promise casting a shadow.

But when Felix leaned in to capture your lips with his, the pull between you was too strong to resist. Something cosmic, two souls irresistibly entwined. And you only hoped he could decipher the silent declaration of your emotions lingering in the spaces between each breath.

The kiss deepened into something desperate. Heated and sensual as your tongues collided. A soft, needy sound escaped your throat when he slipped his hands underneath your shirt, cold rings making you shudder. Your arms tugged around his neck, urging him to press his body closer.

Curling your fingers in his hair, you pulled firmly, because you knew how much he liked it.

"Are you trying to get me to fuck you in the middle of this forest?" he said, stifling a groan when you repeated the action.

You laughed—a small, lighthearted chuckle against his lips. "A forest? Never. I prefer caves, actually."

He let out an amused scoff. "Is that so? I'd think someone of such high status like yourself would be into more sophisticated places..like closets."

Your mouth fell open in mock astonishment, a smile playing on your lips as you remembered that night at Clé. "What the hell were we thinking?"

"I know what I was thinking," he responded, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. "I was thinking that you're fucking irresistible," his breath against your ear made your entire body heat up. “That every time I look at you, I want you wrapped around my cock. That when we're with the guys and one of them looks at your ass," he moved his hands around to give a firm squeeze to your backside. “Or your tits," he brought his hands up to grope at your breasts, making you moan. “I want to fuck your pretty pussy in front of them until you're leaking with my cum."

A chill traveled throughout your entire body, covering your skin in goosebumps.

"Then why don't you?” you purred, “fill me up with your cum, I mean," you clarified. Although something about the idea of Felix taking you while the rest of the boy watched stirred up something in your core that you’d never felt before.

“You know why,” he groaned. His adam's apple bobbed as your hands traced along his belt, fingers grazing the skin just inside his waistband.

One of your hands slowly slid down, and you weren't surprised at all to find his already hardened cock pulsing through his pants. The hiss he let out turned to a weak groan when you tightened your grip. And god there was nothing you wouldn't have given to be alone with him and a fucking bed. You needed to taste him, to feel his heavy length on your tongue, stuffed inside your aching cunt.

He started rocking his hips into you slowly, pressing your back further into the tree. "Princess," he dragged out the word against your neck, sucking at the skin. You whimpered in response, head falling against the tree."Do something for me?" he asked.

"Anything," you managed to say.

"Jump."

And you did. Without hesitation you jumped into his arms, locking your ankles around his waist. Felix's eyes sparkled as he turned, surveying the distance between the two of you and the tree you'd taken shelter underneath earlier.

He began to step—but not toward the tree. No, toward the motorcycle beside it.

He lowered you down gently in front of the handlebars before putting his hands on them, closing you in. You recognized the glazed over look in his eyes, and you thought it might be your favorite look of his.

You knew what it meant, and you needed him too.

When your lips reconnected it was fervent. Wild, and raw, and vulnerable. His hand found its way to your neck, making your pussy throb when he lightly squeezed. And your moans mixed when his crotch rubbed against yours, pushing your ass against the front of the motorcycle.

Felix groaned deeply, trying to focus on you and not the growing throb in his dick when you grabbed his hand and shoved it to that needy spot between your legs.

"Felix," you whined, bucking your hips into his touch, "fuck me, please. I don't care where we are, just fuck me."

There was nothing Felix wouldn't have given for the chance to take his time with you. To have the luxury of time without interruption, where the whole entire world would simply fuck off for a few blissful hours. Days, maybe.

But time had never been very kind to Felix. So, without wasting any more of it, he helped you shove down your pants and underwear.

And then, his knees buckled.

He hit the ground and immediately began kissing your inner thighs, moving his face closer and closer to your cunt. And it was when he tilted his head to the side, stopping to look up at you, that you knew you were fucked. The pleasure was already building in your lower abdomen and he hadn't even put his mouth on your pussy yet.

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a shaky breath when his tongue finally met your folds, licking a long stripe through them. Felix brought one of your hands to his hair, and you were instantly tangling your fingers in the damp locks. He swiped his tongue in a jagged pattern, brushing his nose against your clit because likes the way it makes you squirm.

He mumbled to himself, something about how good you tasted, before his puffy lips latched on to your clit. You were on the verge of tears, hips jerking when he started sucking on the bundle of nerves, flicking at it with his tongue.

You tightened your grip on his hair, shoving his face against your pussy as your other hand reached for the handlebars behind you, feeling yourself getting closer to the edge.

He brought his fingers up and plunged them inside of you with ease, using them to scissor you open as he made out with your cunt.

“C-close,” you stuttered as his tongue dipped into your hole.

He looked up, and the sight of him on his knees with your arousal glistening on his face, was more than enough to send you over the edge.

Your thighs closed around his head, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure ripped through you. You moaned his name, pussy throbbing and clenching around his fingers as you came.

Felix smirked against your core, slowing his pace to help you work through the orgasm.

And then, before you'd even had the chance to open your eyes, you were being flipped around and bent over the handlebars. Felix pressed the palm of his hand on your lower back, forcing your body to lean over it further.

Your eyes widened, mouth watering when you heard the clink of his belt unbuckling.

"Gonna take you like this,” he growled, the words rumbling out from his chest. And you were suddenly very thankful for the bike, because it was the only thing keeping you upright.

Felix shoved his pants down, just enough to reach for his thick cock. "Feel what you do to me baby?" He tapped it against your ass a few times before using the tip to spread your folds, gathering your slick.

"Felix," you gasped, swallowing hard. "Don't be gentle."

"Desperate little slut," he cooed, aligning himself with your dripping entrance. "My desperate little slut. Always so good for me, so wet and ready to take my cock like you were made for it."

Without warning, he slammed into you. The full length of him, so heavy and solid and filling you up so well, had your eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

"Oh," you gasped when he landed a harsh smack to your ass.

"Feels good, huh?" Felix smirked, chuckling lowly when you began to vigorously nod your head in response.

"Move, Lix," you cried, "m-move, please move."

And although he'd like to make you beg just a little bit more, Felix physically couldn't hold back any longer. He grunted as he set a steady rhythm. "Pussy's so good, fucking sucking me in baby," he moaned, pushing you further over the handlebars. He picked up the pace when you told him to, burying his face into your neck and sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin.

You emitted a broken, strangled moan when he tugged your head back by the roots of your hair, brain growing foggy with every drag of his cock along your walls. He drilled into you until his thrusts turned sloppy and irregular. When you started fucking yourself back on his dick, his hips trembled, stuttering into yours.

"Princess," he panted, breath hot against your neck, slowing his pace to try and keep himself from spilling inside of you. And Felix thought it might just be the hardest thing he'd ever had to do, when you start to beg for his cum. Whimpering incoherently about how badly you needed him to fill you up with his seed.

"Felix," you cried, feeling your second orgasm building, "feels so fucking good, keep going, keep going, I'm g-gonna—" you whimpered, inhaling sharply as you cum again, tears pricking at your eyes as you cream on his cock.

Felix bit his lip as your walls fluttered around him. His deep moans turned into pretty high-pitched sounds. And he was cursing, words you’d never even heard before, when his hips suddenly stilled.

"Ah, fuck—" he shuddered when he started to spill inside of you. He hurriedly pulled out, wrapping his hand around his pulsating length as he finished in his palm.

When you were coherent and able to feel your limbs again, you turned to look at him.

Felix was panting, chest heaving, as he came down from his own high. His hand was covered in his own sticky release. And you weren't quite sure if it was leftover rain or beads of sweat rolling down his face, but he was beautiful. Lips parted, dark eyes blown wide with pleasure.

He looked up, meeting your gaze with a tired half smile, and it broke something within you.

In that split second, you recognized that you might love him even more than you'd thought. And it was a feeling tainted with a subtle undercurrent of fear—the metaphorical nail in a shared coffin.

Because you're pretty sure it is going to get both of you killed some day.

Imprinted on your skin, Felix's scent mixed seamlessly with the clean breeze that enveloped you upon stepping out from beneath the trees—his warmth a comforting presence at your back.

Something caught your eye, bringing your attention to the top of the incline where the rover had returned, its metallic exterior gleaming.

As you surveyed the narrow drop, a daunting realization began to take hold. The slope stretched on in either direction, leaving no choice but for the boys to make their own descent if you were to reunite.

While you contemplated whether or not the angle might be gradual enough to allow for a cautious descent, Chan's voice rang out from above. “Stay back! We'll come to you!"

Felix cast a worried glance up and down the slope. "It's too steep," his lips tightened into a thin line as the tires inched closer to the edge above.

Charged, electrifying silence filled the air, heightening every detail of your surroundings—the engine's low hum, the rhythmic drip drip drip of water from the branches at your back.

"Maybe they should.." you hesitated, searching for an alternative that didn't exist. But it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because your voice was drowned out by the screeching protests of metal against rock.

With a sudden lurch, the rover initiated its descent.

The first tentative movements sent a cascade of loose rocks tumbling down the slope. The vehicle jerked and swayed in tandem with Chan's adjustments to the wheel, suspension audibly groaning underneath the strain.

Just when it seemed it might conquer the descent unscathed, the air was shattered by a stark crunch as one of the headlights collided with a protruding rock.

The impact sent shockwaves throughout the vehicle, a collective gasp escaping the group as Chan lost control.

In a frantic sequence of events, Minho leaned over, grappling with the wheel to help Chan regain traction. Changbin shot an arm out to grip the open frame, and Jisung buried his head in his hands.

Felix took a shuffling step forward, propelled by instinct to help the boys. Your fingers wrapped around his arm, yanking him back as the rover slammed against solid ground at the bottom of the incline.

The collision resonated through the air, leaving each of you speechless.

Jisung's wide eyes met yours, peering up from beneath the curtain of hair that had fallen into his face at the impact. A disbelieving smile fell across his lips, as if the absurdity of the situation had struck him in that moment. And you couldn't help but return the smile, shaking your head in relief as you acknowledged the collective insanity that had become your reality.

Chan's shoulders slumped and he bowed his head, taking a moment to collect himself. A mere ten seconds passed before he straightened his posture. Stepping down from the vehicle, he crossed his arms over his chest, muttering a curse as his eyes narrowed to the broken headlight.

The rest of the boys disembarked following Chan. Changbin pulled the map from his jacket, taking note of its condition before handing it over to him, and the group gathered around their leader in anticipation.

Chan's brow furrowed in concentration. A moment of disbelief crossed his features before he began to shake his head. "This entire forest isn't even on the map," his eyes lifted to sweep across the endless expanse of trees.

An exchange of looks rippled through the group as you waited for his next words.

"We can waste fuel trying to get around it,” he finally offered, "Or..." his gaze returned to the map.

“Or,” Minho interjected, catching everyone's attention, "we go through it."

The simplicity of his statement held a sense of something bold—a willingness to face the unknown head-on.

The forest did represent the unknown..But it had to end eventually. The fuel was dwindling, every one of you knew it, and wasting it in an attempt to find a way around the forest could be just as dangerous as navigating straight into its heart.

A decision loomed, demanding a choice that balanced the unknown with the practical constraints you faced.

Chan looked to Felix, seeking guidance in the unspoken language they shared. Felix, in turn, redirected his gaze to Hyunjin. The exchange unfolded like a ritual, a pattern the three of them had followed countless times before.

Silent affirmation in the form of a single nod from Felix was all it took for Chan to make the decision. “We go through," he declared.

Jisung cleared his throat, placing a hand on the back of his neck. “It can’t be any worse than what we’ve been through so far, right?”

His attempt at optimism, although appreciated for its intent, was quickly overshadowed by the ominous presence of the trees that loomed behind you.

Changbin squared his shoulders, cocking the heavy weapon in his arms. "Too late to turn back now," he caught your eye, and you nodded in silent agreement along with the rest, his voice echoing endlessly in your mind.

Too late to turn back now.

The forest held an ancient energy, a guardian of untold history. The growl of the engines harmonized as they wove cautiously between trees with an undercurrent of something otherworldly, something wild.

The further the group pressed on, the more it triggered an unexpected wave of discomfort in Felix. His chest tightened as vast horizon was replaced by the suffocating confinement of dense foliage. It brought to light an aspect of himself that he hadn't consciously acknowledged before—how deeply he had come to rely on the open sky and the sense of freedom it provided.

As the familiar feeling of being hunted settled in his bones, his eyes darted anxiously back and forth, scanning for shadows that danced in patterns at the edges of his vision. The words he'd confessed to you about who was chasing him echoed in his thoughts, and he half-expected their figures to materialize from the shadows at any moment—

No.

They couldn't have followed the nine of you out here.

The journey, the logistical challenges it would've taken to track your path through the districts..Not to mention that your group would’ve been long gone by the time they'd realized the fate of the man they'd sent after him at Yellow Wood—the man you'd killed to protect him.

The man whose name was enough to elicit a visceral response from Felix, the scars on his back tingling with every syllable as it resonated through his mind.

"They couldn't have," he muttered under his breath. They couldn't have followed you. They couldn't have.

But what if—

"Felix!" your shout pierced his thoughts, snapping his focus back to the path in front of the motorcycle.

Shit.

The wheels jerked violently as he veered to avoid a large ditch filled with rainwater and mud. The bike danced on the edge of disaster, narrowly avoiding the hidden hazard.

Felix’s eyes widened in realization as he twisted around. “Chan, watch out!” his voice boomed, echoing through the trees, but the warning was futile.

The rover was following far too closely behind.

It's front end plunged first, followed by a moment of suspense before the back wheels followed suit—the mud greedily swallowing them whole.

Despite the churning tires, the vehicle was forced into an abrupt halt. A chorus of frustrated exclamations filled the air, Chan's curses cutting through the loudest as he slammed his hands on the steering wheel in defeat.

You and Felix quickly abandoned the motorcycle, hands pressing onto the muddied surface of the rover. The rest of the boys, excluding Chan and Jeongin, joined you in a synchronized effort to push it out.

Muscles strained, boots sank into the earth, the wheels budged slightly, but despite your collective strength..

Nothing.

Chan unleashed his building frustration by forcefully slamming his foot on the gas pedal once more. The engine responded with a thunderous roar—thick clumps of mud scattering in every direction from the tires, still locked in a futile struggle.

"Chan, stop!" Minho called out, covering his eyes as he stepped back.

Thick sludge splattered across your clothes, adhering to every fiber. You rubbed your eyes to wipe it from your face, and when your vision cleared you realized that the situation had transcended beyond mere inconvenience.

The fading daylight had begun to cast eerie shadows around you. The gravity of your predicament sank in—how utterly alone you were, and it was the first time you thought that might be a bad thing.

Jeongin, confined to the vehicle due to his injured foot, swiveled around to observe the group. He put a hand over his mouth to conceal the sound that escaped his lips. However, what began as a tentative giggle soon evolved, bubbling up from the depths of his chest into hearty laughter. "You guys look awful,” he mused, dimples on full display.

The group exchanged glances, surveying their disheveled appearances.

Hyunjin, in particular, appeared thoroughly offended by his ruined clothing. His disgusted expression only fueled the laughter that had begun to grow around you.

Seungmin protested as Changbin (forcefully) pulled him into a hug, smearing even more mud onto his clothes.

And beside you, Felix's perfect face was seemingly untouched by the mess that adorned the rest of him. It prompted you to swipe some of the mud from your cheek and transfer it to his. The act elicited a surprised, but amused reaction from the freckled boy as the corners of his mouth twitched, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of appreciation for the unexpected playfulness.

Even Chan couldn't stifle a small chuckle as he stole a glance at the group through the rearview mirror.

Surrounded by the laughter of those you had slowly come to trust, you were reminded of what had brought you there in the first place—why it was so important to dismantle your father's oppressive regime for good.

Despite the encroaching night, darkness had yet to fully envelop the surroundings. There was still daylight left. One more challenge was added to the list of those you faced, but there was something about the boys and their resilience that instilled a small sense of hope in you. Making you feel as if their collective strength might just see you through the uncertainties ahead.

And if not, well it was far too late to turn back now.

With the ground unsuitable for spreading blankets, the process of setting camp mainly involved finding patches of drier ground to rest.

You observed the deliberate effort each of the boys made to avoid peering at the rover, the eyesore that it was. Chan was the only one who hadn't left its side, his mind undoubtedly concocting some kind of plan to free it come morning. “Hopefully”, he said to no one in particular as he kicked one of the tires, “we’ll be able to get it out after the mud dries.”

Your fingers fiddled with the laces of your boots, tying them over and over again to divert them from scratching at the drying mud on your skin. With each of you reluctant to waste your precious water supply on a mere rinse, you held on to the possibility that tomorrow's journey might lead you to a stream.

A yearning for the refreshing waters of the cave spring developed within you, intensifying with each passing moment. But it wasn't just the longing for cleanliness that fueled your desire to be back there.

Your eyes darted to Felix, crouched down beside you. Absorbed in concentration, his tongue habitually poked out the side of his mouth as he worked alongside Changbin to start a fire. His dark hair was up, a few strands escaping the confines of the tie to delicately frame his face.

You shook your head, refocusing your on Jeongin seated against a log at the edge of the clearing.

Felix glanced up when you touched his arm gently. His eyes followed your movement as you stood, the soft crunch of leaves beneath your boots resonating in the quiet surroundings.

The mossy surface of the log pressed against your back as you lowered yourself down next to Jeongin. "How're you holding up?" you asked, eyes trailing back to Felix as he returned to work on the fire.

"Could be worse," Jeongin replied softly. You pursed your lips, a moment of silence passing between you before he spoke again. "Can I be honest?"

"Of course," you said, inviting him to share his thoughts.

His fists clenched, fingers digging into the soggy grass beneath.

"Please don't tell the others," he began, quieting his voice. "But if we can't get it out," he gestured toward the rover, "I'm worried about slowing everyone down. I just don't want to be a burden if we have to continue on foot, you know?"

"Jeongin you are not a burden," you were quick to reply, "and nobody is leaving you behind. Whatever happens, we'll find a way to get to Miroh. All of us."

When he failed to respond, you reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. You turned to meet his eyes, and your stomach dropped.

A film of sweat covered his forehead. His complexion had taken on an unsettling pallor, and you guessed that if you were to press your hand to his forehead, it would be burning hot despite the chill in the air.

You fought to maintain a reassuring smile as your gaze swept across the clearing, landing on Minho. He was engrossed in the meticulous task of inspecting and wiping down the remaining firearms with Jisung.

With silent intensity, you begged him to look up.

The air seemed to still as you waited, sounds of the forest fading. When Minho finally raised his eyes to meet your own, the unspoken plea in your expression was clear.

With quick, fluid movement, he excused himself and made his way over where to you and Jeongin sat.

Minho knelt down in front of Jeongin, breaking the tension with small talk as he carefully unlaced his boot. He gently pulled back the bandages to assess the strain on the wound, and despite the stitches holding together well, the surrounding skin displayed signs of inflammation.

Amidst your focus, a sudden grunt of frustration sliced through the air.

Your eyes followed the source of the disturbance to Changbin and Felix. The duo was still locked in a battle with the damp leaves and twigs that refused to ignite—each failed attempt only deepening their shared frustration as the daylight waned.

You stole one more quick glance at Jeongin’s food before rising to your feet. “We need to find dry wood,” you announced.

But you were immediately caught off guard when the deep, resonant timbre of Felix's voice intertwined with Minho's softer tone as they both volunteered to accompany you.

The unexpectedness of Minho's offer left even Hyunjin standing motionless with raised eyebrows across the clearing.

Felix cleared his throat, maintaining his crouched position next to Changbin. A hesitant glance unfolded between him and Minho before he muttered, “Yeah..you two go.”

Minho got to his feet, seemingly unbothered by the reaction he'd caused. Stepping up to your side, he gestured to the forest behind you. "We're losing daylight."

Obviously.

As he strode past you, heading for the trees, you briefly glanced back to the others.

Felix had already returned to the task of trying to coax a spark from the wet kindling. Chan had found his way around the back of the rover—now absorbed in taking inventory of your remaining supplies. Jisung gave you a meaningful look, motioning with his eyes for you to catch up to Minho..

And so, with a determined breath and nothing to lose, you followed the boy from District 9 into the encroaching twilight.

It was as if even the forest held its breath, as if it were sentient and fully aware of the undercurrents of tension between you and Minho.

Silence draped between you, thick and uncomfortable, as Minho guided the way. You glared at the back of his head, making note of the distinctive shade of his hair—gray or perhaps a faded light blue, with grown out roots revealing the natural color underneath.

In District 9, it wasn't uncommon for residents to dye their hair various shades—a symbol of status due to the expense of such indulgences. The gradient of Minho's hair made you wonder just how long he had been away from his home district.

Your home district.

As you considered the shared connection between the two of you, Minho broke the silence. “His foot, its..”

"I know," you replied.

"Infections can spread fast, especially out here.”

“I know.”

Minho sighed in annoyance, as if holding a conversation with you was some sort of burden. “I didn’t want to discuss it with the others,” he snapped.

And it dawned on you that it wasn't the burden of talking with you, but rather the responsibility of his concern for Jeongin that strained his expression. He didn’t want to discuss it with the others because he didn’t want to worry the others. Choosing to confide in you instead.

“What can we do?” you asked softly, although the answer was already clear.

“Not much,” Minho confirmed, “start a fire, boil water to sterilize it with, and..”

"Wait," you breathed, without missing the way he tensed at the word.

Cleaning Jeongin's wound would be a temporary measure. It wouldn't heal the infection, but it might prevent it from worsening too quickly. Which would give you the time you needed until you got to Miroh where there might be medical supplies. Antibiotics, if you were lucky.

And if not..

“Look," your eyes caught on a fallen tree with branches that appeared drier than the rest. Relief, albeit a small thread of it, weaved through your senses. You pointed to it and began to cross the distance, Minho falling into step beside you.

Together, you began to break off the dead branches. The brittle material snapped easily underneath your grip, the silence interrupted only by the sharp cracking of wood as you worked. But your fingers stilled when you caught sight of that thin bracelet adorning Minho’s wrist. The trinket glimmered softly in the fading light. Its delicate beauty contrasted sharply with your surroundings, reminding you you once again of the life you had left behind—the privileges and sorrows intertwined in your past.

You studied the intricate design and elegance of that gold piece..so out of place.

Why wear it out here, where its value could mean a death sentence?

Lost in the depths of your thoughts, you didn't notice the pause in Minho's own movement. His fingers wrapped around a branch while his gaze bore into you, even as yours remained fixed on the bracelet.

In that moment, a daring impulse seized you. Screw it, you thought. The seething hatred you held for District 9 and the memories it carried ran deep, yet a peculiar sense of comfort washed over you in the knowledge that Minho might understand in a way that the others couldn’t.

For the briefest instant, you allowed yourself to wonder if perhaps Minho shared the same longing for someone who understood.

Screw it.

“If I hadn’t already known you were from District 9,” you started, “that would confirm it.” You brought your eyes from the bracelet to meet his gaze as you resumed your work, snapping another branch.

Minho’s own eyes tinged with something darker than nostalgia as he let out a dry chuckle. “There's no sob story to it, if thats what you’re wondering. No lost loved one, no tragic incident. It's just a piece of metal.” His tone suggested a desire to seal off the conversation, end it there. But your intuition sensed the unspoken pain behind his words.

“If it doesn’t have any meaning,” you pressed, “then why wear it? Isn't it dangerous? Valuable things like that..I’m sure people would kill for them out here.”

Minho’s eyes flitted away, as if trying to decide whether or not to continue. “It did belong to my mother,” he admitted, “but I don’t wear it for her. She was a cruel women and she probably still is. I have no love for her memory."

His gaze returned to yours, firm and resolute. “I wear it because it reminds me of why I left.”

Minho’s sudden vulnerability left you wondering what had changed between you, brow furrowing. “Yes, my family is from District 9," he continued, “and they live comfortably while so many struggle to survive. This bracelet is a symbol of that privilege, of the divide."

“Sounds a lot like more than just a piece of metal to me,” you mumbled, eyeing him cautiously.

A brief pause suggested Minho had shared as much as he was willing. His gaze swept over you, scrutinizing the details of your disheveled appearance. He took in the worn edges of your clothing and the mud-streaked lines on your face, before his eyes landed at the spot on your neck where Felix's mark had once been.

You pulled your jacket up, raising your eyebrows at him.

What?

Minho let out a puff of air from his nose, a sort of half-laugh, half-scoff. The tension in his forehead slowly relaxed, the sharp angles of his expression softening. “I spent the majority of my life in District 9, closer to the palace than you might think," he revealed, "and I never once caught a glimpse of you. There were rumors of your existence, but nobody ever saw you."

A resigned sigh escaped his lips. “I hated every moment of my life there—the constant surveillance, the price paid by those who dared to step out of line. And I think I’m finally starting to understand how unbearable it must have been for you to be confined within those walls. Unseen, unheard, without any idea of what was out here," he gestured to the surrounding wilderness.

The stillness following his words was disrupted by the involuntary snap of a branch succumbing to the pressure of your grasp. Your mouth dropped and you attempted to conceal the subtle gasp that followed, praying Minho wouldn't be able to discern the astonishment you felt.

As your eyes lifted, preparing to articulate the thoughts still struggling for coherence in your mind, your attention was captured by movement just beyond his shoulder.

Amidst the foliage, a delicate tendril of smoke curled upward, spiraling into the sky. You followed the trail down to the source, where a barely visible chimney revealed itself through the trees—an apparent sign that you weren't as alone as you had once believed.

You returned to the campsite cradling a bundle of dry branches in your arms. Felix's face lit up at the sight, however his dark eyebrows raised in silent inquiry when he noticed the expression on your face. He accepted the branches as you handed them over, kneeling down beside him.

"Did something happen?" he asked, following the trajectory of your gaze to where Minho was approaching Chan across the clearing.

“We found a small cottage not too far away," you began, helping him arrange the branches. "We didn't get close enough to see if anyone was inside, but there was smoke coming from the chimney.”

A mixture of curiosity and apprehension took hold of his freckled features as you continued. “If someone lives there, there could be medical supplies or something useful for Jeongin's foot."

His eyes drifted toward Jeongin, now dozing off with his head on Seungmin's shoulder.

"He has a fever, Lix," you added with a note of urgency.

Felix swallowed, grappling with your words. "Let's say they do happen to have what we need," sparks flew from the friction of wood meeting wood beneath his hands. He maintained focus, coaxing the flames into existence. "You think they’ll just hand it over to a group of strangers?"

A brief pause followed before he asserted, "They won’t."

"Then we’ll take it,” you answered plainly. Felix’s eyes widened and you emphasized, “Without hurting them.”

His eyes sparkled as the first glimmer of flames emerged, heart-shaped lips curving into a smile. “Well would you look at that, princess," he mused, "you might just be one of us after all.”

The weathered stone cottage stood as an oddity against the wild, untamed forest.

The towering pines devoured the moonlight, plunging the surroundings in velvety darkness. Beside, you, Felix moved as if he were part of the shadows themselves—someone who had adapted to the darkness in ways you could only begin to imagine.

The two of you—along with Minho, Chan, and Hyunjin—had dispersed around the cottage to get a better idea of who might be inside.

Its circular windows were devoid of curtains or cover, as if whoever resided within had nothing to hide from prying eyes. Flickering light spilled out into the darkness as the scent of burning firewood filled the air—an indicator of the warmth within those walls.

Each step Felix took was guided by muscle memory—a hunter’s instinct, as he left no trail of his passage behind. Darkness seemed to seep from his eyes to combat the soft moonlight. The lethal gleam behind them whispered of his past deeds, reminding you that he was the survivor of a world in which he had been forced into the role of predator rather than prey.

Felix pivoted without a sound, hands delicately grasping your arms. His eyes softened upon meeting yours, acknowledging the fleeting startle he'd caused you. "Stay here," he whispered, a soft command. His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned back toward the cottage.

You watched with bated breath as he approached one of the open windows. His eyes narrowed, catching on something inside, someone, perhaps—

“What the hell is he doing?!” a voice hissed from behind you.

You whirled around, instinctively reaching for your knife.

“Shit, Chan.“

“I said not to get too close,” Chan continued, disregarding the glare you shot him.

Before you could voice your irritation any further, Felix silently returned to your side. His hand made its way to your lower back, a feather-light touch to alert you of his presence. “There’s a man inside. Just one, from what I can tell.”

The sudden crack of a brittle branch underneath a heavy boot had all three of your heads snapping to the left. Minho and Hyunjin emerged from the shadows, their words echoing Felix's earlier revelation about a single man within the confines of the cottage.

"If he's the only one inside, we might be able to explain our situation and ask for help," Chan said.

Felix withdrew his hand from your back, deftly pulling down the bandana that matched each of your own. The fabric slid down the lower half of his face, unveiling tense features. "We don't know who this man is or what he's capable of.”

“What if he seems hostile or refuses to cooperate?” Hyunjin chimed in. As his slender fingers adjusted the strap across his chest, the metallic clink of the firearm secured to his back punctuated the air.

The tension thickened as Chan took a moment to contemplate the options. His hand fell to his own weapon, subtly tracing the familiar contours. "Maybe we should wait until morning,” he suggested. And the words, like always, came out laden with the weight of responsibility. “People can be unpredictable. If we wait until morning it gives us the advantage of daylight and more time to assess the situation.”

Impatience flickered across Minho's features, his eyebrows drawing together. "We can't afford to wait," he stressed, "Jeongin has a fever and it isn’t going to improve on its own. If we wait until morning, even a few hours, it worsens that much more. And it will just keep escalating until—"

"Alright," Chan conceded, features softening at the mention of the youngest. “If we're going to do this we need to be cautious. Charging in blindly could make things worse, not only for Jeongin but for all of us.” He swallowed hard, eyes traveling across each of your faces.

"So, what's our plan?" you spoke up, highlighting your commitment to whatever course of action they chose.

"What if we should just knock," Chan shrugged, "it's a simple gesture, non-threatening..”

Felix scoffed audibly from beside you, the sound startling a bird into flight from somewhere above. “Knock?" he lowered his voice to a whisper, "we might as well hand over our weapons while we’re at it."

"Paint targets on our foreheads too," Hyunjin muttered.

Chan shot each of them a disapproving glare. His hand instinctively rose, fingers tracing the scar along the bridge of his nose.

Although walking up and knocking on a stranger's door in the middle of the night did seem a bit absurd, you understood the rationale behind Chan's strategy—an attempt to approach the unknown with some semblance of diplomacy before considering more aggressive measures.

"I should do it," you offered, aiming to sound as indifferent as possible despite the quickening thud of your heart in your chest. "I might seem less threatening, and he might be more willing to talk if he sees me alone."

All eyes suddenly turned to you. Felix stiffened, but Minho intervened before he could protest.

"She has a point,” Minho looked to Chan, “given the circumstances, if he thinks she’s a woman alone in the middle of the night he might be more inclined to trust her and offer aide.”

Felix's expression twisted into a deep scowl, blatantly directed at Minho. "Or take advantage of her," his voice dropped to a near growl.

"That's why we'll be right here,” Chan offered.

Felix restrained himself from voicing any further objections, yet the discontent on his face remained visible. He was desperate to help Jeongin, too. He acknowledged the necessity of the plan, understood the logic, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Hyunjin shifted restlessly. "What if we wait until he goes to sleep?" he said, turning to you, “approaching his doorstep in the middle of the night might raise suspicions."

“So what, you want to break in instead?” you countered.

"It's not like we haven't done it before," Hyunjin snapped.

Your arms crossed as you locked eyes with him in a challenging stare. He gritted his teeth and ran a hand through his golden locks, a self-assured gesture that—as much as you would rather die than admit it—highlighted the way Hyunjin was objectively quite stunning.

As his gaze held yours, there was a slight falter in the sharpness of his stare. Almost hinting that that he had made the suggestion in a discreet attempt to protect you from approaching the man alone.

Almost.

Feeling the weight of the others' eyes shifting between you and Hyunjin, you drew in a breath. "I'll go," you said, addressing Chan. “There’s no way this ends well if we get caught breaking in. If I talk to him, I might at least be able to find out if he has what we need. And if he refuses to help us then we can do what needs to be done for Jeongin.”

Chan nodded. "Talk to him at the doorstep. If things seem off, call for us. We'll be right here, yeah?"

"Just be careful," Felix added quietly from beside you.

The corners of his eyes creased with worry, but there was trust within them. He reached over to tap on the hilt of your knife, a silent reminder of its presence, and you offered a faint smile in reply.

Aware of the collective gaze fixed on your back, you warily approached the cottage. The sight of Jeongin's fevered state replayed over and over in your mind, propelling every step as you inched closer to the plain, wooden door awaiting your touch.

Lifting a hand, you prepared to rap your knuckles against the weathered surface when an unexpected disruption seized your motion.

Before you could make contact with the door, it began to creak open. The hinges groaned, worn with age, as a sudden brightness flooded out into the night.

Squinting against the intrusion of light, your eyes instinctively dropped to a pair of worn-out leather shoes visible just across the threshold.

“I've been wondering when you lot were finally going to gather the courage to come and talk."

Your head shot up to meet the source of the voice, eyes widening as they settled on the man standing before you. His features were a testament to years spent at the edge of the wilderness. Dark hair, unkempt and graying at the temples, framed a face adorned with a rugged beard. The beard, though not long, carried a battered look, much like the rest of his appearance.

Despite the late hour, there was something peculiar about the way his eyes gleamed, a gaze perpetually attuned to his surroundings. A faint smile played on his lips as he studied your reaction, regarding you with calm curiosity.

Then, in one swift motion, he moved to close the distance between you. You stumbled back, heart drumming a rapid beat in your chest.

“Come on out!” his voice shattered the night, startling you into a breathless pause. He raised an arm and made a sweeping gesture directed at where the boys were hidden, as if he were inviting them over.

Your mouth fell, the astonishment in your own features reflected by each of the boys as they cautiously emerged from the brush.

The man turned, leaving the door open as he retreated back into the dimly lit interior. "You're lucky you found this place when you did," he said, addressing you over his shoulder.

Hesitant to follow, you lingered in the doorway, absorbing the details of the interior.

Stone walls enclosed the space in a large room, a single hallway extending out of view at the other end. The thatched roof was woven meticulously from bundles of dried straw, forming a gentle slope overhead. A narrow opening ushered smoke from the fireplace into the night sky, and an armchair sat facing the flames, a stack of freshly chopped wood at its feet.

Dry wood.

To your left, a small kitchen area was tucked against the wall. The air inside the cottage was rich with the enticing aroma of something savory bubbling above the rustic stove. It was a scent so captivating that it coaxed you to take a step over the threshold.

As the boys cautiously filtered in behind you, the man settled down at a small table adorned with scattered parchment. His relaxed demeanor made it seem as though he were accustomed to welcoming unexpected, armed guests into his home.

Felix took a deliberate step forward to position himself between the man and the rest of you. His eyes drilled into the stranger, scouring for any sign of ill intent. Despite the absence of a weapon, the way Felix stood made it clear that he didn't need one.

Chan hurriedly moved to join him. His hand found its way to Felix's shoulder, settling on the area where the branded mark lay concealed beneath his clothing—a warning touch. A silent caution to tread carefully.

As Chan visibly grappled with the situation, his mouth opened and closed in a struggle to find the words to start some sort of conversation.

The man chuckled, "You're wondering why I've welcomed you into my home."

The boys stood their ground, but not one of them spoke. They just stared, making you wonder if this was the first time they'd been willingly invited into a stranger's home.

The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You’ve been circling my home for the better part of the night. I figure if you'd wanted to kill me you would have gotten to it by now," he said, eyes flicking to the imposing firearm strapped to Hyunjin's back. "But something tells me you didn't come all this way just for a friendly chat, did you?"

“Actually...Uh, sir,” Chan managed to find his voice, but you cringed a bit at the awkwardness it carried. "What we're looking for are medical supplies."

Minho stepped up. "Something to combat infection or fever," he clarified.

The man leaned back in contemplation. He surveyed each of you individually, eyes alight with amusement as if he found the whole situation mildly entertaining.

When his gaze fell upon you, Felix executed a deliberate shift in position. He planted himself directly in front of you, an unmistakable signal that he was fiercely protective of your well-being.

The man's faint smile morphed into a wry, knowing smirk as he looked Felix up and down. "Medical supplies, huh? You all look fine to me," he remarked.

"It's not for any of us," Chan's voice carried a hint of desperation. He paused to gauge the man's reaction before adding, "It’s for our youngest," likely hoping to evoke some sympathy.

The man arched an eyebrow. “There are more of you?"

Minho nodded, "We are a small group, just trying to survive."

"Survival," the man drew out the word, tasting it. “This is not the first time survival has brought strangers to my home in search of help."

"We don't have much to offer in return, but we are willing to trade," Chan offered.

The man's eyes narrowed, probing for sincerity behind his words. "Your friend must be very important to you," he stated, "but trading is not something I require. As you can see, I have everything I need within these walls.”

His fingers began to tap rhythmically against the arm of his chair, an unsettling sound that filled the air as he weighed the value of whatever he was considering.

"Despite that, I will provide you with what you need," he settled on.

A subtle release of tension spread through the room. Minho's stoic facade betrayed a flicker of relief. Chan allowed his posture to ease ever so slightly, Hyunjin withdrew his hand from the weapon strap across his chest.

Yet, amidst the delicate shift in energy, Felix remained an exception. Unmoved by the apparent relief settling in around him, his taut stance, though not overtly aggressive, showed no signs of relenting.

"Go collect your friend," the man waved a hand at the door, "I will shelter you for the night. You're young, exhausted, and it looks like you've been through quite a lot."

Alarm bells should have been ringing in your head.

The whole situation should have been unnerving. And in several ways, it was. But there was an inexplicable aura surrounding the man. Beneath the sly arrogance that colored his expressions, an undercurrent of compassion emerged. As he spoke, you couldn't help but notice the sadness that flitted across his eyes when he took in your group. There was a depth of profound humanity within those eyes—the kind of empathy you had never witnessed in your father—and it resonated with you.

As Chan started to voice his reservations, the man halted him with a raised hand. “I understand the reluctance to trust a stranger. You're cautious, and rightfully so. I see the weapons you carry, I know that you had the means to storm in here and take what you need, perhaps at my expense. Yet, you opted to knock on my door,” he chuckled lightly, shaking his head, "and that tells me something about each of you. Kindness begets kindness. Your group has demonstrated a courage that not many possess. And for that, I offer my aid.”

A stunned silence enveloped the room.

"Thank you," Chan expressed softly, each syllable carrying the weight of collective relief.

While the boys prepared to leave, your focus lingered on the man. A slight limp accompanied his movement as he stood—the permanent mark of an old injury to his left leg.

Felix glided across your path with a gentle brush to your arm, a silent signal to get the hell out of there. He took the lead, aiming to be the first one outside to ensure that there weren't any potential traps or threats awaiting you beyond the door.

Just as you were about to cross the threshold, something prickled at the edges of your senses. A barely perceptible exhale, too close for comfort, brushed against your ear.

The man's raspy voice came as a hushed whisper, intended for your ears alone. “A loyal guard dog you've got there,” he murmured, jerking his chin toward Felix.

You froze.

The blood in your veins threatened to boil at the comparison of Felix to a dog. But there was no malice in his tone, only a recognition of the connection. Almost as if he were measuring your reaction, trying to elicit a response from you.

And so, you willed that surge of heat to simmer.

Suppressing whatever fiery response had been brewing inside of you, you picked up your pace and stepped out into the night.

The decision to regroup and head back to the cottage had been met with skepticism. But, nine against one felt like decent odds, and the weapons your group possessed seemed to tip the scales in favor of the majority.

Upon re-entering the stone walls, you found the atmosphere had shifted. The man—still a mysterious figure with an unnamed identity—was in the midst of preparing something new over the stove.

Shallow breaths escaped Jeongin's lips as he settled into the armchair. The firelight played upon his features, highlighting the film of glistening sweat on his skin.

"I'm making a remedy from the herbs I've gathered,” the man announced from the kitchen. “This will help reduce his fever and fight the infection. Nature provides us with everything we need, if we know how to use it."

He went on to explain the properties of each ingredient he'd carefully measured and crushed. His words suggested a deep connection to the land and its resources. Everything felt genuine enough, and still, your intuition screamed at you to be cautious. A scowl crept across your face as he periodically glanced to you, his earlier comment about Felix ringing in your mind.

The collective watchfulness of the group intensified as the room filled with the soothing aroma of a fragrant tea. "This will help him," the man stated calmly as he poured a cup.

As he approached Jeongin with the steaming amber liquid, Felix's hands clenched into tight fists. The freckled boy focused intently on Chan, as if he were waiting for some kind of signal to release the restrained energy inside of him. The darkness swirling in his eyes hinted that, at the slightest cue from Chan, he would spring into action without a moment's hesitation.

You swallowed. Hard. When the man extended the cup toward Jeongin's lips, a sudden surge of panic gripped you. "Wait—"

Felix flinched sharply beside you, a ripple of tension coursing through his frame. Hyunjin, startled by your interruption, reached for the firearm still strapped to his back. Changbin took an instinctive step forward, ready to shield if need be.

The room held its breath, each of you caught in the precarious balance between conflict and composure.

The man turned, observing each of your faces. A sigh escaped him. A heavy, pitiful sound. And then, he lifted the cup and took a measured sip, his eyes locking onto yours.

“It is safe," he said after swallowing, "I have brewed this remedy countless times for myself." He held the cup out to you, making room for you to take his place beside Jeongin.

Cradling the cup in your hands, the warmth seeped through your fingertips. Jeongin stirred, eyelashes fluttering against the pale flush of his skin as you stepped up beside the armchair.

Feeling the need for guidance, you thought of Chan. Then, Felix. Jisung, an unpredictable force, lingered in your considerations too.

But when your head lifted, it wasn't Chan, Felix, or Jisung you looked to.

Minho nodded in silent reassurance, and it was all you needed to bring the cup to Jeongin's lips.

After he'd taken the last sip of the remedy, you turned and looked the man dead in the eyes as you pushed the cup back into his hands. "If anything happens to him because of this," you asserted, "I won't hesitate to kill you myself."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Felix's lips twitch upward. And in that subtle expression, you could’ve sworn you detected something that looked a lot like pride.

As the night wore on, something incredibly rare began to settle over your group—a blooming sense of trust. The culmination of the day's events, coupled with the comforting atmosphere inside the cottage gradually pulled each of you into a sense of security.

With Jeongin's condition showing signs of stabilizing, Hyunjin and Changbin decided to venture back to the rover to fetch supplies, too wary to leave them out in the open. Leaned against the armchair, Seungmin was first to fall asleep after Jeongin. Minho and Jisung had found solace in each other's presence near the hearth, where the dancing flames bathed their sleeping forms in a subtle glow.

In the midst of it all, Chan had occupied a seat across from the man at the table. They were deep in hushed conversation, discussing matters out of earshot, but the sound of their voices mingling carried an odd sense of security with it.

You found your own sanctuary nestled discreetly in a corner beside Felix. Shielded by miscellaneous objects and shadows, the position rendered you just out of direct eyesight from the two engrossed in conversation at the table.

The firelight played upon the subtle arch of his nose, the gentle curve of his lips, the way his eyelashes cast delicate shadows on his cheeks. Your hand gravitated toward his, and he responded by entwining his fingers with your own.

"I'll stay up with you," you murmured softly, "wasn't planning on falling asleep tonight anyway."

Felix responded with a soft kiss to your temple before guiding you to lie down with him, finding a more comfortable position. He pulled you into his chest and you raised an eyebrow in silent inquiry, glancing to the others. But the freckled boy only grinned as he pulled you closer.

“Sleep,” he murmured softly.

Succumbing to the moment, you laid your head down against his chest, relishing in the comforting beat of his heart.

As his fingers began to trail across your back in soothing circles, you hesitantly draped an arm over his waist, too tired to care about what the others might think—what Hyunjin might think, when he returned to find you like this.

Your mind drifted as you tried to keep the exhaustion at bay.

You imagined waking up to a rooftop bathed in gentle sunlight. You pictured the soft glow of a lantern in a narrow alleyway, reflecting off of sad eyes that carried so much more when they looked to the moon.

The last coherent thing that crossed your mind was the confession you'd been holding back since the moment you'd spent with Felix in the rain.

You might have murmured his name as those three little words resurfaced in your thoughts, but the boundary between wakefulness and dreams blurred.

A sudden jolt snapped you back from the brink of sleep, leaving you momentarily disoriented.

Still wrapped in Felix's arms, you anticipated to find him awake when you lifted your head from his chest. However, the features that met your gaze were softened by the gentle embrace of sleep. As your eyes lingered on him, you hoped that he would be granted solace from the nightmares tonight.

You brushed a few strands of hair from his face before sitting up, settling into a watchful position. It couldn't be too much longer now until Hyunjin and Changbin returned.

The rover wasn't that far.

You blinked, trying to regain a hold on your surroundings. As your tired eyes struggled to focus, they fell upon Chan. He now sat leaning against the wall next to the door, a testament to his determination to wait for Hyunjin and Changbin. His eyes were closed, head resting back, chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm—likely never intending to succumb to sleep.

A subtle noise caught your attention across the room, where man stood at a small basin in the kitchen, washing the pot he'd used to brew Jeongin's tea. His back was turned to you, the slight limp in his step evident as he shifted on his feet.

Glancing around the cottage, you made note of the various items scattered about. An aged book sat on a small table next to the armchair. Beside it lay an ornate silver necklace, its chain interlaced with dried white flowers that you didn't recognize.

Across from you, a glimmer reflected off of a small chest on a bookshelf, as if it had been purposefully tucked away amongst the clutter.

Your heart skipped a beat as you focused on the lock—at the symbol engraved on it.

So hauntingly familiar..

You squinted.

And then, your heart plummeted. Right down to your stomach.

You were standing before you'd even willed your feet to move, fueled by sheer instinct as your hand found its way to the knife securely strapped to your waistband.

The blade gleamed as you pulled it out. Your footsteps fell light as a whisper on the wooden floor as you approached the man, tightening your grip on the knife's handle to give you some semblance of control.

His hands, still glistening with water, hovered in the air as he twisted his head to acknowledge your presence.

"Why,” you growled, “does that chest bear the symbol of—"

You stiffened as he turned around, wiping his hands on a thin towel. "Sit," he urged, nodding to one of the two chairs positioned around the table.

“No," you lifted the blade and pointed it directly at him, surprised at how steady it was given the tremor coursing through your body. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t—”

"You are correct," he cut you off, "that chest indeed bears the mark of your father's army. But it also carries the weight of my own history."

A chill slithered down your spine as you could physically feel the blood drain from your face. The room swayed around you as you staggered, clutching at the edge of the table to steady yourself.

Despite the shock that painted your expression, the man remained impassive. You stood frozen in place, muscles locked with fear, as he navigated the intimate confines of the cottage to retrieve the small chest from the shelf.

He cradled it in his hands before placing it on the table with deliberate care.

"Sit," he repeated, settling into the chair across from you.

“H-how," you stammered. Your eyes darted over your shoulder to Chan, at the heavy weapon across his lap. But before you could muster the words to call for him, the man spoke again.

“I suspected who you were the moment I saw you standing on my doorstep. Initially, I mistook you for a ghost," he shook his head, voice softening, "the resemblance you bear to her is unmistakable. But it wasn't until this very moment, with that knife in your hand, that I knew for sure."

Without a word, you lowered yourself into the chair across from him.

Pleased with your reaction, the man reached beneath his shirt to reveal a necklace with a dangling key. He used the key to unlock the chest, extracting a worn cloth from within.

The cloth was unraveled to reveal a blade. It was identical to your own in size and shape. Yet, despite the apparent resemblance, the engravings told a different story. Crimson red flowers adorned the handle of the knife in his hand, a stark contrast to the white blossoms etched into your mother’s.

“A lifetime ago," the man cleared his throat, drawing your attention away from the twin blades. "I was a commander in your father's army. But in truth, I was more than that. A confidant, an advisor, and dare I say, his friend. Your father was never entirely sound of mind, even in his youth, but power has a way of magnifying the cracks in one's sanity. ”

He swallowed thickly, as if the following words were difficult to articulate. "I cannot absolve myself either," he confessed, "in the pursuit of my own power and blind loyalty, I too committed unspeakable acts. I followed orders without question, turning a blind eye to the suffering we caused. I assisted your father in making the decisions that stain his hands—decisions that haunt me still.”

"Stop," you croaked. Your chest tightened as you grappled with a rising tide of nausea. And you questioned whether your legs would even hold you if you tried to stand. "How is it even possible that we found you.."

The ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Fate, my dear, works in mysterious ways," he answered, "and it seems to have conspired to bring you here tonight, to hear my truth."

After a brief pause, he redirected the conversation. "Many years ago, there was a woman, a guide of sorts, known for leading those from the outer districts to District 9 in search of a better life.”

Hira.

As best as you could, you veiled the flicker of recognition that sparked within you at her mention.

“Your mother was amongst those brought to District 9, to the palace. The moment your father laid eyes on her, he was consumed by a new kind of obsession. Within a week they were married. And the world, entranced by fear of his power, did not dare question it. He bound her to him—not out of love, but in the twisted grip of an obsession with her determination, her beauty, and her strength. Of course, there was also a dire urgency to ensure that his lineage persisted, rooted in the truth that only his bloodline could unlock the secrets of a hidden sanctum nestled deep within in District 2."

"Miroh," you whispered shakily.

He offered a solemn nod. “Your father saw your mother as a means to an end. He stripped away her dreams, her hopes, and caged her spirit. Yet, in the shadowed corridors of the palace, I came to understand her," a wistful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "She was resilient, even in the face of cruelty. During the stolen moments we shared, she taught me about the outer districts and those we had oppressed. Through her, I learned not just about the struggles of these people, but about love, kindness, and hope.”

The sigh he let out carried the weight of a lifetime. The pain and the tenderness in his words echoed as you recognized that these were the most intimate details anyone had ever shared with you about your mother.

"Months later," he continued, "your mother entrusted me with a secret that would alter the course of our lives. I saw the fear in her eyes when she told me she that was pregnant—the fear that your father could pose a threat to the life growing within her. The following morning, duty dictated that I embark on a routine scouting mission in the outer districts. While I was there, my heart drove me to make a harrowing decision," he closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. "I slit the throats of the guards who had accompanied me. I burned their bodies beyond recognition, and in doing so I faked my own death. I built this cottage and the plan was simple—return for your mother, liberate her from the clutches of your father so that she may raise her child in peace. However, a year elapsed before the circumstances permitted my return. When I finally slipped back into the heart of District 9, under the cloak of darkness, it was only to learn that she had.."

He trailed off, unable to utter the painful conclusion.

Your stomach churned with the deep, unresolved ache tied to the memories of your mother. At the thought of her existence being shrouded in some kind of tragic narrative, and the the crushing realization that you would never know the full truth of her journey because she was gone.

The man's eyes fell to the blade in front of him, fingers tracing the engravings as if seeking solace in their familiar touch. And you didn't even know if you could believe a single word he'd said, but you wondered if he was the one to have given your mother the counterpart.

“I loved her, your mother,” his voice broke. The words hung in the air—dense, and fractured, and he did not look up as he continued.

“I loved her deeply, but in our time spent together I never summoned the courage to tell her those words. I believe she knew it, I know she did, and yet, it haunts me still. It always will. More than anything.”

The sorrow and regret etched on his face told the story of a lifetime's worth of remorse. It was a familiar expression, the same torment you had seen in Felix's eyes countless times before.

You glanced to the freckled boy, his silhouette barely visible in the dying firelight.

And then, another realization struck you. With a tremor of uncertainty in your voice, you turned back to the man. “You and my mother..Did you ever..Is there any chance that you could be my..” the words faltered with the possibility of a truth too profound to fully grasp.

He brought a hand up, rubbing at his face. "I don't know," he shook his head, "your mother and I were together before I left, once. But there is no way to know for certain until you reach Miroh. If you cannot open the lock, if it is my blood that runs through your veins instead of his, then I have damned us all."

The man fixed you with an intense stare. "If he finds you before you reach Miroh,” he quieted his voice to a gravelly whisper, “if he finds you, if the rebellion fails, he will kill them all—“

"I am not afraid of him," you croaked.

"You should be," he warned, "You should be terrified of him. Because he will save that one," he nodded his chin in Felix's direction, "for last. He will draw it out because of the way you look at him. And he will savor it until the bitter end."

His eyes bore into yours, urging you to understand the gravity of his words. "If you love that boy, tell him. Even if you think you may love him, tell him. Before it is too late.”

It was then that you registered the hot tracks of tears on your cheeks.

You were going to be sick.

As the vivid, gut-wrenching image of Felix suffering at the hands of your father seared through your mind, you were going to be sick.

You pushed the chair back, stumbling to your feet.

Desperate to put physical space between yourself and the cruel fate that had been painted before you, you burst outside, gasping for air.

As you doubled over, clutching at your chest, the rhythmic echoes of footsteps reached your ears. There were tears streaming down your cheeks when you turned around to confront the man, ready to demand answers.

But it wasn't his figure that stepped into the dim light seeping from the door.

As Felix took a cautious step forward, the expression he wore told you he had heard everything. Including the very unsettling possibility that your blood might not be the key to Miroh—that the hope every single one of you had clung to might always have been nothing more than just a fragile, fragile illusion.

"What if my blood doesn’t work?” you choked out through tears as he closed the distance between you, the weight of his gaze holding you in place.

"We don't know for sure yet, okay?”

"Felix," you pleaded his name like there was something he could do. As if he weren't just as helpless as you.

"I will not let anything happen to you," he whispered as his arms enveloped your trembling shoulders. "You're okay. We're okay,"

You shook your head, closing your eyes as Felix gently lifted your chin. "I will not let anyone hurt you," he vowed, traced the path of your tears with his thumbs.

But Felix could sense the panic tightening its grip on you, rendering your breaths shallow and uneven. The ache to alleviate your distress clawed at him. He would've done anything to make it stop. And so, in that vulnerable moment he summoned the courage to articulate the only thing he had left to offer.

“I love you,” he whispered, “I love you, princess. No matter what.”

Felix closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against yours. He reveled in the feeling of his own admission, and it was something even fear could not outweigh.

You breathed him in.

You knew this would not last forever with him. Nothing ever does. And you wondered if you will ever be able to accept that, even when you no longer have a choice.

But in that moment, Felix was there. You extended a hand, and he was warm. He was real, and he felt more like home than anything ever had.

You loved him too, and it was a feeling you did not dare let go.

Part 8 coming soon..

thank you so much for reading<33 if you would like to be added to the taglist please don't hesitate to let me know :)

taglist: @astralis-is-typing @skz-streamer @vixensss @yangracha @toplinelix @lixiesw1fe @slytherinatheart @hash2013 @skzswife @xosugardoll @sunnyhonie @skzcollision @hydroyaksha @l1xvanter @nimx9 @ilychee08

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #lee felix au #stray kids au #skz au #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids angst #skz angst #lee felix anst #felix angst #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #felix smut #lee felix smut #stray kids smut #skz smut

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falconearring · 1 year ago

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Zombie Apocalypse AU Masterpost

On a planet plagued by harsh weather and the undead, abandoned by those who survived the initial upheaval, somebody from the Hermit's group was bound to be lost to the storm eventually. Nestled deep in the wilderness, in the confines of an abandoned saw mill, Cleo and Bdubs mourn the death of their closest friend. Meanwhile, Etho is alive and gradually entangling himself into a less than ideal situation.

It is about time I gather up some stuff here! Not much yet, but I'll update this as time passes.

Comic by Chapter:

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Comic by Individual Upload:

Cover: October 4th 2023

One: February 7th 2023

Two: February 12th 2023

Three: February 8th 2023

Four: February 13th 2023

Five: March 9th 2023

Six: April 8th 2023

Seven: April 27th 2023

Eight: May 9th 2023

Nine: May 20th 2023

Ten: June 3rd 2023

Eleven: July 14th 2023

Twelve: August 31st 2023

Noteable Asks/Posts:

World Notes-March 12th 2023

Etho's Face Covering-May 16th 2023

Cleo/Etho/Bdubs Highscool-May 22nd 2023

Is Etho Partially Blind?-May 22nd 2023

Ages-May 25th 2023

Accents-June 23rd 2023

How Did Grian and Scar Meet?-July 22nd 2023

Flowers-July 23rd 2023

Is Joel Hallucinating?-July 23rd 2023

Scar's Scars-July 25th 2023

Depressing Content-July 26th 2023

Siblings-July 30th 2023

More About Field Bindweed-Sept 1st 2023

How Did Etho Get His Scar?-October 15th 2023

Additional:

I have a lot of playlists on my Spotify relating to this AU, and I'm continuously updating them. Below are the main ones, but the others are all public on my profile.

AU Playlist

Etho

Joel

Cleo

Grian

Lizzie

#falconearringzombieau #falconearring text #life series au

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destieltropecollection · 6 months ago

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 18: Amnesia

and the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up | @cassiecasyl Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,704 Main Tags/Warnings: Memory Loss, Castiel in the Empty (Supernatural), Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Dean Winchester is a mess, Confusion, Dissociation, Dreams vs. Reality, Dean Winchester is Going Through It, Dean Winchester Has Issues, Hopeful Ending, Castiel reaching out to Dean, Dean Winchester Needs Castiel, Castiel Says "I Love You" (Supernatural), Angst, Hurt/Comfort Summary: The skeletons in Dean's closet are divine, but the hole inside his chest sheds feathers, and you know what they say about the thing with feathers.

three card stud | @autisticandroids Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,356 Main Tags/Warnings: Season Six, Script Format, Canon Remix, Pre-Slash, Experimental Style, Dark, Dean-Cas-Lisa Love Triangle, Infidelity Subtext, Mindwipe, Summary: A collection of script excerpts for a version of Season Six that goes a bit differently. Cas and Dean conspire. Lisa is oblivious, and they keep her that way. Dr. Freud always said nightmares were based on wishes, too.

After the Thunderstorm | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,630 Main Tags/Warnings: Apocalypse AU, angel!Castiel, memory loss, hunter!Dean, enemies to lovers, falling in love, angel grace kink, top!Castiel/bottom!Dean Summary: Thunderstorms are weird in the Apocalyptic World. But they are known as dangerous and deadly. It's one of those nights, and the thunder brings a naked and beautiful man to the Human Resistance Camp. The man doesn't remember his past or who he is. Dean, the leader of the Resistance, will try to help him. They need all the help they can get against the heartless angels.

Remember When | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 11,031 Main Tags/Warnings: Season 8, canon divergence, time travel, memory loss, case fic, slow burn Summary: Trying to find the demon tablet in the supernatural auction, Cas and Dean found Toth, an egypcian god of time. He sees the angel is being controlled by Naomi and decides to help him by putting him and Dean to a test. Sending them to England, Regency era. Or… how Dean has to deal with Emmanuel!Castiel, the angelic loss of memories and his wife Daphne again.

Map to Yesterday | @amaranthhiding Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 23,003 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Mass Amnesia on Team Free Will, Mystery, Magic, Road Trips, Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery of Identity, Angel Wings, Rowena Is Part of Team Free Will, DCRB 2022 Summary: Team Free Will wakes up with no memory of where they are, or who they are. Left with nothing but some foggy shreds of their identities, they have to rediscover themselves and each other—and team up to piece together what even happened.

Here We May Be Free | @friendofcarlotta Rating: Explicit Word Count: 39,506 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Canon, Mermaid Castiel, Hunter Dean Winchester, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Fluff and Angst, Canon-Typical Suicidal Ideation, Amnesia, Magic, Falling In Love, Misunderstandings, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Top/Bottom Versatile Castiel/Dean Winchester, Creature Sex/Monsterfucking Summary: When Dean was eleven, he saw something in the ocean: a boy with blue eyes and iridescent scales. Almost twenty years later, a spontaneous detour after a hunt brings Dean and Sam back to the town where that encounter took place. And Dean can’t shake the feeling that Castiel, the owner of the local Mermaid Museum, looks familiar…

Unveil the Splendours of Your Heart | @thefandomsinhalor Rating: Mature Word Count: 68,868 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Homeless Dean, Famous Model Castiel, Memory Loss, Trauma, Assault, Hurt Dean, Fluff and Angst, Addict Sam, Protective Castiel, Cuddles, Pining Summary: When a reporter asks Dean, a homeless man with a mysterious past, why he exclusively keeps close to the billboards and posters of a specific male model—the one Dean likes to refer to as the angel with spectacular blue eyes—in a moment of weakness, thinking it won’t change anything about his situation, Dean tells him the truth: it’s how he finds comfort and solace. Something that is difficult to come by. That is until the story reaches the ears of Castiel Novak, the model in question.

Two Worlds Apart | @destiel-pirate-in-middleearth Rating: Mature Word Count: 70,329 Main Tags/Warnings: Amnesia au, Past Castiel/Dean Winchester, Starting Over, Amnesiac Dean Winchester, Falling In Love Again, Mutual Pining, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Nightmares, Dark fic, Meet cute. Summary: After being injured in a car accident and suffering memory loss, Dean spent the last five years attempting to put his life back together. The majority of his memories return, but something still remains missing—something he can't identify—that everyone is hiding from him, something that always remains unanswered. Dean’s past comes back to haunt him when he visits Sioux falls for a business meeting where he meets a stranger named Castiel. Something about the man seems strange and oddly familiar which makes Dean wonder if he knows him. But the guy always denies that. And that marks the beginning of a quest to solve the mystery of his past hidden in between those recurring dreams which becomes more vivid the more time he spends with Castiel which soon leads to a painful realisation and series of regrets.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #amnesia

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 2 months ago

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It’s The Avengers (04x10)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 4 Episode 10: Million Dollar Baby

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of the housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: crazy rich white people, and perverts

Word Count: I am suffering from some kind of allergies that are making me cough incessantly (did I use that word right?)

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The camera recorded darkness before a few familiar voices came up. “I ain't never rep a set, baby (Tsk, tsk) I ain't do no wrong I could clean up good for you Oh, I know right from wrong 'Cause I wanna make it so badly I'm a million-dollar baby, don't at me-“ Another voice cut the whispered sing-song. “Scott, Shhhh!” “Sorry,” Scott whispered. “Javi, are the cameras working?” The screen lit up with Scott’s face looking right into the lens. He wore a white t-shirt under an oversized light blue shirt with beige trousers. The broad-rimmed black glasses sitting on his nose were hard to miss. The frame cut to Peter’s face as the boy tried to set his now overgrown lush hair so they rested right above his pair of broad-rimmed brown glasses. This time a pair of olive-toned arms came into the frame to correct the gold necklace with a beetle for a pendant resting around Peter's neck. The frame cut to Javier this time, who was the one correcting Peter’s concealed camera cum ‘necklace’ before giving the spider man a thumbs up. “Are the mics working? Are our earpieces working?” Scott whispered into his necklace, getting a thumbs up from both the boys. Javier’s device was a ‘green gem’ embedded in a teddy bear pendant. The boy was looking clean in an olive blazer and trousers over a black t-shirt. The boys were dressed to impress. “Everyone remembers what we have to do?” Sam’s voice crinkled through the earpiece. Peter and Scott nodded before affirming with their words. Javier simply gave a thumbs-up to Scott’s body cam. “Where’s our fourth player?”

The door to the van opened and the six feet tall figure of Loki stood outside. The God was dressed in a sky blue shirt with its sleeves rolled up to show his entire left arm freshly tattooed. Javier could be seen twisting the edge of his digital watch to let the spy cam inside the watch focus on the intricate designs of dragons, daggers, the portrait of Loki’s mom and one tiny Ice Bear from Bare Bears. Our boy made sure he recorded the movement of that veiny tatted arm rising and running his long pale fingers through his hair pulled back into a ponytail. His wide-ankle navy blue jeans added to the effect of making him one irresistible bad boy who was about to steal your girl. “Oh my God, Loki,” Scott let out an exasperated whisper, shaking his head in disbelief before going into his fanny pack and pulling out a golden tear drop earring and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and putting them on the God without hesitation. “That’s better.” There was a second of silence when everyone else waited for Loki to react to the invasion of his space. But all the God did was look down at his attire and then back at the boys with a genuine question. “Does this look convincing enough?” The lens focused on the unadulterated concern in his eyes.

Sam: I almost feel bad for sending Loki on the mission. *concern spilling from his eyes* look at him. He thinks he needs to look convincing for the part of a mafia boss wanting in on a new drug deal. *squints in frustration* Bro’s already got the gangster shoulders for that. All he has to do is run them hands through his hair and people are going to drool all over the floor *exhales with a mocking tone*

The boys walked to the entrance of a huge metal gate with intricate design, wherein they were stopped by a Caucasian guard with a heavy build. "This is a private property," he stated, never blinking. Loki's glasses caught Scott giving an air of offence at those words. "And we are private people," the Ant-man declared with a soft tone that had weight.

Peter: *wide-eyed* it's like I was looking at a different man! It's like someone super rich who buys buildings because someone told him he couldn't.

"You don't even have a car." The guards did not blink until the last minute. Scott put his hands in his pant pockets and exhaled for the act. "Would you bring your car to this private evening, Beau Coolberg?" The guard lost his composure, suddenly blinking and sweating. "The password, sir?" he asked politely before bringing out his tablet to punch in a few digits. Scott rolled his eyes at the man before stressing the words through his teeth. "Tiki Mori." The guard nodded and pulled himself aside, signalling the other guard under him to bring forward the golf cart. "Enjoy your evening, Mr Antony," he fumbled the words. Scott took a step towards the man who was sweating. "Oh, I will, Beau. The question is...will you?" And with that Scott sat himself at the back and the boys followed. "You're gonna get fired, bro," the mics picked the other guard declaring to his senior as the cart moved towards the mansion's front door. Peter looked at the Ant-man wide-eyed. "How did you-" Scott shrieked. "OhmygodIthoughtIwasgonnagettased."

The inside of the mansion looked less like a luxury abode and more like a frat house with a spoiled brat' vibe to it. Young men and women walked about with drinks in their hands, talking, smoking, arguing, vaping, getting high, getting freaky. There were a few older men. greys in their hair, flirting their way to girls half their age. Older women loved the attention from young men and women alike, not to mention their lungs' unrivalled capacity to out-smoke the little ones surrounding them. "Perk up, boys. Our mans is entering at eleven o'clock," Scott declared to his team, alerting them to get ready with their act as they spread through the room and act as if they do not know each other. All was quiet and bougie till Loki furrows his brows and looks down at Scott. "Did you just say perk up?"

Sam: *takes in a lungful* *camera zooms in* *shakes his head* his therapist has failed us.

*Natasha's voice comes from somwhere outside the frame* Who? Loki?

Sam: No! Scott!

A blonde man who could be in his late forties entered the hallway. The tan on his face did not match the tone of his pale under eyes. His smile exposed his exceptional white-washed teeth while his clothes only spoke French. "Bonjour, Antony!" The rich white man walked towards Scott with his arms wide open. "Please, Teflon," Scott rolled his eyes, "call me Antonius." "Only if you call me Musk," Teflon added before guffawing the laugh of a gold-spooned nepotism baby. The boys' cameras caught the Ant-Man visibly getting uncomfortable while matching the rich man's laugh. "And why are your friends scattered away from you?" he pointed out at every single one of our men in the room. 'Antonious' pulls out another rich man guffaw. "They are not my friends, Teflon." "But you registered them all under your codename." "DAMITT SCOTT!!" Sam could be heard through the comms. "They are my boys," Scott hopped in quickly for a save. "They are my brothers, Tef. They might not be my blood but they sure as hell will draw it, if need be. So-" Scott reflected a serious demeanour in front of the host- "do not insult them by calling them just my friends." The camera zoomed in on Javi and Peter's horror-struck faces already stuffed with cream lobster.

Peter: For a moment there I felt our cover would be blown this time. For. Sure. *camera zooms out to show Javi sitting next to Peter* Javi: *signing* I think our cover was blown but Scott was too proud to admit it and instead asked Dr Strange to reset the time. Peter: *looking at Javi in shock* BRO! *exasperation suddenly turns into a calm demeanour* You know what, that can happen *looks back at the camera* *nods* That can happen.

"Come, meet my boys," Scott told Teflon, before signalling the 'boys' to come over. "This is my boy Theo, short for Theodore. This is Luther. This is my boy Dan. Dan does not speak because he has taken a vow of silence to show respect for the souls of the poor kids who lost their homes in the recent...curfuffle." Javi automatically folded his hands and did a little bow. Teflon reacted with a pippy 'oh!' and mimicked Javi for a second. "Sad, isn't it, Antony? If it were to men like us, there simply wouldn't be a problem like this." Scott is halfway through his nod when Teflon chimed, "Because we would have simply nuked that country!" and added roaring laughter. Scott mirrored the roar as well, but his sounded more like a realisation of horror. The man threw his head back at his own joke, never noticing Scott turn his fingers into a fist and launching himself at him. The boys stopped him, grabbing onto his arms and waist and forcing him to not break character.

Two Minutes Later The man was still laughing. "Come on, man. Just let me hit him once. I'll make it look like an accident!" Scott begged. Loki simply gestured him to shush by putting his finger on his lips, making the Ant Man go quiet sooner than anticipated. Javi's camera glasses zoomed in on the coy man.

Scott: What? *lowers his voice a little with a hint of softness* You shut up when Loki tells you to shut up. *shrugs his shoulders* I regret nothing.

"I thought Teflon threw great parties," Loki finally spoke- but with an American accent- acting as though he was disinterested in his surroundings, "if I knew you were bringing me to some old ass mixer I would've gone to my neighbour's orgy, Ant...ony." Teflon looked at the man who was a foot taller than him and patted him on his shoulder. "Big boys don't show their toys at the mansion gates, Luther. They keep them hidden away for special people and special occasions." The man flashes his pearly white smile and led the way. "Come, I'll introduce you to some of my special guests."

One Hour Later The 'boys' were scattered throughout the place. Scott was outside in the garden, charming his way through the old men crowd. Peter was sitting in between the old white ladies, never breaking a sweat as they fed him everything and chatted with him like they knew him from ages. Javi was on the first floor trying to get away from the three white girls stoned out of their minds, constantly wanting to touch the poor boy. Loki was on the first floor too, standing in a corner that was close to the entrance as well as the balcony, and it had a clear view of the door that led to Teflon's son's office. The God was nursing his drink, letting the ice clink with the thick glass as his whiskey watched him never touch his lips. "Nice tatts," a girl complimented the God; who did not bother responding. "I said nice tatts," she raised a tone, inching in closer, instinctively forcing Loki to scooch away from her, only giving her a single-second stare of judgment before returning to his drink. "Rude," she snapped before her offended expression turned into a smirk. "I like it. Do it more," she purred, inching closer to Loki. Javi ignored the ladies and started walking towards the God upon seeing him in trouble. "Back off, bitch! He's mine!" Scott growled from behind the girl, scaring her away by pretending to bite her with a feral look in his eyes. The moment she was out of the frame, Scott transformed back into his usual self. "Nothing downstairs," he concluded to Loki as well to Sam. Both looked at Javi, who simply shook his head before joining the two. "Uh, guys?" Peter's voice crackled through the comms. "All that recon and still no leads?" Another familiar voice came through the earpieces, this time taking everyone's attention. "Natasha?" Loki was the first to answer. "Just like all the rizz and still no gals," Natasha cooed, laughing at her joke. Javi rolled his eyes. Loki squared his lips. "Hey! I got my gals," Scott hissed through his mic, "and my gal got me. Don't include me in this dry hoe group." Loki and Javi looked at Scott with murderous stares. Scott showed no signs of regret. "Natasha, please tell me you have some information on the package before I rip Scott's skull from his shoulders in front of five hundred people," Loki pressed, never taking his eyes off Scott's head. "Did you check Leo?" she sounded bored. "Teflon's son?" Scott mocked a laugh, "Of course, we did. That druggie has zero clue about who is sitting next to him. I'm sure he is the last person who would know where a bunch of super important papers are, Nats." Loki leans on the decorative table behind him, putting his free hand inside his pant pocket. "Unless he rolled those papers to smoke some pot," he casually added. Javi and Scott stared at Loki with a hint of horror. Loud music and elated screams of the guests could be heard in the background.

No one spoke for a good stretched moment. "Guys-" Peter tried to speak again -"you're not gonna believe who's here." "I do have information on the package, Loki," Natasha cut the boy short. "In fact, my apprentice has obtained the code to the safe where it's locked." "Apprentice?" Scott, Loki and Peter questioned in harmony. Javi, on the other hand, was slowly feeling his eyes widen and his lips parted in a mild surprise. Correction: the surprise, it seems, was not mild. "Wait-" Scott's eyes lit up momentarily- "is your little sister here? Oh my Gosh! Guys! Nat's little sis is here! I finally get to meet Black Widow Jr!!" "Guys!" Peter nearly shouted through the comms. "There is someone else here too!" It almost felt like his voice was cracking in his throat. "And...and-" The speakers in the house changed the song to a familiar track by Rusha and Blizza. The intro to 'Pashu Gudwan' amplified with every passing second. Javi was the first one to freeze where he stood. His eyes were stuck on something in the distance. His lips parted in mild shock, his elbow automatically nudging Scott. Scott whipped his head at the boy in confusion before following Javi's line of sight. The constricted brows behind the glasses were raised in exclamation. His mouth too went agape. Javi walked forward, the instinct of the camera guy in him wanting a closer look. But the poor guy tripped over a hungover frat boy, nearly falling face first if not for his own strong biceps stopping him. "What are you talking about?" Loki was still trying to get the words out of Peter, pressing his earpiece to see if something was wrong with his gadget. He turned to Scott to wonder that out loud. "What is Peter talking-" One look at the surprise on Scott's face and the God was turning his head to see what more had made the Ant-Man drop his jaw. And when he did settle on his friends' line of sight, he could not believe what he was seeing either. "...uhhhh guys?" Sam was the only one unaware. The camera following Sam in the 'control room' somewhere nearby recorded the confusion and agitation on the man's face. Natasha- who stood motionless next to him- turned her head towards the camera and gave a suggestive smirk before turning to the screens.

From the outdoor lobby walked a pair of fine legs, covered in tattoos. If not for Javi lying halfway on the floor, no one would have guessed that all those tattoos were One Piece references beautifully decorating a pair of toned legs in booty shorts. The camera rose to capture the slightly visible abs adorning the abdomen with some fine curves. But that was not what made the frame visibly shake. It was the moment when the figure with those fine curves raised her arms to tie her hair, and the finely sculpted muscles on her back popped up to say hi. And when they walked past the camera, the backless top let the back muscles glare down at you and say 'you wish that were you, huh'. Peter too joined the two men staring at the figure walking towards them. It was you. Covered in tattoos. A naval ring. A nose ring. Dense kajal in your eyes. Deep purple hair with fresh bangs and a high ponytail. And gold-rimmed glasses. Loki too felt his jaw drop a little. His eyes blinked fast for a moment, considering whether you were a hallucination.

Scott: *flailing his hands as if pointing at the situation he was just in* *mouth agape* *shrieks* WHAT???!!!!! Peter: *screams in the background* *runs past the camera screaming* NOOOOO!!!!!! Scott: *falls on the floor sobbing* how can someone so innocent look so good in those goddamn tattoos!!! Peter: *screaming from a distance* LIKE A LESBIAN GODDESS!! Scott: *raises his tears-smeared face, snot falling from his nose* *whispers* Oh my God, she's a lesbian now

Before you could reach them and Scott could finish saying your name, a boy emerged and swooped you up in his arms, gathering a unified gasp from Scott and Peter, and Javi in the background. "Babe-" the 'boy' in question sang, before putting you down and kissing your bare shoulder- "you came!" "Isn't that...Leo?" Scott whispered to Peter. Blonde curls with a buzz cut for the sides, a ruby stud in the left ear, a tattoo in Korean reading 내 다리 사이의 열반 on the arm, a gold bracelet on the right wrist and a bulky bodyguard within three feet of that man. He was right. This was Leo. "Hey babe!" you cooed mildly, cupping his face as you brought it away from your shoulder and towards your own before wrapping your arms around his neck. The mics could hear the multiple pauses of breaths clear as a bomb explosion. "You promised this party won't be boring." Your fingers teased his lips before taking his mouth in a playful grip. "And you have like five minutes to impress me before I leave. Alone." You had an accent; a mild accent, nothing like the way you usually talk. Your body language was different too.

Javi: *signing* something is different about Y/N. She isn't walking with her usual shrimp back. Scott: *from outside the frame* Yeah, her back's straight. And arched to compliment her butt. *camera pans out to show Scott wiping his snot while still sniffling* Scott: *with freshly cried soaking voice* she has a straight back and an arch! Who the f@&$ hoe-d up my precious baby?

Leo growled at the proximity. With one hand on the small of your bare back, the other travelled to your ass, giving it a good squeeze. "I'll do it in three and you'll be begging me not to stop," he whispers in your ear before going in for a bite of your shoulder. Scott's grandmotherly instincts involuntarily took over as he grabbed the candlestick from the decorations behind him and started walking towards Leo. Before he could take even two steps, Loki's arm stopped him, putting him back in his position without much difficulty. The boys had their eyes on Loki, waiting for his reaction. The God did not flinch. He stood there, observing you. And Leo. You grabbed Leo's curls and pulled him away from your shoulders, earning a wince from his lips. "What did I tell you about my body?" you questioned him patiently, never breaking eye contact. "That I do not get to touch it till I've been a good boy," Leo gave you his best puppy dog eyes before letting his hands slowly leave your ass and your back. "Good boy-" you complimented him, making him smile the widest smile before he licked his lips and let his eyes roam all over your skin- "now, you seem to be keeping your guests waiting." Leo followed your gaze and saw the three men standing there stripping him with their stares. "Hey, I'm Leo. Teflon's my father. Welcome to the party." "Ah, Leo," Scott was back into his character as if on instinct. "These are my boys Theo, Dan and Luther-" he announced but never pointed out who was who- "and I am Antony. And who might this beautiful lady be? Your sister?" Scott raised his hand to take yours, to which you obliged, and let him plant a little kiss before patting the top of your hand with his. You passed him a smirk. "This is my babe, Zenia." He was about to wrap his arm around your waist but reverted at the first sign of your piercing gaze as if remembering your rule. Javi's camera caught Loki hiding his smirk whilst he pretended to adjust his glasses. "Nice to meet you all," you acknowledged everyone before turning to Leo. "How about you make them feel welcome and I'll freshen up." Leo sucked in the air through his rounded lips. "Are we going to continue from where we left off that night?" he whispered; unfortunately, loud enough that the boys could hear it all. Peter averted his gaze, looking at anything but the two of you. Scott was still holding the candlestick but was gradually removing the holding plate from the rest of the stick.

Peter: *never coming in the frame* *groans weakly* somebody please pour acid in my eyes Scott: *sitting in front of the camera with a death stare* I'll continue from where you left off, Leo! *raises the candle stick with a menacing chuckle* Peter: *groans* somebody please pour acid in my ears

"Maybe," you nodded, building up a smirk, "if your office can take it." And with just that you left. At least that's what it felt like, save for the tiny second where Loki's camera caught your eyes staring directly into his before walking away.

Natasha sat in front of the screens that had mapped all the security cameras of the Teflon mansion. She watched you walk with the same sensuous gait you had bewildered the Avengers with just a few minutes ago.

Natasha: *proud smile* I taught her that *smile slowly turns into a frown* in ten hours. It took me ten hours to teach her a stupid walk because she hadn't walked like a woman. Ever. *pissed* *inhales* *exhales through her mouth* *in a calm voice* but she is doing better now *smiles again*

"I'm proud to see you not letting go of your character after five minutes, Y/N. Good job," she announced through the comms. A low growl came from your end as you turned a corner and waived at a blonde high as a kite. "I hate that son of a bitch. I swear to God, Natasha, I will break his teeth if he tries to bite my shoulder one more time." Before Natasha could respond to your anger, Sam muted her end of the comms. "Seriously, Nat? Y/N?" Nat blinked at Sam before nodding, making Sam lose the air in his lungs from the mock laugh involuntarily coming out of him. "You sent Stark's daughter on a mission with the world's creepiest pervert. What were you thinking?" Natasha blinked again, this time furrowing her brows. "Aren't your boys on the same mission?" "That's different," Sam brushed the air with his hands. "So is she," Natasha shrugged. "Your boys can't enter Leo's bedroom. She can." She pointed at the screen just as the security guards opened the door to the entire wing that was Leo's, where only a select few people could be seen. Taking the drink offered by the waiter at the door, you walked up the marble stairs as if you belonged there. No one second-guessed your presence as you walked through the corridors to the end of the hallway. The music was loud here too. The crowd here was less drunk and more high. You could hear moans and groans coming out of different rooms. But you walked past them all. Dropping the contents of your glass in the nearest potted plant, your legs increased their speed a little when they got close to the door. What you did not notice- but the cameras did- was a man following you. "Nat-" Sam's voice reflected the worry of watching a stranger follow you. "He's not from Leo's security," Nat responded, watching the feed as his hands went to his belt. Both Natasha and Sam unmuted the comms in unison. "Y/N, there's-" Before they could finish shouting their sentence, a gust of wind- with a dark figure- came from the left door, and pushed the man into room to the right. "What?" you stopped right outside your destination for a second before turning back. "What?" you asked again. "Nothing," your guardians declared in unison. You nodded, turned around and entered through the door. Muting the comms, Natasha and Sam stared at each other. "That was..." Natasha did not finish her sentence, looking at Sam for confirmation. Sam blinked at the footage a few times before looking at Natasha. "It better be someone on our side because I swear to God I ain't got time to deal with ghosts." Natasha shrugged, brushing the air around her, "It's probably Loki." She then turned away from Sam and looks right into the camera to whisper, "I pray." Sam whipped his head in her direction, looking at her with deep offence stuck in his neck.

Leo's private room camera feed took the main screen, showing you entering the door and turning right to where the bedroom was. You kneeled down by the bed to open the bedside drawer and click something on the underbelly. Natasha and Sam watched as the drawer hissed, and a false hood opened inside. Your hand went inside and brought out a transparent one-by-three-inch plastic plate. "What's that?" Sam had to ask. "It's a floppy or memory plate of some kind," you answered while walking to the other end of the private wing. You opened the door to the office and walked straight to the cabinet on the opposite wall. Natasha cursed under her breath as she noticed something in the corner of the live feed, going for the mic. "Miss Y/L/N?" a voice from behind you made you jump. It was one of Leo's security detail. The screen showed you immediately hiding the memory plate in your back pocket. "Hey!" your body language changed again, the arch in back coming back again and the sultry in your voice getting heavy. "I thought I was alone in here. Well, at least that's what Leo told me when he said he'd join me." But the man did not flinch. Instead, he took a step towards you. "Ma'am, what do you have in your pocket?" "Hmm?" you tried to act all innocent. Letting your hands dig into your pocket, you bit your lips and took out something shiny. "Not very discreet, am I?" "She has a condom," Sam whispered through the anxiety in his lungs. The security guy was still unfazed. "Ma'am, I need you to step out of the office," he made it sound like a request but his tone had other intentions. Natasha tried to get a read on the guy, who had his back to the camera, while you walked to your left towards the desk and sat on it. "Oh, come on, now. Don't be a prude. Leo's coming in like five minutes. So, you can leave me be." The man stepped towards you, taking his earpiece out. "Ma'am, this is a private study. I cannot allow you in here till Mr Teflon is present." He took another step, closing the gap between the two of you. "And if you don't walk out that door, I will have to take you out forcefully." "Wow! Did not even bother to mention Leo's name. No respect for the dude," you tsked at him before getting down from the desk and walking towards the door. "I work for Mr Teflon. I have seen whores like you dragged out of this office in bodybags just because they could not keep their attitude in check." Natasha could see a shift in your pace at those words, though you did not let that affect your composure. But the moment that man touched your buttcheek, Natasha could see your elbow making an impact into his rib. Your upper body turned to land a punch in his already grotesque expression before your knee cracked his balls. "Too bad for you, buddy," you whispered into his wincing infant form, "this whore knows how to fight." You hastily entered the memory plate into a slot hidden behind the books. The desk hissed and unveiled a glass case that housed the blueprints. You looked around for any openings to the case but could not find any. "How the f*&# does this thing open?!" you growled in pure rage. You jumped the desk to look for something to break the glass with, only to be tased by the security guy in the ankle. You fell on your knees. The man grabbed you by your ankle before climbing you to let his hands grip your neck. You tried to break the hold but this six feet tall animal had all the intentions of killing you right there and then. "CODE VIOLET!" Natasha screamed through the comms. "CODE VIOLET!!!" The camera watched as Sam struggled to get the boys on the comms before turning to Natasha; a hint of fear crawling into her eyes as they watched your grip loosen with every passing second.

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