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woahjo · 4 months

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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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voidbeomgyu · 1 year

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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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everafterwhat · 25 days

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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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stayxlix · 7 months

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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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inklore · 11 months

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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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destieltropecollection · 1 month

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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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falconearring · 11 months

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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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aziraphales-library · 8 months

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Hi wonderful librarians! Thanks for providing this service. I'm hoping to hear a few of your favourite non-AU fics in which the author is delightfully creative with how they have Aziraphale and/or Crowley use their supernatural powers. E.g. guess who by attheborder where they settle a bet by temporarily wiping their memories and trying to figure out who's who. Thanks!

Hello! Here are some fics in which miracles are used in fun, silly, and dramatic ways...

Heavenly Dues by IneffableDoll (G)

Months after Armageddon, Heaven still receives receipts detailing Aziraphale’s daily miracle usage. Michael makes the mistake of checking them one idle day. OR Aziraphale reheats a lot of tea and admires his demon, scandalizing an archangel in the process.

Five's the Charm by EA_Lakambini (T)

Aziraphale and Crowley challenge each other to not perform more than five miracles in a day. (They’re both also competitive, and may or may not be above sabotage.)

Five Miracles Aziraphale Performed Accidentally and One that was Entirely Intentional by anywh3r3y0uwant2g0 (T)

Only inexperienced angels will become so overwhelmed with emotions that they accidentally perform a miracle. Doing so is laughable. Aziraphale would never! Except that he has... five times now. Each and every time when he was around the demon Crowley. Why on God's green Earth would a demon make an angel feel so strongly that he would perform accidental miracles? CW: discussion of car accidents, a nightmare with the use of holy water on Crowley by Crowley, description of a panic attack. It'll be very clear when it's coming in the story though, so if you want to skip it you can! Mind the tags :)

Barking Up the Wrong Tree by inflappible (G)

Crowley loses a bet with Adam and gets turned into a dachshund for a week as punishment. Aziraphale has to deal with the consequences.

A Curious Case of Miracles on Marlborough Street by akfedeau (M)

After stopping the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale finally take the next step in their six-thousand-year friendship. But when a spate of miracles sweeps across Soho and Mayfair, they realize their amorous escapades may have an unintended side effect. As they scramble to restore balance and an archangel arrives to investigate, Heaven and Hell’s messengers learn that you can never have too much of a good thing.

One Miraculous December by journeytogallifrey (T)

Candles. Mistletoe. An entire frozen lake. Festive memories from their past together keep appearing out of nowhere. Crowley's sure he's manifesting them accidentally out of sheer romantic desperation. It's bad enough trying to hide his unrequited love as they grow closer post-Apocaloops - what if Aziraphale sees the objects for what they are, a window into his yearning soul? Unfortunately, the only way to banish the objects seems to be talking about each memory... Meanwhile, Aziraphale is just trying to woo his demon boyfriend with big gestures, ready to prove his devotion. And if Crowley acts awkward about the miracles? Surely that's just his difficulty accepting affection. The solution: shower him with as much of it as possible... Eventually these two will communicate, even if it takes 'til the end of the year. For now there will be cuddling, excuses for closeness, sappy words, flashbacks, nostalgia, bickering, and an obscene variety of holiday foods. Oh, and footnotes. That's right. We're doing those too.

And the one you mentioned...

guess who by attheborder (T)

“Ha!” exclaimed A. “We’re married!” He grabbed C.’s hand and held it up, pointing at the gold band around his ring finger. C. stared at the ring, and then at A., a delighted grin appearing on his face. “Oh— that’s brilliant!”

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #miracles #mod d

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yuri-is-online · 2 months

Note

Keep thinking bout Yutu and his relationship to his dad. Like we know a little more about Ace, Floyd, Azul and Riddle (maybe I miss someone else?) but I was curious about other details or interactions with the other Overblot boys.

Like how does talking with someone who tries his best to not get involved in other people's business like Jamil work for making his parents fall in love (if that's even something Yutu can see happening with how distant he is)? How does Yutu go about trying to lay some clues for Vil without being found when Vil's doing his best (with Rook's help) to figure out what's going on?

Or what about the shenanigans Ortho would get to to ensure Idia and Yuu get together so they can try to stop the apocalypse and how would Yutu feel about having at least one person (his uncle at that!) who he can rely on? Or does Yutu ever find himself in a situation that makes him go "oh, I could've had this with dad if it weren't for the council" whenever Malleus says something deep without realizing?

Gaaaaahhhhh I just really like this au and I wanna ask you so many questions but I also don't wanna be annoying

ask is referencing the fyuuture kid au, information on which can be found here and here, or under the series section on my masterlist.

No one is annoying for asking questions! I have asks for Idia and Leona's Yutus, which I think makes every overblot boy except for Jamil and Vil due for a detailed post. Azul! Yutu is a bit of a grey area since I have talked about him a bunch but haven't done detailed hc for him. Yet anyway, Jade and Floyd got one so he needs one too otherwise it'll bug me.

Jamil! Yutu absolutely has a lot of guilt and self hatred around his entire existence. As I talked about in the post about the main cast, Jamil was executed in Yutu's future, and he feels personally responsible for that. If his dad had never fallen in love with Yuu then he would have had a chance at his freedom, that's how Yutu has come to see it anyway. He doesn't want Jamil to fall in love with Yuu, even if it means erasing his existence. Down that road lies only tragedy, but there is also something so beautiful about the way Jamil interacts with Yuu when he thinks no one is looking. There is a degree of mutual respect for how hard the other works and intense desire for approval and praise he can sympathize with. He just doesn't see a way for this to end well if it's allowed to continue, he's a very pessimistic kid Jamil! Yutu. But then again the others didn't have to see the rotted corpse of their father getting dragged around by a blot phantom and be told by a few angry relatives of Kalim that he is the one who put him there.

Vil! Yutu is a bit afraid of his dad. He knows from personal experience that the man is intense and does not take no for an answer but he's never been in the position to see 1) what a good thing that can be or 2) just how silly that can make him act. He's also NEVER had to contend with the real Rook before. The Rook he's familiar with is a mindless monster, dangerous sure, but with patterns you can memorize and protect yourself from. This guy is just wild, sure his dad says that he's only putting up for his behavior "for now" but someone tell him where the fucking line is??? The last thing he wants is to just say everything and risk ruining the timeline but Vil keeps demanding specifics. The main thing Yutu tries to do is get him cooperating with Idia in learning about blot phantoms, the way he sees it things will be much easier if his two most trusted adults are on the same page. It's not a difficult ask either post chapter six, I think Vil is someone who would want to understand what happened to him on a scientific level to some degree, but oh Yutu. Now you've just made him wonder how you know that little piece of information, not everyone knows about his overblot, but he didn't know that bit did he?

Ortho and Idia! Yutu wind up being very close. Having his uncle on his side puts Yutu in a much more stable place emotionally and mentally than other Yutus. They spend a lot of time analyzing old records about blot and phantoms, everyone else is convinced they're just hyping each other up for some weird PhD project inspired by the Ramshackle Prefect's time at NRC and hey. They aren't exactly wrong. As for how they go about trying to get Idia and Yuu together... it's a lot of anime recommendations and conveniently forgetting they had something else to do. Yutu has just as in depth knowledge of Idia's tastes as Ortho does, and the added bonus of knowing Yuu's, so they search through lists of things, pick out the shows they know will get the two of you talking and then sit back and let you interact. Yutu is genuinely confused about why or if this is working... but Ortho did send him a video of his dad hyping himself up to try and ask you out (he over heated and just hid inside his room instead but hey. It's the thought that counts.)

Malleus! Yutu just got his post here. And yes he does think regularly about what he could have had with his father if things had been different, but a lot of those thoughts come from his sillier moments. Hearing Malleus talk at length about ruins or seeing him confused about how to interact with technology make him seem more... human for lack of a better term to him. He's very familiar with the myth of Malleus Draconia, but he wasn't fathered by a myth. He was fathered by a man who fell in love with a human under very extraordinary circumstances and Yutu wants to know about why. What things did Malleus like most about Yuu? About Twisted Wonderland? If he had gotten a chance to be raised by him what things would Malleus have wanted to teach him? Would he be any different?

Azul! Yutu is also afraid of his dad, but not based on any personal experiences just his own insecurities. He's not a thin guy, he's not in Octavinelle, and he is extremely worried that his dad will see him as some sort of stupid muscle head and be disappointed in having him. He's also, understandably, extremely angry at him when he learns what he did in Book 3 to his parent. Fuck this guy, he'll just save Yuu himself and hopefully if they still get together he'll grow up to be a totally different person when he's born in this good timeline. But there's just something about Azul's approval that he can't help but want now that drives him crazy. Why can't he just be ok with being alone? He has been all this time anyway...

(Meanwhile Azul is deeply impressed with how well Yutu is at disguising himself as a dumb muscle head. Just look at the kid, he's got everyone thinking he just is controlling their shadows while he's actually using a really complicated bit of cosmic magic. Suckers all of them. Not him though. He's not being fooled by anything about Yutu, no sir.)

Leona, Leona, Leona. He's tricky for me to write. Scar apparently has children? In one the the Lion King sequels? Leona's dislike of kids seems to come from his complicated feelings around the throne and his want for people to be independent. I think he would be one of those gruff intense kind of dads who does the whole "we are never getting a pet" thing and then you see him asleep on the recliner with Princess Nooodles III chilling on his lap with him. Anyway back to Yutu-

Leona! Yutu's relationship with his dad is tempered by the fact Leona knows who and what he is from the start and demands to know why he has traveled back in time. He doesn't explicitly say he knows that he is his father or that Yuu is his other parent, just that he knows time travel is involved, so they have a fairly open amount of communication regarding the overblot "business" but not on much else. Yutu has a desire to understand his father and Leona has a desire to not disappoint him. Who would want their dad to be the second prince? He's destined for nothing but a miserable life anyway, all of the responsibility and none of the privilege (outside of the money but lets be real, Leona's ass does not understand that.) I don't think either Leona or Yutu fully understands that his existence is enough for the other to be happy. When they are forced to talk about it they both laugh it off and roll their eyes at how cheesy that sounds but deep down it means a lot to both of them.

Riddle! Yutu has gotten a lot of posts about him and his "hatred" of his dad but I thought I'd take this post to mention I like the idea of Yutu's favorite food being the chestnut tarts/mont blanc that aren't allowed at Unbirthday Parties but that Riddle still wanted to eat anyway. He's a lot like his father in his love of sweets and his determined denial of it, but he isn't the exact same. Also gives him one more thing to pick a fight with Riddle over (his dad doesn't get the big deal, they can just have a private tea party with Yuu and have all the different sweets they want... can't they?)

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #future kid au #overblot boys

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toasty-owl-arts · 2 years

Note

I had this really weird dream about your star crossed au last night where the gang were having a three legged race and Kit and Anna were winning while Jane and Catherine were last so Catherine kinda just picked Jane up and ran but then Henry showed up so Catherine threw Jane at him and then Anne and Cathy mauled him

Yeah it was wild

Hjksnks that’s so on brand for them lmao

Jane Anne and Cathy deserve to maul Henry <3

#FinchAsks #star crossed #six post apocalypse au #also woa people are having dreams about my au? :O #that’s so cool wth

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gothgoblinbabe · 11 months

Text

Marlboro Red 100's (pt.1)

Daryl Dixon x FemReader (No use of Y/N)

Modern/no apocalypse/no walkers AU

Word Count: 3765

Warnings: Mentions of smoking, fluffy-lovey-dovey crap, suggestive-ish, swearing, mention of slight age gap but no ages specified

(Pt.2)

A/N: This is like my second ever one shot I've posted to Tumblr pls enjoy and don't rip me to shreds <3

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1:30 to 2:00

2:00 to 3:00

Then 3:30 to 4:00

4:00 to 5:00

5:00 to 6:00

Your shift dragged on and on the more you glanced at the clock, watching the hands circle around and around, painfully slow. Six more hours. You could do six more hours of this, right? Monotonously scanning items and cashing out customers, fixing displays, cleaning spills, scrubbing toilets, checking inventory; all the wonders of being a minimum wage employee at a gas station corner store. Overworked and underpaid, a sentiment shared by many.

There’s handfuls of regulars at any retail store. Some are pleasant and will make small talk with you, asking about your life or commenting on the weather. Others, not so much. Men can be creepy and some people will share every detail of their life with you, whether you want to hear it or not.

There’s rare times, though, when there's a customer that you actually have genuine interest in talking to. Like today.

The door chime rang out through the desolate store, causing you to repeat your usual “Hi, how’re you?” and turn your gaze from your shift paperwork up to the front door.

There stood a man, broad shoulders and shoulder length, dark hair. He wore dark jeans, heavy-looking boots and a leather vest over a flannel that had the sleeves torn off. His tan, muscular hands and arms were covered in what looked like motor oil. He wiped them on a red rag he took from his back pocket, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

“Hey,” his voice was low and gruff with a bit of a southern accent, “you got a bathroom I could use?”

He raised his arms, showing you the mess on his large hands.

“Yeah, uh, right in the back, to the left.” you stammered, gesturing towards the back of the building.

You’d probably die before you told anyone this, but the whole hot mechanic look some guys came in with really got you going. Not often is there a good looking guy that comes in that you drool over, but every now and then there would be a mechanic or a construction guy or a painter who just looks dirty and you wanted them dirtier. It was weird, you didn't know why, but maybe it was just the idea that they weren't afraid to get their hands dirty, literally.

You watched this one walk to the back, eyes on his biceps. Oh, how you’d like to be nearly crushed between them.

Seriously, being here so long with so little to do makes your mind wander just about anywhere and everywhere and half of what you did during your shift was daydream.

When he disappeared into the men’s room, you leaned against the cigarette wall behind the register, eyes scanning the parking lot outside the window. It was almost abandoned, except for an older man pumping gas into his Subaru and a worn-looking Harley Davidson motorcycle propped up out front.

“Of course he rides a motorcycle,” you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head with a little grin. He definitely seemed the type.

“Say somethin’, sweet ‘eart?” his voice startled you from your thoughts, noticing he’d already washed his hands and was now standing up against the counter.

You couldn’t help the light blush creeping across your face at the nickname, shaking your head and pointing outside, “just sayin’ I like your bike.”

You blinked at him from behind the register, watching his eyes almost light up at the mention of his prized possession. You could feel your heart beating faster at the scent of his cologne mixed with a little gasoline.

“Ain’t she beautiful? Just got done workin’ on ‘er, made a mess but it’s always worth it.” He grinned, glancing out the window at his bike.

“You new ‘round here? I’ve never seen you before,” you decided to blurt out, “think I’d remember ya’.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“Not many new people come through here, is all.” you lied, so many different faces slid through every day, but you’d remember his because you’d think about it later with your hands between your thighs.

“Huh,” he hummed, “can I get a pack of the Marlboro red 100’s, darlin’?”

You nodded, turning around and reaching on your tiptoes to grab the pack of cigarettes from the top shelf. Had you been able to feel the way the man’s eyes traveled down from the top of your head to your heels, you would’ve melted into a puddle right there.

“Anythin’ else?” you asked, placing the cigarettes on the counter top.

“One more thing,” he said, handing you a twenty dollar bill, “what’s your name?”

You pointed to the name tag fastened to your shirt and he read it outloud, erupting butterflies in your stomach.

‘’I’m Daryl Dixon. And yeah, I’m new ‘round here. I’ll be back in though, you’ll see more of me.”

“You gonna be a regular?” you asked, crossing your arms and once again leaning against the wall of cigarettes after you handed him his change and closed the drawer.

“Hope so, only If i see more a’ you.”

You rolled your eyes and tried to bite down the smile on your lips, failing miserably.

“Uh-huh, I’m always here, Daryl Dixon,” You teased, letting his name roll off your tongue.

“Then I’ll be back for sure.” He flashed a sweet smile, tapped his hand on the counter and turned to leave.

Once he was out the door, you watched him mount his bike, raking his hands through his hair and kicking up the side stand. As he pulled away, you felt the butterflies still flutter in circles in your stomach, your thoughts still focused on him.

You would see him again. It would be Daryl’s ritual to come in every Friday afternoon for a pack of Marlboro Red 100 cigarettes and sometimes a lighter. Truth was, even if his pack wasn’t empty yet, he’d still stop in every Friday afternoon just to see your pretty face and to watch you stretch the top shelf, his eyes raking over your shape. Jesus, he wanted you so badly it almost hurt, but he had no idea how to approach you about it, he didn’t even know much about you. Small things, like your family stuff and what you did for fun, but nothing much else. To make matters worse, he had to be at least 20 years older than you. What would you want with an old man like him?

Was he really old?

No, but he felt like it.

Except for when he was lost in conversation with you.

Every time he saw you, he felt as though there was no divide and you could’ve known each other years before, old friends meeting up every Friday for a couple months straight. He’d ask questions about you, what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, favorite song, movies, foods, anything he could learn about you, he absorbed like a dry sponge tossed into water. You’d always return the questions, ask him the same, and make mental notes of the answers, the same way he was.

On one sunny, dry, hot Friday afternoon, the door chimed and in walked your favorite regular, Daryl Dixon.

“Hey, honey,” He grinned your way, but instead of walking towards the counter as usual, he turned towards the cooler in the back.

“What, no cigarettes?” you pretended to be shocked, hand over your heart.

‘’I’m gettin’ a drink, hot as shit out there,” he replied, shaking his head and disappearing momentarily behind one of the shelves.

You smiled and rolled your eyes just as the door chimed again, another customer walking in.

He was a short, scrawny guy who couldn't have been more than a couple years older than you. You said your usual greeting and he ignored you, walking up to the counter and simply stating a brand of cigarettes you assumed he wanted. Daryl got in line behind him just as you turned around and bent slightly to grab the pack of cigarettes on the lowest shelf.

From behind you, you heard a whistle.

You snapped back up, looking back and glaring at the asshole. He was chuckling to himself.

“Aw, c’mon, it was a compliment, baby, you got blessed back there,’’ He laughed.

“Fuck off,” you muttered, tossing the cigarettes onto the counter and swiping the scanner over them.

“What was that, babe?” He raised his eyebrows.

Daryl looked like he was about to explode, piping up from behind the guy, “you heard what she said, why don’t ‘cha? Fuck off.”

He nearly spat his words, seconds away from stepping between this douchebag and the counter.

“I ain’t gonna let no bitch talk to me like that,” He snarled, swiping the cigarettes off the counter.

‘’Alright, that’s it,” Daryl placed his drink on the counter and slid it to you, “hold that, sweetheart, okay?” before turning to the other man.

‘’Fuck you think you are, talkin’ to a lady like that? She ain’t no bitch, that’s you. Get the fuck on outta’ here.” He spat, roughly grabbing the younger man by the collar of his t-shirt and shoving him towards the door.

‘’She ain’t no lady-” the guy started, back to the door, but Daryl cut him off.

“She’s every bit a’ one, now get the hell out and leave ‘er alone before I kick your fuckin’ teeth in.”

The guy tried to walk forward, but Daryl shoved him out through the door, onto the pavement. He scrambled up, seemingly too embarrassed to walk back in, and sped off. Daryl picked up the cigarettes from the floor where the guy had dropped them when he was shoved the first time and gently placed them onto the counter.

‘’You alright, honey? I’m sorry ‘bout him, fuckin’ asshole.”

You were just about breathless, a pit in your stomach and a tingle in your chest. You’d hate to admit it to yourself but the way he had defended you turned you on to almost no end. Your heart was beating a million times a minute, deafening in your ears as you blinked at his baby blue eyes.

You almost couldn’t speak, “ ‘m fine.”

“You sure?”

‘’Y-yeah, thank you.”

“Ain’t gotta thank me for nothin’, I’d never let some prick talk to ya’ like that.”

“Daryl?”

You had a bad idea, it was definitely bad and there's no way he’d say yes but your tongue was on a route that your brain couldn’t stop.

“Mhm?” he hummed in response, leaning on his forearms on the counter, so engaged in anything and everything you had to say.

Which made things so much worse for you.

“What are you doing tomorrow night? Are you busy?” you blurted.

Oh, this could be so, so bad.

“What?” He replied, steading himself to stand straight.

Okay, yeah, bad.

“Nevermind, I’m sorry, I don’t know what I-”

“No, no, sorry for what? I ain’t busy tomorrow night, what were you gonna say?”

Daryl looked intrigued, if not a little confused.

“It was stupid, I was gonna ask if you, um, If you’d wanna maybe have dinner or somethin’. Like a date.” You managed to get out, picking at your fingernails with anxiety.

“I ain’t too old for ‘ya?” was the first thing from his mouth after a moment of tense silence.

“Too old?” you questioned, tilting your head, “I’m an adult, Daryl. You can’t be too old for me.”

He sighed, grinning and rubbing the back of his neck as relief filled his body.

“When you want me to pick you up, sweetheart?”

You smiled wide, feeling giddy like this was your very first date all over again.

“Let’s do six o’clock? Here, I’ll give you my address,” you find a piece of a scrapped receipt and scribble your address and phone number, handing it over to him.

He gladly accepts it, folding it and placing it in his jeans pocket.

Before you know it, it’s six o’clock the next evening and you're focused on yourself in the mirror. You’d worn your favorite outfit and done your hair, waiting anxiously for the doorbell.

At five minutes past six, it rang.

You excitedly scurried to the door, opening it to see a slightly nervous Daryl Dixon in his leather vest and flannel button down.

He shook his hair out of his eyes to get a better look at you, making note of every curve and dip that made his head spin.

“You look…real, real pretty,” He managed to mumble out, having a hard time keeping his eyes on yours.

“You do, too,” you teased, stepping out into the evening air and closing the door behind you.

You followed Daryl to his motorcycle, your stomach turning with nerves.

“So where we headin’ off to?” you inquired, watching his broad shoulders in front of you.

“ ‘s a surprise. Figured I outta’ do somethin’ special for a girl like you.”

You blushed, shaking your head and only giggling in response.

“You alright gettin’ on the bike?” He asked sweetly, placing a gentle hand on your elbow.

You could melt under his calloused touch, instinctively leaning your body towards him.

“I should be alright, I think. Just never been on one before,” you caught your lower lip between your teeth.

He noticed the small nervous gesture, reaching over his bike and handing you the single helmet.

“You’re safe with me, alright? Hold on real tight and don’t let go, trust me, ain’t gonna let nothin’ happen to you,' ' He reassured you.

You hesitated for a moment before tugging the helmet on and letting Daryl help you on the motorcycle behind him. You wrapped your arms tight around his abdomen, leaning your weight on his back.

He was glad you were behind him so you couldn’t see the shade of pink his cheeks had turned or the way he couldn’t wipe the smile off his face even if he tried. You were significantly smaller in stature than he was and he adored the way your smaller arms wrapped tight around him.

“You ready, honey?” He kicked the side stand up, rearing the engine of the bike.

“Sure am, sugar,” You shot back.

His smile grew wider as you both started forward, wind through your clothes sending a light chill through you. The hum of the bike filled your ears as you watched your shadows dance upon the pavement, cast by the late afternoon sun.

Before you knew it, Daryl slowed the bike to a stop and turned to speak to you.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Nah,” you tried to act nonchalant, though your heart was beating like crazy as you handed him the helmet back, “it was fun.”

“So you’ll let me take ya’ out on it again?”

“Well, I’ll have to if we’re gonna go on any more dates, huh?”

Daryl smiled at your quick response, hopping off the bike and helping you do the same.

You checked out your surroundings, a green and desolate park, open lawns with freshly mowed grass and large oak and willow trees.

“You take me here to kill me?” you joked, watching a dragonfly hover over the cement near your feet.

“Nah, cmon,” Daryl chuckled, waving his hand to motion you to follow him, “got somethin’ set up for ya’. Hope you don’t think it’s stupid, I ain’t ever really…’guess I’ve never been on a real date before, so I, uh…I don’t know, hope you like it, is all.”

His nervous babbling as you followed in his direction into the field of grass made you smile wide.

“I’m sure whatever you got up your sleeve is -”

Words failed to form as you saw what he was leading you to. A blanket was laid out under the shade of a beautifully full weeping willow tree. Containers of all sorts of delicious foods were spread out along with a bottle of red wine and two glasses.

“Oh, Daryl, you did all this? For me?”

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to kiss him right there for being so damn sweet.

“Of course, for you,” Daryl smiled, taking a seat on the blanket and tapping the empty space next to him, “what other sweet lady would I do this for?”

You couldn’t hide the large smile spread across your face as you plopped yourself down next to him, taking in the array of foods.

“Wow, this is…you really out did yourself. This is perfect.” you assured him, taking note of the way he was scanning your features to see what you thought of his gesture.

“Think so? Just wanted to make it ‘nice as I could.”

“Perfect, all of it.” You smiled and opened a container of strawberries, popping one in your mouth and offering some to Daryl.

He took one appreciatively, doing the same.

You had a mischievous idea and picked up a strawberry, offering it to Daryl, “Now is this the part of the date where you feed me strawberries like in the movies?”

You thought he’d laugh, shake off your joke in slight rejection and change the subject.

Instead, he gently took the fruit from your fingers, hovering it in front of your lips.

‘’Yeah? Go ahead.”

Your stomach did back flips and you could’ve sworn it tied itself in knots at his words.

Daryl was glad you didn’t seem to notice the way his hand started to shake.

You leaned in, slowly, and caught the fruit between your teeth. You kept your eyes on his as you bit down, pulling away to wipe the juice from your lips.

Unfortunately (or fortunately) for him, that was one of the hottest things he’d ever experienced in his life and he immediately went for the wine to calm his nerves.

You watched him uncork the wine in his lap, noticing the slight bulge in the front of his jeans as he tried to hide it with the bottle, though it didn’t do much.

The way you had to do almost nothing but exist in his presence to make him excited had you biting down a smile, watching his hair fall in front of his face as he finally uncorked the bottle. As he poured your glass, you reached a delicate hand forward and brushed the hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. His eyes shot up to yours, lost in the way the sun hit them and made the color even more stunning.

You were beautiful, ethereal, an angel on earth he had been blessed to be touched by.

And you made him spill the wine.

“S-shit, sorry, I shoulda’ been lookin’, too distracted,” He laughed a little, glancing at the stain of red wine on the blanket.

‘’Distracted with what?” You teased, grabbing the bottle from his hands to pour him his own glass.

“How am I supposed to pay attention when there’s a pretty girl like you lookin’ at me like that?”

“Like what? I’m just lookin’ at you!” You giggled, going to hand him his wine glass.

“Like that!” he exclaimed with a smile, gesturing with his free hand as he took the glass from you, “with them beautiful damn eyes and that pretty smile and that gorgeous face, drivin’ me damn near insane.”

“Oh, please, you say it to flatter me,” you shook your head and laughed, taking a sip from your glass.

“Nah, but if you wanna feel flattered, I’ll sure keep tryin’,” He said, doing the same, “but it ain’t flattery if it’s true.”

You playfully rolled your eyes and had another snack. Daryl sat back against the tree and watched you intently, your lips, nose, jaw, hair, hands, every bit of you.

“You wanna know somethin’?” He said, gaining your attention.

“Hm?”

“I don’t really go through a pack of smokes a week. I just come in every Friday to see you. I like seein’ your pretty face and I like seein’ you reach up to grab ‘em from the top shelf. It’s cute.”

It felt like he knocked the wind right out of you. He really was too damn sweet.

“And I like talkin’ to ya’, like knowin’ more about ya’. Could talk to you for hours.” he added in admission, smiling in adoration at you.

It was almost too much.

“Daryl?”

He sat up, leaning towards you, “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I want you to kiss me,” you sighed, watching his eyes change, “please, kiss me.”

He wasted no time in placing a gentle hand on the back of your neck and connecting his lips with yours. His lips were soft against yours and tasted of strawberries and wine and cigarettes. His breathing was soft against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, placing his other hand on your waist and absentmindedly tracing circles with his fingers. Your hands were both in his hair, twirling his locks around your fingers. You both eventually broke apart to gaze at each other, breathless and giddy like teenagers.

“I like you a lot, Daryl.” you admitted, again playing with his hair. He leaned into your touch.

“I like you more.” He smiled, fingers still tracing patterns on your waist.

“Oh, you wanna start that fight?” you teased.

“Only if we can make up at the end,” He smiled.

You kissed him again, this time adjusting yourself to be nearly square on his lap. His breathing hitched and he gazed up at you, swiping gently at the hair that had fallen in front of your face.

“Show me how much you like me.” Was all you had to say to have Daryl’s tongue in your mouth, swiping lovingly and softly.

His hands caressed from your shoulder blades down your back to the sides of your hips, kneading your thighs while you tangled your fingers in his hair. He pulled away just an inch to kiss along your jaw and down your neck, biting and sucking softly, earning small mews and moans from you. You mumbled his name in ecstacy, making him groan against your neck. He continued to kiss back up your neck and jaw to once again meet your mouth, using one hand on the back of your neck to keep you as close against him as you could get.

When you two finally broke away from each other, reluctantly, neither of you could wipe the smiles from your faces.

It was no surprise then, when he dropped you home later and walked you to your door, that you both agreed to a second date.

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wooooo pt2 coming eventually!

#daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl x reader #the walking dead #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixion imagine

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catlady5001 · 6 months

Text

end of year fic recs

somehow it's almost 2024. where did the year go. where.

here // part two

i want to share some fics i really enjoyed this year, organized by fandom! each fic will have a short summary, the word count, and a + symbol if it's a work in progress!

fandoms:

Fear Street

Stranger Things

Percy Jackson

under a read more for people who just want to keep scrolling :)

Fear Street

break the chain by cassiopeia721 (@cassiopeia721). when Sam is forced to move to Sunnyvale due to her parent’s divorce, she’s shocked by how weird it is there. 5k, crack and angst

Stranger Things

always surprised by what i do for love by birthdaycandles (@steveharrington). dustin, lucas and mike are at a halloween party when they find someone dressed up as an injured steve harrington, and take it upon themselves to defend his honor. 6k, oneshot, hurt/comfort

the end is here (and we do it a hundred times over) by placebythering. set during season 4, steve keeps reliving the day of the apocalypse. 126k, angst with a happy ending

strange (but not a stranger) by heartofwinterfell (@nancywheeeler). mike wheeler character study - he struggles with feeling replaced by eddie. 10k, slice of life

this must be the place by palmviolet (@palmviolet). set after starcourt, robin stays at the byer's for one night - one night that quickly turns into two, then three, then many many more. 25k+, slice of life with fluff and angst

view from a bridge by palmviolet (@palmviolet). a retelling of season four that imagines a completely different type of monster - a cosmic horror. this is one of my favorite stranger things fics of all time. 173k, horror

In A Strange Land by MrsEvadneCake (@mrs-evadne-cake). set after season 2, it focuses on the eldritch monster that has invaded hawkins. another incredible fic. 180k, horror

you are young and life is long (and there is time to kill today) by heartofwinterfell (@nancywheeeler). series with two fics, one from eddie's perspective and one from steve's, about the timeloop they went through. eddie remembers. steve doesn't. 70k, angst with a happy ending

I've seen your face before, my friend, but I don't know if you know who I am by HMSLusitania (@hmslusitania). after S4, the stranger things gang has to time travel back to 1983 to fix everything. they get the chance to lead normal lives from that point onward, but everything has changed - making things very weird for eddie munson, who has no idea what's happened that makes Steve Harrington of all people try to befriend him. 27k, fix-it (this fic is ao3 locked)

a boy, a tender age by Kostas. in the aftermath of season 4, joyce byers adopts steve harrington. 11k, hurt/comfort

good for my boy by MacksDramaticShenanigans (@stevethehairington). the first time wayne munson met steve harrington (completely by accident). 7k, domestic fluff

HEARING DAMAGE by yes_bella_no. steve learns to live with his hearing damage, post S4. 35k, hurt/comfort

light my way by lesbianrobin (@lesbianrobin). in which Wayne doesn't meet Steve until quite a while after he and Eddie start dating. 10k, domestic fluff

Love and Honor but Not Obey by crow_of_crimes (Theyna_Shipper). a story about steve and robin's marriage of convenience and their (failed) attempt to keep it a secret. 11k, angst and fluff

the lathe by palmviolet (@palmviolet). my favorite steve timeloop fic. set during the season four apocalypse.

sub-culture by palmviolet (@palmviolet). steve is pretty convinced eddie now hates him. turns out eddie has the opposite problem. 61k, hurt/comfort

eating in the underworld by greatunironic (@greatunironic). 8-fic series in an au where steve goes with hopper, joyce and murray to the underground russian base and doesn't return. 103k, angst with a happy ending

an eye for an by pukner (@pukner). six times that the boy who calls himself Steve Harrington feels real, and one time he realizes that he isn't. 18k, angst with an unhappy ending. tw violence

i can give you a heartbeat by soupbitchin. ghost eddie tries to get someone to notice him. 114k, fix-it

STEVE’S FIRST BRUISE by cairparavels. spider-man steve au. 47k, hurt/comfort

hellfire (save my soul) by philomendron (tetrapteryx). steve asks eddie for help planning robin a birthday party set in the Cabaret of Hell . everything spirals from there. 49k+, slice of life / hurt/comfort

always burning, world keeps turning by pukner (@pukner). eddie survives season four, and is around to deal with the massive post-apocalyptic fallout. between all of the 'post-earthquake' mess, he and steve figure out what they mean to each other. 2-fic series, 61k+, hurt/comfort

i'll kiss your mouth, and you'll be better for it by cpressmn. somehow, steve and eddie are the last ones to realize they are dating. 8k, minor hurt/comfort

The Very Best People by scioscribe. something is very wrong in a seemingly normal suburb. steve and robin go undercover to investigate. 18k, mystery

this demo will save your life by oh_simone (@aiyahsimone). The summer after Vecna, Steve ends up managing Eddie’s band. 13k, fluff

I Like to See You in the Morning Light by BonitaBreezy (@bonitabreezy). eddie survived the apocalypse. now everyone has to deal with the fallout. 27k, hurt/comfort

you're beautiful (every little piece, love) by strawberryspence (@strawberryspence). for eleven, steve shaves his hair. 7k, hurt/comfort

Of Kings and Cult-Leaders by ladyofthenorthernlights. dustin convinces steve to host eddie's latest d&d campaign. 12k, hurt/comfort

It's Not a Big Deal by AidaRonan (@aidaronan). after S4, eddie survives, but his entire life is locked away in the Upside Down forever (his books, his DnD stuff, his guitar.). steve takes it upon himself to replace them. 12k, hurt/comfort

Percy Jackson

here comes the sun by seaweedbraens (@seaweedbraens). au where percy and annabeth are soulmates, and percy is a roman. 23k, hurt/comfort

if i were to pluck on your heartstrings and if i were to pluck on your heartstrings.by seaweedbraens (@seaweedbraens). a percabeth soulmate au told from two perspectives. annabeth knows who her soulmate is before percy knows his, and misunderstandings ensue. 45k, hurt/comfort

kiss me once 'cause you know i had a long night by herecomesthepun. no powers au where the PJO gang work together. "Annabeth is married, Percy is new and Jason is really trying to be a good friend here." 12k, comedy

Everything, And Then Some by palestinianpercy (@sar-soor). no powers au. percy is a wildlife photographer who ends up coming on his best friend's band tour to help them out while he looks for a new job and gets his life back on track. 127k, hurt/comfort

ends and beginnings series by palestinianpercy (@sar-soor). no powers au where percy and annabeth meet by chance, and while they know that what they have can't last forever, they can't resist each other. 146k, hurt/comfort

we made a lot of music dancing (you and i) by vll8586 (@percyheartsannabeth). au where percy and annabeth are dancers in a ballet company, and grow closer after being cast to perform a pas de deux together. 11k, fluff and romance

Not By Design by inkncoffee. Paul's journey from that guy dating Sally to being Percy's father. 11k, hurt/comfort

constellations by liketolaugh (@liketolaugh-writes). a series fic detailing the immense therapy percy goes through post PJO and post HoO. it's incredibly therapeutic to read. 310k+, hurt/comfort

Laying Waste To Halloween by pinspec (@pinspec). follows percy and annabeth through their childhood and teenage years. 127k, hurt/comfort

Not So Shore by bananannabeth (@bananannabeth). mortals meet percabeth au. 10k, slice of life

bring me home by pjoseries (divineauthor). percy jackson is twenty-six when hera takes his memories. alternate HoO AU. 4k, canon-divergent

is this the way to exit my youth? by afromaniiac (@afromaniiac). Percy gets a bottle of vodka for his birthday. He isn’t a fan. He and Annabeth talk about it. 1k, hurt/comfort

#fic recs #catlady speaks #stranger things #percy jackson #i tagged all of the authors i could find #it was too long a list to keep as one post :/

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mcgnagallsarmy · 4 months

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Top 10 Spuffy fics I’ve read (Feb 2024)

Dear Slayer by Elsa Frohman [PG-13]

Season 7 AU, based on the speculation that Spike might come back as a "living" vampire.

Drive by Holly [NC-17]

Freshly turned and very grumpy about it, Buffy finds herself in a weird place. One where her friends smell like food, her former mortal enemy smells like heaven, and the so-called love of her life has made it clear that killing her is on his to-do list. Throw in some overly zealous army guys and this is not Buffy's idea of a party. So she and Spike decide to hit the road at least long enough to figure out why neither of them can hit anything else. And since they're both single and free, well, Buffy wouldn't say no to a distraction from the never-ending laugh riot that is her life. And Spike can be very, very distracting. Good thing soulless vampires can't fall in love or she might be in trouble.

Fireworks by RavenLove12 [NC-17]

The gang is throwing a beach party for the 4th of July in hopes it will lift Buffy’s spirits and help her find a new love. Trouble is she’s already falling for someone they don’t expect.

Found by CupcakeCute [PG-13]

Begins between TGIQ and Power Play, continues post-NFA. Buffy learns of Spike's resurrection from an unlikely source and immediately sets out to make things right as The Apocalypse breaks out in L.A. Spike/Buffy pairing, some Angel/Cordelia.

The Kind of Anticlimactic that's… Not by EllieRose101 [PG]

Hellmouth activity has been almost worryingly absent of late, and with less trouble in Buffy’s life, she’s had nothing stopping her from spending extra time with her lover… Except maybe she has that backwards? (Alternative Season Six.)

Phoenix by EllieRose101 [NC-17]

Spike saved Buffy at great personal cost—something she hopes to repay. (Goes off-canon near the end of Once More with Feeling.)

Ready by sweetprincipale [NC-17]

AU early season 5. Riley and Buffy are still together and something big happened over the summer- a little bundle of joy is on the way. Buffy is not so joyful about how Riley is now treating her. She's ready to be seen as the Slayer and woman she still is, and Spike doesn't object to lending a hand (or other parts).

Spike's Girlfriend by EllieRose101 [PG]

Spike’s in love and the Scooby Gang are sick hearing about it—Buffy most of all. (Alternative Season Six.)

Under The Influence by NautiBitz [NC-17]

A few nights after their engagement spell, Buffy has to watch Spike. Problem is, a psychedelic demon may have just spritzed her with a mind-altering substance. Will Spike seize the moment? Or will they just end up naked? HMMM.

You've Got The Look by Geliot99 [NC-17]

“Buffy?” he mumbled as something soft brushed delicately across his eyelid. “Don’t open your eyes,” she said quietly, her voice flat with concentration, “or you’ll get poked with the eyeshadow brush.” He paused, motionless beneath her. “I’ll what now?” “Just hold still.”

#buffy the vampire slayer #btvs #spuffy #ficrec #monthly ficrec

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 5 months

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⬇ What I've Been Reading Recently! [In No Particular Order]⬇

Rivers and Roads (Rivers Till I Reach You) Series by peterparkersbff @pbpsbff

[Series Description and Notes] Zombie Apocalypse, No Powers AU centered on Peter, Tony, and Rhodey (But if we're being honest, it's pretty Peter-centric)

Updates will likely be posted out of order, but will be reordered so they are in preferred reading order. I'd recommend reading in series order.

Peter Benjamin Stark Series by MoonBoo

[Part 1, Stars Align Summary] Pepper is concerned about Stark Industry's image and organizes a tour for a group of orphans. It's during this tour that Tony meets a five-year-old Peter Parker, who is mute due to the trauma of witnessing Ben and May dying in a robbery, and realizes they're soulmates.

Time Brings All Things to Pass by MsWinifredQuale

Tony feels like he's in a good place right now. He's got a great fiancee, a makeshift but settled little family, and he's even in a fairly ok place with the former Rogues.

So naturally the universe decides to throw him some curve balls, when he gets a call one morning from the police claiming they've just picked up Howard and Maria Stark from the side of the road.

And that's not the only time-related event about to unfold.

Tony really hates time travel.

[Also includes de-aged Peter Parker]

Please obey the signs by Bergen

“This young man claims to have been invited by you personally.” Tony has learned to read Happy’s expressions. That one is disapproval, and it’s highly familiar. “Peter is helping me out in the workshop today.” “Why?” “Uh.” Tony has enough presence of mind not to carelessly throw Peter’s alternative identity around. “He won a competition.” Happy’s expression flickers, grows tense. “I did not approve any competition that included a trip to Avengers Tower.” “Okay. Well. If we had theoretically organized a competition, he would definitely have won it.” - Tony’s life lately has been a perfect storm of incompetence. But perhaps he can get some solid spiritual advice from a mischievous teenager with a secret identity he meets by the side of the road one evening, like a lucky little leprechaun. If only Happy would stop being so paranoid about Tony inviting a random kid into Avengers Tower, sheesh.

The Chill Factor by Tashie

5 Times Peter's thermoregulation caused issues +1 Time Others tried to do something about it.

Broken Thoughts (I Remember Everything) by blackwatchandromeda (avenris)

"Peter, who am I?"

He hesitates. "I'm sorry. I... I don't know."

Peter Parker has been missing for thirty-six days. When Tony Stark finally finds him, he's wandering around New York with no memories, unaware of where and who he is. The missing month is a mystery, and nobody knows what happened to him - least of all the kid himself.

Peter, meanwhile, is trying to piece together who he was. What doesn't help is the big secret he's sure Tony is keeping from him, or the way the man is avoiding him.

Nobody notices how the missing month is catching up to them until everything goes wrong.

(Not Infinity War compliant, but takes place after Civil War.)

When spiders tour their houses, chaos ensues by pirateninja9

"I am very pleased to announce that we’ve been invited for an overnight tour at Stark Industries.”

Join Peter and his Academic decathlon team on a chaotic field trip to the Stark Industries. Featuring a bullying teacher and student, a confused tour guide and many Avengers shenanigans. With luck like his, Peter should have known this would be as far from a normal tour as possible.

Mugs Are A Problem (I Do What I Want) by JAWorley

It’s not usually a problem. Tony doesn’t usually have to work so hard to hide it because Pepper, Happy, and Rhodey know. He can be himself around them. Right after the compound had been built, Tony had been worried about moving in with the Avengers full time… worried they’d notice his tics and figure out his secret. Then Germany had happened and the team had split up before they could fully move into the compound. Tony had had two years where he hadn’t needed to worry about it. Now that the Rogues are back and are living in the tower full time, it’s on his mind again and stressing him out. The problem? Coffee mugs. Well… coffee mugs, and other things and the fact that when he’s stressed out, the tics get worse. But mainly coffee mugs. Coffee mugs are the bane of his existence. OR Tony has Tourette Syndrome and he doesn’t want the Avengers (or Peter) to find out about it. The newly returned Avengers think Tony is just being a jerk when he knocks things off of tables and counters, because they think he’s doing it on purpose. Despite the angsty summary, this is all about the team coming back together and Tony learning that the people in his life can’t accept him as he is until given the chance to know him as he is.

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stayxlix · 10 months

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off the deep end. (06)

~(part six) the echoes of loss ~

pairing: rebel!felix x reader (f)

genre: non-idol au, post-apocalypse/dystopian au. wc: 20.8k

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

chapter warnings: violent mature themes, explicit sexual content (consensual, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), dom/sub themes), mentions of murder/death, oppressive government, fighting, weaponry (gunfire, knife use), injury, blood, vivid descriptions of nightmares, language, major angst as always, please lmk if i missed any!!

a/n: thank you all so much for your patience and continued support, it really does keep this story alive.<3 as always any feedback, likes, and reblogs are more appreciated than you know. i've been feeling a lil nervous to post this (what else is new lol) but im so happy to finally be able to share it with you. i hope you enjoy this one, its a bit of a doozy.♡♡

~series masterlist~

“Things become sweeter after they have been lost. When I finally grasped what I'd so desperately yearned for, it was turned to dust in my hands. And a small part of my mind remembers an alternate pattern of events, before I opened my eyes and returned to cold embrace of a reality in which I never truly belonged.”

Swallowed by darkness, he's stumbling backward but he isn't going anywhere. His mind isn't working correctly, isn't processing. His knees hit the ground and he closes his eyes but he can still see them. Misshapen faces, their expressions warped, disfigured, as they look through him. Right down to where the remorse festers in his guilt-ridden soul. He's delirious, on the verge of flight or fight. His chest constricts as he takes in shallow breaths. He tries to speak, to beg for their forgiveness. Yet its as if his lips have been sewn shut, his tongue far too heavy to move.

Instead, they speak to him in distorted voices that swell as he covers his ears. And suddenly they're reaching out, clamping icy fingers around his throat, pulling his hair, clawing deep scratches into his skin. They ask if he remembers their faces, what he's done to them, but how could he forget? Don't they know he carries it with him? Don't they know how it haunts him? He recoils, he fights to break free, but its no use. It never is. Even as his eyes wrench open, their grip lingers. A permanent reminder that they’re a part of him, and they always will be. Waiting for him there in the shadows every time he dares to close his eyes.

With a sudden jolt, his body shot upright from the hard wooden floor, covered in cold sweat that sent a shiver coursing through his frame. A shuddering exhale fell from his lips as he ran a trembling hand through his hair. A single tear traced a silent path down his cheek—a physical manifestation of the nightmare.

He blinked, taking in his surroundings.

Shadows danced across the walls as the faint glow of the moon filtered in through the boarded window above his head. As his breathing steadied, his focus began to sharpen. There, around him, lie the slumbering forms of his friends, his soul mates, the only people in the world he could trust. Each was nestled in their own corner of the room, soundly asleep, their tranquil faces untouched by the horrors that plagued his own mind.

And then, he glanced down to his side, to the figure closest to him.

You stirred, a slight pout forming on your lips as if your subconscious had somehow sensed his absence. His fingers twitched as he watched the slow, steady rhythm of your chest, and an unconscious urge fell over him to reach out and touch you. To reassure himself that this was real.

That you were real.

He eased his aching body back down onto the floor. You shifted closer, instinctively reaching out for him, and he welcomed the warmth of your touch.

Felix knew he’d have no chance at falling asleep again tonight, the clutches of the nightmare having left their mark on his consciousness. It was routine. He was used to it. So he lie there, still and contemplative, as his eyes trained to the ceiling. And it was in moments like these that his mind often drifted, the quiet solitude granting him the opportunity to reflect on his past and the individuals that had shaped his present.

Felix was born into a life stripped of control. He gritted his teeth when the devil’s symbol was seared into his back. He took lives when commanded—some innocent, some not—but he did it without question because it was all he’d ever been taught to do. Like second nature, he had grown numb to its weight. And in a twisted way, the sense of control that taking a life brought had become addicting to Felix. A fleeting illusion of power in a world where he’d always had none.

By the time Felix met Bang Chan, he had forgotten what it meant to be human, if he had ever truly known at all. He walked through life with a detached numbness. A hollow vessel, weighed down by the gravity of his sins. When Felix met Bang Chan, he had all but lost his soul. However it quickly became clear that Chan, despite being just a few years older than Felix, possessed the ability to help him find it again.

With the wisdom of someone far beyond his age, Chan became a guiding light for Felix. He instilled in Felix a moral compass, and although it might have been a broken compass that didn't function correctly all the time, at least it was there. At least Chan was there, to guide Felix back whenever the needle threatened to point in the wrong direction.

And so, in time, with Chan by his side Felix gradually came to realize that despite the desolation around them, despite the horrible things he had done in his life and the monsters who had forced him to do them, there would always be things worth fighting for.

Things worth fighting for, and people worth believing in.

Felix had never come across anyone with such innate passion for survival, until he crossed paths with Seo Changbin. A force to be reckoned with, Changbin was unapologetically himself. A fiercely loyal companion who challenged Felix to push beyond his limits—both physically and mentally. Changbin was the flame that reignited Felix's spirit, and through his unwavering support, Felix gathered the strength to keep moving forward no matter how hopeless things may seem.

Felix had never been particularly fond of loud noises, until he heard Han Jisung fill an empty space with laughter for the first time. In Jisung’s presence, Felix often found himself caught in fleeting moments where he could allow himself to be young, to feel free. He gained new experiences through Jisung, who had a way of weaving captivating stories and spinning enchanting tales that demanded the attention of everyone around him. Even if it was no secret among the group that many of Jisung's stories were fabrications, born from his own need to conceal the burdens he carried, that didn’t stop Felix from hanging on to every word. And sometimes, on sleepless nights when the lines between nightmare and reality blurred, when he felt himself slipping away again, Felix would replay those stories in his mind. He would imagine himself in Jisung’s place instead, and it helped.

Felix had never truly grasped the fragile nature of human life, until he was introduced to Lee Minho. Despite his awareness of Minho's skills as a trained healer, Felix was more than hesitant to let the boy from District 9 treat his wounds. His body bore a map of faded scars. Every mark served as a permanent reminder of the cruel nature of the world that had shaped him. The idea of relinquishing control, even to someone as capable as Minho, ignited a fire of reluctance within Felix. And so, instead of accepting his help, Felix chose to let his own cuts bleed as he observed Minho tend to the wounds of his companions. Countless times, he watched Minho’s patient hands move with a touch so delicate it was unlike anything he had ever witnessed before.

But this wasn't the only reason that Felix found himself drawn to Minho's presence. Because Felix came to realize that beyond his remarkable ability to mend physical wounds, Lee Minho also possessed a unique understanding of the intricacies of the human heart.

In Minho's company, Felix didn’t feel the need to maintain a facade of unyielding strength the same way he did with Chan. And whereas Jisung introduced Felix to fleeting moments of happiness, Minho taught Felix that it was okay to feel like he didn’t deserve them—that grappling with his self worth didn't make him weaker. Minho's impact on shaping his sense of self was profound. And it was because of this that Felix, who had entered the world without an identity, eventually came to find comfort in embracing Minho's surname as his own.

Lee Felix found himself captivated by the bond shared between Kim Seungmin and Yang Jeongin, a testament to the strength that comes from placing unwavering trust in another human being. Their connection stirred a repressed longing within Felix for a similar closeness, and Seungmin’s patient demeanor granted Felix the freedom to achieve it. To open up at his own pace, to learn to navigate the delicate art of trust on his terms. Seungmin asked questions with genuine interest, but he didn’t pry, he didn’t judge, and so he and Felix were quick to develop a bond of their own built on the steady foundation of mutual respect.

In Jeongin, Felix witnessed an innocence that he himself had been denied. Throughout his life, Felix had grown accustomed to the way others regarded him. Those he had targeted as victims consistently bore the same expressions of fear. And among the boys, despite their best efforts to conceal it, there was always an undertone of pity in their eyes when they looked to Felix.

But when Felix met Jeongin's eyes, he saw no traces of fear or pity behind them. Instead, he saw genuine admiration. And although the role of mentorship was not something Felix had ever sought, it was in the youngest member of the group that he discovered a newfound sense of purpose—the responsibility to serve as a guardian himself in a world where innocence was more than rare.

Lee Felix had never found comfort in a silent space, and he never understood people who did. People like Hwang Hyunjin, who could sit for hours underneath a gnarled oak tree with only the still air and a journal to keep him company. To Hyunjin, the silence was as much of an empty canvas as the pages in front of him, and he used it to sketch his thoughts in elegant strokes, capturing the faded beauty of a dying world. Hyunjin’s ability to create something delicate with his own two hands was a talent that fascinated Felix, who’d always had a tendency to overlook the intricate details of life.

Always restless, constantly on the move, Felix was a perpetual wanderer who trampled over flowers underneath his shoes, who paid no mind to the warmth of a summer breeze against his skin. Even the moon had once been nothing more than a distant companion to Felix, overshadowed by the need to keep moving to survive.

Until he found Hyunjin.

After fate led Felix to Chan, it brought him to Hyunjin.

Beneath an uncharacteristically clear sky on a sweltering summer afternoon in District 4, Felix found himself compelled to venture out in search of water. It'd been a few days since he’d last seen Chan after the older boy had embarked on a supply run that he'd insisted on making alone, so after leaving behind a small note in their usual spot, Felix set off. Determined not to stray too far, his steps were fueled not only by his parched tongue but also the need to keep his mind off of his growing concern for Chan’s absence.

It wasn't long before Felix found himself within a thick patch of vegetation, where he came across a small pond. And as he stood at the pond's edge, swiping the hair from his sticky forehead and debating on whether or not he was desperate enough to drink the murky liquid, a figure emerged from the brush on the opposite side.

A golden haired boy, injured and in desperate need of help.

Felix’s initial instinct was to take advantage of the boy’s vulnerabilities, to steal what he could from him and abandon him to his fate. But he was different now. He was no longer the person he once was. Throughout his time spent alongside Chan, Felix had learned how to reset his own compass. And so, with newfound clarity he cautiously approached the boy. Felix draped an arm around his waist, and in silence he helped support the boy's weight as the two retraced his steps back to camp.

That night, as the boy drifted in and out of consciousness, Felix’s knowledge of his background remained confined to a single detail. A name—Hyunjin. And as Hyunjin slept, Felix pressed two fingers to his neck periodically to make sure that his heart was still beating.

Felix thanked the gods he'd never believed in when Chan returned the following evening. Through a single shared glance between two kindred souls who had become attuned to each other’s thoughts, a silent conversation was held. Understanding passed between them, followed by a nod of approval from Chan that resonated deeply with Felix.

While Chan himself was no medical expert, his time spent navigating the districts had offered him a bit more understanding about basic healing than Felix—who had been trained solely in the art of taking lives, never saving them. Chan hastily took over Hyunjin’s care, making most of the limited supplies he had returned with. And that night, as the moon returned to bathe their campsite in a delicate silver embrace, as Chan monitored Hyunjin’s sleeping form, he shared with Felix the story of a place called Clé and a woman named Hira.

His words painted the picture of a sanctuary for lost souls, orchestrated by an arms dealer whose beauty shone through her scars. The corridors within Clé called out to those who believed in the possibility of an escape from their lives. However, its doors were not open to all seeking solace.

Hira selected her guests with a discerning eye, choosing to bestow her favor upon only the most physically alluring souls. And those deemed unworthy were turned away, left to return to the unforgiving terrain of the districts they so desperately wished to escape.

Individuals that did find themselves granted access to Clé were groomed to master the art of pleasure, sculpted and shaped to perfection through teachings that revolved around the art of evoking desire and temptation. And when Hira deemed them sufficiently molded by her touch, she would whisper them away to District 9, transported by armed guards to the heart of the Inner Circle—where their beauty would become its own form of currency, traded away to the leaders who governed its polished streets.

It was a journey that came at the highest of prices, demanding a sacrifice of dignity in pursuit of survival. A final attempt to slip free from the rusty chains of their current existence, only to find themselves imprisoned on the other side by a shiny new cage with an unbreakable lock.

It didn’t take long for Chan’s heavy eyes to fall shut that night, eager to embrace the welcome arms of sleep now that he was back where he belonged. But even as light began to flood the sky above, sleep remained elusive for Felix. He suddenly found himself gripped by an unexpected gratitude for his own past, for it had ultimately led him in the opposite direction from the sinister paths that snaked throughout District 9. And as he lie there pondering the twists and turns of fate, Felix found himself wondering if he would have meet Hira's standards, had he found himself seeking refuge within Clé. He contemplated whether or not he would ever have been deemed worthy of a destination such as District 9—a question that lingered within his consciousness for quite some time, even if he had no real desire to know the answer.

As the days turned to weeks, as Hyunjin's condition gradually improved, the duo became a trio. They fell into a seamless rhythm, trading roles and responsibilities without the need for explicit communication. Hyunjin effortlessly assumed the role of the heartstrings that held the three of them together. Each time Felix let his temper get the best of him, it was Hyunjin who went chasing after. Whenever Chan pushed himself beyond his limits, it was always Hyunjin who stepped up in his place. And as the weeks faded into months, as Felix came to know Hyunjin on a deeper level, it was as if a filter over his eyes had begun to lift. The once-overlooked intricacies of the world now caught his attention. Hyunjin intrigued Felix in a way that nothing ever had, and the shared curiosity between them prompted the two to weave a separate history of their own.

But it was a complicated history, one that struggled to withstand the pull of Felix’s dark past. Because whenever their friendship edged on evolving into something more, Felix would instinctively withdraw, grappling with his inner turmoil and the fear of exposing Hyunjin to the mistakes of his past. Hyunjin, too, harbored secrets of his own, which only added to the strain between them. And despite the tender moments that were truly good, they were both still so young. Too young to fully understand the complexities of love and life.

Too human, to comprehend the workings of fate and destiny, but still perceptive enough to appreciate the significance of what had brought them together. Which is why, even after it all came crashing down, spiraling far out of either of their control, the bond between them remained. A delicate bond, worn and frayed at the edges, was left lingering in place of something that could have been so much more. But it remained, nonetheless. Because Hyunjin had been there on nights when Chan couldn’t be. When Felix woke from unforgiving nightmares, drenched in sweat and overcome with fear, the golden haired boy was at his side in an instant to wipe away his tears and provide soft hums that lulled him back to sleep.

And so even now, in moments when his ears buzzed with silence, Felix continued to find peace in Hyunjin's presence. Because just as Chan had shown Felix the difference between right and wrong, between morality and depravity, Hyunjin taught Felix the true essence of living. To appreciate the colors of the sky when before he had only seen shades of grey. To hear the music in a quiet moment when there was no sound. To feel the warmth of shared memories through the ghost of Hyunjin’s touch, long after he stopped receiving it.

Hyunjin left a new kind of mark on Felix, a testament to the level of emotion he was capable of feeling. Which is why when Felix met you it was as if fate had given him a second chance to explore the depths of human connection. He built his walls like always—old habits die hard, or something like that—but this time Felix built them on a foundation that was just a little less sturdy.

A fraction less resilient than before.

Because in your eyes, he saw the reflection of the person he was still struggling to become—someone who had known darkness and pain but still managed to overcome it. You didn’t avoid his scars, you looked directly at them with understanding and acceptance in your eyes. And in the intimate moments when it was just the two of you, Felix felt a sense of belonging that he had never experienced before. Not even with Hyunjin, whose efforts to unravel his innermost layers had fallen short because there was a part of Felix that Hyunjin could never fully reach, no matter how hard he fought to.

But you, you soothed his burning skin with your touch, closed open wounds with every kiss, mended his broken soul a little further every time you spoke his name. Which is why this time, Felix wasn’t just letting his walls come down—he was tearing them down himself. Because in your presence, Felix had begun to develop the hope that some day he would be able to free himself completely from the darkness that had once consumed him.

And as he lie there beside you that night in Clé, Felix couldn't help but notice the way your fingers occasionally brushed across his form as if to reassure yourself that he was there. He shut his eyes, he recalled the gentle pressure of your hands through his hair just hours before, and as he relished in the comforting warmth of your body next to his, Felix felt himself begin to believe in the possibility of a different kind of love that wouldn’t end in loss.

For the first time in his life, Felix allowed himself to entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.

The night was eerily still, save for the faint rustling of leaves outside as a gentle breeze slipped in through the boards covering the windows. You were lost in a comfortable, dreamless sleep when an insistent shake startled you awake. When your eyes snapped open you found yourself face to face with Felix, his own eyes wide and brimming with alarm.

“Hey, wake up,” his hushed voice reached your ears through the darkness, and despite the drowsiness that still clung to your senses, it would have been impossible to miss the urgency in his tone. “Something isn’t right.”

You sat up quickly, the familiar feeling of adrenaline beginning to flood your veins once again, erasing any lingering remnants of sleep. Felix draped the jacket you had been using as pillow around himself before promptly pulling you to your feet.

“What’s happening? Where is everyone?” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes with your free hand as you registered the emptiness of the room that had been full when you'd fallen asleep. Felix shook his head, his grip on your hand firm as he swiftly guided you toward the door. “They’re downstairs. We need to go.”

“What? Go where?"

“Anywhere but here, we need to go," he urged. Without further question, you hurriedly followed him down the dimly lit corridor. When your gaze briefly fell to the supply closet, your time spent inside with him earlier that night flashed through your mind, warming your cheeks. But the memory was quickly overshadowed by a shrill cry that pierced the air when you reached the top of the staircase.

Felix quickened his pace, mirroring the rising hysteria in the voice that grew louder with every step you descended. Your hold on him tightened when you registered the words it carried.

The same words. Two simple words. Repeated over and over again.

I'm sorry.

The source of the voice was revealed at the bottom of the staircase, where you were met with the sight of Yeonjun, kneeling on the floor in the kitchen. A handful of small candles flickered on the table, casting a warm glow across face—cheeks wet with tears, puffy eyes red and swollen as he looked up to where Hira stood over him.

Sensing your unease, Felix lightly squeezed your hand, urging you to stay put as he observed the exchange between Yeonjun and Hira.

"How could you?!" Hira’s voice erupted in sudden anger, her fury directed down at the crying boy. Her tone was chilling, ice cold, and the words that followed sent an electric shock drilling up your spine. “You’ve sentenced us all to death.”

Glancing to Felix, you held your breath as you watched his features darken. The look in his eyes reflected your own growing realization, and your suspicions were confirmed when Yeonjun's voice rang out again.

“They threatened me! They were going to kill me, and they were going to come back for you!" A sob caught in his throat, and he paused to swallow it down before continuing. “They promised to let us go..they said they wouldn’t hurt anyone..that they just wanted to talk to them, and I-I’m sorry! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry, Felix."

When Yeonjun turned to look at him, Felix froze. His eyes went wide and his grip on your hand went stiff, leaving you with a sinking feeling in the deepest pit of your stomach.

Because not only did he know why Yeonjun was sorry, but he knew exactly who they were.

And so did you.

Movement against the far wall caught your attention as the thin curtain over the window was blown aside by a gust of wind. Through the open space, you noticed two round spots of yellow light in the distance. And Yeonjun's cries were drowned out by the frantic drumming of your heartbeat in your ears when you realized that they were headlights.

Time stood still as the fragile moment of solace you had found with the freckled boy last night was shattered to irreparable pieces. From the corner of your vision, you caught sight of Hyunjin as he came rushing in through the entrance to the kitchen. “They're getting closer, we need to go now!" His panicked words, along with your shared understanding of the situation, left no room for further hesitation from either you or Felix.

A fiery determination seemed to ignite within Felix when he began to move, dragging you with him. You lowered your head as you passed by Yeonjun and Hira in the confined space, however your heightened senses were immediately called back into focus when a cold hand clasped around your free wrist. Your movement came to an abrupt halt, causing Felix to do the same. With wide eyes, you lifted your head to him before shifting your gaze down to where Hira had claimed a vice-like grip on your flesh.

As her sharp nails dug into your skin, leaving deep crescent shapes underneath, her elegant features twisted into something unsettling—something outright disturbing, that grew even more pronounced when her lips parted to speak.

"This is your fault," she snapped. "I knew it was you from the moment I laid eyes on you. The resemblance..I never expected to see her face again..but you..you look just like her."

The scrutiny in her eyes held a flicker of recognition, as if she saw someone else when she looked at you—as if you were suddenly entangled in a history that you hadn’t been a part of writing. And your mind raced as you tried to make sense of whatever connection she could possibly believe that you had to her own past.

“I-I don't know what you're talking about,” your voice quivered as she took a step closer. When you tried to free your wrist, she fastened her hold, forcibly yanking you toward her.

"Felix-"

The freckled boy reacted immediately when his name fell from your lips. Dropping your other hand, he lunged forward in a single motion, prying Hira's fingers from your wrist with such force that she stumbled back, colliding harshly with the wall. Long strands of tangled hair fell into her face at the impact, but she made no effort to sweep them away as her gaze shifted from Felix back to you.

Her words hovered in the space between you, but before they could fully settle in your mind, before you got any chance at all to ask her what they meant, a single bullet fell in through the open window—striking Hira in the skull with lethal precision.

Blood splattered across the wall behind her, a few droplets landing against your cheek as her lifeless body slumped to the ground.

Every muscle in your body locked as your focus tunneled to the frozen expression on her face and the disturbing sensation of the warm droplets against your skin.

Yeonjun’s cries turned violent when he crawled over to take her into his arms. And as you watched him cradle her limp form, the world around you suddenly felt so distant that hardly any of it seemed real at all.

When a second bullet embedded itself into the wall at your side, Felix swiftly drew you into the shelter of his chest. His deep voice resounded through the air, rising above Yeonjun's as he shouted at Hyunjin to “GO!” assuring him that the two of you would be close behind.

Around you, Hira's guests began to flood the room from various directions—the common area behind you, the staircase up ahead—and as their eyes fell upon their fallen leader, their shrieks formed a chilling chorus that drove you to seek further refuge in Felix's chest. He covered your ears with his hands to shield you from their screams, his touch gentle even amidst the chaos.

“Princess I need you to move, we have to go now,” he pleaded, tilting your head to meet his gaze. And the effect was immediate. The unspoken promise in his eyes to keep you safe, the sound of his voice, coupled with with the caress of his thumbs as they swiped the blood from your cheeks—it worked. Felix brought you back to the present moment as you grasped hold of the fact that your survival, that his survival, depended on getting the hell out of there.

You managed a single nod, and Felix took it as your agreement. In an instant, his arms were back around you as he began to shoulder through the horrified guests in the room. When you stumbled free of the kitchen, he broke into a swift run, replacing his grip on your hand.

"Stay close," he instructed, and you responded with a firm squeeze to his hand.

Outside, the fresh air hit cold against your clammy skin, shocking you out of fear and replacing it with fierce determination to protect the boy whose fingers were interlocked with yours. The moon that you had depended on for guidance so many times before was shrouded in darkness tonight. Unfamiliar voices, gunfire, and the rumble of a single engine in the distance filled the air behind you, disorienting you further.

Around the backside of the building, flashes of movement revealed where the rest of the boys had gathered at the rover. “They’re closing in! We need to get out of here!” Chan shouted in your direction.

Felix lifted the motorcycle to a standing position, and while he ensured it was ready to go, you squinted through the darkness to count the bodies in the rover.

Seven.

There were seven, including Hyunjin, who had assumed his original place beside Jisung. When you settled down on the bike after Felix, he reached behind himself to secure your arms around his waist. “Don’t let go, I’ve got you," he affirmed. His voice carried steady strength, and there was a sincerity in his words that made you believe that he meant them—that he did have you. And that you would always be safe with Felix, even if it would never be possible for him to guarantee.

When the rover carrying the rest of the boys surged ahead, Felix followed suit. Positioning the bike at its side, he quickly took the lead in front of Chan who directed him to steer the chase deeper into District 6. It meant veering off course from the route you had originally planned to take to get to Miroh, but none of that mattered now.

The morning you’d spent planning for your journey inside Yellow Wood felt like it had taken place years ago.

The night you’d shared with Felix on the rooftop, a lifetime.

Guided by a single headlight, Felix navigated the dark terrain expertly. He mastered every twist and turn, every jolt and bump, with skilled precision. And as the ground beneath you transitioned from soil into concrete, the barren stretches of land suddenly gave way to remnants of civilization once again.

Above you, a passing cloud released the the moon, freeing it to cast long shadows across fractured pavement that led straight toward a city. An abandoned city, from the looks of it, as there was no flickering firelight in the distance, no glimmering lanterns—only a dark expanse. An oppressive, pitch-black void that radiated something menacing, as if warning you to stay away.

The wind stung against your face when you lifted it from Felix's back. “You know where you’re going?!"

His attention remained fixed straight ahead as he shouted, “Been here a few times! Not enough to remember it all but we might be able to lose them in the streets!” And then, in a single movement, Felix placed one of his hands over yours where they were interlocked at his waist. It was a small gesture meant to reassure you, that instead made you regret everything—the entire chain of decisions that had led you to this point. Because the thought of what would happen to him if you weren't able to outrun your fathers guards tonight was a burden that you couldn't fathom bearing.

Towering structures loomed overhead as the vehicles raced into the city, their windows like hollow eyes watching over you as the sounds from the pursuing guards resonated in the near distance. The guards were close, but Felix was fast. He weaved in every direction, attempting to use the crumbling structures to your advantage, and surely he would have succeeded in losing them amidst the ruins if it had just been the two of you on the motorcycle. But the layout proved to be an added challenge because wherever he went, Felix had to ensure that Chan would be able to get through behind you.

And if he could, then your father’s guards could too.

Rounding a corner as you neared heart of the city, the street you had been following was unexpectedly barricaded by a collapsed building, leaving you trapped.

With no way forward, Felix brought the bike to a screeching halt.

“Fuck we have to find another way. Hold on,” he muttered, maneuvering the bike around just as Chan and the others pulled up behind you.

"We’re never going to be able to outrun them!” Minho shouted, his eyes darting back and forth in search of the best sign of escape.

“Everyone get out! We'll go on foot!” Chan commanded. And the boys obeyed without hesitation, driven solely by survival. Because that's what it was—survival. If caught, your father's men wouldn’t let them live.

And every single one of you knew it.

Following your lead, Felix swiftly dismounted the motorcycle. He cast it aside before reaching for your hand again, and you didn't hesitate to take it as Chan directed the group toward a building with glass doors that had been shattered open, beckoning you closer.

Upon entering, you found yourselves within a vast, open space underneath a high ceiling supported by several white pillars that gave the place an air of importance. Moonlight streamed in through elongated windows overhead, casting silhouettes along the once-pristine interior. The pale marble beneath your feet was cracked at nearly every inch of its surface, rendering you unsteady.

In a race against time, you pushed yourself to run faster than you ever had, pulled forward the boy you would have given anything to protect. Ragged breathing filled the air as you closed in on a second set of doors at the far end of the space, but before you could exhale a sigh of relief, a sudden cry rang out from behind you.

Your eyes swept across the scene, instantly drawn to where Jeongin was sprawled on the ground a few feet away, clutching his foot as he hissed in pain. It was difficult to discern through the darkness exactly what had happened, until a single beam of moonlight caught on something shiny protruding from the worn out sole of his shoe.

A shard of glass.

Felix took a step forward but Chan was closer, quickest to reach Jeongin’s side.

“I can keep going,” Jeongin insisted through clenched teeth as Changbin joined Chan in lifting him from the ground. His arms looped around their shoulders, and he began to limp forward while Chan shouted at the rest of you to keep moving.

You turned to Felix and when his wide eyes connected with your own, a sinking feeling took hold over your entire body. “It’s okay, we’re okay,” he breathed. Yet despite his words, despite his best efforts to conceal his fear, the steadfast determination that had marked his expression only minutes before had vanished entirely.

In an instant it was as if if you could feel your undeniable fate settle in around you, ready to consume you whole.

Slowed down by Jeongin’s injury, the danger the nine of you faced had reached a critical point. And the realization that you weren’t going to be able to escape it dawned on you the very moment you emerged from the threshold on the opposite side of the building.

Felix was first of the group to make it out, followed closely by you with your hands still interlocked. The second you set foot onto the pavement, the entire area around you was flooded with a blinding burst of light.

Flashlights and a single set of headlights were switched on, causing your senses to reel. Your eyes painfully adjusted to the sudden brightness, and your feet skidded on the gravel as you instinctively sought refuge behind Felix, lifting your hood and pulling it low to shield your face.

The menacing sound of numerous firearms being raised echoed throughout the air as they took aim at you from every direction. And the severity of the situation escalated even further when a second rover came barreling around the corner to join the first—rendering you severely outnumbered, with virtually no chance at escape.

Felix made an effort to withdraw, stumbling as he pushed you behind him. “Go, go, go!” he repeated, desperately urging you to retreat back inside the building. But despite his insistence, fear rooted you in place.

Over your shoulder, you watched as Minho and Changbin swiftly raised their own guns, taking up defensive positions just inside the entrance, knuckles white against the weapon's dark metal. They stood at the forefront next to Chan, who met your gaze through the shattered glass doors that separated you. And although his stance was resolute, the sheer terror in his eyes was overwhelming.

“Enough! Stand down!” a bellowing voice ripped through the air without warning. It was a familiar voice, you had heard it before, however in your current state of alarm you couldn’t recall exactly which one of your father’s guards it belonged to.

Your eyes remained fixed on Chan, who responded by bravely stepping out through the doors with raised hands. He took a few tentative steps forward, positioning himself directly beside Felix in a subtle attempt to further shield your face from the guards.

When Chan addressed them, his voice was surprising steady. “We don't want any trouble, we’re just trying to survive.”

“You’re fugitives. You’ve already caused enough trouble,” the guard snarled in response.

You pressed your forehead to Felix's back, clutching his jacket as you wrestled with the conflicting thoughts in your head. Maybe, you thought, maybe if you revealed your identity and offered yourself up in exchange, they would let the boys go. But it was a fleeting thought, because deep down you knew they wouldn’t.

They wouldn’t.

And the understanding that you were completely and utterly helpless was enough to bring tears to your eyes. But it was nothing in comparison to what you felt when you registered the shuffling sound of approaching footsteps.

Your pulse quickened as Felix shifted, straightening his posture and positioning himself closer to you.

“Wait-” Chan's voice rang out with urgency as he tried to take a step forward, only to be shoved aside by the barrel of a gun held by an unseen guard.

And then, without warning, Felix was suddenly wrenched from your grasp in a heart-stopping display of brutality.

The guard that seized him spun him around violently, and panic rose hot in your throat when his hand pressed down on Felix's head, driving him to his knees.

Without turning around, Chan motioned frantically for Minho and Hyunjin to lower their guns.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a bargaining chip," the guard taunted. His comrades snickered around him as he raised his gun and pressed the barrel against the back of Felix's head, tapping it a few times before resting it still.

Felix winced as he glanced up from his position on the ground. His eyes immediately found their way to yours, and the shimmering emotion in them hit you like a devastating blow.

"P-please, don't," you choked out, completely ignoring the fact that—aside from your hood—your face was almost entirely exposed. But your plea fell on deaf ears as the guard failed to acknowledge you. His index finger dropped to hover over the trigger, a sadistic smirk spread across his lips, and your stomach churned violently in response.

Felix was going to die.

The freckled boy with the stars in his eyes was going to die, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Well, maybe one thing.

Your trembling hands moved of their own accord, lifting to meet the thin fabric of your hood. A surge of alarm coursed through your veins when a second guard's voice rang out, "You there, freeze!"

Felix's expression dropped, pleading with you through the silent connection of your eyes to reconsider.

Chan didn't utter a single word, but you felt him tense beside you.

You tuned them all out.

With a shaky breath, a heavy heart, and all but one of the guards' guns now pointed in your direction, you lowered your hood. And in the fleeting moment before your face was fully revealed, you mouthed the words "I'm sorry" to Felix, hoping he would find some way to understand.

Hushed murmurs rose around you, filling the air. The guard who held Felix hesitated as he studied your face. His gaze was firm, eyes unblinking, as he traced along your features. His expression gradually shifted from uncertainty to recognition. And he smiled. He smiled—a sinister curl of his lips. Because he knew that by dragging you back to your father, he would secure a life of unimaginable wealth and resources—far beyond what anyone in the outer districts could ever imagine.

The instant your eyes met, a wave of recognition surged within you as well. Because although you'd never bothered to learn his name, his face, along with the devilish glint in his eyes, had been imprinted into your memory ever since the night of the raid. When he had whisked you away from the grand hall, separating you from Felix then, too.

The guard opened his mouth to speak and you instinctively reached for the knife in your waistband, bracing yourself for whatever was to come. But you would never get to know the words that fell from his lips, as his voice was instantly swallowed by the deafening crack of a gunshot that ripped through the air.

The guard beside him was struck, collapsing to the ground in a heap.

“What the-"

Whoever said it, you couldn’t be sure.

You ducked down, instincts urging you to seek cover as a shower of bullets began to flood the air. When you lifted your head, you witnessed Felix waste no time in engaging the guard in a desperate struggle for control of the gun. You shifted, driven by the desire to help him, but it was almost as if he had anticipated your thoughts when he called out for you to “stay down, y/n!”

Crouched on the ground with your hands above your head, you watched in awe as he overpowered the guard with surprising skill—moving with a fluidity that told you he had done this countless times before. As soon as he gained control of the weapon, Felix used the blunt end to deliver a blow straight to the guard's chest, sending him tumbling to the ground. He cocked the gun with a polished flick of his wrist, and the fallen guard raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.

With a single, split-second glance back to you, Felix turned and pointed it at the man’s head with chilling certainty.

And you looked away, burying your face in your hands, when he pulled the trigger.

The next think you knew, the next thing you remembered, Felix was at your side—arms encircling your upper body, a warm hand on the back of your neck. And although you thought you might have heard his voice reach out to you, thought maybe your name had fallen from his lips, it was impossible to make sense of anything over the ringing in your ears.

Summoning the courage to peer through your fingers, you finally gained the opportunity to grasp hold of the situation as it played out before you.

Your eyes fell upon three figures, each armed with heavy weapons of their own, atop three stocky animals. Their presence suggested that the initial gunfire hadn’t come from any of the guards or the boys. And your jaw dropped when you glimpsed a flash of red hair.

Yeonjun.

It was Yeonjun, flanked by two unfamiliar individuals that you could only assume to be more of Hira’s people, seeking revenge for their fallen leader.

Their arrival had thrown the entire situation into an unexpected twist, offering momentary relief for you and the boys. But the relief was short lived, because although Yeonjun and the others had secured the element of surprise, they too faced the critical disadvantage of being outnumbered.

Huddled over you, Felix let out a gasp as his own eyes locked with Yeonjuns.

"Get out of here, Felix!" Yeonjun's strained voice pierced through the chaos.

Felix froze in disbelief, visibly astonished.

You tugged on his sleeve, but he remained motionless. You tried to speak, but no words came out. Time seemed to grind to a halt, and for a moment, it was as if it would never start again.

Until Chan's strong grip took hold of your arm.

"Come on!" he urged, determination filling his eyes as he pulled you with him. Felix, still dazed, stumbled to his feet beside you, and the three of you sprinted into the building, heartbeats pounding in rhythm with your steps.

Even after you'd made it inside, Felix's reluctance to leave Yeonjun behind was evident. You broke free from Chan's grasp when you noticed that he had come to a stop behind you. "Felix, we need to go," you pleaded as you rushed over to him, grabbing his hand to try and pull him with you.

"It's okay," you continued. But it wasn't.

"They'll be alright," you added. But they wouldn't.

"Please, Felix," you implored, "I need you." And it wasn't until your trembling voice cracked with raw emotion on the final word that Felix finally yielded to your insistent tugging.

As soon as he gave way, your feet were in motion again. Together, you hurried through the building and emerged on the other side where your vehicles awaited. And you didn't even remember climbing onto the bike, but suddenly you were there, clinging to Felix for dear life as he revved the engine. With one last glance—first in the direction you had come, then down to you—he gritted his teeth and followed Chan’s lead.

As vehicles accelerated and sped off, your thoughts remained with Yeonjun and the others you had left behind. Fear transformed into guilt, a resounding guilt, that settled deep within your bones, intensifying further with every gunshot that pierced the night behind you.

You willed your eyes to remain open, determined to keep the trailing rover in your vision.

As the abandoned city dissolved into another terrifying nightmare, the memory of the first night you’d spent on the bike with Felix tugged at your heart. It left behind an ache that had you feeling like the foolish girl your father had called you once. Because that’s what you were—foolish, for allowing your feelings for Felix to develop in the way that they had.

Tonight’s close call had ripped away any illusion of control you thought you might’ve you had over your own emotions. If things had taken a different turn, if the guard had so much as twitched his ready finger and his loaded gun had fired against the back of Felix's head, would you have been able to deal with the aftermath? If you had lost Felix would you have been able to cope with the weight of his absence? To live with yourself after?

And what did it mean if you couldn’t?

You’d watched him shoot a man with raised hands tonight, and it should have frightened you—the ease with which he’d aimed the weapon and pulled the trigger. It was a stark reminder of the darkness that existed within him, but when his eyes met yours in that split second before he’d done it, they held an unmistakable air that his actions had been driven by a need to protect you. To protect you, and the rest of the boys, and so it only made you cling to him tighter. Because Felix didn’t need words to express that he was driven by a commitment to do whatever it took to ensure the safety of those he cared for—which you were now more than certain included yourself, too. A realization that left you torn between the undeniable feelings you had developed for him and the fear that you had crossed a line you were never meant to cross.

You couldn't escape the magnetic pull of his presence, yet you were acutely aware of the reality that hung over your heads. The circumstances, the world you inhabited, it was all designed to keep you apart. You knew it. He knew it. And not only did it force you to confront the painful truth that your relationship with Felix could never progress beyond its current state, it had you questioning whether or not your paths were even meant to cross in the first place.

It was an overwhelming thought, one that brought tears to your eyes for the second time that night.

When the first signs of dawn began to streak the sky above, Felix released his steady grip on the throttle. Chan caught up, and a signal passed between the two, prompting them to pull over nearby.

As the boys scrambled out of the vehicle, you caught sight of their expressions filled with shock and disbelief as they grappled with the weight of the close call. Chan raked his hands through his hair after his feet landed on the hard earth. “Too close, too fucking close,” he muttered, his words mirroring the thoughts in all of your minds.

Jisung dropped to the ground, Changbin tilted his head to the sky, Hyunjin leaned wearily against the rover, and Jeongin remained seated inside—gripping onto Seungmin as Minho examined his injured foot.

You stepped down from the motorcycle on unsteady legs, a residual effect of the adrenaline that had coursed through your veins during the escape. Felix dropped the bike with a loud thud, startling you when he spun around and placed his hands firmly on both of your shoulders. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Fuck, are you okay?” his words tumbled out in a rush, eyes darting up and down your figure.

You nodded frantically as your trembling hands peeled back the edges of his jacket to check for signs of injury. “Did you..A-Are you…” your voice shook, rendered speechless by the violent rush of emotions inside you.

When Felix spoke again it was barely above a whisper. “I’m okay," he reassured you, taking gentle hold of your hands to guide them away from his body. You searched your palms for any signs of blood but they were clean—they were clean, and yet the compulsion to keep checking for hidden wounds persisted.

“-Princess. I’m okay,” he repeated. And your actions drew the attention of the others but you paid no mind. As if the world had narrowed down to just the two of you, you were suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to tell Felix everything that had been gnawing at the edges of your consciousness. Starting with the fact that you would have thrown away any chance at saving the world tonight in order to keep him safe. Because nothing in your life had made sense before Felix. And you were certain that if the world were to take him from you now, your spirit would turn restless inside your bones—cursed to wander forever in search of what you had lost.

“-What the fuck happened back there?!” your thoughts were interrupted by Chan, his voice yanking you back from the edge of vulnerability you were about to tumble over. “Hira wouldn’t have turned us in to those guards, I know she wouldn’t have,” he added, brows knitting together as he wrestled with his desire to comfort Jeongin and his responsibility to discover the truth about what had just taken place.

Felix swung his gaze around to meet Chan's. “Hira is dead,” he stated flatly. “And you’re right, she isn’t the one who turned us in. It was...Yeonjun," he gulped, hesitating at the mention of the orange-haired boy.

“What?” Chan stammered. “H-how...and Yeonjun? He saved our asses back there. Why would he do that if.."

Guilt.

Although he did not say it out loud, Felix was certain it was the reason. Because he saw it there tonight, unmistakably present in Yeonjun's eyes. And Felix knew all too well that, for some, the mere thought of a lifetime plagued by guilt after making the wrong decision could be far more terrifying than death itself.

“They shot Hira, before we even made it outside,” Hyunjin chimed in. “I just can't wrap my head around how Yeonjun managed to double-cross us. It makes no sense. He was with us the entire time.”

“-Until we went to sleep,” Changbin interjected. And the group fell silent. A thick, uncomfortable silence, broken only by soft muttering from Minho’s direction as he tended to Jeongin’s foot.

“So what, you think Yeonjun left to track down those guards after we went to sleep?” Jisung stood, joining the conversation. "How would he have known they were out there? We never told him we were running from them."

Chan's focus sharpened as he considered Jisung's words. “Felix..” he started, his tone cautious. “After we were separated from you and Hyunjin, how long was it before Yeonjun found you?”

"I dont know, maybe an hour?" Felix replied.

“What if Yeonjun came across the guards during that time?" Chan's voice was steady as he held the group's attention. "What if after Yeonjun left us with Hira, he was confronted by the guards? What if they threatened him and coerced him into admitting that he had seen us and knew where we were headed? Then they released him to find you two. He eventually brought you back to Clé, and they tracked his movement, waiting until nightfall to-”

"-Wait a minute,” Hyunjin asserted. “Now that I think about it, Yeonjun was acting a bit strangely on the way to Cle. And maybe you would’ve realized it too, Felix, if you weren't so preoccupied with.." as he trailed off, Hyunjin's dark eyes met with yours, causing your breath to catch in your throat. He looked as if he had more to say, but before he could continue, he was interrupted by a sharp cry of pain from Jeongin.

The boys immediately abandoned the conversation, rushing to the side of the vehicle. You shifted on your feet, hesitating to join them because on some level, even after everything that had happened tonight, you still felt like an outsider.

Sensing your reluctance, Felix turned and met your eyes with a wordless invitation that urged you to come closer. Drawn by the invisible thread that seemed to connect the two of you, you positioned yourself between him and Jisung. As you stood between them, you couldn't help but notice how Felix shifted just a fraction closer to you. And although he kept his focus on Jeongin, you soon felt the gentle pressure of his shoulder against yours.

Inside the vehicle, Minho's inner conflict played out across his features. His gaze shifted rapidly between Jeongin's pale face and the sliver of glass firmly lodged in the sole of his shoe. “I can't just leave it embedded,” he voiced his concern aloud, directed at no one in particular. "It could lead to infection..I just can’t tell how deep its gone..”

Seungmin’s expression grew more strained as Jeongin squirmed uncomfortably in his arms. “What if you make it worse by trying to take it out?”

“We don’t really have a choice,” Minho responded, his medical instincts wrestling with the reality of your limited resources.

Chan’s fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against the side of the vehicle. "We should at least try to sterilize the area to buy us some time."

“Time for what? Everything we have is here,” Minho snapped, whipping around to face Chan as he gestured to the surrounding bags of supplies.

Next to Chan, Hyunjin's expression furrowed as he glanced from Minho to Jeongin. “We aren't that far from Yellow Wood. We could go back, let it heal, and try again for Miroh when-”

“-If we sit still for too long now, they'll find us,” Minho stressed. “Besides, if we can actually make it to Miroh there might be medical supplies there that aren’t shit. But getting there will take days, and we can’t afford to leave it untreated for that long,” he added.

“T-take it out,” Jeongin whimpered, "Please, I can handle it." His gaze shifted across the faces of each of the boys, his trust in them evident even despite his pain. And when his eyes landed on you, your chest ached with the realization that he looked at you in the exact same way, with the same level of trust.

Chan leaned into the rover, placing his hand gently on Jeongin's shoulder where he offered a reassuring squeeze. "We're going to take care of you, okay? Just hang in there." His gaze shifted to Minho and a wordless exchange passed between them as the rest of the group shifted even closer, forming a tight circle around the vehicle.

As the boys began to offer their own words of encouragement, Minho glanced up, his piercing eyes locking hold of yours. “You. You have some medical training right?”

“Dude she has a name..” Jisung grumbled from beside you.

Minho shot him an irritated glance, clearing his throat before addressing you again. “y/n,” he pronounced your name with a sour undertone, as if it left an unpleasant taste on his tongue. "Do you or do you not have any medical training?”

He wasn't wrong to assume you would, given your background. Your father had always prioritized combat skills over healing, but you'd been given a fair share of private medical lessons too. And even if it was a limited amount, your knowledge of the subject undoubtedly surpassed that of any of the other boys.

Eager to help Jeongin in any way you could, you nodded. Minho motioned for you to join him inside the vehicle, and the protective glare that Felix shot his way gave you a much needed boost of confidence as you sat down beside him.

Minho gave you a brief rundown of what he needed, his instructions clear and concise. In preparation, he handed Jeongin something to bite down on. And as he began, you couldn't help but admire the way his practiced hands moved.

As the wound became more apparent, you felt a slight twinge of unease. The quantity of blood was surprising, but upon closer inspection, you were relieved to find that the glass hadn't gone nearly as deep as you'd anticipated.

Jeongin's face contorted in pain as it was carefully extracted from the thin sole of his shoe and, subsequently, his foot. You worked in tandem with Minho, assisting with whatever you could, and the collective breath held by the group seemed to release in sync with the shard's removal. Minho held it up, allowing it to shimmer in the morning light before setting it aside.

As he moved on to stitch up the wound, the process felt excruciatingly slow. Your attention shifted back to Jeongin, cradled securely in Seungmin's hold, and you couldn't help but notice the way his hands clenched and unclenched against the seat beneath him. Without thinking, you reached to take the hand that was closest to you. His fingers relaxed as they laced with yours, and you could feel the warmth of his gratitude when he briefly opened his eyes to meet your own.

When you glanced up to Seungmin, he gave you a soft nod of approval over Jeongin’s shoulder.

After Minho had finished stitching the wound, the boys' attention gradually began to shift toward their next steps, driven by a shared sense of relief now that Jeongin's discomfort had been temporarily eased.

You remained fully absorbed in helping Minho clean up—so focused that you barely caught the murmured "thank you," that came from where he sat beside you. You paused, convinced you hadn’t heard him correctly, until he added in a slightly louder tone, "You have a steady hand, y/n. You'd make a good medic."

Taken aback by his sudden appreciation, your eyes followed him as he stood. "Anybody seen any water?" he asked, scanning the vehicle's interior. Changbin handed him a canteen, which he promptly passed over to Jeongin.

After ensuring that Jeongin was as comfortable as possible, with the unexpected compliment from Minho still ringing in your ears, you stepped down from the rover.

Your eyes immediately found Felix, leaned against the vehicle with a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips. He took a step, but before he could close the distance between you, Jisung was at your side. “Nicely done, District nine. I knew you’d come in handy,” he grinned, giving you a solid pat to the back.

And then it was Chan’s turn to steal your attention. "y/n can you come look at this?" You swiveled around and he motioned for you to join him and Changbin where they had the map spread out across the hood of the rover.

When you turned back to Felix you found Hyunjin at his side, effectively blocking your view. With a small, resigned exhale through your nose, you made your way over to stand beside Changbin.

Chan asked for your help in determining the best route to take to get back on track—where your father’s guards would be less likely to follow. After thorough examination of the map, and a collaborative discussion between the three of you—with the occasional interjection from Minho—you reached a consensus.

After what had happened last night, crossing into more challenging terrain was deemed well worth the risk by all of you. And so the decision to alter your route was unanimous. You would head in the direction of a mountainous region that spanned across District 5, as it would make tracking your movements far more difficult.

With a plan in place, you glanced back at the motorcycle where Felix was now seated, tying his hair back.

He looked up as you approached. "You sure you don't want to go with them instead?” he asked, nudging his head in the direction of the rover. “You can sleep in the truck," he added.

You ignored his suggestion, making your choice known when you swung a leg over the bike and settled down behind him. You drew him closer, gently wrapping your arms around his waist. “I’m not tired, and i don’t plan on going anywhere,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

"But-" Felix began to protest. He turned to face you, but the words caught in his throat when you leaned in at the same time—your closeness catching him off guard.

“Just drive, Lix.” Your voice was soft, a murmured exhale against his lips. And you looked up to meet his eyes before pulling back to settle into his form.

A pink blush crept up to his ears as he twisted around, glancing over his other shoulder to where the boys had piled into the rover a few feet away. “Yeah, right.." he stammered, eyes following the rover when it took off from your side, leaving a trail of dust in its wake. And a faint smile crossed your lips as Felix cleared his throat before manipulating the throttle and setting the bike into motion once again.

After several hours of uninterrupted travel, muted rays of buttery light filtered in through the clouds above as the sun began to set. The ground beneath you was etched with crevices and jutting stones, creating a labyrinth of rocky terrain that stretched on endlessly.

In the dying light, you found yourselves in search of shelter once again. Not necessarily because you couldn't keep moving at night—if anything you thought it would be smarter to travel under the cover of darkness—but every single one of you was beyond exhausted, and it showed.

It showed in the subtle swerve of the motorcycle when Felix's head dipped, snapping back up when you called his name. It showed in each set of drooping shoulders and even in the gradual slow of the vehicles, as if they too were struggling to keep up the pace.

On that particular evening, luck seemed to be on your side when you came upon a cave nestled snugly between a cluster of natural rock formations. With the vehicles secured just outside the entrance, the group collectively made their way inside.

Upon entering the cave, you were greeted by a cool, refreshing environment, a stark contrast to the toxic haze that loomed over District 6. Flashlights flickered on one-by-one, casting their light upon the walls to reveal a spacious chamber. Felix and Chan immediately set about the task of creating a fire and it wasn't long before the flames began to dance and crackle before their eyes. At the other end of the space, the uneven ground converged into a single pathway that drew your attention and you watched as Hyunjin, Changbin, and Jisung gravitated toward it.

Beckoned by your own curiosity, you glanced back to Chan who shot you an inquisitive look before tossing you his flashlight. "Don't go too far, yeah?" he cautioned, and you nodded in agreement.

Trailing the boys, you sensed the familiar weight of a pair of eyes on your back, following your every move until you slipped out of sight.

The narrow passage came alive with rhythmic footsteps and the occasional murmur from up ahead, mostly Jisung. The sound of trickling water drew your attention and around the corner, a sudden widening revealed an open area where the rocky floor dipped down into a large basin, filled with crystal-clear water. It was a miniature oasis of sorts, a natural spring lit by glowing blue bioluminescence that lie nestled within the depths of the cave. The water's surface sparkled beneath a crevice in the ceiling through which you could see the moon.

The boys rushed forward, cupping their hands to sip the cool water, splashing it across their faces and arms. When you bent down to fill a canteen from your backpack, you were caught off guard by the sudden sight of your reflection in the water’s rippling surface.

A layered film of dirt and sweat clung to your skin, deep shadows had formed underneath your sunken eyes, and your once-tamed hair was now in complete disarray. It would have been a harrowing sight for anyone from District 9 to see themselves in such a state, and yet, oddly enough, you liked the way you looked like this. A raw version of your former polished self, without the vibrant makeup and suffocating clothing that had always left your skin feeling itchy and irritated. Stripped of the insincere smile you had been forced to wear throughout your life, you looked like you. A bit worn out, sure. But you embraced it wholeheartedly because it was the first time you truly felt as if you belonged among the boys.

As your eyes swept back and forth, another presence began to emerge from your appearance—your father. Subtly etched into the lines of your face, the shape of your nose, the color of your eyes—almost as if your own features were mocking your attempts to distance yourself from him. Because he was there, and he always would be. You could run from him as much as you liked, forever even, but you would never be able to escape your own reflection.

When the boys stood, you did the same, gaze lingering on the water's surface for a last second. Turning to leave, you were surprised to find Jisung waiting a short distance away. The blue tint cast a beautiful glow against his face, accentuating the gentle curve of his cheeks and the warmth in his eyes. The metal piercing in his eyebrow glinted in the faint light. "We can stay a bit longer, if you'd like," he offered.

There was an attractive sincerity about Jisung that had always intrigued you, but your eagerness to leave behind your reflection overpowered the allure. With a subtle shake of your head, you let out a small “’s okay," followed by a tender smile which he returned.

You moved at a slow pace, shoulder to shoulder, guided by the light from your flashlights as you winded back through the passage. Jisung kicked a pebble, and your eyes followed its movement. After a subtle clearing of his throat, he eventually broke the silence. "It was really cool, what you did for Jeongin earlier.”

You shrugged, inadvertently meeting his eyes. "I didn't do much...just followed what Minho told me."

Jisung responded without hesitation. "Yeah, but I know it means a lot to Jeongin. And to Minho, to finally have someone who knows what they’re doing that can help him."

"Does it? Because I think he kind of hates me.." your brows knitted together, and a gentle smile tugged at Jisung's lips.

"Minho doesn't hate you, he's just cautious," he said, returning his gaze back to the path ahead. “And I know he might come off as distant, but there's more to him beneath the surface."

Beneath the surface.

You were no stranger to what lay beneath that surface. Because your connection to Minho existed whether either of you wanted it to or not, born from the shared roots of District 9. And along with it came a shared understanding of a part of the world that, out of the nine of you, only you two could truly comprehend.

“Just give him some time, he’ll come around,” Jisung continued, accompanied by a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks, Ji. I really hope you're right.”

As soon as the nickname escaped your lips, Jisung’s expression dropped. A range emotions crossed his features. His eyes held yours for a moment, and within them you detected profound longing, tinged with traces of sorrow and grief. Unspoken, but undeniably present.

"Ji," he chuckled softly, a sad sound. "No one's called me that in a really long time."

"Well it suits you," you offered, scanning his face.

His eyes took on a glossy sheen, and his lips curled up into something bittersweet. "Yeah, I guess it does," he replied. After a moment, he blinked away the emotion and shifted the conversation. “So..want to tell me what the hell's been going on between you and Felix?"

Your foot caught suddenly on a rock, and you reached out instinctively for Jisung to steady yourself as heat flooded your cheeks. "I-uh..what about us?" Your gaze nervously darted away as you stumbled over your words.

A wistful grin tugged at the corner of Jisung’s lips. "Come on, I'm not blind. I've noticed things, you know? Subtle glances..the way he looks at you."

“Why does everyone keep saying that?” you questioned, recalling when Chan had told you the very same thing in the forest outside of Yellow Wood.

I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Never. Not anyone.

Jisung chuckled lightly in response. "Well, usually when everyone notices the same thing, it means there's some truth to it," he mused.

"Or maybe everyone's just reading too much into it."

"Whatever you say," Jisung shrugged. "I guess we’re just not used to Felix looking at anyone in a way that doesn't suggest he wants them dead. Usually he's..Well by now I'm sure you know how he is."

"Yeah," you affirmed, "I know how he is. The second time we ever spoke was while he had a knife pressed to my throat."

“He what?"

"Long story," you said. Although, in reality, the story was actually quite simple. And you'd never held it against Felix. After all, what else was he supposed to do when he'd come face to face with the daughter of the man who wanted nothing more than to see all of them dead.

"That reminds me," Jisung started, twisting the flashlight around in his hand. "I always wondered how you guys met.”

"He didn't tell you?"

Jisung shook his head vigorously in response. "Let's just say every time one of us would bring it up he'd turn bright red and shut down the conversation immediately, usually by fleeing to the rooftop."

You laughed at the mental image of Felix escaping in embarrassment whenever the topic of your first meeting was raised. "I guess it is a bit complicated.”

"You know..someone told me once that sometimes things are complicated because we're afraid of what's simple," Jisung replied.

You brought your bottom lip between your teeth as you considered his words. A comfortable silence settled between you, and you didn’t feel the need to respond.

The conversation concluded as you returned to camp. Felix looked up immediately upon your arrival, his eyes briefly meeting yours before glancing away. "See what I mean?"Jisung leaned over to whisper into your ear. A knowing smile tugged at his lips, and he winked at you before his steps carried him away from your side.

With a playful roll of your eyes, you walked over to Jeongin and offered him the canteen you had filled with water from the spring. His face brightened, although the weariness remained etched into his features. After taking a few generous gulps, he returned the canteen and nestled closer to Minho's side. The older boy's presence seemed to provide him with a sense of security as his eyelids drooped and he drifted off to sleep.

Across the fire, the rest of the boys rummaged through a sizable bag of supplies in search of anything to alleviate their hunger for the night. You found a quiet spot to claim for yourself. Sinking down against the cavern wall, you brought your legs upward as hushed chatter began to fill the chamber.

Felix couldn't help but steal a few glances in your direction as he tended to the fire. A sharp pang of jealousy resonated throughout him when he watched the way your eyes followed Jisung's reaction to something Changbin said, a wide smile forming on your lips in response to his infectious laughter. Felix didn't need to wonder what you thought of Jisung. Of course you liked him, it was impossible not to. And he couldn't even blame you for it because it was only natural that someone like you would be drawn to someone like Jisung.

After the group had eaten and settled in around the fire, Chan took the opportunity to share his first memory of Hira. He depicted her as a neutral force—neither entirely good nor entirely corrupt—but someone whom, for whatever reason, he'd always felt that he could trust.

When he'd finished, Chan passed the conversation to Jisung who proceeded to share a story about a mishap he and Seungmin encountered last winter, during a supply run in the same abandoned city you'd crossed through last night. The story involved a ridiculous chase through the streets, with Jisung somehow ending up as the hero. But Seungmin couldn't resist chiming in. "Hold on, hold on," he raised a hand with a sly grin, "Let's be real, less than half of that actually happened.”

Jisung responded with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, a playful retort forming on his lips as he prepared to continue the banter. Before he could, Felix chimed in. "Making things up again, Han? This sounds a lot like the time we all found out you can't actually tell edible plants from poisonous ones,” he teased. His eyes shimmered in the firelight, and when he smirked you couldn't help but appreciate the way it accentuated his canines.

Jisung let out an exasperated gasp. "I told you I was still learning!”

"I threw up for a week straight after you insisted it was safe to eat those purple berries! I thought I was going to die!" Seungmin exclaimed, failing to control his laughter.

Jisung threw his hands up in defeat. “Who even needs to know which plants are safe to eat when you can just charm your way into getting free supplies?" A sly grin fell across his lips but it vanished when Changbin added, “That only happened once, and wasn't it Hyunjin that actually did the talking? Pretty sure you just stared at your feet the whole time because you couldn't even make eye contact with the girl.”

Changbin’s response elicited chuckles from the entire room, yourself included. With a dramatic huff, Jisung turned and lie down on his side with his back to the group. He feigned annoyance, but was unable to hide his own amusement as his shoulders shook with gentle laughter.

After the excitement died down, Minho's soft-spoken voice broke the silence. He recalled a late night conversation with Jeongin not too long ago that had unexpectedly evolved into a heart-to-heart about their shared fears. When he was finished, he glanced down in fondness at the sleeping boy nestled against his side.

You leaned your head against the rock, allowing your eyes to close as Hyunjin began to share about a distant memory that involved his mother, with whom he'd spent some time in a cave like the one you found yourselves in now—before they had gotten separated. As he spoke, you tried your hardest to recall just one single memory of your own mother, but you were unable to move past a particular phrase that continued to linger in your thoughts.

You look just like her.

And then it hit you. A sudden blow, like a dagger straight to the heart.

What if Hira hadn't been speaking in general terms, about a woman from her past that you resembled.

What if she had been referring to your mother.

Your eyes snapped open and your posture straightened away from the wall as you tried to put it all together in your mind. You'd stopped asking questions about your mother a very long time ago, due to the anger that rose within your father at the faintest mention of her. He refused to speak about her, and so you had created a simplified narrative of your own—that she had been plucked from the residents of District 9 to marry your father for her social standing and wealth. But what if there was more to her, and your own origins, than you had ever thought possible.

Felix, who had been lying with his hands behind his head a short distance away, picked up on the change in your demeanor. Concern flickered in his eyes as he sat up.

"Hey, you good?" Chan's voice echoed from across the room as you realized that the rest of the group had fallen silent, their attention now fixed on you.

You managed a soft smile in an attempt to mask the intensity of your thoughts. "Yeah..just tired."

"Maybe its time we all get some rest," Chan responded.

As his suggestion was met with a general consensus of agreement from the group you cast a glance back at Felix. The fire's dwindling glow traced his features with delicate strokes, accentuating the furrow between his brow and the subtle tension in his jaw, before the flames were extinguished by Chan.

Ten minutes, twenty, an hour.

You tossed and turned repeatedly as restlessness consumed your mind, preventing you from succumbing to the fatigue that gripped your aching muscles. When soft snores began to fill the darkness, envy stirred within you at the boys' ability to find solace.

Maybe they were just desensitized to it all—the constant brushes with death, the daily ritual of having to bury their fears again each morning when they woke. Maybe with time you would grow used to it too. But tonight, the weight of it all, combined with the mystery surrounding Hira's final message had left you without any chance at falling asleep.

And although you didn't want to admit it, the notion slowly crept into your mind that the only reason you had gotten any sleep at all the past few nights was because of Felix. Especially last night—his steady heartbeat, protective embrace, and the comforting warmth of his body heat lulling you into a sense of security.

Maybe he wouldn't notice if you inched a bit closer..Just so you could manage a few hours..

A frustrated sound escaped your lips as you banished the thought, because it wasn’t fair to rely on Felix to chase away the darkness when you couldn't bear to face it alone. He had his own battles to fight, his own burdens to carry, and if he was going to drive the motorcycle then he probably needed the sleep more than you anyway.

Your eyes failed to adjust to the darkness when you sat up. Cut off from any sense of place and time, the air around you suddenly felt so thin, so scarce, making it difficult to draw in a steady breath. Your skin prickled as if tiny insects had begun to dig their way into your flesh, and you couldn't get it out of your head.

All of it.

Your mother, nothing but the faded memory of a woman with a face you hadn't known long enough to remember. Your father, with a face you would never forget, because it chased you in your own reflection. Hira's lifeless stare, empty and cold. The knowing look in Yeonjun's eyes when you left him behind to die. And Felix, who, even with a loaded gun pressed against his head looked to you as if your safety would always be far more important to him than his own.

“It gets easier with time."

You jolted, startled by a sudden voice that broke the silence.

“Falling asleep, I mean. It gets easier with time,” he repeated. His tone a calm and steady contrast to the turmoil in your mind.

"Then why are you still awake?" you remarked, lowering your voice to a whisper to keep from disturbing the sleeping boys around you.

Felix let out a soft sigh. His gentle breath mingled with the darkness that enveloped you both, and you sensed movement as he sat up somewhere close by.

“I didn’t say it gets easy, just easier. Besides..” he paused, a long pause. Hoping you wouldn’t be able to sense the struggle he faced to keep his emotions in check. "How am i supposed to sleep when you're breathing so heavily…it's distracting," he finally settled on. And you couldn't help but scoff at his feeble attempt at masking whatever it was that he actually wanted to say.

As the silence stretched on, the uncomfortable sensation of needing to escape your own skin grew unbearable, driving you to your feet.

"Where are you-"

"-The dirt, the sweat, the blood, I need to get it off. I just need to get it off." Without waiting for a response, you fumbled through the darkness. Your fingers met the coarse stone wall at your side, and you trailed along it as soft footsteps began to echo from somewhere behind you.

Cool mist fell against your skin as pitch-black was steadily replaced by calming blue. In the soft ethereal glow, you stepped over to the waters edge where you lifted your shirt and slipped out of your pants. All the while, your senses were acutely aware of Felix's presence behind you, his watchful eyes glued to your backside. He could have chosen to let you wander off alone, but some part of you knew he couldn't resist. And selfishly, you liked that.

When you entered the water it rippled around your waist. The coldness sent shivers throughout your body, but it was invigorating. A welcome sensation against skin that seemed to burn tonight. You took a deep breath, letting the weight of the past twenty four hours wash away when you submerged yourself beneath the surface. The water welcomed you into a desensitizing embrace and for a moment, only as long as you could hold your breath, the unpleasant images in your mind and your fears surrounding the war outside were replaced by complete and utter silence. Nothing at all.

You resurfaced facing Felix. His eyes trailed up and down your half naked form, lingering a bit too long on the places his hands always went first. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized that he was approaching. When he lifted his shirt, you couldn't help but take the opportunity to glance over the contours of his sculpted abdomen. He let himself down into the water and the soft splashes of his movements filled the silence between you.

“Maybe you should just…stay over there," you mumbled, averting your gaze from his chest.

You wanted him close, that you couldn't deny. But hours had passed since last night, and your panic had since died down—giving way to frustration once more. And it wasn't even about him nearly losing his life, it was about how that near-loss had stirred a depth of emotion within you that you could no longer control. You were frustrated with him for almost getting killed again, something that (this time) he'd had absolutely no control over. But you were even more frustrated with yourself for letting it affect you in the way that it had.

Felix raised his hands defensively, abiding by your demand to keep some distance. When he sank down into the water, the tips of his hair skimmed the surface.

"Princess..you alright?" his sudden inquiry caught you off guard. It was his tone, laced with genuine concern, that caused your heart to pound beneath the surface of your calm exterior.

No, I'm not alright.

Nothing about what happened last night is alright, you thought.

"Yeah, I'm managing," you said.

His lips curved upward, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Managing, huh? Guess you’re tougher than you look."

You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your own features when you responded. “And you? What about you?"

"I've been through worse,” he trailed off. A veil of shadows fell over his features and suddenly, Felix felt miles away. Worlds apart, as if he had been transported to some distant realm of memories that he would have given anything to forget.

“Chan told me a little..what you’ve been through is more than most people could handle, you know?” you hesitated, questioning if it was the right decision to acknowledge your awareness of his past. But the divide between you had always felt easy to bridge in moments like this, when it was just the two of you. Sometimes leading you to forget that it had even existed at all.

"He shouldn't have said-"

"-But I'm glad he did," you interrupted. "And I might not understand it all but I do know know that none of it is your fault, Felix."

Felix let out a bitter scoff, a defensive edge to his tone when he responded. “You don't know anything,” his eyes flickered back to you, and in them you saw a glimpse of the pain he carried beneath. When you took a step forward he retreated with a single stroke of his arms in the water—a reflexive withdrawal.

And then he sighed heavily, noting the subtle trace of hurt in your expression at his retreat. "I'm sorry..it's just..thinking about it, talking about it, its not easy for me."

“It’s okay,” you offered, making a conscious effort to ignore the compulsion to reach out and wrap him in your arms. To reassure him over and over again that he didn’t deserve the things he had been through. To make it clear that, in your eyes, Felix would never be to blame for his past.

Felix cleared his throat, his desire to avoid the subject prompting him to redirect the conversation. “What was that earlier with you? Around the fire."

Unsure of how much to reveal, you hesitated again, mindlessly tracing shapes on the surface of the water. "I think..there might be the possibility of a connection between my mother..and..Hira.”

Felix's expression transformed as he scanned your face in bewilderment. “What? What kind of connection?"

“Hira said I looked just like 'her', Felix, and I don't know why but I can't shake the feeling that she was talking about my mother."

"You think Hira knew your mother?” his mouth fell open, he looked at you as though you had completely and utterly lost your mind, and you really couldn't blame him.

“You heard her, you saw the way she looked at me," you pressed.

“Look, princess,” he insisted, drawn closer when he noticed the trace of sadness in your eyes at the mention of your mother. “I know Chan talks about her like she was a saint, but the woman was a lunatic. She didn't have any idea what she was talking about half the time, so don’t overthink it. Hira dealt with people from the outer districts, and she never went to District nine herself. It’s impossible.”

"Yeah..you're probably right." Mimicking his earlier movement, you lowered yourself in the water until it enveloped your shoulders.

After a moment you drew in a breath. When you went to speak, Felix did the same. Your words collided in the narrow space between you, and he chuckled softly, a warm sound that filled your ears. “You first,” he said.

"Today was..” you paused to recollect your thoughts, pursing your lips in concentration.

“I know,” he sighed. “It was a close call. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“Yes we do,” you asserted. “We should. I don’t know how any of you do this. Its like one minute everything’s fine and the next.." you let out a frustrated exhale before continuing, “And then they're just able to sleep like nothing happened?! Its like you’re all fearless.”

Felix's lips quirked into a small, sympathetic smile as he inched closer. “Fearless? Nah, its just survival, princess. You get used to it, you learn to move forward." His voice lowered before he added, "Even when you’re afraid.”

As you considered his words, you found yourself studying his eyes in search of a glimpse of his inner thoughts. Had Felix felt fear today when he was leading the chase from the guards? When Jeongin was injured? When the cold metal of the gun touched his skin?

“I wish I had that kind of strength,” you admitted.

“You’ve got your own kind of strength," he began. “You're here aren't you? And you had no problem revealing yourself to those guards last night. Why did you do that?"

You felt your cheeks warm as you looked down, gliding your hands through the water. "Isn't it obvious?" When he didn't respond, you sighed, glancing up to meet his eyes again. “I just thought that maybe it would buy all of you a chance at making it out of there alive."

"Exactly. And every single one of them recognizes that,” he stated, nudging his head in the direction of the passage that led back to the sleeping boys.

“But it still doesn't mean they trust me, right? Still doesn't guarantee that they ever will?" you returned, raising a single eyebrow.

Felix rolled his eyes, and when they reconnected with yours you held his stare, narrowing your gaze. "I shouldn't have said that," he muttered.

Felix was incredibly difficult to read, most of the time, but something about the sincerity in his tone and the pause in his speech made you believe that he really did regret what he’d said that night in Yellow Wood, about how the others might never trust you.

"No, you shouldn't have. But it’s okay." You shifted closer, and with the distance between you now almost nonexistent, even the atmosphere felt alive—charged with pulsing energy, as the water flowed like an electric current between you, prompting you to reach up and drape your arms around his neck.

As if your actions had given him permission, his own hands instantly found their way to your waist. Your legs lifted to wrap around him and the water responded with soothing ripples around your bodies.

With you in his arms, Felix stood. He waded backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the spring where he settled down against a makeshift seat embedded within the natural contours of the rock.

Straddling his waist, you brushed the hair from his neck and laid your head down in its place. Splaying a hand against his chest, you felt for the steady strength of his heartbeat beneath your palm. And you stayed like that for quite some time, drifting in and out of a light sleep as he traced idle shapes across your back.

After a while, your eyes fluttered open. “Lix?”

“Yeah?” his voice was a low murmur in your ear, soft and attentive.

“Promise me something?” you breathed.

Anything, he thought.

“What is it?” he said.

"Promise me you’ll try to be more careful from now on? Because..I don't think I could handle it..if..” you lifted your head from his shoulder as the words hung between you like a fragile, fragile thread. The confession was like a heated blade in your throat, searing it raw, and you let it burn. Because you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words that followed, paralyzed once again by the weight of your unspoken feelings.

But you didn't need to say anything further, because to Felix, it was obvious what you were implying.

I need you.

Your words from last night echoed in his mind. He remembered how desperate you sounded, how you'd pulled him with you as if your life depended on it.

He searched your face in a desperate attempt to understand how someone like you could ever be so concerned with the safety of someone like him. And he wondered if it was because, perhaps, you still couldn't see it—the stains of the choices he had made, etched into his soul. He wondered if he had allowed himself to become too wrapped up in his own feelings, creating a version of himself in your eyes that was far more forgiving than the truth.

When silence between you grew, his lips parted slightly as if he wanted to speak.

In another life, one in which Felix saw himself differently, he would have promised to be by your side for as long as you wanted him there. He would’ve kissed you deeply, and he never would have let you go.

In another life, it might have been the moment Felix realized that he was meant to love you.

But in this life, in this harsh reality, a silent battle raged on inside Felix—torn between his selfish desire for you and the instincts that kept him alive. He knew he couldn't promise you a life without danger, and he certainly couldn't guarantee you his survival. But goddammit Felix wanted nothing more than to swear that he would do everything in his power to try and stay alive. For you.

Overwhelmed by his feelings, your close proximity, and the fact that last night he had been come closer to death than he had in a very long time, Felix surrendered to that powerful, selfish desire.

"Yeah-" the word caught in his throat, as if he was afraid of what came next. Cupping your face with one of his hands, he added, "I promise.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, embracing the warmth of his palm against your skin and the reassurance in his grip.

"Besides," you started. “You can’t leave me alone with them. I'm pretty sure Minho and Hyunjin would plot to kill me in my sleep or something.” A soft giggle escaped your lips, and Felix couldn't help the wide, toothy grin that spread across his face at your attempt to lighten the mood.

“Please, Jisung would never let them,” he returned. And your raised eyebrows prompted him to continue. "I'm serious, in fact Jisung would probably prefer to have you all to himself," he insisted. And then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Felix gave a sudden squeeze to your ass with both hands that caused your eyes to widen.

"Oh really? Is that so?" Your fingers lightly traced a pattern on his bare chest as he hummed in agreement. "I don't know..maybe I should ask him myself just to be sure. You think he'd like to join us?" With a teasing smirk, you released your hold on Felix, stepping back down into the water and turning to face the direction you'd come from. Cupping your hands around your mouth, you began to call out "JI-"

"-Shhhh," the water splashed when Felix lunged forward. His arms encircled you from behind, grazing the underside of your breasts as he captured you in a sudden embrace. And a squeal escaped your lips when he pulled you with him beneath the water's surface. Coming up for air, you retaliated with a splash that sent a wave of water in his direction. His laughter echoed off the walls, deep and genuine. It was a sound you hadn't heard before, and yet, it felt as if you had been craving it for a lifetime. Soft crinkles formed around his eyes, and you wove another precious memory of the freckled boy into your mind.

Felix shook the water from his hair before catching you again. Your arms naturally reclaimed their place around his neck, your legs came back up to wrap around his waist, and the water rippled around your shoulders.

As you held each others eyes, his amusement gradually gave way to a more thoughtful expression.

“You know," he began, "Jisung..he uh..lost someone once. I think that’s why he’s like that with you, I think you remind him of her."

His words carried solemn weight, offering a touch of insight into why Jisung had trusted you from the very beginning. And a simple “Oh” was all you could manage in response, your heart breaking at the thought of Jisung carrying such pain beneath his hopeful, kindhearted exterior.

“But he’s better now, he's come a long way since then, mostly thanks to Minho,” he added. His expression revealed the traces of another painful memory, before he willed it away.

With you still in his arms, Felix reclaimed his spot against the edge of the spring. Perched just above the water's surface with his back supported by the rock and his legs dipping into the soothing water.

And while you considered his disclosure about Jisung's past, you realized that you had never truly known loss. You had forgotten your mother—had no memories of her touch, her scent, the sound of her voice—and because you had never really known her it had been a relatively easy loss, if any ever was.

You had lost Jisoo, but it was a different kind of loss—a choice you had willingly made that you hoped you would come to forgive yourself for some today.

But the mere thought of being forced to lose the boy with the stars in his eyes was crippling. You couldn't bear the thought of those stars fading away, because he looked to you like you were the one that had put them there. And it terrified you that some day he would pay the ultimate price for it, leaving you behind to grapple with a new kind of loss that you weren't sure you would have the strength to overcome.

"What?" Felix said, catching the intensity in your eyes as your fingers reached to play with the hair at the back of his neck.

“You almost died today," you stated. "For real this time."

His expression furrowed, and a gentle crease appeared on his forehead before gradually easing away. "Well..yeah," he shrugged, "I'm still here, though."

Here. With you.

You shifted underneath his stare, trying to reach a more comfortable position. Your hands found their way to one of his, guiding it to rest in your lap where you played with his rings absentmindedly.

Sensing your restlessness, Felix gently ceased the movement of your hands when he intertwined his fingers with yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you blurted. “And I'm scared, Felix. I'm scared that I’m too weak to handle it. That its going to get all of you killed.”

Felix frowned slightly before drawing you closer. “We all have weaknesses, princess," his eyes fell briefly to your lips before continuing. “Chan wants to save the whole goddamned world, and he gets so wrapped up in it that he forgets to take care of himself, too. Han—Jisung, I mean, trusts too easily. And Minho doesn’t trust enough, even when he should. Changbin is reckless as hell, if you think I’m bad, you should've seen him when we first met. Jeongin doesn’t want to hurt anyone, so he hesitates in situations where it puts his life at risk. And Seungmin is too damn smart for his own good, and he knows it, so his confidence gets the best of him sometimes."

He shook his head and you brought a hand up to swipe the stray droplets of water that fell down onto his cheeks, fingertips mapping out the constellations painted underneath. He closed his eyes in response, tilting his head as he welcomed your touch.

A brief, heart-pounding silence hung between you before you dared to speak again. “What about you, Felix? What’s your weakness?”

The freckled boy tensed beneath you. His jaw clenched, and for a long time he held his silence. Just when you began to brace yourself for the possibility that he might not respond, his eyelids gently lifted. His hands rose to cup your face, one of his thumbs traced your upper lip, and in another life you would have stopped him from saying the words that followed.

“You, princess. My weakness is you.”

You blinked, opening your mouth just to close it again. When Felix leaned in closer, you turned your head, causing his lips to lightly graze along the side of your jaw. "I thought I'd already be dead, if it were up to you," you mumbled.

“I shouldn't have said that..either," he stated. And when he pulled back to meet your gaze, there was a familiar intensity in his eyes. Felix looked to you like he did every time he wanted to fuck you, but there was more behind it now.

"You did say it, though. You said it, and you meant it," you pressed.

But you were wrong.

And it was driving Felix insane.

Because he was well aware of the simple fact that he should have meant it. That it should have been easy for him to hate you. After all, he'd never had a problem directing his disdain toward the world and its inhabitants. But there was something that stopped him from casting that hatred upon you. No matter how hard he tried.

"I wanted to mean it," he breathed.

And it was on that night, sheltered deep within a cave on the outskirts of District 6, that you realized what the others had meant when they spoke about the way Felix looked at you. As his deep brown eyes bore into your soul, they spoke volumes about the complexity of his feelings, far more than words ever could. That night, your feelings intertwined with his, and you did nothing to stop it. Shared vulnerability bled into deep affection and for the first time you chose to overlook the danger that came with it.

“Its driving me crazy, pretending I’m okay every time you get hurt. You do realize that, right?” you exhaled, reaching for the fading red handprints on his neck. But Felix intercepted your hand before it could make contact with his skin. Bringing it up to his lips, he kissed it softly.

“I’m sorry," he leaned in to press another open kiss your shoulder. It was gentle, it felt good, so you let him.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” his warm hands trailed up and down your back, chasing away the chill that had settled over your body, so you let them.

Felix knew he wasn’t good for you. He knew you deserved someone like Jisung, who would be able to bring out the best in you without even trying. Someone like Chan who you could grow with. Or Minho, who would challenge you to reach your full potential. But Felix was none of those things. Instead, he was selfish. Selfish, and pathetic, and cruel. And despite the fact that he knew it, despite the fact that he hated himself for it, he just couldn’t help the feeling he got every single time you looked at him like he was the only one you wanted.

Felix hated every part of himself, except for you.

"Tell me we shouldn’t do this,” you kissed him. A gentle kiss, pressed lightly to his bottom lip.

"We shouldn't," he exhaled against your lips.

"Tell me you mean it," you pleaded.

"I can't," is all he said.

And it was all you needed to hear.

You met his lips again and Felix eagerly fell into the kiss. He slid his tongue in your mouth and swiped it against yours, causing a breathy moan to escape you. His hands wandered up your sides where he squeezed lightly. Your teeth clashed, and when you pulled away for a breath he chased your lips with his own.

“Never again, remember?” you whispered, dragging your fingers along his temple, pushing back his hair.

“When I said that I didn't mean..I-I just meant that.." his eyes fell to your lap as he trailed off, making you aware of the slow grinding motion your hips had begun to trace against the growing bulge in his underwear.

A small sound of pleasure rose in his throat when you added pressure to your movement. You leaned in, your noses brushed, but before you could kiss him again Felix threw you off by widening the gap between his legs.

"What're you…"

“Use me, princess. I don't see anything wrong with that, do you?"

You hated the cocky expression he wore when he flexed the muscles of his thigh. You hated it, and before you knew it you were straddled around his left leg, silently cursing the thin material of your underwear as it was the only thing that separated your pooling heat from the bare skin on his thigh.

The gasp you let out turned to a whimper as he took hold of your hips and began to guide your pace, bobbing his leg underneath you. When your eyes fell to the obvious tent in his underwear, you pulled one of his hands away from your body to press his own palm down against it.

"Touch yourself, Felix. I don’t see anything wrong with that, do you?”

His breath hitched when you squeezed the hand over his bulge, and your pace slowed as you watched him comply. Bringing his hand up, he shoved his underwear down just enough to take out his hard cock, such a pretty cock, with a pretty pink tip. And you fought the urge to run your tongue along it—to taste the salty release.

Felix leaned back, locking eyes with you as he began to stroke himself, making your aching pussy involuntarily clench around nothing. When he bucked his hips up into his fist, you hissed at the sudden movement of his thigh. Your eyes followed the slow motion of his wrist, and as his thumb began to circle the tip, you decided that you couldn't fucking stand it anymore.

You leaned over and forcefully turned his head, placing a sloppy, wet kiss to his already parted lips. A rumble escaped his throat, and sweet, husky moans filled your mouth when you replaced the hand on his cock with your own.

It wasn't enough. It could have been, you knew you were close. One more flex of his thigh, a few more swipes against your sensitive clit, would have you tumbling over the edge. But his cock in your hand would never compare to how it felt stuffed inside your pussy.

Felix let out another low moan that turned into a chuckle when he watched the way your glossy eyes followed your hand as it moved up and down his throbbing length. "You know, you’re more than welcome to sit on my cock princess, if you think you can control yourself."

“Do you think you can control yourself if I don't let you touch me while I do it?" you managed.

Felix smirked in response, a dangerous smirk, dark eyes full of lust as he raised his hands dramatically before setting them down at his sides. And then your fingers were in his hair, trailing down his body, drawing a path with your touch. You pulled yourself back over to straddle his lap, and Felix moaned louder than you did when you pushed your panties to the side and sank down onto his thick length. Without giving yourself time to adjust, the burn from the stretch had you struggling to catch your breath, dizzy with pleasure.

Felix kept his hands at his sides as his hooded eyes trained to your chest. Sensing that he wanted to touch you there, you slipped out of your bra, cupping your breasts to tease him. He watched intently with his tongue between his teeth, and when your walls fluttered around him he let out a deep growl as his cock pulsed inside you.

Your fingers followed his eyes when they dropped down to where your bodies met—to your clit, where you began to rub lazy circles, causing his hands to twitch at his sides.

When he noticed the bulge in your lower abdomen, visible proof of how deeply he was buried inside of you, Felix thought he was going to lose his mind at the sight. His head fell back, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he tried to keep from painting your walls with his cum right then and there.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, there was a calm sea of black in place of the stars.

“I can feel how bad your pussy wants me to touch you, angel.” When you opened your mouth to protest, he stole a kiss from your lips, swallowing your words before continuing. “To wrap my fingers around your throat,” you shuddered when he brought a hand up to your neck, but he didn’t make contact with your skin. Instead, he used the hand to reach around and grab a fistful of your hair at the roots. You let out a whimper when he jerked your head to the side before leaning in to whisper against your ear. “To fuck you dumb on my cock.”

You moaned again and a strained “fuck” fell from his lips when you shifted in a desperate attempt to feel him move inside you. When he let go of your hair, you dropped your head to his neck, and your hums mixed together in a symphony of pleasure as you began to rock your hips. Shamelessly giving in to your body's desire.

“Ah shit, just like that," he groaned, squeezing his hands into fists where they hovered at your sides. The twisting pressure in your core had you whimpering into the hot skin at his neck, “touch me, touch me please,” and Felix wasted no time. He roughly grabbed your hips and slammed himself up into you, shushing the soft cries that spilled from your lips as a result. "Such a good girl princess, gonna let me take care of you now?"

You nodded, preparing for him to thrust into you again, but Felix did something unexpected instead.

He lifted you up over the edge of the spring, and you clung to him as he laid you down on top of the clothing you had shed before getting into the water. It provided a barrier between you and the cold surface of the ground, and once he was satisfied and made sure that you were comfortable, he ripped your panties off and dragged the flushed tip of his cock back to your entrance, parting your folds.

And Felix thought it was cute, when you looked up at him with big shiny doe eyes waiting for him to take you. So sweet, so innocent. And something about it made him want to ruin you until you cried, just so he could be the one to wipe your tears.

"Don't forget who owns this pretty pussy, sweetheart," he growled hot against your ear as his cock pressed at the entrance of your needy hole. You let out a pathetic whine when he stopped his movement.

"Please, it hurts," you begged, squirming underneath his hold as your release leaked out around his tip.

"Tell me who owns this cunt, and I might just give you what you want," he huffed.

Your nails dug into his skin, tears pricking at your eyes as you whimpered, “Y-you do."

“C’mon baby I know you can do better than that. Say my name, sweetheart.”

“F-Felix...you do Felix, please,” you gripped his shoulders tighter, fingers passing over rough scars on the skin underneath.

“Thats right,” he hummed, easing himself into you at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Does that feel good?” he chuckled at the way your hips greedily met his. When he bottomed out, you pulled him down into another heated kiss just to feel more of him. And then he began to thrust, moving his hips at pace far too slow for your liking as he relished in the feeling of your tight walls sucking him in.

“S-so good, Lix, harder please. I can't-" Your back arched, your eyelids fluttered closed, and Felix had to bite his lip to keep from losing it at the sight.

“Yes you can," he purred, leaning down to whisper into your ear. "You begged for it like whore. So be a good girl and take it like one, hm?" And then without warning, Felix picked up his pace, drilling into you faster, deeper, harder.

You let out soft sobbing noises that he muffled with kisses—kisses along your jaw, down your neck, to your collarbones where he sucked and nipped at the skin. The marks he left behind would be covered by your clothing tomorrow, but they would be there, and only Felix will know it.

One of his hands snaked up to grab at your tits, then down to your clit where he pressed the pad of his thumb. He began to draw gentle circles, pushing you that much closer to your orgasm. And you didn't even try to hold back the loud moans of pleasure that escaped you as his thick cock bullied deeper into your cunt.

"'m fucking close, Lix-”

Felix was too, in fact he certain he wasn't going to last ten more seconds if you kept clenching around him. “I know-shit” he cursed under his breath, “But you’re going to hold it just a little bit longer for me.”

He pulled out with a deep groan and you let out a noise of protest at the sudden lack of fullness. "Shhh, I know but I haven't even gotten to taste you yet,” he muttered, shifting down to lower his face between your legs.

“Oh fuck-” your eyes shot open when you felt hot breath against the inside of your thighs. Your hands found their way to his dark locks, pressing his face into your cunt, and it was almost embarrassing how quickly you came when his broad tongue collided with your clit.

The pleasure was overwhelming as the orgasm ripped through. Felix continued to lap at you, collecting your arousal on his tongue. You cried out his name, over and over again, because you had forgotten everything else. And within seconds, before you had even come down from your own high, Felix was pumping his cock over your pulsing heat. He emptied himself on your pussy, against your folds, the warm sensation making you hiss.

After he had painted the most intimate parts of you with his cum, Felix took his fingers and spread his release over your overstimulated clit, making your legs tremble. And it took everything he had to fight the possessive urge to collect it on his fingers and push it inside your spent hole.

When the stars faded from your vision, you looked up to find him staring down at the mess he'd made. Eyelids half-open, lips parted in a daze. You reached down to collect some of your shared release onto your fingers and sat up to swipe it across his swollen lips. And then you kissed him, tongues meeting to taste the mixture of your releases. You pulled him back down without breaking the kiss, and he held himself up on shaky arms as your lips moved. Slow and passionate, wet and sloppy, as you inhaled each other in.

When the kiss broke, Felix pressed one final peck to your forehead before collapsing at your side, reaching over to pull you into his chest.

"You okay, princess?" his warm breath tickled your ear and you hummed in response. “Shit that was…you're so fucking hot."

"Never again though, right?" you teased, burying your face in his neck. Felix smiled softly against your hair, his chest shook with gentle laughter, and a sense of familiarity washed over you.

As if that very moment had repeated countless times before, in every single lifetime.

You stirred as the first rays of dawn found their way into the cave. Blinking away the grogginess, your body slowly became aware of the weight draped around you. Felix was still soundly asleep and you hesitated to disturb him, but the sudden need for fresh air pulled you gently from his hold.

With cautious steps over the rest of the sleeping boys, you made your way outside, momentarily taken aback by the bright golden rays that bathed the landscape. The sun's presence, without the usual cover of clouds, was a precious rarity—a gift that nature seldom chose to bestow upon the remnants of humanity. It called you to take a few steps further, to let it bathe your skin.

"Enjoying the view?"

You startled, cursing yourself for not paying more attention to the number of sleeping bodies in the cave. When your head snapped to the side you found Hyunjin perched on a large stone with a bright red apple in his hand and an open bag at his feet.

"Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you," you grumbled, taking a step back.

"Don't worry about it," he replied casually, "It's not like I own the sunrise." His tone suggested that he might actually be trying to lighten the mood, to lessen the tension between you, and the surprise must have shown on your face because he let out a light chuckle before taking a bite of the apple.

"Hungry?" he asked. "You didn't eat much last night."

You hesitated, caught off guard by his observation. "A little, yeah."

"Here," he reached down into the bag and pulled out a second apple, tossing it to you. His eyebrows lifted when you caught it with ease. And then he shifted, as if he was making space for you to sit beside him. You paused, studying him for a brief second before accepting the invitation and settling down at his side.

"Thanks," you stole a quick glance his way before biting down into the fruit, appreciating the crisp sweetness as the juice ran down your chin.

"I've known Felix for a long time, y/n," he suddenly blurted out. Your chewing slowed as you turned your attention to him, intrigued by the sudden change in topic. "He's good at adapting, but I'm not sure he knows how to handle anything beyond survival anymore.”

After a moment, a half-smile ghosted across Hyunjin's features and he continued. “Felix is who he is. He isn't going to change for you, and he doesn't need the distraction. Just be careful with him."

"Because you weren't?" the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"Something like that," Hyunjin's response was measured. They had history. You'd sensed as much, understood that some level of complexity existed between Felix and Hyunjin that wasn't there between the others.

When Hyunjin stood, he tossed his apple core aside and your eyes followed the movement, catching on one of his fingers—adorned with a ring that matched one of the rings Felix wore. The sight was like a punch to the gut, a tangible symbol of their bond, forged through circumstances that you couldn't even begin to understand.

“You’re wrong,” you stated as he prepared to leave.

His steps faltered, but he didn’t turn back around to face you when he spoke. “I’ve known him a lot longer than-“

“-Not about Felix,” you interrupted. “About me. I don’t have any desire to change him. I like the way he is because its whats kept him alive.”

Hyunjin stood motionless, as if he was choosing his next words very, very carefully. “You should try to get some more sleep before the rest of them wake," he stated plainly. And then, almost as an afterthought, his voice dropped before he added, "Didn’t sound like you got much last night."

Embarrassment fell over your entire body as he disappeared into the cave. With a heavy sigh you opened your hand, letting the half-eaten apple roll to the ground in front of you as the sweet flavor turned bitter in your mouth.

Upon re-entering the cave, Hyunjin was nowhere to be seen, leaving you to assume that he’d gone to the spring to clean up.

When your gaze shifted to Felix, still asleep where you had left him, your heart sank. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and the anguish etched across his face was unmistakably characteristic of a nightmare.

You stepped closer, concern deepening with each passing second as you watched his eyes dart behind closed lids. Kneeling down beside him you extended a hand, positioning it above his shoulder, but as your fingers inched closer you were abruptly halted by what fell from his lips.

It wasn't merely the despair in his voice that seized you—no, it was the word he spoke that left you frozen in place.

A simple word, whispered like an agonizing plea.

Your name.

Swallowed by darkness, he's stumbling forward but he doesn’t remember how he got there. His knees hit the ground, and he closes his eyes but he can still hear them. Heart-wrenching sobs echo in his ears, sending a shiver down his spine, because he knows it is your voice that they come from.

When he looks up, he sees you on the ground up ahead. Hunched over with your head in your hands and your back turned to him, your entire body shakes with each pained sob. He approaches you cautiously, heart heavy with concern. He reaches to place a hand on your shoulder, and he is surprised to find that your skin is ice cold.

When you turn to meet his eyes, your tear-stained face contorts in anguish and confusion. "Why?” you croak, your voice trembling.

The accusation in your gaze is like a stab to his heart, something he can't bear to see, yet his eyes refuse to close. “Why did you do it, Felix?” you continue. Your sobs turn violent, and his heart breaks as he is forced to watch your pain. He tries to speak, to beg you to forgive him for whatever it is he has done. Yet its as if his lips have been sewn shut, his tongue far too heavy to move. He extends a hand to wipe your tears, but you flinch away from his touch.

And suddenly you’re standing, facing each other. He doesn’t remember how it happened, but he is relieved that your sobs have ceased. He is relieved, until the newfound stillness brings a fresh wave panic to his veins. Because your sadness has been replaced by fear. And as your bloodshot eyes stare directly into his, Felix realizes that it is him, you are afraid of.

You breathe, but it is a ragged breath, as if you are struggling to draw in any air at all. "I trusted you," you whisper, but your speech is gargled as if you are being choked by something. Droplets of crimson fall from your mouth, and his eyes widen in horror as your lips tinge red with blood.

A final tear travels down your cheek as you lower your head. And Felix follows your eyes down, down to where his hand is tightly clutched around the blood-soaked handle of a knife.

A knife adorned with an intricate floral design, mercilessly embedded in your heart.

Part 7

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