#and I thought fi looked pretty bad then..

[saycheeeese]

Zombie Apocalypse x JJK (Part 2)

By some strange miracle, the four have you haven't encountered any zombies since you met - which makes it two days. They warmed up to you fine enough, but still, you can't help but envy the special bond they have in times like these. Good for them, you think. At least they have something to fight for. Or someone.

They led you to a dilapidated restaurant, soundlessly weaving their way through the haphazard tables and seats, and took you into the pantry. Though it was dusty cold, it certainly had ample space - and the racks were lined with canned foods and non-perishables: dried beans, oatmeal, uncooked porridge boxes, white rice, boxed pasta, powdered milk, vats of honey, bottles of spirit, hard cheeses, and a stack of dried fruit. It was difficult for you to suppress the rumble in your stomach while they quickly fixed a tiny meal that would do.

Yuuji and Nobara had fought like animals to snag the big container on the top rack, and without them even noticing, Megumi had silently retrieved it, leaving them to fight. The plastic container had oats soaked in milk, and it was a lot of them.

"Help yourselves," Megumi said, sitting cross-legged on the floor where you and the two joined him. They took heaping spoonsful straight from the dish, and you'd hesitated before digging in.

"Is this ... porridge?" You'd inquired - the food was not so bad. At least it wasn't rotten.

"Yup," Yuuji nodded, swallowing his bite hastily and choking. Megumi punched his back hard, a loud thump sounding in the pantry, and his face turned red. Nobara shifted closer to you, disgust written on her face.

"We soak them overnight in milk," she explained, "Or we keep them soaking as long as we're gone from ... home." She said the last word a bit quietly, and you nodded, taking another bite. What had happened of your home? You shook the thought from your head. In this world, love was a weakness that could be used against you.

Despite the yawning cavity in your stomach, you'd filled up pretty quickly and excused yourself. They'd covered the porridge and put it back, Nobara turning to you.

"What next? Want to sleep, or ...?" She tilted her head.

"Kick some butt?" Yuuji raised a brow, his smile less brighter.

"Neither. We have to go and get some new tools to sharpen our weapons," Megumi announced, arms folded. "We can't kill them with a blunt stick and a can of beans."

You dipped your chin once. It was probably good for you to acquire a new weapon. You unbound your hair and tied it into a braid, the bun falling apart. The laces in your shoes long since gone, you catch up to them.

"Where are we going?" You ask as the four of you exit the safety of the restaurant.

"There's a house some streets away," Yuuji debriefs you, one hand on his crooked, rusted dagger, and focus on his surroundings, "that belonged to a either a mayor or a weaponsmith. You should see the basement - it's full of knives and swords and daggers and arrows."

"We stock up from there about every month," Nobara says from behind you. She and Megumi bring up the rear while you and Yuuji lead the team. Team. A small smile blooms on your lips, and you immediately smother it, scared to let yourself be happy nowadays - because your happiness is always snatched from you.

Yuuji doesn't miss it. "She smiles!" He whisper-shouts, grinning, flipping the dagger in his hand. "You know, you look good when you smile. Alive."

"I ... don't deserve to smile, you know," you confess. "I've killed too many people, and everything I've ever loved has - you know, died. Or zombie-fied."

Yuuji doesn't flinch, like you expected him to. Murderer. He gives you a sideways glance, and his eyes are full of sorrow and understanding. He looks at you for a moment, then softly says, "You know, I also thought that. That ... I don't deserve this all. I don't deserve them. Because I killed a lot of people." He swallows. "But that’s exactly why you - we - deserve to smile. Because the world’s taken everything it could from you, and you're still here - still human. Still you. That smile? It’s not a betrayal. It’s rebellion. You're showing them that they can destroy your world all they like, but they can never destroy you. Let them rot and die at your hands - you're alive; so you deserve to feel alive."

You worry your lip, not letting the tears burning your eyes fall.

“Wow. That’s dramatic," Nobara nudges you with her elbow playfully as she sidles up to your side. "You should write a memoir. ‘How I Killed Everyone and Still Managed to Look Hot While Crying in the Dark’ Bestseller, easy.”

You roll your eyes. "You should write 'How I'm Living In a Zombie Apocalypse and Still Manage to Look Gorgeous and Have Shiny Hair.' Honestly, are you aiming for a shampoo commercial?"

"Pfft, I've dyed it," she dismisses your compliment like a mere fly. "It w-"

The rattle of tin and scuffling shoes makes you instantly tense, back straight and legs apart, dagger poised in hand. Well, what's left of it.

Nobara flanks your right and Yuuji your left, Megumi as silent as a cat behind you, obviously alert.

"Did you - did you hear it?" You breathe, your breath clouding in the musty, cold air. Your ears pick up obscene groaning noises before you spot them.

Five zombies, limping towards you all with unusual speed, blood smeared on their clothes and splattered on their faces. You cringe, and clench your dagger tightly. "Company," you say under your breath.

"I hope you weren't lying when you said you could kill them," Megumi whispers in your ear, "because we'll need all hands we can get."

"I thought you could fight?" You slightly turn, his face too close and eyes wide, assessing.

"We can," his breath tickles the shell of your ear, "but we need to be fast if we don't want more to come - and you might prove a distraction if you scream for help."

You nod sharply, pivoting ahead, a plan in your mind.

"We got seven incoming!" Nobara hissed. You start. Seven? Two more must've been hiding.

"I told you this path was cursed," Yuuji groans, his fists poised.

You take a deep breath and roll up your sleeves. "Weapons can wait," you mutter. You scan the area once more before sprinting. A garbage can, scaffoldings, something that resembles an oil can, some fractured glass shards and heaps of stone; gravel, flint, rock, granite and other unidentified materials. You'll make it work.

Your feet are a blur as you overtake the nearest zombie without it noticing. By the time it realized its target vanished, you kick its back hard and bury your dagger in its skull. The zombie is flung ahead - straight onto Nobara's ready dagger. She recoils. "I didn't even aim."

"You're welcome," you breathe, focusing as two more round on you. The other four zombies aim for your team - very well. They can fight, you think.

You rip a bent metal bar from the scaffolding and duck low. One stumbles into the bar, and you lift. Momentum does the rest. It somersaults over you and cracks against the pavement, its innards oozing out.

You barely pause to breathe. An oil can glints beside a trash bin. You snatch it and hurl it at the last one, your shoulder burning. It bursts and black slick spreads under the zombie. You pivot, wrench open the dumpster, and catch it mid-stumble. You drag it halfway in, then slam the metal lid on its neck. Over. And over. And over.

It stops moving after the third. You flip your dagger in your hands and slice it through its head. The blunt edge does little to harm. You swear colorfully and instead pick up a shard of mirror - just a sliver - and jab it into its eye.

You whirl back, chest heaving, hands covered in rotting blood, the oil creating a path from the can to the middle of the street. Movement at the corner of your eye makes you look up - shit. Zombie backup.

Four more zombies drop down from a ramshackle building, the crooked stairs giving them purchase. In a matter of seconds, they descend and approach your friends. Shit. Eight zombies.

They make quick, neat work of the zombies, but you know that more will come if you don't leave quick. Your eyes dart across the area - and you're moving before you know it.

You retrieve a piece of flint from the corner, pivot on your feet and bolt back, kneel beside the oil spill and whip out your dagger. You mutter some prayers to whoever's listening, and strike the dagger against the flint - once, twice, thrice.

Nothing, nothing, n-

A spark. You rub it again, your breath caught in your throat.

"Is she-" Nobara's voice floats over to you. She grunts and impales a zombie.

"Please tell me she's not doing what I think she's doing," Yuuji grits his teeth as he punches a zombie, its head twisting a full 180 degrees.

"Why would she light a fire?" Megumi adds, beating the hell out of two zombies.

You look up. "GUYS! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM THEM!"

You only give them one warning before lighting the oil, sparks igniting from your dagger. You uncoil to your feet and run. Faster than you've ever run, your feet barely touch the ground as the four of you scurry to the end of the alley and beyond. You're running, out of breath, when you feel the heat at your back, the smell of charred flesh and burning ash singeing your nostrils. You deem it safe to stop, and the four of you halt your frantic dashing.

Megumi wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you back against him, closer to the group and away from the fire. His chest heaves behind your back, and it takes a while before you all are composed. You slip out of his grip, your face inexplicably warm.

"What the hell-" Yuuji chokes.

"Coast is clear," you mutter.

The three of them glance at each other - and then grin. Fiendishly.

"I knew I liked you for a reason," Nobara claps you on the back.

"You're terrifying," Yuuji grins. "Terrifyingly amazing! Next time, warn us before you go full apocalypse MacGyver."

"I'll admit, I'm impressed," Megumi stuffs his hands in his pockets, a ghost of a smile on his face. "You should be proud of those skills, not horrified by them. Saving our asses back there - thank you."

You shrug, a warm feeling in your gut. And you smile, your face lighting up. Smoke puffs from behind you, the ruby and amber flames doused out - thankfully. You turn to them.

"Let's retrieve our weapons, shall we?"

★ Who do you want reader to end up with? Yuuji or Megumi? Part 3 soon ★

[what-bot]

Wild that I’ve had this for years (because I liked Daft Punk) and am now getting into Tron.

OohohOOOO IT’S AN IDENTITY DISC

Booklet pages under the cut (Images are out of order from the pages)

[anodymalion]

oh so people were right. pantheon is good actually

[tommydarlings]

fucktoy | f1 grid

pairing: dom!carlos sainz ; dom!daniel ricciardo ; dom!mick schumacher ; dom!charles leclerc x sub!bimbo!reader

warnings: smut, spitting, hair pulling, dacryphilia, blowjob, mention of gagging, size kink, dumbification

w/c: 0.7k

summary: the f1 grid loves to simply use you as their fucktoy or as a stress relief and nothing else.

check this out: my masterlist <3 // my ko-fi to support me! <3 // my PayPal to support me! <3 // my Patreon to become a member! (get access to +60 works) // Save a Life carrd made by me! <3

thinking about how the f1 grid would simply use you as a stress relief, as a simple fucktoy they can use whenever and wherever they want.

Carlos — for an example — coincidentally saw you walking around in the paddock after a bad qualifying and immediately snatched you by your tiny wrist and dragged you towards the nearest bathroom, throwing your smaller frame into one of the stalls before he lifted your skirt and pushed your thong to the side, quickly freeing himself and ramming his entire length into you without any warning, forcing a high pitched gasp out of you.

“Oh my g-god, Carlos!” You loudly whined before he covered your mouth with his big palm, other hand pushing your hips a bit forward so he could probably bend your body however he pleased, making your ass perfectly stick out for him to fuck.

He groaned behind you as you felt his hand squeezing your hip, abdomen already slapping against your back while you choked on your sobs behind his hand.

“Oh f-fuck,” he dropped his forehead against the back of your head as the pace of his hips went up, making you roll your eyes into the back of your head, “fuck that stupid race this weekend, I’ll just tell Ferrari I’m sick and fuck you the whole Sunday until you're so cockdumb that you don’t even want to leave my hotel room anymore, zorra,” slut.

Or how Daniel would immediately look for you after a good qualifying, asking everybody if they had seen you.

“Where’s she?” He hastily asked Pierre who just pointed towards the Mercedes garage. Without even thanking Pierre, Daniel entered the garage and intertwined your hand with his as soon as he saw you, quickly dragging your towards the Mercedes hospitality since that was the closest room.

Only a couple of minutes later you were already bend over one of the small beds, skirt lifted up so your ass was on full display while Daniel's finger played with your wet pussy from behind.

“D-Daniel, please!” You begged in a whiny tone, making him chuckle, “Please what, little one? You have to tell me what you want or I can’t give it to you,” he kissed your shoulder blade before he focused his eyes on his two fingers and how they were rubbing your clit before he shoved them slowly into you, making your head fall forward.

“Oh no, no, no baby,” he laughed deeply, “you stay here while I play with you,” he harshly grabbed the roots of your hair and pulled your head back up, making you groan as he continued fingering your wet cunt.

Or how mick would not hesitate to harshly knock on your hotel room after a bad race.

“Y/n, open the door for me, please,” he would ask you, making you open the door before he would literally pick your barely covered body — since you were only in pyjamas — up and throw you onto the couch, not even bothering to go to the bedroom.

Without a second thought, he’d have your shorts and panties already removed, briefly gliding his hard and long dick up and down your pussy before he spit on it, rubbing his spit with his fingers all over your needy cunt.

He’d definitely make you watch as he entered you, placing his big hand onto the back of your head and force you to watch him enter your pretty pussy.

“You feel me inside of you, pretty girl? Hmm? You feel me stretching that poor little cunt of yours out and using it?” He’d ask you while you just dumbly nodded, “don’t play so dumb alr-” but quickly stopping his own sentence while the fingertips of his other hand rubbed your puffy clit,

“Oh you really are already dumb, baby?! But that’s okay, you’re my pretty little dumb girl, hmm? Yeah, that’s right, my dumb princess.”

Or how Charles would without a word drag you towards his drivers room after he won a race, loudly slamming the door shut before he’d remove his racing suit and pull his long erection out,

“On your knees, right now.”

And while you’re busy sucking his cock, he’d be so cocky, “Don’t you wanna pleasure the winner of the day, huh? Don’t you wanna be a good little obedient girl and satisfy the man of the race?” He’d place his hand onto the back of your head and force you to gag on his cock, making tears stain your cheeks.

“Just like that, can we go even further? Even further? Fuck yes we can, baby, you’re doing so good for the winner,” he’d praise you while he wiped some of your tears away, other hand fisting your hair and guiding your head.

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 7 - what do your guardian angels want to tell you ?

masterlist / ko-fi

This is a general reading. Take what resonates, leave the rest.

Pile 1

Ace of Wands, Ace of Cups, Ace of Swords, 2 of Wands

“I am divinely protected at all times “

First off, I feel like you are at a time in your life where you are beginning a lot of things. There is this fresh energy coming up in your reading, but it is filled with nostalgia and bitterness. Maybe you’re moving out, changing jobs or switching careers, or you just started living your "dream life". Despite all the blessings that are currently flowing in your life, I feel like you are looking back at the road you traveled, the rocky journey that you had to go through to get what you have with many regrets. You know you should be happy since you got what you wanted but you can’t help yourself from feeling bittersweet. I am getting that one lyric from the song “Free” of the movie Barbie The Princess and the Pauper : “You would think that I'm so lucky / That I have so many things / I'm realizing that every present comes with strings”. You might be realizing the real hardships and downsides of that dream. You probably idealized a career path, a city, a relationship, to be honest it could be anything. You always wanted to try this thing out, you put it on a pedestal for a long time, it was at the top of your bucket list but…now that you’ve done it, gotten it or tried it, you realize it really wasn’t all that great. It’s like you deceived yourself with these high expectations and the fall of the realization is pretty brutal. Maybe you had this thought process where you thought “once I have this, I will finally be happy !” or “once I live in x city, I will finally be able to start this new life and accomplish my moodboard!”. Overall, you might be feeling a bit empty, pretty much still shocked from this unexpected turn of events. 

What your guardian angels want to tell you is that you are divinely protected at all times. They know you are disappointed and totally understand your pain. However, they want to reassure you and tell you this was all part of the process and the journey. This was a lesson for you to understand that you cannot wait to obtain something specific to be happy or be fulfilled in your life. You have to be grateful with your current life no matter what. They want to tell you that happiness is a daily practice to commit yourself to. Not something you gain after a string of bad luck. Happiness is not transactional, it flows, it’s alive, it needs the nourishment of love. Of the love you have within yourself and towards life, humanity and Nature as a whole. 

Sextile : A combination of tension and flow, potential and a rewarding situation, Saturn : Feel restricted, experience struggle, learn hard work and patience and Earth : Persistence, patience and practicality

You grow through what you go through

What your guardian angels want to tell you is that struggle is part of life, disappointment is part of life. They want to remind you that you do not always get what you want. Sometimes, the Universe decides to give you something else, to redirect your energy somewhere else. That way you can get what you need, and not what you desire. That thing that you so desperately wanted, that city that you idealized, that career path that you put on a pedestal, that major and university that you overly romanticized : this was all a plan from your angels to bring you down a bit, to ground you here on earth. Dreaming is great, dreaming is good but you went too high in dreamland. So high that it blurred out some really important truths about this specific thing. Maybe you did not expect to be so homesick, if you moved out. You thought getting out of the old city you were in, or moving out of your parents’ house would set you free and give you peace of mind. But it did not. You physically moved but your soul still carries the hurt and trauma that you experienced back there. The hurt didn’t stay there, it moved out with you. And it is because that hurt is in you, not there. Not back home. The hurt is still there once you get that dream Chanel bag you’ve been saving for months now. The hurt is still there once you get that romantic partner. Anyways, you get what I am trying to say. 

Our spirit need the nourishment that unconditional love bestows upon us, without which we weather away and suffer

Overall, they want to tell you it is totally okay to be disappointed and hurt. It is also okay to sometimes desire material things, or more superficial things. They just want you to be less idealistic and look at the facts more before committing to an idea or project. 

thank you for reading until the end pile 1 ! lots of love <3

Pile 2

5 of Wands, 6 of Wands, Page of Cups, King of Cups, King of Wands, 8 of Cups 

You don’t drown by falling in the water, you drown by staying there.

There is already, just from the quotes, a pretty clear energy for your pile. Your guardian angels want to tell you that bathing in self-loathing and hatred won’t lead you anywhere. I think we all have our moments where we have a hard time moving on from some things, some events that happened to us, especially when they were completely unfair. It is hard to not cling to the resentment, anger and sadness from it all. It is hard to not center our lives around these events that traumatized us. And your guardian angels know really well that you went through unfair painful situations. They know it is hard to move on. They know it is important to acknowledge our negative emotions as much as we acknowledge our positive ones. But, despite that, they still want to tell you there is no use in staying in this dark place anymore. They want you to realize that your pain is valid and completely legitimate. But, something being legitimate doesn’t make it okay to do if it is hurting you in the long run. Your negative emotions should have their place, just like your positive ones, but they shouldn’t take over your life and be the central energy of it. They shouldn’t be the driving force of your daily life.

But you cannot grow if you are bitter...

Your guardian angels want to tell you to move on from this/ese negative experience(s). They are telling you that you can take your time, to purge all the negative emotions slowly but surely. They want to tell you to love yourself, to be gentle with yourself in the process. They want to tell you to not resist this change as “you cannot grow if you are bitter”. They want you to go out more, see the sun, observe nature and its beauty. And, even if you are suffering from depression, they still want to tell you they are proud of you for all the progress you’ve made overtime, and all the progress you are going to make in the future. They want to tell you to try practicing gratitude : every day try to find a thing you are grateful for, try to watch wholesome content on the internet. If it is necessary, uninstall certain anxiety-inducing and hate-filled apps such as X / Twitter, avoid doom scrolling and identify what happens after you do it : how do you really feel ? 

Trust the magic of new beginnings !

House one : Individuality, self-image and approach to life, Pisces : Intimacy, Intuition and compassion

You guardian angels want you to focus on yourself, on what you like and on what brings you peace. They want you to flow, to be more compassionate towards yourself. They want you to share your cup more with others, to allow love to flow in your life more. Say more yes to hang outs, reconnect with art and music. Try to make lists of your favorite albums of all time, and why ? How did you discover this album ? How much would you rate it out of 10 ? Make lists of your favorite singers, musicians, poets, writers, painters, artists,.. Learn about certain art movements. If you can, go to museums more often. Sit on the benches and stare at a painting, observe its finest details. This is where you will find pieces of yourself. You are inside each creation, each sculpture, each drawing, each touch of paint. 

Go to the theater if you can, watch some movies, look at the characters, how they live their emotions. Your guardian angels just overall want you to find a way to reconnect with all types of arts as this will help you soothe the pain and purge the poison of the past hurt. 

Pile 2, this is a beautiful energy you got here <3 This goes extremely well with the current North node in Pisces, more compassion and art in your life will help you cope better. Merge souls with the beauty of art (the sentence technically does not make sense but I felt called to write it like that), this will heal your broken heart a bit.

thank you for reading until the end pile 2 ! lots of love <3

Pile 3

King of Swords, The World, The Devil, 5 of Pentacles, 9 of Wands

TW : mentions of addiction, EDs, …. This reading could be extremely triggering to some people. If you’re sensitive, do not read this please. Be responsible and take care of yourself first.

Flowers need time to bloom… So do you.

Right off the bat, your energy is quite similar to pile’s 2 energy as you have one quote in common, and another one that almost fell too. So, if you felt drawn to reading this pile initially, go ahead and read it, you might find some messages you resonate with.

Now, when shuffling for your cards, the first card that fell was the King of Swords, and then it was followed by two pairs of cards. Even though I asked for 3 cards, 5 cards fell. I find that especially interesting as the first pair of cards that fell together were The World and The Devil, two major arcanas and then the other two were the 5 of Pentacles and the 9 of Wands. Pile 3, are you starting to stop a bad habit ? a toxic addiction ? There is this feeling that you are starting to make peace with the fact that you might actually have a problem. It could be related to anything but I feel it is some type of addiction : a phone addiction, a food addiction, a music addiction, a shopping addiction, a smoking addiction,... I feel your energy is quite fearful and in panic, like you know the truth but you’re avoiding it. I think the fear comes from the fact that you don’t know how to stop the cycle of addiction. There is this dreadful feeling surrounding the idea of having to start to commit yourself to getting better. You feel like there are too many steps ahead in getting better and you don’t know where to start. You are overwhelmed by the journey to “recovery” that awaits you.

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people.  (Carl Jung)

What your spirit guides (interesting how you were the only pile i felt more called towards the “spirit guide” appellation rather than “guardian angels”. I do think there is a difference between the two : one is more here to guide you and give clues on how to advance in your journey, the others are here to protect and encourage you in your journey). Pile 3, I do not want to be harsh, especially since you are struggling and getting criticized is definitely not the healthiest thing to do but you do need some type of guidance more than just “protection”. Your spirit guides are coming to me because they see you and they are a bit disappointed. I feel like your spirit guides have pretty prominent Saturnian energies. Really no bs, cold and they tell the harsh truth. No sugar coating. There is one prominent masculine energy that is overtaking this reading. I heard “Father”. Maybe your own father, or an uncle, generally a pretty authoritative masculine energy is aware of your issue and they are at a point where they are really frustrated to see you struggle. Maybe you’ve been repeating this cycle for years now and you recently relapsed on an addiction so you are scared that this masculine energy will find out. Well, Pile 3, they already suspect that something is wrong and they want to tell you that it’s okay. Yes, they are a bit disappointed to see you suffering from this and going back and forth with this addiction. But, they still want to tell you they love you. They value you. They see all this potential in you. They know you will surpass this. even your friends are coming up in this reading. They are concerned for you but they know you will come out victorious from this. Generally speaking, people and your spirit guides want to tell you that you’ve got this and that they are always here for you. I physically feel a wave of love in my body, like the feeling that you get when you hug someone you genuinely love and that loves you back. Pile 3, this is amazing. Know that you are not alone <3

Trust the magic of new beginnings. 

Venus : Give and receive love, Sextile : A combination of tension and flow, potential and a rewarding situation. 

What your spirit guides and guardian angels want to tell you is that you are surrounded by love. Don’t reject the love you receive from your family, your friends,... Let it flow. They are helping you to get out of this toxic cycle of addiction by sending true and genuine love your way. Your guardian angels and spirit guides are teaming up to send you a supportive circle that will help you heal throughout this journey. Even if it’s hard when you’re not doing great and trying to survive, try to give back the love you receive. And, even if it is sometimes hard to do it, it’s okay, your loving circle will totally understand this and know that even if they give 90% and receive 30%, they don’t mind because they understand your situation. They know you are not trying to take advantage of them and that deep down you feel guilty for being so demanding. They know pile 3, so, let yourself love and be loved back <3

/!\ If your problem is really serious, go consult a professional if you can. I am a bit concerned for some of you here. Isolating yourself could be really detrimental. Go to institutions or associations,.. Anything that could help you in your situation. I believe in you pile 3, you will go past this eventually. /!\

thank you for reading until the end pile 3 ! lots of love <3

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆stay blessed everyone⋆.˚🦋༘⋆

[dark-and-kawaii]

─── Depravity

cw: Corruption | DubCon | Characters Are Rated M For Mature

“Look at that,” Toji teased, watching your belly bulge slightly with each thrust, “taking my cock so deep it's reshaping your womb.” 

Prt 2.

The low hum of the afternoon conversation filled the dining room as you sat there, every nerve ending on fire. You were doing your absolute best to listen to your best friend Megumi as he chatted about his training, while his father Toji’s rough fingers traced dangerous patterns under the table. His calloused hand sliding higher and higher up your thigh, making you bite back a whimper. 

“Are you feeling alright?” Megumi, always so worried about you, noticed how your face started to flush, “You’ve barely touched your food.”

“I- I’m fi-fine,” you somehow managed to answer him, but not without your voice catching as Toji’s fingers brushed against your clothed pussy, teasing circles around your clit through the thin fabric. The bastard didn’t even pause while taking a bite of his food before answering for you.

“I think she’s just tired,” his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as his middle finger pressed harder into you, “Long day.”

You nodded weakly, thighs trembling. Your panties were getting embarrassingly wet… And no matter how hard you tried to shift away, he’d grip your thigh warning you to stay still. 

Later in the evening, as you all sat in the living room, Megumi sprawled across the armchair while you sat nervously on the couch. You thought- had hoped that earlier during dinner was a one time thing and that things could go back to normal... And when Toji walks in with a bowl of popcorn your heart settles the moment he offers you some- his eyes not looking into yours, “Take some.” 

“Th-thank you, Mr. Fushi-”

“Don’t mention it.”

The movie’s blue light flickered across the walls as your friend’s breathing grew deeper, eventually settling into soft snores… That’s when you felt Toji’s muscular arm draping across your shoulders, hand sliding down to cup your breast causing a gasp to escape those pretty lips of yours. 

“M-Mr. Fushiguro! What’re y-you-” Your protest cut off into a strangled involuntary moan as he rolled your hardened nipple between his fingers through your shirt.

“Such a naughty girl,” with one hand he swiftly pinned you down against the cushions, “Prancing around my house with no bra, teasing me with these perfect tits.” his other hand roughly groped your chest, making you arch into his touch despite yourself. 

“Please, i-” you whimpered, unsure if you were begging him to stop or continue as he yanked your shirt up, “Meg-Megumi is right there…” 

“Then you better stay quiet,” his low chuckle was dark as he lowered his head to capture a perky nipple between his teeth. Your hands wriggled in his grasp, desperately trying to fly to cover your mouth- to stifle a cry of pleasure that forced its way out.

He worked each breast until you were a flushed, writhing, panting mess beneath him. When his hand slipped under your skirt to find your soaked panties, he couldn’t help but groan appreciatively, “Such a dirty slut, getting off in front of your best friend like this… Look at him. He has no idea what a depraved little whore you are, does he? He has no clue that you want his father to fuck you so bad that you don't care where or when. How pathetic... But I'll indulge you.”

Your weak protests died as he pushed your panties aside, "N-no- n-not here! Not w-with-" You looked towards Megumi, eyes rolling back in pleasure as two of his thick fingers slid inside your tight pussy. The stretch of just two digits had you seeing stars, walls clenching greedily around the invasion. And the squelching sounds echoing through the living room, god how it all made your cheeks burn... Shameful tears welling up in your eyes as you fought not to wake your sleeping friend. 

“Please…”

Toji only laughed, curling his fingers upwards to press against the spongy bundle of nerves, “He's sleeping, baby girl, ya ain’t got anything to worry about, but if you want me to stop, just say so.” His fingers picked up the pace, “Or would you rather I fuck you right here in front of him?” 

You moaned softly, biting your lip as he leaned in close, his lips ghosting across the shell of your ear, “That's what I thought,” the pleasure building quickly, “Fuck, you're tight,” pumping them inside you, “Can't wait to feel this sweet pussy stretched around my cock.”

Your back arched off the couch, the hand holding your wrists finally letting go as your body started to shudder. Toji's mouth crashed against yours, swallowing your scream while you bucked your hips, fucking yourself against his hand as you came, soaking his hand and the cushions beneath you.

His tongue swept against yours, a kiss so dominating that you could barely breathe, let alone think. By the time he released your mouth- a wet trail of spit connecting the two of you- you were already panting, trying to catch your breath as you looked up at him with that cute dazed expression, his hand still working in and out of you. 

“look how wet you are for my cock,” he groaned, curling his fingers before pulling them out to show you, a string of slick hanging between your folds and his long fingers and knuckles.

Toji smirked, leaning down to lick the mess off his hand, “Didn’t know my son liked hanging around such a depraved whore."

When he finally freed his throbbing cock, your eyes widened at the size…His length glistened with precum, his large hand lazily stroking up and down his shaft, thumb smearing the sticky fluid over his swollen tip. 

Fuck. 

He was so much bigger than anyone you'd been with before- bigger than… Your thoughts were interrupted as he rubbed the swollen head between your folds, coating himself in your wetness, “N-No! I-I- I don't- please-! It- it won’t fit,” you whined and shook your head as he lined himself up with your entrance, “You're too big!”

Toji could only chuckle at your distress, his cock sinking slowly into your tight pussy, “funny how you keep telling me no, but yet here you are, spreading those pretty thighs for me…” his eyes darkened, “Not once telling me to actually stop…” 

Everything seemed to stop, time standing still... He was right…

You hadn’t told him to stop, not once.

Not even now.

Instead you were eagerly meeting him halfway, thighs spread wide and shaking from the initial breach... walls stretching obscenely around his girth... And then a strangled moan- the sound of you losing a game of chicken. You'd lost the battle, but it was worth it. So worth it.

It hurt- the delicious sting of being stretched, the feeling of his cock sliding into you inch by agonizing inch, splitting you open. 

“Mn'More~ Wanna be so full of you~” You cried out as soft as you could, “W-wan you to fuck me.”

And it was almost enough to make him lose control. Almost. 

“Shit. That's right. Tell me how badly you need me,” He didn't give you time to adjust, starting a brutal pace that had the couch creaking beneath you. His hands grabbing at your waist, pinning you down till your body was imprinted into the seats as his hips snapped forward, filling you completely, his cock dragging against the sensitive spot inside of you, “Tell me how good it feels,” His balls slapping wetly against you, “How good it feels to have my cock buried in that pretty little cunt.”

“Oh- oh god~ mmmn, fuck” you babbled deliriously as he pounded into your cervix, “Y-you’re stirring up m-my insides!!!” 

You couldn’t tell him how good he felt, words barely something you could focus on, but the bastard knew… He could feel the way your walls fluttered and squeezed his length, feel the way your legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him deeper inside you,

“Look at that,” he teased, watching your belly bulge slightly with each thrust, “taking my cock so deep it's reshaping your womb.” 

Your eyes rolled back as he hit spots you didn’t know existed, pleasure building to unbearable heights. The wet sounds of his cock destroying your pussy filling your ears… And for a moment, a brief, fleeting, terrifying moment, you worried Megumi might wake up, might catch you getting fucked by his dad like a bitch in heat... Might see the way you're cumming- gushing all over the man's cock. 

As if sensing your fear, Toji's thrusts slowed- his movements growing more languid... then you heard it.

The telltale sign that someone was stirring.

Megumi groaned softly as he stretched and yawned…

Toji clamped his hand over your mouth- his body covering yours, the movement of his hips coming to a stop, leaving his cock buried deep within your velvety walls... Your hearts hammering against each other, your own pulse beating so loud it was the only thing you could hear, even over the blood rushing in your ears. You watched Megumi sleepily roll his head from side to side, eyes still closed, brows knitting together as he adjusted his position.

He was still asleep... Thank god.

The relief was short lived though. Toji didn't wait long before his hips started moving again- the pace even slower than before. He was drawing it out, relishing every thrust, savoring the way your pussy clung to his cock. 

That forbidden thrill pushed you over the edge… Your whole body trembling, eyes screwed shut and mouth agape against his hand, your thighs squeezing his hips as you came hard, squirting all over his cock and straining his couch cushions. 

“Fuck yes, milk my cock,” pace growing erratic, “suck a perfect sleeve for me to fuck.”

Terror cut through your orgasmic haze as you felt him start to swell inside you, “W-wait you can- cant! D- don’t cum in meee i’ll get pregnant!” 

“Maybe that’s what you need,” he gripped your hips bruisingly tight, “a man to fill this cunt up with cum- get knocked up with a brat of your own, huh?”

Just when you thought he was about to flood your womb, he pulled out. Thick ropes of cum painting your stomach, chest, and face. Toji pumped his length a few more times, making sure he was completely spent.

By the time he finished, you were covered in cum. Your hair sticking to your forehead, skin shiny, and glistening. You looked like a hot, dirty, wreck- the picture of sin.

He pulled out and tucked his semi hard cock back into his pants with a satisfied smirk, “I’d clean yourself up before he wakes,” leaving you laying there, legs spread, cunt still gaped and throbbing from his girth.

You just laid there, unable to move as his cum started to dry, your mind reeling. What were you supposed to do now? What would happen tomorrow? How were you supposed to face him after all this? What about Megumi? 

...The thought of Megumi had your abused cunt clenching around nothing, already aching to be filled again.

This was so wrong... but you knew you'd be back for more... 

A week later, you found yourself back at your best friend’s house... 

“Been thinking about this tight cunt all week,” Toji shoved you against the marble counter in the bathroom, his massive hands slipping under your thighs, hoisting you effortlessly into the air, pressing your back against his muscled chest, “Show me how much you’ve missed this cock.”

You bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood as he impaled you with one brutal thrust, your walls still slick from fingering yourself earlier, thinking of him, wishing he was there-

“Such a sloppy pussy.”

He was rough, but his strong hands gripped your thighs, supporting you easily, letting his cock do all the work- hitting your g-spot perfectly. It was so cute how your legs dangled helplessly in the air~. 

“Look at you, taking it so deep,” He grunted, his pace growing rougher, harder, “My boy could never make you feel this good, could he? Too busy playing around with his shadow technique to notice how bad his little crush wants her pussy split in half like this…”

“N-No, th-that’s not- true~” you moaned, head falling back against his shoulder, his breath hot against your cheek, a low, guttural laugh sending shivers down your spine, a familiar warmth coiling in your belly.

“C’mon, don’t be shy, your body is being honest. Why don’t you give it a try?”

You furrowed your brows, you hated him. hated that he knew what you desperately wanted to keep secret, what you tried so hard to deny… But it was no use, “O-Only you can- …” you nibbled your lip, “Only you can fill me up like this~”

“That’s right,” he purred ever so darkly, “lucky daddy’s here to take care of this needy pussy properly.”

Your eyes rolled back as he increased his pace, cock churning up your insides. Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, tongue lolling out as your walls clamped down around him.

“Fuck yeah, strangle my cock with that tight cunt.”

A loud thumb echoed as he slammed you against the bathroom wall… The sound of footsteps approaching made your blood run cold.

“(Y/N)? Are you alright? I heard a bang,” Megumi’s voice could be heard through the door, his hand rattling the handle.

You opened your mouth but no words came out, just quiet whines as his father continued to fuck you sensless. 

“Tell him you knocked over a bottle,” Toji whispered in your ear, punctuating each word with a harsh thrust, “that you’re just freshening up.”

“I-I’m fine!” you managed between short gasps, “Just- k-nocked over some.. Ah!... Stuff! Freshening up!” 

“Oh, okay.” Megumi said it with uncertainty, you could hear it in his voice… “Let me know if you need anything.”

You held your breath until his footsteps faded, then moaned loudly as Toji resumed his merciless pace, fingers digging into your thighs, cock pistoning in and out of you, hitting deep- hitting the spot that makes hearts burst across your vision.

“Such a good girl, lying to him while taking my cock.” he chuckled darkly, “That was close though… He almost saw what a whore his crush really is.” 

You came at his cruel words, squirting all over his thick shaft, walls spasming wildly, your liquid spraying the floor. 

His pace faltered for a second, and you could hear him mutter a quiet, almost awestruck, “fuck.” before fucking you through mulitiple orgasms, wanting to watch you drench his flooring even more… until your mind was completely blank.

“Fw’lease… Toji… C-can’t ta-ke any-sh’m-m-more…~” you were babbling, slurring… 

He loved how wrecked you sounded, at the way you kept milking his length, as if it were trying to suck him deeper inside, like you couldn't live without his cock. 

“You’ll take whatever I give you. You're a good girl, aren't you? Be a good girl and come on my cock one last time before I fill your hungry womb.”

Within a month you were completely broken- addicted to his cock and that large muscular body that covered yours. It didn’t matter where you were or who was around, all you cared about was the way he felt inside of you- how his cock split your insides and his hands left marks on your skin. You just wanted to please him, to show him how much you loved him.

Every day you‘d find yourself on your knees, throat bulging as he skull fucked you into mindless oblivion. Your pussy would drip constantly, aching to be filled and abused by him. 

“Please Toji~” or “Please daddy~” became your constant refrain, spreading yourself open shamelessly, “Need you to wreck my tight little cunt…” your lashes batting at him so innocently. 

The ultimate betrayal came when Megumi finally discovered your twisted relationship with his father. The look of shock and hurt on his face as he watched you finger yourself, your voice calling out his fathers name… cum leaking from your well used hole…  But you were too far gone to even notice him, too lost in the pleasure of knowing Toji would be back any minute to take care of you~ ♡

Prt 2

[angelltheninth]

Which Genshin boy loves thigh high stockings?

Well lets find out together.

Pairing: Kaeya, Itto, Al-Haitham, Scaramouche, Dottore, Childe, Wriothesley, Dainsleif, Sethos, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, thigh kissing, biting, possessiveness, flirting, grinding, tearing clothes

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: I could never wear thigh highs. Not cause my thighs aren't thick, they actually are, but thigh highs aren't for me. Real pretty on other people though!

Kaeya has always had a fondness for looking at you but he seems very interested in you when you wear thigh highs. At first he was only looking, complimenting, saying they look cute on you. It wasn't long until he started running his hands up and down, feeling the soft material. Commenting on how silky smooth your legs are with and without them, but they're was a certain charm that they bring.

Itto nearly walked into the wall when he noticed what you were wearing. He'd often seen other women wear these but only you have been able to unlock this new urge within him. From the moment he saw you in them he knew what he wanted, to bite your thighs. And now just anywhere, in the exact spot where the thigh highs end so his bite mark is always visible, maybe just a tiny bit covered up.

Al-Haitham was the one who bought them for you, it was a gift he got on one of your dates. Honestly he didn't expect you to wear them right away, nor did he expect how distracted he would be when you did. As he kept staring at you he noticed he was having trouble focusing on his work. So he politely asked you to only wear these at home, that way it won't matter how distracted he is.

Scaramouche didn't want you to know he was paying attention to your new addition of attire. He did notice of course, he had perfectly working eyes and so did other people. Which was a whole other problem, he kept glaring at every other man and woman who looked at you with the same look he did. This didn't sit too well with him but he also didn't want to ask you not to wear them, he likes them a lot.

Dottore joked about you waring them during work and you took it seriously. As soon as you began noticing him looking you began to tease him by walking by him slowly, reaching up to a high shelf, smirking at him. It wasn't long before he reached his breaking point. He pinned you against the first clean table and urged you to wrap your legs around him and grind and to not take the thigh highs off.

Childe noticed as soon as you walked out and asking him to spar. Too bad he couldn't focus on anything properly, he was too busy noticing how nicely the thigh highs hug your legs, and how they're just a bit tight on you. Instead of sparing he manages to tackle you down and throw your legs over his shoulders. A smirk plays on his lips as he slowly starts kissing your thighs as you throw your head back.

Wriothesley doesn't stop looking at your legs for the entire day. He will do it very shamessly too, glaring at you with no intention of hiding what that specific clothing does to him. At the end of the day it's no surprise that you find yourself in his office, on his desk, legs spread open by his strong hands and his eyes almost feral looking. What he would do to be able to spend the whole day like this.

Dainsleif tries to be a gentleman and help you put them on and take them off every morning. Yet his hands and fingers linger more and more with each passing day. Soon he can hardly pull away from you without leaning in for a deep kiss and caressing your legs up and down as you moan his name. Eventually he does help you put them on, but not before taking them off before then.

Sethos knows it gets really hot out in the sandy desert and assumes that's why you put them on. However it soon becomes obvious to him that the real reason is to get him to look your way more often. Not that he doesn't look at you already, but now he tends to do it a lot more. Before he never thought that something so simple as thigh highs would be so captivating, it seems he was very wrong.

Zhongli appreciates all beautiful things in life, and yes, that includes the way your legs look in thigh highs. He likes to lay his head on your lap when he's feeling tired and catch even a few minutes of rest with your hands running through his care. The only downside to those moments is that sometimes his fangs catch on and rip the delicate material. Since then he's been a lot more careful.

[yeonniesblog]

Oikawa Tooru felt a bit dizzy behind his eyes. Maybe the gymnasium lights were too bright.

Or maybe it was her—standing there, just here for your brother Yahaba’s match—lingering by the bleachers after the game, fingers curled around his water bottle like you had every right to be there [you did], and no right to make his pulse stutter [you absolutely did].

Oikawa noticed the exact moment you walked in. Of course he did; he had a sixth sense for these things—he could read the shift in air pressure before a serve, the angle of Iwaizumi’s exasperated scowls, and especially, the gaze of a pretty spectator watching him with quiet intensity that made his skin prickle.

And now, despite his legendary focus, his brain short-circuited like bad Wi-Fi.

Badum.

His heartbeat was obnoxiously loud, the kind of dramatic thud that belonged in a shoujo manga, not in his stupid chest. He tightened his grip on the volleyball, knuckles whitening.

Focus. Serve. Ace. Repeat.

But then—then—you looked up. And smiled. At him? No. No, definitely at Iwaizumi, who was stretching behind him like some muscle-bound shoujo rival. Not that Oikawa noticed. Or cared. Obviously.

“Oikawa!” Coach barked. “You’re up.”

Right. Serve. He could do this. He’d done it a thousand times.

He tossed the ball, leapt—

—and his knee almost buckled when your voice cut clean through his focus.

“Nice form, Oikawa.”

The ball sailed straight into the net. thwap.

Silence.

“Wow,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “That was embarrassing even for you.”

Oikawa’s cheeks burned. “A fluke!” he declared, flipping his hair. “The air was... wrong. And my shoelaces were—”

“You’re staring at [Name] again,” Hanamaki stage whispered.

“I’m not—!” But his traitorous pulse was already sprinting ahead without him. And it only took one sentence from you to prove him wrong.

“Oikawa.” Your voice, closer now. Too close. He turned—and there you were, tilting your head, a little frown on your face that flipped his stomach inside out.

He couldn’t say when you started affecting him. You were just supposed to help him with notes, as class president, catching him up after missed lectures. So why did your voice shake him more than a punch from Iwaizumi?

maybe it was because he was a keen observer..? He noticed how your pen would hover over the edge of his messy notes, then burst into doodles—bunnies in jerseys, a stick-figure Yahaba mid-sneeze—but you’d freeze when given a blank page.

How you empathized with everyone—the teacher, rivals, even the cranky lunch lady—but turned into a flustered mess when he thanked you. Left ink-smudges on your cheek he ached to wipe away.

And the way you bit your lip trying not to laugh at his dumb jokes, turning your lower lip a soft, tempting pink.

Oikawa Tooru knew exactly why he liked you. He was doomed.

“Are you okay? You look tiptop—just like you do on TV.”

The gym air turned to concrete in his lungs. His brain screeched to a halt like a buffering video.

TV.

TV.

TV.

“…TV?” he croaked, voice cracking like an old vinyl record.

You spun Yahaba’s water bottle cap between your fingers. “Yeah, I caught your match while flipping channels.” A pause. “Right when you said that thing about—”

Oikawa’s entire life flashed before his eyes.

Please no.

“‘If you’re gonna hit it,’” you quoted, eyes crinkling, “‘hit it until it breaks.’”

Nuclear silence. Iwaizumi looked like he scored ten points for the team “She knows your catchphrase,” he grinned.

“IT’S NOT A—” Oikawa clutched his hair, executing The Exact Flip mid-panic. “I WAS FIFTEEN! IT WAS METAPHORICAL!”

“Sounded pretty literal before the Shiratorizawa match,” Matsukawa said casually.

“With tears in your eyes,” Hanamaki added.

You blinked. “Wait, really?”

“NO!” Oikawa shrieked, voice hitting frequencies only dogs could hear. “THEY’RE LYING—YOU GUYS I SWEAR TO—”

Through the chaos, you smiled. Soft. Infuriating. “I thought it was cute. Kinda cool, too.”

Oikawa’s brain blue-screened.

Because that was the worst part. You liked it. You remembered him. And now his heart was pounding loud enough to echo across the entire prefecture. He likes you. Oikawa tooru likes you.

“Aw,” Hanamaki cooed. “Captain’s blushing.”

“I’M NOT—!”

“Wait, wait,” Matsukawa cut in, eyes gleaming.

“[Name], you do know our captain has this weird habit of staring at the bleachers during timeouts, right?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

"Like he's looking for someone" Hanamaki singsonged.

Oikawa made a sound like a deflating balloon. “You all just lost your bestfriend priveledges.”

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said solemnly, “just admit you like that she watched—”

“NO!” Oikawa lunged, spectacularly missing as Iwaizumi dodged.

“HE DOES THAT,” Hanamaki told you brightly, “when he’s—”

Oikawa’s shoe connected with his shin.

LOSER MEN ON TOP UGHHHHH.

[adventuringblind]

He Must Be Lucky!

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: fluff and crack

Summary: Max gets wasted and can't remember that the reader is his wife. It's endearing how much he simps bith sober and drunk.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, a wild party (at least for Max), Max being down bad

Notes: This one is for @amajixi! I hope you like it! Does anybody wanna send me asks and talk about drivers with me? Give me your most feral thoughts because I'm genuinely curious... please >_< (I even turned my anonymous asks back on please just send me things).

Side note: my fics haven't been getting much traction as they usually do. Is it something on my end? Have y'all disappeared on me? I know I shouldn't care, but y'all are the only ones that validate my writing T_T

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

Max has a track record of partying hard. It's who he is, and she lives him for it. There isn't any kind of gripe of hang-up, just Max having fun and doing dumb shit that makes her laugh.

Lando is throwing a - well - a party. There was an excuse for it in the invitation, but she's too buzzed to remember it.

The echoing sound of Max's laughter ricochets off the walls. Daniel is with him, probably getting them into more trouble, but she knows Daniel will look after him. At least until he's trashed and can't get off the floor.

Alex brings her another shot glass. She has no idea what's in it, but Alex is letting loose, and she'll be damned if she doesn't partake.

He raises the shot glass in a toast. "To whatever this party is!" He cheers. They clink their glasses together and down the shots. She gags at whatever was in it.

"The fuck was that, Alex?!" She sputters.

He gives her a blank look. Really thinking hard about what he gave her. "I've got no idea."

The hours seem to tick by. The people are slowly dissipating, leaving the safety of this weird little bubble they've created.

She's lightly buzzed still, having danced off the majority of the shots Alex had her doing. The couch is her new best friend, and Lando had brought her a blanket at some point in the last twenty minutes.

A weight on the other end of the sofa catches her attention. Max, with complete adoration in his blue eyes, is staring at her. "Wow," he slurs. "You are the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen."

She laughs at his drunken thoughts. "You're not too bad looking yourself, babe."

The smile on his face is almost childish. It's big enough to almost fall off. His cheeks tinged a darker red with the blush adding to the alcohol flush.

"Go on a date with me? Please?" He tries to pout, but it ends up looking awkward mixed with the grin.

She flashes the ring at him. "Sorry, I'm spoken for." Alex and Lando are giggling from where they are watching this interaction unfold.

Max looks like a wounded puppy. Eye's glossing over like her might cry. "He must be such a lucky guy. You're just so perfect!"

"Awe, love, you wanna know a secret?" She leans in to whisper into Max's ear. "You married me."

If Max could hand you the world on a silver platter, he might have tried in this moment. The Dutch is vibrating in pure, unadulterated joy. Like a child who just got the ice-cream they were so desperately craving.

"Holy shit! I'm the lucky guy!"

Max smothers himself against your body. Eventually falling asleep, mumbling about how she's so amazing, and how he loves her so much. It's endearing to here his drunk affections laid bare for everyone to see.

It's the lullaby that calms her to a restful state. Fingers tangling with the softness of his hair. "You're not the only one who's lucky. I guess I'm pretty lucky, too."

[skyahri]

How They Found Out P2 |Naruto Men X Reader| HC

Part One Masterlist Ko-fi

Characters: Sasuke Uchiha, Shikamaru Nara, Kakashi Hatake

Summary: The aftermath of your relationship becoming public. Part two to How They Found Out

Warnings: Mentions of sex, marriage, kids. Pretty low key tbh.

- - - - -

Sasuke Uchiha

What an absolute nightmare.

Once you heard the front door shut, Sasuke basically collapsed on top of you.

He groaned. His night had been ruined, and on top of it, Naruto was sure to cause drama for the coming days.

"It's okay, Sasuke. They were sure to find out anyway."

"Our relationship going public and Naruto catching us having sex are two very different issues, and it's a bit concerning that you think I'm worried about the latter."

You kick him off of you with a laugh and suggest a shower. There was no way your escapades could continue on after all the fuss.

The next morning, you basically had to drag Sasuke out of the house.

He'd been moaning and groaning and grumbling since last night, so much so that he started to sound like Shikamaru.

Who knew Sasuke could complain so much.

Once you were out the door and the second your friend's eyes caught you, they pounced.

All at once, they hounded you about what Naruto may or may not have seen (Naruto has a habit of being a bad storyteller, so who knows what actually went down)

Sasuke refused to answer any questions until the chaos had settled down. They did eventually, albeit reluctantly.

"It's true."

That just sent them all reeling again, begging for details.

You two already discussed what you'd keep secret and what you'd share, so the meeting went pretty smoothly once everyone agreed to keep their composure.

Until fucking Sakura started asking questions about your sex life.

After that, you zipped your mouth and refused to answer anything further.

They'd just have to live on not knowing anything.

Shikamaru Nara

After news got out, Ino decided it was her place to convince Shikamaru to, in her words, "be a man and ask her out already!"

He ignored her, convinced she was full of it and brushed her off.

But her words lingered in his head.

Your friends were all beginning to settle down; Naruto and Hinata had just gotten married. Talk of kids had started to circulate in the group.

Were you wanting marriage and children?

The slow buzzing quickly turned into an almost constant fog in his mind. He'd never been so distracted before.

What a drag.

Within the week, he was knocking on your door.

"I need to ask you about something."

Weird. You could read him pretty well at this point, but this energy he was putting off was new.

"What's up, Shika?"

"Do you want to get married?"

Your eyes widened and jaw dropped. When you tried to answer, you found yourself at a loss of words.

"I mean, damnit, I- do you want to get married eventually? Or have kids at some point?"

You stared at him like he had two heads.

"Are you feeling alright? Why don't you come inside?"

He didn't fight you. He walked in and sat at your table in silence while you made him some tea.

You'd pried it out of him that Ino was behind this sudden change, and assured him that things would be okay.

"Look, I never brought it up because I know you're not a feelings guy, buy yeah, I guess I would like to have a family. I thought that's what you wanted, too?"

He got that irritated look on his face. The one he always gets when people ask him to work.

"It is, but,"

"But don't worry about it. I work on your time, so whenever you're ready."

You gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He let out a sigh of relief, glad to have fallen into such a situation with someone who understands him so well.

"Not too long, though. It's been almost two years, Shika."

On second thought, this was a total drag.

Kakashi Hatake

The next morning, you two made sure to bump into his students.

They seemed rather pleased with themselves, that they had been the ones to finally catch Kakashi lacking.

It only took a single look for Sasuke to realize it was all fake. They'd been bested by their sensei once again.

That quick glance he got from Kakashi told him not to say anything to the others, which he hadn't planned on anyway.

"Kakashi sensei, why didn't you ever tell us you were seeing someone?"

He set a hand on Sakuras head and ruffled her hair.

"I try not to share my personal matters with children. That's what friends are for."

Enter Gai, who happened to hear.

"You didn't tell us either, Kakashi."

He just shrugged, sending Gai into a fit.

News traveled fast in the village. What else is to be expected when romance rumors come up about the Hokage?

Kakashi was actually very calm about the whole thing.

Despite dreading this day for a long time, he was actually very content with the outcome.

There had been so much going on when you initially got together. Wars and death and PTSD and all that.

But now was a time of peace. A perfect time to actually start living, and this was just the beginning.

[jojikawa]

Beauty and the Beast

art by ilameys

-Part One-

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ Manhandling, Slight body horror descriptions, descriptions of blood, himbo!doppelgänger!Francis Mosses, Yandere Behavior, Mentions of Stalking, sexualization of the female MC by Fake Francis, double SMUT(CNC and consensual separately =), and monster cock, Shibari

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Care for typos!

Francis decided he wanted to take things slow with you. He heard through the grapevine that your encounter with a doppelgänger was more than just a simple attack. He heard that it had violated you. Now you were being moderated by the D.D.D. It wasn’t his fault but he still felt bad and used those feelings of guilt to be good to you.

The man was kind enough to take you to the local dress store so that you could pick out something new as a gift from him. You were worried that your incident with the doppelgänger would make you less desirable to Francis. At some point, you’d have to tell him that the creature took the form of him.

“Here, let me.”

You felt the presence of a large man behind you. He tugged the back of your dress, straightening it so that he could zip up the new dress. You couldn’t help but blush at the contact. This is the closest the two of you had ever been. Years went by, and you could only meet him at your door or neighborhood events. Now, he was in your dressing room, touching your body.

Wait—touching your body…?

You felt his hand lingering on your back, slowly traveling lower and lower…

“Excuse me~!” You whipped around to face him. He was as red as a tomato with a surprised look. “You haven’t even gotten me a drink yet!” You joked cutely. It wasn’t common for a woman to be forward the way you were, but you often got away with a lot of things because of your pretty privilege.

“S-Sorry, I was just straightening the fabric.” His rather deep voice was quite adorable when he was flushed. Your grin widened. It felt best to help him move things along…just a bit.

You stepped closer to him, grabbing both of his arms and ushering him to place them on your waist. He obeyed, wrapping his large hands around your midsection and pulling you closer.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.” You brought your bodies close enough to touch. Francis didn’t say a word. You could tell that he was rather shy, but he didn’t seem to be rejecting you.

You stood on your toes to place a kiss on his lips. His hands traveled from your waist to your ass, lifting you so that you wouldn’t need to try as hard to reach him. The contact made you gasp and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. 

You moaned at how aggressive he was, your voice sending blood rushing to his cock. You immediately felt him grow and his hard dick brushed against your leg. Your thigh touched it, causing him to react even more to the situation. 

Francis let go of you and broke away from the kiss. “Not here.” He said, quickly remembering that the two of you were in a public dressing room. 

At first, you were confused but your face quickly lit up when you realized what was about to happen.

The milkman took you by your hand, leading you out of the clothing store and bringing you to his car. You didn’t acknowledge it earlier, but he had a newer model. Perhaps, being a milkman paid well.

Just a month ago, you had felt as if you had no chance with this man. You thought that despite being the ideal woman a man desired, you simply weren’t his type. It got to a point where you felt as though you were bland. Men were easy to you. Always. When they saw how pretty you were, they’d easily fold and become easy to read but because everything was so easy, reading a man like Francis was hard.

But here you were, straddling him in the driver's seat of his car. The man was pretty timid but he knew what he wanted and he wanted you.

You ground your pussy on his bulge. You bit your lip and hummed at the sensation. You wanted to look as attractive as possible and your panties quickly became wet. Although he was hungry, he was really gentle. He left wet kisses on your collarbone, going up to your neck and face. His hands tugged at the thin fabric of your dress, threatening to tear it if he were too rough.

Your nipples hardened and you squeezed your eyes shut. Words couldn’t describe how happy you were right now. All the pining paid off. But it was just more than sex. The marks and bruises left by Franz were still there and Francis didn’t think any less of you. He still loved you all the same. Such traits are rare among men these days.

You felt his hand slip under your dress. His fingers grazed themselves over your damp fabric.

Snap!

“F-Francis?” You ceased your movements and looked him in the eye. Your face was hot with pleasure and embarrassment. He looked somewhat surprised as well. “I-I’ll buy you new ones.”

He used his strength to tear the fabric of your bottoms under your dress. His forwardness took you aback but it turned you on even more. His being quite unsure of himself only added to his attractiveness. It made you want to guide him. 

“Of course,” You licked your lips. “And I want a new pair of shoes as well.” You chirped, happily. Your hands were already resting on his chest. They traveled down and you made the mental note that you hadn’t seen him in anything else but his work clothes until today…but he still decided to wear a white T-shirt. White suited him well.

Your free hand tugged at his trousers. You were ready to finally have him. “Are you sure?” You heard him say with uncertainty but his actions communicated otherwise. He helped you free his cock from his pants. You didn’t know why but you thought of Franz and how big he was. You were grateful that Francis has a normal size—no, above average size.

His tip was shiny with precum, it was already smeared on the abdomen of your newly purchased dress.

“I am sure.” You reassured him. “If you want, I can lead.” You offered. You felt him squirm beneath you. How long has it been since he was with a woman?

He shook his head. “No, it’s fine.” He told you. “I just don’t want to mess this up.” His face was as red as a tomato and his eyes were filled with lust.  Your face grew warmer. He could be so hot without trying. You eased yourself and allowed him to take control.

You felt Francis’ hand creep up behind your neck while the other subtly slipped up your dress. You didn’t even know until you felt his palm and fingers gripping your plump ass cheek. Upon taking you in his hand, he bit his lip, jiggling your ass meekly. His cock pulsated and leaked from the tip due to his actions. You blushed too, your panties getting wet from being touched in such a way.

“F-Francis—Mmm…” His large hand guided you down to his lips, silencing you in the prettiest way. His kisses were short and hurried, it seemed like he was more concerned at feeling you up from the back. In the midst of it all, he pulled and tugged at your bottoms until he was able to pull them to the side. You grabbed his dick and pushed it between your lips. You almost jumped when you felt his warm tip in your folds. 

“Mm!” You tried to pull away but his grasp on the back of your neck wouldn’t let you move as freely as you desired. His tongue forced its way inside, exploring the warm, wet cavern that was your mouth. You have no idea how many times he’s imagined doing this to you. A part of Francis thought that this was a dream. One that he didn’t want to wake up from.

When Francis pulled away, you saw how his breath hitched. His skin flushed red while he huffed for air because of all the kissing. 

His hand moved from the back of your neck to your hips. He liked the way you felt on top of him. Your sexes were so close that he could probably slip his dick inside without you even realizing it at first.

“(y/n), let me put it inside.” He muttered, lowly. It almost made you laugh. Was he still asking for consent this far in? What a gentleman. “Franci—“ You opened your mouth to speak but his muttering continued.

“Please, please please, let me put it in. I want to feel you.”

Your abdomen burned with delight.  You never thought you’d be able to get Francis of all people to beg to fuck you. Having his attention made you feel sexy.

“Of course, my love.” You smiled attractively before having your pelvis brutally slammed down on his cock. The way he entered you was so perfect. He was just the right size for you.

You began to take part with him, moving your hips on his groin as best as you could. All he could do was moan your name, not caring that at any moment someone could hear him and know exactly what you were doing to him.

“Franc–ah!” You pleasured yourself on his cock and you could feel yourself heating up. Your juices mixed, causing the slick to drip from inside of you onto his pelvis. It was so close to getting on his clothes.

“Mmm.” You hummed in delight. “Just like that.”

At that moment, it felt like the two of you were perfect for each other. You couldn’t believe how reserved he always was with you and it was so much to the point where you didn’t even think he liked you. Now, here he was, fucking into you like a dog in heat, moaning your name like the two of you weren’t still in public. The riskiness made things so much better!

“Fuck, I’m gonna c-cum, sweetheart!” His voice was so delightful! The way he squirmed underneath you was so satisfying.

“Go on then~ Cum for me.” You leaned forward so that your torsos touched. Your nose brushed his and his warm breath hit your face. “Just make sure to pull—”

A rush of his liquid filled you up and painted your walls.

Out.

In one large motion, Francis slammed into you, forcing you to stay on his cock whether you wanted to or not. A warm feeling filled your hole so much that it leaked from your womb, down his shaft, and onto both of your clothes. It made you climax as well. You rode your high and tried to push yourself off of him to get him to pull out but your legs were too weak from the sexual activity.

The next few minutes that followed were awkward, to say the least.

You were sitting in the passenger seat of his car again, feeling the leftover cum pooling inside of your panties. You hadn’t spoken a word since the two of you finished but you could tell that Francis was getting a bit antsy.

You had occupied yourself by looking out the window as he drove. Through the reflection, you could see him glance at you from time to time as if he wanted to speak but was too nervous to. 

The two of you were almost at your apartment when he finally gained the courage to address the elephant in the room.

“I-I’m sorry for, uh, finishing inside of you like that.” He muttered quickly. You raise your hands slightly. “Oh no! It was just a heat of the moment thing, I understand—“

“If you get p-pregnant, you know, I can provide for you…”

Your heart clenched. You’d hate for your motherhood to begin because of some split-second decision to have sex but you’ve been pining after Francis for the better part of a few years. 

The car came to a slow and what awaited to the side of you was your apartment complex. You only blinked, a delayed response just on the tip of your tongue. How would you be able to tell him that you could already be pregnant…?

“…I’d like that very much.” A subtle blush warmed your cheeks. Your brain made you feel better by imagining what it would be like to start a family with him. He was a father of one already so he should be familiar with being a husband and parent.

Your expression caused him to blush as well. You felt like a teenager again, doing risky things like sex in a car with your long-time crush. 

Francis informed you that he had planned to take his daughter and some of her friends from school to the carnival. You wished that you could’ve accompanied him but it might’ve been too awkward with the daughter of his ex-wife.

Upon exchanging a kiss goodbye, you exited his vehicle and went to check yourself in so that you could rest. The new attendant was a young man that you hadn’t seen before. He seems to enjoy his job regardless. You submitted your paperwork and you were quickly identified as the real deal.

It wasn’t the first time but you couldn’t help but get the looming feeling of being watched every time you had gotten to your door. When you reach for your doorknob, you can still feel the huge figure of Franz standing behind you. It was like you were still experiencing that horrible tragedy…

Even if it felt good.

You mentioned it to your therapist immediately and she just told you that the trauma would linger a while longer since it was so fresh.

You entered your home, quickly making your way to your room to change out of your clothing and freshen up in the bathroom. Post-sex self-care is extremely crucial for a high-value woman like yourself. There was nothing you could do if you were pregnant but cleaning up did make you feel better.

Now, all that was left was to cook yourself dinner and begin planning your next week with Francis.

Yet, those thoughts of happiness left your mind when you caught a glimpse of red in your peripheral vision. You hadn’t noticed it when you came in but now it was painfully obvious that something was terribly wrong.

As you began to approach the doorway that led to your kitchen, you ended up slipping on something wet. The force pulled your legs from under you, causing you to fall on your bottom but before you could actually hit the ground—you were caught.

When you registered what was going on, you saw that your savior had glowing eyes, pale skin, and brown hair. His white attire was covered in a very red substance that made you fall. The irony crimson coated your legs and bare feet. The figure before you was now smearing it on your clothes as well.

“F-Franz…!?”

Your eyes darted downward. His free hand was the one that was able to catch you, it was large and cradled your bottom. But in his other hand was one of your kitchen knives. It dripped with blood and it was fresh too. 

Behind him, you caught a glimpse of what he was doing. Your refrigerator was wide open with a trail of blood leading from underneath you to whatever it was that he put inside. 

Memories fill your mind of the past, sending you into panic mode. How did he get inside? How has he not been caught? Was he going to ravage you again?

“Wh-What are you doing? Why are you h-here?” You could already feel your eyes welling up with tears at the sight of him. He was already terrifying but in both encounters with him, he killed someone.

“I live here now.”

The knife dropped to the ground with a loud metallic tone and you felt his bloodied hand grip the back of your head. “Where have you been?”

The creature took a deep whiff of your hair. It enjoyed the natural scent of you, even catching a bit of your slick that you washed away. It was faint but still there. Your vaginal juice was so potent that it would know it anywhere. 

“I…” Your voice cracked before you could get out another word. You weren’t ready. 

“…I-I just went out—“

“Where?”

“It was a local dress shop…”

His strong body enveloped you, picking you up from the spot where you were hovering above the floor. In his arms, he held you as if you were a princess, cradling you by the back of your knees and lower back.

Franz took you away from the kitchen before you could see what he was up to.

“With who? And don’t lie.”

Your eyes went from left to right. “What reason would I have to lie?” You secured your arms around his neck, coyly playing along for the sake of your safety. He might act like he wants you but he is still an it, a Dopple.

“I know what you look like when you lie. I’ve studied you. I can become you...” The corner of his mouth raised into a smirk. “…but I like the taste of you better.”

Your cheeks warmed at his perverseness. You weren’t used to such a handsome man acting this way towards you. It was always the men with no self-care or dignity that would catcall you in the evenings but never someone so…attractive. Would it be wrong to say you felt that wanted? 

Could you make Franz behave like a normal man…?

“I was…with a friend.” You answered somewhat nervously, your mind instantly going to your time with Francis. Your pupils shifted and your mouth instinctively curled into a smile. Franz didn’t seem to catch that you were lying. Perhaps, he was bluffing as well to get you to tell the truth. He was somewhat aware of the effect he had on you.

“Hm.” You felt his chest rumble with a hum. He took you to your bedroom where he placed you on your bed.

You gripped the sheets with anticipation. Meeting like this was so odd. He was covered in blood and it made you even more frightened that he refused to elaborate on what he was up to exactly. “Just a friend?” He repeated, leaving the room for only a moment. He didn’t go far as his steps didn’t fade at all. This was the first time you’ve ever felt unsafe in your own home like this.

Moments later, he returned, a thick rope in hand. On his face was a dark look that you recognized all too well, so much so that it triggered your memories of the day he ravaged you. 

“Wh-What’s that for?”  You questioned.

“You.” He replied. 

You blinked. “Me? What—“

“I don’t believe you.” 

The two of you stared at each other for a moment. Then he began to get closer. He was planning to tie you up in your room forever, wasn’t he?

“What do you mean?” 

His half-smirk turned into a cold line and silent anger washed over his features. His lifeless eyes were fixated on your smaller form, clinging to the bedsheets like a scared little girl. “You see, I don’t believe you.” He answered. You bit your lip in anticipation and fell silent. You thought he’d be gone for good so you were completely unprepared for today. You let him continue as it looked like he had more to say. 

“...there’s this thing you do when you lie. You don’t even know that you do it, but I know it.” He grew closer like a predator stalking its prey. The bed sank from the weight of him climbing onto it with you. “And, I can smell him all over you!” His large hand grabbed the back of your head with a fist full of your hair. You cried out as he jerked you around like a ragdoll into whichever position he pleased.

No matter how hard you fought against him, he never budged and you couldn’t stop him from tying the thick rope around your neck and limbs. You struggled, thinking that he was chaining you to your bed but that didn’t seem to be it. His hands bloodied various parts of you. The clothes you just had on before he tore them off of you, more of your hair along with your arms, hips, and ass cheeks. 

Your arms were tied behind your back and your legs together so that you could no longer push him away or run. “F-Franz, come on—“

“Shut up!” Franz snarled, silencing you with a loud smack to your ass. It would’ve hurt if it didn’t feel so right. You felt your head being pushed into the mattress as a warm, thick, fleshy, hard object rubbed itself between your thighs. The contact made of his pulsating shaft was soon slick in your juices. Its potent smell of femininity made him feel like he wouldn’t be able to control himself any longer.

His mouth attached to your behind, right between your cheeks. The wet muscle of his tongue went between your folds before entering your pussy.

“Franz please!” But your cries only fueled his need for your fluids. His slimy monstrous explored your innards, consuming any juices you made just as they produced. The pleasure and roughness were too much. You tried to inch away but it was like his mouth was attached to your backside. 

You could tell that he was really into it. He kneaded and fondled your ass to his liking, making sure you felt good to maximize the amount of vaginal fluid that could be made. Like an animal, his salvation dripped and wet the bed and his calloused fingers dug into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

The overstimulation caused you to reach your high so quickly. Before you could even warn him, you squirted all over his face and lips. His growling intensified like he couldn’t get enough, slurping all of your juices. When he was done, he didn’t bother to wipe his mouth. He grabbed the decorative rope that kept you restrained for a sloppy kiss.

“So good.” He muttered on your lips before using his strength to push you on your side. “P-Please, Franz, not so hard this time…” You sputtered out. Your legs were numb from pleasure so all of the movement from this point on was up to you. “Don’t tell me what to do.” His dick slid in between your closed thighs. He gave it a few thrusts before moving to your hole slick with his saliva.

Slowly but surely he pushed himself inside. He relished in the sound of your cries as you struggled to take his size and length, proud that he could say he was the biggest you’ll ever have. No human man could match him in any way, shape, or form. Every stroke sent butterflies to your stomach. The noise filled the hallway outside of your home and you were sure that your neighbors could hear. You felt so embarrassed that you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to endure until it felt like he finished.

But it felt like it went on forever. The inside of your pussy was sloshy and constantly leaking onto the bed but Franz didn’t want to let up. His beautiful body was glistening with sweat after he had removed his top half through his session. His cum shot into your womb and he slumped on top of you.

The sweat, juices, and remnants of blood made you feel icky. You were still tied up and couldn’t move.

“Franz.” You called.

“Franz.”

No answer.

You nudged him a bit. You needed to get cleaned up. Everything was leaking from your holes and your face was a mess from the crying and kissing. “I need to go to the bathroom.” You whined, wiggling beneath him. He was so big and heavy.

Without a word, he rose to free you from the Shibari rope. Once again, your whole body was sore despite being the bottom from how relentlessly he was. You were surprised that he seemed to be somewhat experienced with aftercare. Last time, he left so abruptly, that you felt like he would’ve left you there.

But today was different. He carried you to the bathroom when you needed to go. He helped you clean up and put on some fresh clothes. It saddened you that the new dress Francis got you was now soiled with…everything. But life goes on. Perhaps, you could salvage what was left of the dress. You could hand wash it and use your skill in sewing to repair anything else if needed. You just didn’t know how you’d break the news to Francis that the gift he got you on your date was ruined at the hands of another man sucking and fucking your holes. 

Franz seemed to exert himself. He was sprawled out on your bed while you just stood there, wondering what was supposed to happen now. You decided to finally go look at what he had been doing in the kitchen all along.

The crimson smell hit your nose again as you approached the dark room. You hit the light to see that gore covered every inch of your kitchen. A trail of blood that started from your doorway led to the fridge where Franz had been standing when you walked in on him.

You investigated further to see that inside was a man you had never seen before, freshly murdered and stuffed into the back. “Oh my—!“ You covered your mouth in a desperate attempt to prevent yourself from vomiting at the sight.

In a fit of anger, you stormed to your bedroom where Franz was still sleeping to confront him about it. 

“Excuse me!”

He didn’t budge.

“Franz!” 

Your foot made contact with his side, knocking you off of your own feet and stumbling to keep balance. He was like a rock.

“I saw what you did in my kitchen. Who was that?! Why did you do that?!” Your soft voice firmed and wavered with emotion. You finally got him to respond but it was a mumble and the only things you could make out were “some guy.” And “hungry.” 

“I can’t house you if you’re bringing bodies into my home.” You told him. “They’ve installed new cameras since last time when you first showed up. What am I supposed to say when the D.D.D. comes to investigate?”

“They won��t come.”

“They will.” You pressed on. “I’ve been getting watched ever since you—“

“The D.D.D. won’t come because that rat was already stowed away when I got here. I did you a favor.” He then turned over so that you could only see his back. “He wants to be me so bad.”

“Wh-what…?” You blinked. “Someone was in my house while I was away? Doing what?”

And then he dozed off to sleep. He no longer reacted to your calls and kicks to the side. He didn’t wake. He didn’t budge. 

Taglist: @crybabies-hearts @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2 @luciledreamz

There were so many ppl who wanted to be tagged that I lost track so I really hope you guys find this! Thanks for being patient with me.

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

The new welcome home update makes my head go burr. Here, have this set of headcanons I wrote while possessed by a tiny wizard. (The tiny wizard that makes me write)

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me or leaving a tip on Ko-fi (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

Julie, Frank, Howdy, Poppy, Sally, Barnaby and Wally & Reader who asked them what they think about death

Julie

★ When you first bring up the topic, her grin widens, clearly unfamiliar with the word. "Death?" she repeats. "Thats a funny word! What kind of game is that?" Her eyes wide and curious. Assuming you wanted to share some new game with her.

★ As you explain its meaning, her grin softens. “So… things just stop? They don’t play anymore? Not ever? That sounds so sad.” For a moment, Julie's playful demeanor faulters. Attempting to wrap her head around such a thing. "Are you sure that's right?" You nod, feeling some guilt for breaking the news to her.

★ But Julie, being Julie, tries to bounce back. She reaches out and places her hands on yours. “Well, maybe it’s not really the end! Maybe it’s like when the flowers take a nap in the winter, and then they wake up all bright and happy in the spring!” She says, trying to comfort both herself and you.

Frank

★ He understands death more than the other neighbors. Life cycles and food chains are critical for any ecosystem to function. That he knows well. Frank even has several books about the topic! But that's different. Animals are not people. When you bring up death, he gives you an impromptu lesson about how life cycles work.

★ Frank begins by saying "death isn’t merely an end” in that factual tone he so often uses. "It's an integral part of the natural cycle!" You already know that, but let him have his fun. Educating you on a topic you're more than familiar with.

★ However, he assumed that human lives were different. You weren't an animal, bug or plant. So why would someone like you die? The thought never crossed his mind. You'll need to break the news to him as gently as possible. Good luck.

Howdy

★ When you ask him, Howdy tilts his head and looks at you for a moment. Trying to figure out if you're being serious. "Well now, usually a question like that would cost a pretty penny." You nod. "But this time" he says, pulling out a chair for you "it's on the house." With a nervous smile, He gestures for you to sit.

★ He explains it to you in the simplest way possible, like you're a child. "Death's kinda like when the store closes for the night. The lights go out, the shelves are empty, and everything goes real quiet." While speaking, he keeps his tone soft. Again, treating you like a child.

Poppy

★ "Oh! What an... Interesting question" she says. Honestly, the topic makes her a bit nervous. Nevertheless she answers you "That's what happens if you aren't careful, and... break." As she speaks, she fidgets with her wings. Showing her discomfort.

★ Her nervousness is understandable, given her tendency to avoid risks and stay in her home. Where its safe. “But, um,” she adds quickly, attempting to lighten the mood. "We just have to take good care of ourselves, and each other. So nothing bad happens to us."

Sally

★ She knows it as a plot device. "Ghosts, ghouls and other terrible monsters come from death!" Sally explains. Waiving her arms around dramatically to emphasize the point. "Why, it's simply perfect for a spooky performance, dear friend!"

★ To her, it’s less of a sad reality and more an opportunity for storytelling. It's a tool for drama. Not something to be feared or mourned. As she goes on, it's clear that Sally doesn’t fully grasp the weight of death.

Barnaby

★ Barnaby doesn't like thinking about death. When you ask him about it, he treats it like a joke. “Death, eh? Well, that’s what they call it when somebody goes to live on a farm.” His tone is light, steering the conversation away from anything too serious. “You don’t need to worry about stuff like that, kid.”

Wally

★ When you ask him what he thinks about death, he tilts his head. Trying to recall where he's heard that word. “Death?” he repeats. "it's when someone goes away, isn’t it?" If you had to guess, Barnaby told him that.

★ He never really dwelled on death before. To Wally, life in Home had always been a continuous loop of joy and games. Death was a word he’d heard in passing, but it never stuck out as something important or relevant to his little world.

★ The more he learns, the more curios he becomes. “Does it happen to everyone?” he asks with a morbid fascination. “Do they know when it’s going to happen? Or is it... a surprise?” Despite how unsettling his questions are, it’s clear he’s genuinely trying to learn.

[astrayas]

Reheat (Pt. 1)

Pairing: Nanami Kento x fem reader 

Summary: Nanami takes your request to spice up your sex life seriously.

Was originally going to be a oneshot, but it got so long that I had to separate it into two parts.

୨୧𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄୨୧ Read Part 2 Here ୨୧𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄 𓐄୨୧

Warnings: MDNI, smut, oral (both receiving), spanking, toys, vaginal fingering, soft dom Nanami, mild bondage

18+!

Ao3 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Nanami Kento is perfect.

Really. 

He’s a neatly polished statue of a man who dropped the smoothest lines, bought you the biggest flowers, orchestrated the grandest dates. When you were ready for the next step, he took you to bed on the finest sheets.

And it’s been nothing but that flawless finery ever since. At first, the sex was exciting; he played rough and dirty the only place he knew he could, and he found a new way to leave you shaking every time. Now, though…

Well, it’s not bad. Really, it’s not bad. But somewhere down the line, your sex life became so…professional. Each session lasts the same appropriate amount of time. He sticks to the same acceptable foreplay. He likes the same reliable positions and patterns, executed exactly the right way, each and every time. 

It could be worse. Part of that routine requires satisfying you, after all. It’s good. Really, it’s good.

…God, it’s boring.

It’s boring and plain and predictable. When did it get like this? When did he trade in the possessive grabbing for shallow kisses, the adventurous positions for faithful missionary, the spanking and biting and dirty talk for…efficiency? 

And when did you start going along with it?

So many toys in the closet collecting dust. So many steamy conversations, all featuring a wild and dominant Nanami, forgotten once the sex actually starts. 

But there’s no point in staying up late just once, right? Vanilla’s actually a pretty complex spice, didn’t you know?

The thoughts rise and bubble at the forefront of your mind, bursting only when Nanami nudges you on the shoulder. He peers at you over his reading glasses, the soft light of his nightstand lamp casting shadows in the hollows of his cheeks as he sits next to you in bed. 

“Is something wrong?” he asks. “You’ve been staring at that wall for a while.”

“Oh!” You clear your throat and tear your eyes away from the blank bit of wall you’ve been locking onto. “No, no. I just…I’ve been thinking…”

He presses a finger to a stopping point in his book and looks up to meet your gaze. That crease between his brows is starting to deepen. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Um…”

Shit. You weren’t planning to actually have this conversation tonight. You were just thinking about it. But Nanami’s eyes are fixed on you for good now, and they’ll stay there until you say something. So you take a breath and hope you only trip over a few words.

“Do you ever think our sex life—“ You stutter when he tilts his head. “—might have gotten too…vanilla?”

“I thought you liked vanilla,” he counters, his tone even, his eyes analytical. Not an insult. A genuine question.

“I mean, sometimes,” you sigh, sliding down the headboard and setting your own book aside. “And the sex is still good.” Really, it is. “But it’s a little, uh, too good.”

“...It’s too good?” 

“It’s…neat. Nice and neat and to the point.”

“To the point?” he repeats, each word a little shorter than the last. 

You suck in a breath and force a smile. You rest your hand on his in a bid to show him that you’re not criticizing him. You just want…a different kind of spice. His eyes flick down to your hand before meeting yours again, his pinched brows pushing that crease even deeper.

“Just…what about all those toys we have, you know?” you continue, jerking your head in the direction of the closet. You can hear the faintest breath hitch in his chest. “And remember the things we used to do? When you’d take over and get rough and tie me up and bend me over the—”

“I get it.” He coughs and closes his book. This time, his eyes flit to anything but you as he sets it on the nightstand along with his glasses. “I remember. I just always thought you…liked vanilla,” he says again.

“Sometimes,” you say again, too. “But with all the other…flavors…out there, why only stick with one?”

You watch him with a tight chest and busy hands, which bunch up the sheets around you. He’s quiet and methodical as he stands up and starts his nightly stretches. That mid-brow crease is a mile deep now. Neither of you say anything else until he’s satisfied with his routine and slips back into bed. 

“Other flavors,” he muses. It’s not clear if he’s speaking to you or himself. “Hmm.”

Is he…mad? Embarrassed? Unbothered? It’s so hard to tell; his face might as well be perfectly chiseled stone. And not that he’s a man of many words on a good day, but those words have been especially clipped since you started bringing up spices and flavors.

“Well. Goodnight,” he says with no ceremony, flipping off his bedside lamp. You stare at what your own lamp is still letting you see of his face.

“Um? Are—are you good?” you ask, sinking fully under the sheets. “Anything you wanna talk about? Questions? Comments?”

“I don’t believe so,” he answers before he closes his eyes. Nothing but a feathering muscle in his jaw contradicts his words, but even that disappears soon. “I see I’ve been misunderstanding you. So now…I need to think.”

“...Well, alright,” you mumble, and with no blank wall to stare at in the dark, your thoughts race behind your closed eyes instead.

“Goodnight.”

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

You wake up feeling uneasy the next day. Nanami doesn’t seem particularly bothered—just distracted—as he’s getting ready for work, but he never acknowledges last night’s conversation. He leaves without a word, apparently deep in thought, that brow crease already sunken into his skin. But that feeling doesn’t start gnawing at your chest until you notice he doesn’t text you on his lunch break, which is abnormal for him. 

When he gets home, though, he greets you the same way he usually does. With a quick peck on the lips. 

“Welcome home,” you chirp, forcing a chipper lilt. “How was work?”

You watch him carefully as he answers you, pretending to busy yourself cleaning a particularly stubborn spot on the kitchen table. 

“It was work,” he grunts. “Shitty.”

A brisk answer, you note to yourself. He’s usually complaining about something specific by now. Then you notice, to your dismay, that he’s already loosening his tie. Shit. He normally gives himself at least an hour before he gets out of his work clothes. But there goes his jacket. And he’s unbuttoning his shirt. And now his tie is fully off, too. 

He’s planning to just get into loungewear and read for the rest of the night, is that it? He really is mad, right?

“Kento?” you blurt out.

“Yes?” He watches you with painful neutrality as he sets his tie on the table.

“Are you…upset? After what we talked about last night?”

He finally stops unbuttoning his shirt to look at you. His expression is calm, pleasant, but that line between his brows…

“Of course not, love.” He graces you with just enough of a smile to suggest he means it. 

“But—”

“I take it you’ve been cleaning this table?” he redirects, sliding a long finger across the polished wood. You regard both him and the table with a raised brow, then you plant a hand on your hip. What is he doing?

“Um. Yes. But—”

“Good. Then I’ve got something in mind.”

“...What?”

He doesn’t answer, pausing only to unbutton the rest of his shirt and…throw it directly onto the floor. You stare at it for a moment before looking back up at him in his thin undershirt and coming to a realization.

It’s been a while since you’ve looked at him like this. 

Just admiring his form. Under the bright kitchen light, his plain white shirt is but the first layer of the canvas before you, serving to draw your true attention to the sharply cut muscles that lie beneath.

A form truly worth admiring. In all your time together, not once has he let himself slip out of shape. His hard work has woven itself into his very being, evident in everything from his posture to his gait to the veins that crawl across his hands.

And evident, of course, in his body itself. As a tall man, the taper from his broad shoulders to his narrow waist stands out even more. His arms, now freed from that button-down business shirt, show off their contoured shape and strength, such hard muscles sitting just beneath such smooth skin.

Muscles that betray none of their power as he lifts his undershirt up and away, too, and walks up to you, lifting a gentle hand to your face. 

His touch is different tonight. It’s…lighter, every finger like a feather tickling your skin as they glide across your cheek, brush your jaw, slip down to your collarbone, and snake back up the nape of your neck. Every movement a soft, delicate dance. You sink into the sensation, hypnotized, frozen under the goosebumps dotting your skin.

So you’re no less than shocked when he gathers a fistful of hair at the base and pulls on it. Hard.

You only get half a second to yelp before your neck cranes back, subject to the mercy of his hand. Had you not screwed your eyes shut, you may have seen what kind of devilry might be dancing in his eyes before his lips land on the underside of your jaw and drag themselves down, down, down, the heat of his breath caressing your skin before his teeth sink into the tender crook of your neck.

This time, you answer with a whimper. What just happened? When did he manage to herd you toward the edge of the table? And when did his knee find its way between your trembling legs, acting as your source of balance while it pushes against your sex?

You flounder for answers before he lets your neck go, loosens his grip on your hair, and finally gives you the chance to look into his eyes. 

Funny. That crease is gone. But his eyes, typically cool and composed, burn with more than simple desire. It’s something deep, primal, base.

Hunger.

Once you’ve gotten a good look, he gives your bunched up hair another solid, hard tug. Your head snaps back again, and a groan crawls its way out of your strained throat.

“Say the word, and I’ll stop,” he whispers, his lips back against the base of your neck, his teeth dangerously close. “You’re in control.”

You take a second to answer, swept up in the rush of arousal that floods you like a long-awaited rain. How long has it been? When was the last time he played rough like this, much less even spoke of it? 

But that second must have bled into a few more. Because his fingers start to free themselves from your hair. His knee inches back from your core, leaving it aching and cold. Before he can pull any other part of himself away from you, though, your hands fly to both sides of his face and capture it in a firm hold.

“Don’t…stop,” you breathe, your voice soft but steady. “Don’t you dare stop.”

For a moment, he’s silent. Flecks of light dance in his deep brown eyes as they bore into you, and the corner of his mouth twitches just a bit. And then he answers with a sound you rarely hear from him.

A chuckle.

“That’s what I thought.”

He steps in closer again. His body presses firmly against yours, trapping you between himself and the table, fanning embers you’d feared had cooled between you. He’s not saying a word, but his very presence is still so domineering as he reaches for something behind you. After a thorough throat clearing, you find it in yourself to speak.

“What are you—”

“Turn around.”

Electricity shoots through you. You’ve lost your words again, but you don’t need any right now. All you have to do is obey. 

So you do. You turn around and face the table you were scrubbing to hell just a few minutes ago, the embers in your stomach growing into flames when you catch a streak of speckled yellow slipping out of your sight.

His tie.

His lips find their way to your neck again, leaving kisses in no discernable pattern as he slides a finger down your spine. You gulp ever so slightly.

“So you want it rough?” he purrs against you. “You want the old days back?” His hand snakes down to the small of your back, resting on it like he knows it’s his. 

“You want me to order you around, make you whine and beg for more, own you?”

“Y-yes,” you stutter. 

His tie brushes past your hands, swinging softly behind you until it slows to a stop. He’s paused again. You meant what you said. You do want it. But your squeak of an answer probably wasn’t convincing.

“You sure?” he asks. He presses a gentle, reassuring kiss to your shoulder. “I don’t want to push you.”

You close your eyes, taking a moment to savor his soft lips, the heat of his bare chest against your back. Not even a kiss on your shoulder made it into your vanilla routine. Is that why you’re nervous? Because this kind of contact is new again?

You push back against him, smiling when your backside meets his growing length. If this is new, then you’re ready to explore it all over again. You take a breath and steady your voice.

“I’m sure,” you whisper. “I want it all, Kento.”

You reach behind yourself for that bulge you felt a second ago. It doesn’t take long to find it. You stroke him over his pants, your smile growing into a full grin when he curses and groans.

But it’s just a momentary slip. He clears his throat, and the hand he’d left on the small of your back pushes into your skin while he lays another between your shoulder blades. Both are tense and hard when they urge you down.

“Then bend over.”

That electricity surges within you again, branching out into bolts of lightning that reach deeper, lower than your stomach. There it is. That voice, that voice, the one he used when everything was new. A voice lower and deeper than usual, full of calm authority, tinted with growing hunger. You’d almost forgotten how sweet it sounds in your ears.

It’s a siren song that directs your every movement, and you bend over until your torso is flat on the table. He palms your ass over your dress, taking his time, caressing and grabbing and squeezing it before he directs himself back to the hands lying next to you at either side.

“First, since you’re so grabby right now…” he tuts, securing your hands behind your back. “I think I’ll go ahead and take care of that.”

You feel his silken tie wrap around your wrists one, two, three times, then a couple more, your breath hitching when it’s tied and tightened into a firm hold. You flex your hands and strain your wrists. You won’t be wriggling out of this easily. Nanami gives the knot one last tug for reassurance before he runs his fingers through your hair.

“Comfortable?” he asks. “Not too tight?”

“Comfortable,” you confirm. Without any hands free to grab for it, you push yourself back a bit and against the bulge still stuck beneath his pants. He hisses, grabs your ass, and pushes you back, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Good,” he simply says, disregarding your little display. “Because I’ll be keeping you like that for a while.”

Finally, he lifts your dress up to your back, pushing some of it under your bound wrists. You turn your head away from his line of sight, smiling again, waiting for his response. 

The quiet, low hum he lets out is the only indication that he might have been close to cracking.

“Nothing under this dress…” he whispers. “Were you expecting this to happen tonight?”

The flutter in your chest almost stops you from answering.

“I don’t know,” you admit, lifting your head from the table to speak. “I was hoping, I guess…because I couldn’t figure out how you felt after we talked last night. You didn’t really say anything, Kento.”

“Oh…” he murmurs. His hold on you softens. “I’m sorry, darling. Truth be told, I was happy you brought it up.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you grumble.

“I know,” he coos. “We’d just been sticking with vanilla for so long that I thought it was your favorite…flavor. So I started thinking so much about what I wanted to do to you that I forgot to actually communicate.” His hand, strong but gentle, runs up and down your back before combing through your hair again. “Can you forgive me?”

“If you keep this up, then yeah. All is forgiven,” you giggle.

He lets out a low chuckle, too, and rubs your bare ass a few times before giving it a firm smack. You gasp in response, a little from surprise, a little from excitement. He’s just set the tone for the rest of the night.

“Then let me be very clear about my intentions tonight,” he croons, that velvet voice flowing over you like sweet ganache. The hand he’d brushed through your hair gathers it into another messy pony and gives it a pull. A hard, sharp pull demanding obedience.

“I’m going to do as I please, right here.” Another smack against your ass, and another, and another, each a little harder than the last. Stinging, intoxicating, delicious heat radiates from your skin when he stops. 

“You’re going to do as I say.” His hand glides to your entrance, a single finger slipping and sliding up and down, teasing you. The moment you start to moan, he wipes off the slick he’d gathered against your thigh. “And you won’t cum until I say you can.”

You shiver at his words, almost overwhelmed at all the control he’s demanding over you. It’s flowing so naturally from him. Like he’s picking up right where he left off.

Has he been aching for this, too?

Your thoughts screech to a halt when he smacks your other cheek, letting it burn as much as the first.

“Do you hear me? Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you mewl, squirming under his hands. “Yes. Do it all. Please.”

He hums in approval and leans over, his finger just barely dipping inside of you. 

“I’ll do everything for you,” he purrs. His chest meets your back again, and his lips brush the shell of your ear. “In return, all I ask is that you communicate with me, too.”

And while he’s still leaning over you, on you, his finger slides all the way in. You gasp and groan as that lightning strikes something even deeper within you, sparking a wild flame.

“Tell me how you’re feeling.”

Another finger slips in.

“Tell me when it’s too much. Tell me when it’s not enough.”

His fingers pump inside you, angling down toward your stomach, stoking your fire.

“Tell me what you want.”

“I want you!” you keen, so breathless already, every nerve in your body a live wire. “I want you to take control. I want you to fuck me like you used to!”

His fingers slow inside you, but you can feel his smile spread across your skin. Then, he shares just one note before he pulls them out, slides his hands underneath you, and flips you onto your back:

“Good girl.”

[chimcess]

⮞ Chapter Three: Not For Me Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (ft. Taehyung x Reader, Jungkook x OC) Other Tags: Convict!Jungkook, Escaped Prisoner!Jungkook, Piolet!Reader, Captain!Reader, Holyman!Namjoon Genre: Sci-Fi, Action, Adventure, Thriller, Suspense, Strangers to Enemies to ???, Slow Burn, LOTS of Angst, Light Fluff, Eventual Smut, Third Person POV, 18+ Only Word Count: 22.4k+ Summary: When a deep space transporter crash-lands on a barren planet illuminated by three relentless suns, survival becomes the only priority for the stranded passengers, including resourceful pilot Y/N Y/L/N, mystic Namjoon Kim, lawman Taemin Lee, and enigmatic convict Jungkook Jeon. As they scour the hostile terrain for supplies and a way to escape, Y/N uncovers a terrifying truth: every 22 years, the planet is plunged into total darkness during an eclipse, awakening swarms of ravenous, flesh-eating creatures. Forced into a fragile alliance, the survivors must face not only the deadly predators but also their own mistrust and secrets. For Y/N, the growing tension with Jungkook—both a threat and a reluctant ally—raises the stakes even higher, as the battle to escape becomes one for survival against the darkness both around them and within themselves. Warnings: Strong Language, Side Character Death, Main Character Death, Aliens, Vicious Carnivorous Aliens, Violence, Blood, Jungkook is a huge prick, Cocky too, Talks About Past Characters Dying, Trauma Bonding, Bickering, Arguing, If Kook is a prick then Lee is a dick, Child Death, Graphic Death Scenes, Sexual Tension, Y/N is just trying her best, Jaded Characters, Religious Themes (I mean no harm and do not want to offend anyone), Bad Character Choices, Peter is Iconic (and a dumb ass), Surviving, Alcohol Consumption, Aliens killing A LOT of people, SUSPENSE, ANGST, Lee is genuinely the WORST person here, and he's in competition with a murderer so, I love how much of a jerk JK is, In Namjoon we trust, This is all angst and action and that's pretty much it, let me know if I missed anything... A/N: Be prepared... there's a lot of deaths. Proceed with caution. Thanks for reading!

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At first, it looked like smoke, curling up from the jagged hills, coiling in long tendrils that slithered through the night. It moved strangely, as if it had a will of its own, twisting unnaturally against the wind. The survivors stood in uneasy silence, their breath held tight in their throats, until realization hit them all at once. This was not smoke. It was something else entirely.

The sound that followed was unlike anything they had ever heard—an eerie symphony of clicks, shrieks, and chittering wails that slashed through the air like a serrated blade. Then came the wings. Sharp, sleek, cutting through the encroaching dark with a deadly precision. They poured from the craggy spires in relentless waves, an unholy swarm shrieking with the sheer exhilaration of nightfall. The sky churned as they spread out, blotting out what little light remained, turning the world into a writhing, living storm.

Lee’s voice broke through the rising panic, hoarse and disbelieving. “Jesus… how many of them can there be?”

More poured forth, a tide of grotesque bodies, their numbers beyond comprehension. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as if the creatures might pass them by, seeking prey elsewhere, but the illusion shattered in an instant. As if guided by some unseen intelligence, a portion of the swarm peeled away, shifting course, heading straight for them.

Peter’s voice wavered, his panic barely contained. “Uh… just a thought, but maybe we should flee?”

Y/N’s voice cut through the tension, sharp, commanding. “Cargo hold! Everyone, move! Now!”

Her words ignited action. The ground trembled under their pounding footsteps as they sprinted toward the hold, the swarm closing in behind them. Y/N reached it first, spinning just inside the hatch, her heart lurching when she saw Jungkook and Bindi still outside, running full tilt toward safety. Against the backdrop of the roiling sky, they were little more than silhouettes, illuminated by the sickly glow of the creatures’ bioluminescent wings.

Then, the swarm descended.

It was a storm of wings and talons, a living maelstrom slicing through the air with horrifying speed. The shrieking mass swept over them like a black tide, the force of it nearly knocking them from their feet. Jungkook and Bindi hit the ground in unison, flattening themselves against the earth as the creatures surged overhead, their razor-edged wings slicing the air just inches above them.

Bindi lay frozen, her chest rising and falling in shallow gasps, her fingers clawing into the dirt as if trying to anchor herself against the chaos. Jungkook, in contrast, was eerily still. His face was unreadable as he watched the creatures swirl above them, something akin to fascination gleaming in his dark eyes. Slowly, he lifted a crude bone-shiv, holding it aloft like an offering. Then, with the detached curiosity of a scientist, he thrust it into the heart of the storm.

The blade vanished in an instant, shredded into nothingness by the relentless flurry of wings. Jungkook tilted his head slightly, as if calculating the swarm’s efficiency, as if filing away every piece of information with eerie precision.

“Bindi!” Leo’s voice rang out from the cargo hold, frantic. “Stay down! Don’t move!”

Bindi’s gaze snapped toward the sound, a flicker of hope breaking through her terror. She began to crawl, inching forward, her elbows digging into the dirt. Every movement felt like an eternity, the world narrowing to the frantic pounding of her heart. The swarm churned above, shrieking and shifting, and for a moment, it seemed as though she might make it.

Then, the hatchlings turned.

With horrifying speed, the swarm adjusted course, locking onto her like a pack of starving wolves. The noise rose into a deafening crescendo, a thousand clicking jaws converging all at once.

“No.” Y/N’s voice was barely more than a whisper, thick with dread. “No, no, no, no—”

The creatures struck like a living flood. One second, Bindi was crawling toward salvation; the next, she was engulfed. Her scream barely made it past her lips before it was swallowed by the storm. The hatchlings twisted around her, a vortex of writhing bodies lifting her into the air. For a split second, they could still see her, limbs flailing, before she was pulled higher, vanishing into the swirling mass above.

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Inside the cargo hold, the survivors stood frozen, their faces pale, their breath caught in their throats. They had seen it. They had watched as she was taken, as if the night itself had devoured her. The creatures carried her upward, over the horizon, until there was nothing left but the empty void.

Jungkook remained where he was, motionless amid the settling dust. His gaze never left the darkened sky, tracking the last remnants of the swarm as they disappeared. Then, slowly, he rose to his feet. He dusted the dirt from his hands, his movements methodical, unhurried. He turned toward the cargo hold, walking with deliberate steps, as if nothing had changed.

Inside, the others still hadn’t moved. Fear clung to them, thick as smoke, suffocating. Y/N opened her mouth, her mind scrambling for something—anything—to say, when a new sound began to rise.

Click. Click. Click.

At first, it was faint, distant, like stones tapping together. But it grew louder, sharper, echoing through the heavy air. The space around them seemed to shift, the very atmosphere thickening with something unseen, something waiting.

Y/N felt it then. A cold knot tightening in her gut. She knew that sound.

Jungkook…” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tremor of fear lacing her words. “What’s happening?”

Jungkook paused just outside the cargo hold, his gaze fixed on the crumbling spires in the distance. The faint light reflected off his goggles as he pulled them off, revealing eyes that gleamed unnervingly in the dim glow. His expression was unreadable, his attention locked on the distant, dying spires, as if the answers were written in the ruins.

The hills were collapsing, their jagged peaks groaning under the weight of their own destruction. The ground trembled, as if the very earth itself was giving way. From the crumbling cliffs, massive shapes began to emerge, each one deliberate and purposeful. Unlike the hatchlings that had surged forth with chaotic energy, these creatures moved with cold calculation. Their hammer-shaped heads swayed as they stepped into the open, each movement slow but precise, every click of their joints sharp and rhythmic, reverberating against the surrounding cliffs. Their bodies were unnervingly mammalian, slick, sinewy flesh that gleamed faintly under the dim light, an unsettling reminder that something monstrous had been waiting just beneath the surface.

“What is it? What do you see?” Y/N’s voice trembled, a raw edge creeping in as she fought to contain her rising panic.

Jungkook’s voice broke through the heavy silence, his tone low, almost amused. “The grown-ups,” he murmured, a dark smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Told you... ain’t me you gotta worry about.”

Above them, the twin suns were eclipsed by the planet’s rim, plunging the world into an unnatural darkness. The stars were hidden, swallowed by a storm of predators that surged forth from the shattered hills. The atmosphere felt thick, oppressive, as if the very air was charged with impending doom.

Inside the cargo hold, Y/N slammed her hand against the control panel. The thick, vault-like doors hissed and groaned as they slid shut, sealing the survivors inside. The sound of the lock engaging echoed in the chamber, sharp and final.

The space inside the hold was unbearably small, the air heavy with tension and fear. Bodies crowded the room, their presence amplifying every creak and groan of the metal hull. Flashlights flickered to life, casting long, jittery shadows on the walls. Every scrape of metal, every distant noise felt amplified, as though the creatures outside were testing the strength of their temporary sanctuary.

Y/N leaned against the cold metal wall, her heart hammering as she tried to make sense of the chaos that had unfolded so suddenly. Around her, the others stood motionless, their faces pale, drawn, and tight with fear. Each person was lost in their own private terror, the silence between them thickening with every passing second.

But even in the stillness, the clicking persisted, growing louder, closer. It was relentless, a sound that crawled under their skin, twisting the air with its chilling rhythm.

Leo sat hunched against the cold wall, his knees pulled to his chest, his voice barely audible. “What if... what if she’s still out there? Still alive?” His eyes darted from one face to the next, searching for a glimmer of hope in their expressions.

Lee, leaning casually against the opposite wall, snorted dryly, a humorless sound that cut through the tension like a blade. His voice was colder than the night pressing against the hull. “Look, I don’t wanna be the guy to burst your bubble, but you remember that boneyard we passed? These might be the charming assholes that wiped out every other living thing on this rock. So unless Bindi’s got superpowers, her knocking on that door anytime soon? That’s about zero squared, buddy.”

Y/N swallowed hard, the memory of the skeletal remains flashing in her mind. She closed her eyes against it, but it wouldn’t go away. “I saw the cut marks on the bones,” she said quietly. “That wasn’t natural. Something butchered them.”

“Quiet, please,” Namjoon’s voice interrupted, cutting through the rising tension. He held up a hand, pressing his ear against the thick cargo door, his face drawn tight with concentration. His senses were tuned to the smallest of details, every sound scrutinized for meaning.

The others fell silent, breaths shallow and synchronized, as they strained to hear past the metal barrier. The clicking continued, a distant storm of noise that swept past outside, growing louder, then fading away again into the night.

Leo’s voice broke the silence, laced with fear. “What do they even do that for? Why do they make that sound?”

Namjoon’s brow furrowed, his calm voice betraying a quiet tension. “It may be the way they see... using sound to create a picture of the world.”

“Echo-location,” Y/N murmured, the realization clicking into place. “Like bats. That’s what it is.”

Before anyone could respond, a sharp new clicking sound rang out from behind them. Instantly, their flashlights whipped around, beams of light cutting through the oppressive darkness. The hold seemed to expand, its shadows deepening, stretching outward as if the space itself was becoming more alive.

“Where’s it coming from?” Leo’s voice quivered, his fear seeping into every word.

The lights landed on the darkened gap of an open container halfway down the long, tunnel-like hold. The door swung slightly, nudged by an unseen force.

“How the hell could one of them get in here?” someone muttered, their voice barely above a breath.

Y/N’s voice was sharp, urgent. “Breach in the hull,” she said quickly. “Or maybe the vents. I don’t know.”

The group turned, eyes locking onto Lee, whose expression had soured. He sighed heavily, the weight of their expectations settling on him as they all turned their gaze toward him.

“Goddammit,” he muttered under his breath, reaching for his shotgun. “I’d rather piss glass.”

Jungkook, leaning casually against the wall, smirked faintly. “You’ve got the big gauge, old man. Time to earn your keep.”

Lee shot him a venomous glare, his grip tightening around the shotgun. “Wanna rag your fat mouth a little louder, golden boy? Or you wanna take point?”

The clicking grew louder, now joined by a sharp crash from deeper in the hold. Something heavy had toppled, the sound reverberating off the walls, sending a chill down their spines.

“Big beads,” Jungkook quipped, his smirk widening as the tension mounted.

Lee shook his head, sucking on his breather before stepping forward. “Asshole,” he muttered under his breath.

He moved cautiously toward the open container, shotgun raised, his flashlight cutting a narrow beam through the dark. The clicking echoed all around them, distorted and impossible to pinpoint, as though it was coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. The air in the hold was thick with the weight of it, the darkness pressing closer with every step.

When Lee reached the container, he paused, his breath shallow, and then fired a blind shot into the shadows. The deafening boom of the shotgun echoed through the cramped space, a violent punctuation to the tension that had been mounting since the first hint of danger. The sharp, pained squeal that followed was short-lived, fading quickly into the silence, leaving behind an eerie stillness.

Easing around the edge of the container, Lee aimed his flashlight inside, the beam slicing through the dark. It landed on a cluster of hatchlings—tiny, malformed bodies, their twitching limbs tangled in pulpy, bloodied heaps. He exhaled slowly, the tension that had been coiled tight in his shoulders easing as he took in the scene.

“Okay,” he called back to the others, his voice steady now. “We’re okay. Just some small ones that must’ve snuck in. Nothing to—”

He never finished the sentence.

From the darkness, something swung out like a scythe. The force of it struck Lee’s shotgun with brutal precision, sending it clattering to the floor with a deafening clang. The weapon discharged, its blast ricocheting off the ceiling in a brief, blinding flash. In that instant, Lee saw it—it.

An adult predator loomed in the shadows, its massive, hammer-like head tilting toward him. The clicking echoed through the tight space, sharp and unsettling, as the creature remained unnervingly still, yet coiled with latent energy, like a spring about to snap. Its skin gleamed sickeningly in the dim light, a sinewy texture that seemed to absorb the glow, swallowing any trace of warmth.

“Shit,” Lee whispered, his voice barely audible, more a prayer than a statement.

Peter shoved past him, face pale, sweat glistening on his brow as his hand flew to the door lever. His voice cracked with panic. “Not staying in here another second—”

Y/N lunged forward, grabbing his arm with a desperate grip, her nails digging into his sleeve. “Christ, Peter, you don’t know what’s out there!” Her voice was sharp, but there was a tremor beneath the words, a raw edge of fear that betrayed her calm façade.

“I know what’s in here!” Peter snapped back, his eyes darting around the darkened space, his breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. “I know what’s in here, and I’m not waiting for it to tear me apart.”

Namjoon stepped forward, hands raised in a placating gesture. His voice cut through the rising panic, calm yet urgent. “Everybody, this way. We’ll be safer deeper in. Hurry, please...” His words were a lifeline, a thread of reason in the madness that threatened to swallow them all.

The air inside the container felt suffocating, thick with the sour tang of sweat and the mechanical hiss of breathers struggling to pull in precious oxygen. No one dared speak as they followed Namjoon, their footsteps hurried and uneven, the metal floor groaning under their collective weight.

Then the sound began—a faint scratching at first, distant and almost imperceptible, like fingernails dragging across steel. But it grew steadily louder, a slow, deliberate scraping that clawed its way through the silence, twisting the air, wrapping around their nerves like a vice.

Lee muttered a curse under his breath, fumbling for the cutting torch strapped to his belt. His hands were slick with sweat, trembling as he finally sparked it to life. The burst of orange light filled the container, illuminating the faces of the survivors, pale and drawn, the shadows dancing wildly on the walls. He adjusted the gas, coaxing the flame to burn brighter, casting an eerie glow across the space.

“Stay back,” he said, his voice tight with tension, as he moved toward the far wall. The glow from the torch cast a sickly halo around the door, pulling every eye toward it, a silent warning of the danger that was closing in.

The scratching escalated into something heavier, more deliberate. Scythe-like claws scraped and probed at the door’s joints, testing its strength, forcing the metal to groan under the pressure. The air thickened with the sound, the reality of the threat inching closer with every scraping, every moment of silence that followed.

Then came the blows. Heavy, calculated strikes that reverberated through the container, sending a shockwave of terror through the survivors. Each strike seemed designed to break them, to force them back into the corner where they had nowhere left to go. The noise was overwhelming, each blow making the metal shudder, forcing them to shrink away.

Jungkook’s voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and irritated. “Can you do something else with that?” He gestured to the cutting torch. “Besides holding it in my fucking face?”

Lee shot him a glare, but didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, focusing once again on the wall in front of him, the torch biting into the metal with a steady, rhythmic crackling. Each spark was like the ticking of a grim countdown.

The scratching outside turned to tearing, a sound of steel being ripped apart, and the blows came faster now—more insistent, more brutal. Each strike shook the container like a drum, and the survivors were pushed further into the corner, their minds racing for any possible escape.

Y/N’s voice was a low, trembling whisper. “Hurry, Lee. Please.”

Lee didn’t respond. His focus was absolute, his eyes locked on the glowing line he was carving into the wall. Behind him, the door groaned again, the metal bowing inward under the relentless assault, bending toward them like an inevitable, crushing force.

Finally, the makeshift escape hatch was open, and Leo scrambled through first, his movements frantic, uncoordinated as he darted for freedom. “Come on!” he hissed, waving his hand wildly for the others to follow.

Behind them, the door gave way. The sound of metal shredding filled the air, a deafening, grinding scream that drowned out every other noise.

The predators came through fast—massive, sleek creatures with hammer-shaped heads and serrated claws, moving with terrifying precision. Their clicking filled the air, a chorus of broken gears grinding together, echoing off the metal walls as they poured into the space. They moved with an unnerving fluidity, sweeping through the container like hunters unleashed. Their echo-location guided them, and their movements were as deliberate as they were deadly, each step an instinctive calculation.

“Go, go, go!” Y/N shouted, her voice raw with urgency as she shoved Peter toward the hole.

The survivors scrambled through the escape hatch, their breaths ragged, hearts pounding. On the other side, Lee wasted no time. He slammed his torch against the edges of the opening, welding the thin sheet of metal shut behind them. The predators thudded against the barrier almost immediately, their claws scraping against the fresh welds with bone-chilling speed.

“Move!” Namjoon barked, his voice slicing through the chaos, compelling them forward.

They sprinted through the adjoining container, but the darkness that met them was suffocating, and the relentless clicking followed them like a shadow. It was a haunting reminder that they weren’t out of danger yet. Lee lit the torch again, its dim glow barely cutting through the thick blackness. He began carving another escape route, each movement swift, but steady. Meanwhile, Y/N and Peter worked feverishly to barricade the entrance, using whatever they could find—crates, loose pipes, their own bodies pressed against the door. But it was never enough.

The predators were relentless. They tore through each makeshift barrier with terrifying speed, each new attack a savage reminder of the creatures’ lethal precision. Every time the survivors scrambled into the next container, the beasts were already at their heels, claws raking through the walls, the clicking growing louder, more frenzied.

In the fifth container, Y/N and Peter hurled their bodies against the barricade, sweat streaming down their faces as they pushed crates, pipes, and loose cargo into place. The screeches and tearing sounds from the predators beyond grew louder, closer, hammering against their fraying nerves. Jungkook stood beside them, bracing his hands against the wall, adding his strength to the effort. But then, he froze.

Something caught his eye—marks on the cargo. At first, they seemed like scratches or grooves, but they were too deliberate, too clean. They were precise cuts, like those made by a predator’s blade. His gaze tracked the marks, following them down to the floor, where faint, glistening smears trailed into the darker recesses of the container.

Jungkook didn’t say a word. Quiet as a shadow, he slipped away from the group, his footsteps muffled against the cold metal floor.

Peter turned his head, his voice trembling with rising panic. “Hello? Jungkook? Where the hell are you going?”

But Jungkook didn’t answer. He moved toward the far end of the container, where the dim glow of Lee’s cutting torch didn’t reach. His boots squelched against something wet, and his pace slowed. He slipped off his goggles, squinting into the deep shadows.

The scene that emerged in the faint light made him stop. Dead hatchlings littered the floor, their twisted bodies scattered like discarded toys. Blood and viscera smeared the metal, the sharp coppery tang filling the air.

Jungkook felt it before he saw it. A ripple in the air, a sense of something alive—watching.

There, perched atop a stack of cargo, was an adolescent predator. Its sinewy body moved with unnerving grace as it tore into the carcass of a hatchling. The creature’s head was crowned with a heavy, bone-like blade that gleamed faintly in the low light. It paused mid-feed, clicking softly as it tilted its head, its scythe-like forelimbs sweeping the air, feeling for vibrations, searching for prey.

Behind him, the group forced open another escape hatch. Leo scrambled through first, followed by Y/N and Lee. Namjoon and Kai lingered, their faces tense as they glanced back toward the darkened depths of the container.

“Where’s Jungkook?” Namjoon’s voice was hushed, tight with concern.

The answer came too late.

Kai turned the corner, his steps faltering as his gaze snapped upward. The adolescent predator loomed above him, its blade descending like a guillotine.

“Don’t. Move.”

Jungkook’s voice cut through the moment, calm and commanding. He emerged from the shadows, every muscle taut, coiled with tension. His gaze locked onto the predator, steady and unblinking.

Kai froze. The creature’s blade grazed his cheek, a shallow cut that welled with blood. The predator clicked, testing, its movements almost clinical, surgical.

Then, another shape loomed behind the first. A second predator, larger, its blade gleaming in the low light as it tested the air.

From the other end of the container, Y/N’s voice echoed, sharp and urgent. “Jungkook? Namjoon? What’s going on?”

Kai’s breath hitched, his eyes darting between the creatures and the open hatch. Panic surged through him, a cold wave of terror. Without thinking, he bolted.

“No—” Jungkook’s warning came too late.

The predators moved as one, a blur of lethal grace. Their blades flashed in the dark, and Kai’s scream tore through the container, high and sharp, before it was abruptly silenced.

Jungkook’s body snapped into motion. He ducked behind a stack of cargo, moving with the predator’s instinct, every step measured and calculated. He darted for the open hatch just as Y/N’s flashlight beam sliced through the darkness.

The light hit him square in the face, and he stumbled, his hand flying up instinctively to shield his eyes. “Turn that off!” he barked.

But the beam moved past him, landing on the predator that had been closing in on his heels. The creature recoiled instantly, letting out a guttural howl. It thrashed wildly, its movements erratic, disoriented, as though the light had burned it.

Y/N froze, her hand trembling as the flashlight shook in her grip. Her mind raced. Did… did that just stop it?

The silence shattered with the deafening blast of Lee’s shotgun, the echo reverberating through the metal walls. He fired blindly into the dark, his face locked in a rictus of adrenaline and fear.

“Stop it! Stop it, STOP IT!” Y/N screamed, shoving Lee hard enough to make him stumble.

“It’s okay,” Lee muttered, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hands trembling as he barely kept a grip on the shotgun. “I killed it.”

Disbelief rippled through the group. Before anyone could speak, a sickening thud resonated through the space. A carcass slammed to the floor, twitching weakly, steam rising from the still-warm body.

“Christ,” Peter whispered, his voice barely audible. “He did kill one.”

Y/N swept her flashlight over the creature’s grotesque form. Its charred, sinewy flesh seemed to shrink and crackle under the beam, sizzling as though doused in acid.

“There,” Y/N said quietly, the weight of realization settling in her voice, heavy and unyielding.

Peter leaned closer, his face twisting into an expression that was part disgust, part curiosity. “It’s like the light is scalding it.”

“It hurts them,” Y/N replied, her voice sharpening, taking on an edge of cold certainty. “Light actually hurts them.”

From somewhere in the oppressive shadows beyond the container, the guttural sounds of predators squabbling over a fresh kill reached their ears. The noises were wet, feral, and horribly familiar, a sound they all knew too well.

Namjoon’s face tightened, grief flickering across his usually composed features. He looked at Jungkook, his voice a near whisper. “Is that... Kai?”

Jungkook nodded once, grim and silent, his eyes dark with unspoken thoughts.

The air inside the container grew heavier, thick with the weight of tension that settled in their chests like stones. The cargo piled against the doors and walls—a makeshift barricade no one truly believed would hold for long—felt as fragile as the fleeting hope that had once driven them. Y/N’s handlight was their only source of illumination, its faint glow a fragile lifeline in the vast, suffocating darkness pressing in from every side.

Leo sat huddled against the wall, arms wrapped tightly around her knees. Normally sharp-tongued and defiant, she looked like a frightened child now, her wide eyes darting nervously to every shifting shadow. Y/N glanced at her, a pang of something deep and bitter twisting in her chest, but she forced herself to focus. Focus on survival.

Y/N’s voice cut through the dark, steady and firm. “Let’s take stock. One cutting torch, one handlight here. Two more flashlights in the cabin, and maybe two after that.”

Peter’s voice, lighter than the situation warranted, held a flicker of tension. “Spirits. Anything over forty-five proof burns well.”

Y/N didn’t hesitate. “How many bottles?”

Peter shrugged, a ghost of a grin playing at his lips. “Ten? Give or take.”

“What about the umbrellas?” Y/N’s mind was moving at breakneck speed. “The ones that mist. Could they burn?”

Peter raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Possibly. If you’ve got a receipt and some kerosene handy.”

“Good,” Y/N nodded, her mind already assembling a plan. “Maybe we’ll have enough light to get through this.”

“Enough for what?” Lee’s voice cut in, sharp with skepticism.

“To get the cells back to the skiff,” Y/N answered evenly, her gaze unwavering, daring him to argue.

Lee let out a humorless laugh, leaning back against the wall. “Oh, lady,” he said, voice thick with disbelief. “If you’re in your right mind, I pray you go insane.”

Y/N ignored him, focusing on the group. “We stick to the plan. If we can get four cells back to the skiff, we’re off this rock.”

Peter snorted, shaking his head. “Hate to ruin your beautiful theory with an ugly fact, but that sand-cat won’t run at night.”

“Then we carry the cells,” Y/N’s voice was cold, final. “Drag them. Whatever it takes.”

The floor light flickered, its glow dimming with every passing moment. Y/N glanced at it, jaw tightening, willing it to hold.

“You mean… tonight?” Leo’s voice trembled, fear threading through her words. “With all those things still out there?”

Peter feigned mock cheerfulness, though his voice cracked slightly. “Oh, absolutely. Sounds like a hoot.”

“How long can this last?” Lee’s voice cut through the banter, sharper now, the skepticism replaced with grim reality. “A few minutes? A couple of hours?”

Namjoon spoke softly, reluctant, as if the words carried weight. “The planets are locked together in orbit. There will be lasting darkness.”

Lee’s face twisted in frustration. “The suns have to come back eventually. If these things are scared of light, we wait them out.”

“I’m sure that’s what someone else said. Locked inside that coring room.” Y/N shook her head, her voice like steel. “It’ll last three days. That’s how long it lasted when the other crew was here.”

The implication landed like a hammer, the coring room now a mass grave. The weight of it settled over them all.

Lee exhaled sharply, his voice softer now, almost reasonable. “Look, we have to think about everyone. Especially the kid. How scared is she gonna be out there?”

Y/N’s eyes snapped to him, ice-cold. “Don’t you dare use her as a smokescreen for your own fear.”

Lee straightened, eyes hard, a flash of anger sparking in his gaze. “Hey, why don’t you rag your hole for two seconds and let someone else come up with a plan that doesn’t involve mass suicide?”

A taut silence passed before Y/N’s voice cut through it, calm and deadly, like a blade. “How much do you weigh, Lee?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “What the hell does that matter?”

“How much?” Y/N pressed, unwavering.

“Seventy-nine kilos,” he snapped.

Y/N’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because you’re seventy-nine kilos of gutless white meat. That’s why you can’t come up with a better plan.”

Lee lunged at her, fury distorting his features, but Jungkook moved between them with practiced ease. The barrel of Lee’s shotgun bumped lightly under Jungkook’s chin, the air between them humming with tension.

The dim light above cast restless shadows, the space between them vibrating with unspoken animosity.

“Think about that reward, Lee,” Jungkook’s voice was low, almost playful, but the edge in his tone was undeniable.

Lee didn’t flinch. His jaw clenched. “I’m willing to take a cut in pay.”

Jungkook’s smile widened, humorless. “How about a cut in your gut?”

He stepped closer, smooth, predatory, a shiv gleaming faintly in his hand. Small, wickedly sharp, poised with deadly precision, inches from Lee’s stomach.

“Oh, Trash Baby,” Lee growled, his voice carrying a promise of retribution. “You’re gonna regret this.”

The group stiffened, the already suffocating atmosphere thickening, the weight of their situation pressing down like a vice.

“Please,” Namjoon interjected, his voice soft yet firm, as he stepped forward with his hands raised in a calming gesture. He moved with quiet authority, his tone a thin thread of reason trying to weave its way through the tension that hung like a storm in the air. “This solves nothing. Please, both of you.”

For a moment, no one moved. The silence between them was thick, punctuated only by the faint hum of the flashlight and the distant clicking of predators moving through the dark, their movements just out of sight but always felt. It was a silence that pressed against their chests, making the air feel heavier, more oppressive.

It was Lee who relented first. His shoulders tensed as if ready to spring, his fury barely contained beneath the surface. He stepped back, the fire in his eyes not extinguished but held in check, a silent promise of retribution smoldering in the depths of his glare as he turned his attention away from Jungkook.

The light flickered again, a brief, fleeting stutter that caught everyone's attention. The shadows seemed to shift, drawing a little closer, as if daring to swallow the fragile haven the flashlight provided.

“They’re afraid of our light,” Y/N said softly, her voice breaking the silence with a quiet certainty. She crouched down near Leo, her tone calm and measured as she locked eyes with the young girl, who was trembling in the corner. “That means we don’t have to be so afraid of them.”

Leo nodded slowly, her gaze still wide with fear, her trembling hands betraying the unease that clung to her like a second skin.

Namjoon, ever the voice of reason, turned toward Y/N. His brow furrowed in concern, the lines of worry etched across his face. “And you’re certain you can find the way back?”

Y/N hesitated, the weight of his question pressing into her, making the confidence she'd been clinging to waver for the first time. Her eyes flickered briefly to Jungkook, who stood a few paces away, his posture relaxed despite the tension that was so thick in the air. He held the shiv loosely at his side, the blade glinting faintly in the dim light, his expression unreadable, a mask of cool indifference.

“No,” Y/N admitted, her voice steady despite the admission. “I’m not. But he can.”

All eyes turned to Jungkook.

He met their stares without flinching, his lips curling into the faintest of smirks, as if this were all just another game. The calmness in his demeanor was almost unsettling, a stark contrast to the chaos and fear that seemed to infect everyone else like a disease.

“You’re putting your faith in him?” Lee spat, his anger rising again, the edges of his words sharp like broken glass. “The guy who just pulled a blade on me?”

Jungkook tilted his head, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. His dark eyes narrowed just slightly, sizing up Lee with an effortless cool. “Would you rather wander around in the dark and hope for the best? Because you're welcome to try.”

Lee opened his mouth to retort, but Namjoon cut him off, raising a hand to silence the argument before it could flare into something worse.

“Enough,” Namjoon said firmly, his voice carrying the weight of authority. His gaze shifted to Jungkook, his expression unreadable, the tension in his shoulders settling into something closer to resolve. “Can you lead us back? Truly?”

Jungkook’s smirk faded, the playful mask slipping away, revealing something more serious behind his eyes. His shoulders squared slightly, and for a brief moment, the casualness of his demeanor cracked, replaced by a rare sincerity. “I can,” he said simply, his voice low but sure. “But it won’t be easy.”

“Nothing about this is easy,” Y/N said, her voice cutting through the moment like a knife. She stood, brushing dust from her hands, the gesture sharp and decisive. “But it’s a hell of a lot better than staying here and waiting to die.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, the weight of the decision settling over them, thick and oppressive. There was no easy way out, no guarantee of survival, but at least this offered a chance.

“Fine,” Lee muttered finally, his voice bitter, the words dragging like nails against stone. “But if this goes sideways, don’t expect me to save your ass, Trash Baby.”

Jungkook’s grin returned, albeit colder, tinged with a humorless edge. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied smoothly, pushing off the wall with a fluid motion.

He moved toward the center of the group, slipping the shiv back into his belt with a practiced ease. The light flickered again, but this time, no one remarked on it. They were all too focused on the fragile thread of hope they were about to chase.

“Let’s move,” Y/N said, her voice steady, cutting through the silence like a command.

Jungkook led the way, his steps measured, deliberate, seeing the path that no one else could. The rest of the group fell in behind him, their breaths shallow and their hands clutching their makeshift weapons.

The eclipsing planet dominated half the sky, a silent behemoth that radiated a sense of overwhelming insignificance. Its massive shadow swept across the landscape, blanketing it in an unnatural twilight. Only the faint, golden corona of the sun peeked out from the edges of the eclipse, casting an eerie glow over the terrain. Under this dim light, storm clouds began to gather, their bloated forms heavy with rain or worse.

The crash ship loomed ahead, a jagged silhouette against the horizon. Its hull was scorched and battered, barely standing upright. The survivors worked quickly to pry open the cargo doors, the cutting torch hissing and sparking as it sliced through warped metal. The fiery glow cast fleeting, flickering light over their faces, highlighting the grim determination etched into each one.

Y/N stood just behind the torchbearer, her posture sharp and commanding. The light danced across her face, her eyes focused and unwavering. She scanned the blackened expanse beyond the group, her ears straining against the unsettling symphony of primal sounds that echoed through the encroaching darkness. Deep, guttural growls. Sharp, rhythmic clicks. The occasional high-pitched screech that sent shivers down her spine.

The group moved cautiously, their formation tight like hostages being herded by an unseen captor. The torch led the way, its light a fragile bubble of safety. Each step across the open ground felt agonizingly slow, every crunch of debris underfoot a deafening reminder of how exposed they were.

At last, they reached the crash ship’s main cabin. It loomed before them like a darkened maw, its interior shrouded in shadow. The air was colder here, as if the darkness carried its own chill.

Y/N stopped at the threshold, her instincts prickling with unease. She turned toward Jungkook, who stood at the rear of the group, his goggles pushed up onto his forehead. The faint torchlight caught the sharp glint in his eyes, feline and calculating.

“Jungkook,” she said, her voice quiet but firm, cutting through the tense silence.

He stepped forward, his movements deliberate and fluid, like a predator surveying its territory. He tilted his head slightly, listening, then let his gaze sweep across the cabin’s darkened interior.

After a long pause, he spoke. “It looks clear.”

Lee snorted, muttering something under his breath, and pushed past Jungkook without waiting for further confirmation. He climbed up into the cabin, his boots clanging against the metal floor.

No sooner had he straightened to full height than a sharp, whooshing noise sliced through the air above him. Something small and fast bolted from the shadows, its leathery wings brushing the top of his head as it shot out of the cabin and disappeared into the night.

“Fuck me!” Lee cursed, ducking instinctively. His hand shot to his head, checking for injury as his eyes darted wildly around the cabin. “You said it was clear!”

Jungkook didn’t flinch. He remained at the edge of the cabin, his calm demeanor unshaken. “Said looks clear,” he replied evenly, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Lee’s glare could have melted steel. “What’s it look like now?”

Jungkook took another deliberate step forward, peering into the cabin again with an almost languid precision. “Still looks clear.”

Y/N bit back a sigh and climbed into the cabin behind them. “Just get the goddamn lights on,” she muttered, her tone sharp but resigned.

Jungkook let out a soft tongue-click as he followed her inside, a subtle sound of amusement that seemed aimed squarely at Lee. It wasn’t loud, but it carried enough weight to make Lee bristle. The older man turned to shoot him a glare, but Jungkook was already scanning the cabin, his focus elsewhere.

The cabin’s interior was a chaotic mess. Wires hung from the ceiling like vines, swaying slightly in the cool breeze that seeped in through unseen cracks. Broken screens flickered weakly on the control panels, their dying lights casting ghostly flashes across the walls. The faint smell of burnt electronics and charred fabric lingered in the air, mingling with the metallic tang of spilled coolant.

“Peter, help me with the console,” Y/N called, gesturing toward the largest control panel.

Peter scrambled inside, his hands fumbling for the tools in his belt. “On it.”

“Anything moving?” Y/N asked, not looking up from the panel.

“Not yet,” Jungkook replied, his tone casual but vigilant. He lingered near the doorway, his eyes flitting toward every shadow that seemed too deep, every crevice that might conceal a threat.

Behind him, the others filed into the cabin, their nerves fraying as the light from the torch began to sputter and fade.

“Better hurry,” Leo said, her voice trembling as she huddled near the far wall.

Peter muttered a string of curses under his breath as he fiddled with the console. Sparks flew, and for a heart-stopping moment, the cabin plunged into near-total darkness. Then, with a stuttering hum, dim overhead lights flickered on, bathing the cabin in a pale, sickly glow.

“Got it!” Peter exclaimed, a note of relief in his voice.

The group collectively exhaled, but the momentary reprieve was short-lived. Outside, the clicking sounds grew louder, echoing like malevolent whispers carried on the wind.

“They know we’re here,” Jungkook said, his voice quiet but certain.

Y/N’s grip on her weapon tightened. “Then we better not waste any more time.”

Inside the cabin, the survivors moved with the frantic efficiency of people who knew time was their enemy. The dim, flickering cabin lights were no comfort, but they were enough to illuminate their task. Every second spent here felt stolen, borrowed against a debt they weren’t sure they could repay.

Peter crouched by the battery bay, his hands blackened with grease as he yanked out power cells one by one. The hollow clang of metal on metal reverberated through the cabin as he handed each cell off to Namjoon, who threaded nylon cords through the handles with a practiced, almost mechanical motion. Y/N stood nearby, filling the reservoirs of misting umbrellas with high-octane liquor they’d salvaged earlier. The sickly-sweet scent of the alcohol clung to the air, sharp and volatile.

Oxygen canisters clattered as they were swapped out, fresh ones locked into place with sharp clicks. These were preparations that carried an edge of desperation, a mix of hope and the quiet dread that they might not matter in the end.

Lee sat off to the side, reloading his shotgun. His fingers, once steady, now trembled as he slid each shell into the chamber. The shaking had grown worse over the past hour, and it wasn’t just from exhaustion. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small red morphine shell, its glossy surface catching the weak light. For a moment, he stared at it like it was both a curse and a promise, his grip tightening until his knuckles turned white.

“Ready, Lee,” Y/N called, her voice cutting through the cabin’s muted chaos.

Lee’s head snapped up, his expression hardening as he quickly palmed the shell and shoved it back into his pocket. Rising to his feet, he slung the shotgun over his shoulder and muttered, “He’ll lead you over the first cliff, you know that, don’t you?”

Y/N paused, turning toward him with a calm but cutting look. “We’re just burning light here.”

“You give him the cells, give him the ship, and he’ll leave you,” Lee said, his voice low and acidic. “He’ll leave you all out there to die.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly, studying him like a puzzle she had no interest in solving. “I don’t get it, Lee. What’s so goddamn valuable in your life that you’re worried about losing? Huh? Is there anything at all? Besides your next hit?”

He didn’t answer.

Her tone softened, though it lost none of its edge. “You’ve got no right to be this scared. Neither one of us does.”

The words lingered for a moment before the cabin lights flickered, sputtered, and died completely, plunging them into darkness.

Outside, a torch flared to life with a deafening roar, its fiery plume casting jagged shadows that danced across the surrounding landscape. Two misting umbrellas, their fabric already burned away, became impromptu flamethrowers, belching fireballs into the encroaching night. The sudden brightness illuminated the survivors in stark relief: Namjoon chained into the first harness of the drag-sled, his broad shoulders braced for the weight. Lee fumbled with the second harness, his trembling hands betraying his frustration.

Jungkook stood nearby, observing the scene with a faint smirk that barely touched his eyes. He leaned down to help Lee with the harness, the irony of the act not lost on either of them—the prisoner aiding his captor.

“Keep the light going,” Y/N called out, her voice sharp and steady over the crackle of flames. “That’s all we have to do to live through this. Just keep your light burning.”

Jungkook slipped a handlight over his neck, adjusting it so the beam cast a halo of illumination down his back. “I’ll be running about ten paces ahead,” he said to Y/N, his tone calm but commanding. “I want light on my back, not in my eyes. And check your cuts. These things know our blood now.”

At his words, Leo froze, her face draining of color. She clutched her torch tighter, as though it alone could keep the fear at bay.

Y/N stepped closer to Jungkook, her hesitation visible in the way her fingers fidgeted against her side. “Jungkook,” she began, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “I was thinking we should make some kind of deal. Just in case… you know, this actually works.”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “Had it with deals.”

“But I just wanted to say—”

“Nobody’s gonna turn a murderer loose,” he said flatly, though there was a bitter edge to his tone. “I fucking knew better.”

The words hung in the air like a warning, or perhaps an admission.

Y/N searched his face, her unease deepening. If he didn’t expect to go free, what was he planning?

“It’s been a long time since anyone trusted me,” Jungkook added, almost as an afterthought. “That’s something right there.”

“Can we, though?” Y/N asked softly, her voice trembling despite herself. “Trust you?”

Jungkook hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then, with surprising candor, he replied, “Actually… that’s what I’ve been asking myself.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, his shadow stretching long and dark in the firelight.

Y/N watched him go, her chest tightening with a terrible, nagging thought: What if this was all a mistake?

The drag-sled groaned as it creaked into motion, a makeshift lifeline against the oppressive night. Jungkook took point, his goggles off, his sharp, gleaming eyes scanning the darkness ahead. The light strapped to his back swung rhythmically with his movements, a beacon that guided the rest of the group.

Namjoon and Lee strained against their harnesses, pulling the sled like beasts of burden. Their breath came in labored puffs, visible in the cold night air. Fireball torches flared intermittently at the edges of their procession—one held by Leo, the other by Y/N—casting brief but vital light into the shadows.

At the rear, Peter stumbled along, wielding the cutter like a shield, sweeping it in wide arcs that betrayed his growing paranoia. They moved as a fragile train of light, a living thread that barely held the encroaching darkness at bay.

On the sled sat four power cells and eight bottles of booze, the last remnants of their hope lashed precariously with fraying cords. The sled creaked with every step, a sound that seemed deafening in the eerie silence of the night. Y/N walked with one hand on the strap of her torch, her eyes scanning the ground as her boots crunched over loose gravel and sand. Her breath hitched when she spotted the faint outline of sand-cat tracks—a reminder of their fleeting connection to anything natural or familiar in this alien wasteland.

But then, as they trudged forward, the tracks vanished, swallowed by the shifting ground. Y/N’s gaze lingered on the empty path ahead, a heavy unease curling in her chest.

“So, you saw it too?” Lee muttered, his voice low and dripping with suspicion.

Before she could answer, Y/N lifted her head, her voice cutting through the rasp of their breathers. “Jungkook,” she called sharply, her tone demanding answers.

The group instinctively slowed, clustering tighter together under the protective glow of their torches. The faint hum of distant movement made the shadows seem alive.

“Where are the sand-cat tracks?” Y/N pressed, stepping closer to Jungkook. Her words came fast and clipped. “Why aren’t we still following them?”

Jungkook didn’t break stride, his gait smooth and deliberate, as if he didn’t feel the tension rising around him. “Saw something I didn’t like,” he said casually, his voice betraying no urgency.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Such as?”

He shrugged, an almost flippant gesture that felt maddening in the circumstances. “Hard to tell sometimes… even for me. Looked like a bunch of those big boys chewing each other’s gonads off. Thought we’d swing wide. Okay by you?”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, Peter visibly paling. He turned his head, his eyes darting to the darkness behind them. “We went around what?” he asked, his voice cracking under the strain.

The sound of clicking filled the air—soft, distant, but unmistakable.

“Let’s move,” Y/N ordered, her voice cutting through their hesitation. She placed a steadying hand on Leo’s shoulder, urging her forward. “Just a detour. He’ll get us there.”

Peter hesitated, his nerves clearly fraying. “Can we switch?”

Y/N frowned. “Switch what?”

“My position,” Peter said quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I think I twisted my ankle running backward like that, and I’m not sure I can—” He faltered under the weight of their collective glares. “Okay, that’s a lie. I just don’t want to be alone back there anymore. If you could just give me a few minutes up front—”

“She’s the pilot,” Lee snapped. “She should stay close to the cells.”

Peter threw up his hands, exasperated. “Oh, so I’m disposable now?”

Y/N didn’t have the patience for the argument. “I’ll switch!” she barked, her frustration boiling over. “Christ, just get this train moving!”

The group shuffled awkwardly as Y/N moved to the rear guard. Peter exhaled in relief, gripping his torch tighter as he joined the side guard. But the clicking never stopped. It seemed to echo in their ears, sharper and closer with every step, like the rhythm of a predator's heartbeat.

A sputtering sound drew their attention. Peter’s torch flickered weakly, its fireball dimming to a dangerous glow. He glanced down, panic flashing across his face. “Light, please, need light here!”

Namjoon and Lee swung their beams toward him, but their movements left gaps in the group’s circle of illumination. In that brief moment, Leo drifted too far from the light.

The clicking shifted—sharp, high-pitched, and urgent.

“Leo!” Namjoon lunged forward, tackling her to the ground just as a scythe-like claw slashed through the air, skimming the chains of his harness with a metallic screech.

Lee spun, his shotgun snapping up instinctively. He fired into the darkness, the muzzle flash cutting through the shadows like lightning. The sound echoed, deafening in the stillness, but the predator had already vanished.

“Am I cut?” Namjoon’s voice trembled as he helped Leo to her feet. His hands fumbled for his light, flipping the switch over and over, but it remained stubbornly dark.

Behind them, Peter stumbled into the darkness. A sharp cry escaped him as something slashed across his back, tearing through fabric and flesh with sickening precision.

“Oh, sweet Jesus…” Peter’s voice was panicked, raw with fear. Blood dripped down his side, staining the ground in dark streaks. “Will you GET ME SOME LIGHT OVER HERE!”

The group turned, their torches sweeping wildly, but it was too late. A blur of motion darted from the shadows, dragging Peter into the abyss.

Jungkook stood still, his eyes fixed on the horizon. He didn’t chase after Peter; there was no point. Instead, he watched as the predators tore into him with terrifying efficiency, their movements frenzied and primal. A female predator arrived late to the feast, a youngling clinging to her back. Unable to find space among the others, she whipped the youngling off and devoured it instead.

Y/N stared, horrified, as the predators began turning on each other, ripping into flesh and bone with no semblance of order.

“They’re fighting,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jungkook didn’t respond. His jaguar-like eyes tracked two of the creatures that had broken away from the carnage. Their heads tilted in unison, their sharp, angular features glinting faintly in the coronal light.

They were looking at Leo.

“What do you see?” Y/N asked, though she already feared the answer.

“Hunger,” Jungkook murmured, his voice low and weighted. “I see sixty years of hunger.”

Jungkook didn’t reply. The wind was picking up, carrying with it the ominous sound of distant thunder. It wasn’t a storm. It was the howl of predators closing in.

“Move!” Y/N shouted, her voice slicing through the rising tension.

Leo gripped Peter’s torch tightly, the flame spitting weak fireballs that barely lit the path ahead. Each step she took was uneven, but determination kept her moving forward. The torch was her lifeline, its faint light the only thing keeping the encroaching darkness at bay.

Y/N followed at the rear, her cutter sputtering in her hand before dying completely. She cursed under her breath and hurled it to the ground in frustration, her hand darting toward Leo’s torch.

“Bottle count,” she demanded, her voice sharp, urgency snapping like a whip.

Leo hesitated, glancing down at the flickering reservoir in her hand. “Four fulls. One half.” She hesitated, her voice dipping into a faint, hopeful question. “Does that mean we’re halfway there?”

Y/N didn’t answer. None of them really knew. The canyon was their destination, but it felt more like an endless nightmare with every step. Their only guide was the faint gleam of light reflecting off Jungkook’s back, his unshakable stride the closest thing they had to a compass.

“Can we pick up the pace?” Y/N urged, her tone cutting through the oppressive silence.

Lee, trudging just ahead of her, muttered something under his breath, too low to hear. His voice rose just enough as he threw a glance over his shoulder. “If you think you can do better…” His words trailed off, his breath catching as he suddenly thrust an arm across Namjoon’s chest.

Namjoon stumbled to a halt. “What is it?” he hissed, his own fear bubbling just below the surface.

Lee pointed ahead with his flashlight, the beam catching faint sled tracks etched into the sand. But something about them felt off—wrong in a way none of them could articulate.

Y/N barely had time to process what she was seeing when a metallic click shattered the fragile quiet. She whirled around, her beam landing on Lee as he stood free of his harness chains, his shotgun pressed firmly to the back of Jungkook’s neck.

“We aren’t that stupid,” Lee growled, his voice low and venomous.

“Stay in the light!” Y/N yelled, her voice strained with panic. “Everybody! Stay in the fucking—”

“We crossed our own tracks,” Namjoon interrupted, his voice tight and brittle.

“Look at them!” Lee barked, gesturing wildly to the marks in the sand. His eyes darted, pupils blown wide with barely-contained hysteria. “He’s running us in circles! Look for yourself!”

“Jungkook!” Y/N snapped, her voice cracking like a whip. She turned her full attention to the man at the front, her pulse pounding in her ears. “What the hell are you doing?”

Jungkook didn’t flinch, even with the barrel of Lee’s shotgun against his neck. His voice was calm, deliberate. “Listen,” he said simply.

The sound came first—low, sharp, and relentless. It was an ominous clicking, growing louder with each passing moment, like a chorus of a hundred Geiger counters riding the wind.

“Canyon ahead,” Jungkook said, his tone even as if he wasn’t standing at gunpoint. “I circled once to buy time to think.”

“Think about what?” Y/N demanded, stepping closer, her heart hammering in her chest.

Jungkook turned his gaze to Leo, his expression unreadable. “About the girl,” he said evenly.

Y/N froze. The chill in his tone was enough to stop her breath. “Girl?”

“She’s bleeding,” Jungkook said, his words deliberate, each one heavy with meaning. “And they’ve been tracking her since we left the ship.”

Lee scoffed, his shotgun pressing harder against Jungkook’s neck. “Bullshit. Leo’s not cut—”

“No,” Jungkook agreed, his calm gaze still on Leo. “She wasn’t.”

Y/N turned to Leo, the realization hitting her like a physical blow. “Leo,” she whispered, dread clawing at her throat. “Is this true?”

Leo’s face crumpled, tears brimming in her eyes. Her voice was small, trembling with guilt. “I didn’t want you to leave me there… back at the ship. I didn’t want to be alone.”

“Oh, God,” Y/N murmured, stepping closer. Her voice softened, cracking with a mix of anger and pity. “Honey, you should’ve told me. You should’ve—”

Lee groaned loudly, cutting her off. “This is such bullshit. You’re telling me we’ve been hauling her bleeding ass across this death trap and didn’t know it?”

“They go off blood,” Jungkook said, his tone cold and devoid of sympathy. “They’ve had a scent since we started.”

“We keep her close,” Namjoon said firmly, his hand brushing Leo’s shoulder in reassurance. “She’ll be safe with us. We—”

“There is no safe,” Jungkook interrupted, his voice a grim, unshakable fact. His eyes swept across the group, lingering briefly on Y/N.

The wind gusted, carrying with it the sound of distant canyon walls and the growing cacophony of clicking. The predators were closing in, their hunt relentless.

Y/N’s voice wavered, her desperation plain. “It’s not gonna work. We’ve gotta go back.”

Lee barked a harsh laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “Go back? Are you out of your damn mind?” His grip tightened on the shotgun as he sneered. “You dragged me out here, and now you want me to crawl back to that hellhole of a ship?”

“I was wrong!” Y/N snapped, her voice rising. “I made a bad call, okay? Now let’s just turn around before—”

“Before what?” Lee cut her off, stepping closer, his frustration spilling over into rage. “Before they find us? They’re already here, Captain. You think going back’s gonna fix that?”

“She’s the captain,” Namjoon said, his voice steady despite the rising tension. “We should listen to her.”

Lee turned on him, his shotgun shaking in his grip. “This captain nearly blew us to hell during the crash!”

“Lee!” Y/N shouted, her voice raw with anger and shame. “This isn’t helping!”

He ignored her, his gaze drilling into Leo. “She tried to kill us. All of us.”

Leo’s wide eyes flicked between them, her lip trembling. “What does he mean?”

“Enough!” Y/N roared, stepping between them. But Lee was already backing toward the sled, his light swaying wildly in the darkness.

“The light moves forward,” Lee said with mock finality, his voice dripping with disdain.

They moved through the boneyard like restless spirits, their progress deliberate and painstaking. Every step seemed to echo with the weight of desperation, their dwindling strength preserved for the canyon ahead. The barren expanse stretched endlessly in every direction, littered with twisted remnants of the past—bones, rusted scraps, and shadows that felt too alive.

At the back, Y/N lagged, her shoulders slumped and movements sluggish, like a rudder barely keeping a ship from capsizing. She kept her eyes on the ground, the grit and debris underfoot a welcome distraction from the oppressive silence. Up front, Yeonjun and Namjoon strained against the sled, their breaths coming in sharp, labored gasps as they dragged its cumbersome load. Each step forward felt like pulling against the earth itself.

Jungkook led the group with an eerie composure, his figure cutting through the haze with unnerving confidence. Beside him, Lee matched his pace, his shotgun resting casually over one shoulder. His presence was a heavy weight, and when he finally spoke, his voice carried an edge that sliced through the stillness.

“Ain’t all of us gonna make it,” he said, his tone almost conversational, as though delivering a fact rather than a death sentence.

Jungkook didn’t look at him. His response was as sharp as a blade. “Just realized that, huh?”

A clicking sound interrupted the tense quiet. It was distant at first, faint and fragmented, but it grew louder with each beat, quick and insistent like a predator honing in on its prey. The sound skittered through the night air, prickling along their spines and setting every nerve on edge.

Lee reacted first, spinning on his heel as the shotgun roared, the explosion of sound ripping through the silence. The muzzle flash flared bright, casting jagged shadows before plunging the group back into darkness. Whatever had made the sound darted away, leaving nothing but the acrid tang of gunpowder and the echo of the shot lingering in their ears.

The group halted, startled and shaken by the violence of the moment. Lee cocked the shotgun with a practiced motion, the click almost casual. His faint smirk, barely visible in the dim light, radiated smug satisfaction.

“Six of us left,” Lee said, his voice smooth, laced with an edge that made the words cut deeper. “If we get through that canyon and lose just one, I’d call that a miracle. A damn good one, too.”

“Not if I’m the one,” Jungkook replied, finally meeting Lee’s gaze. His tone was dry, dark humor threading through his words.

Lee tilted his head, the faint glint in his eyes turning sharp. “What if you’re one of five?”

Jungkook’s expression didn’t shift, but the subtle narrowing of his eyes spoke volumes. He said nothing, and in his silence, the weight of his consideration hung heavy.

Farther back, Leo squinted at the wavering light ahead. “What’re they doing up there?” she asked, her voice hushed but nervous.

Namjoon walked beside her, his movements tight with tension despite his attempt at a casual tone. “Talking about the canyon,” he said, though the uncertainty in his voice was obvious. “Figuring out how to get us through, probably.”

Behind them, Y/N’s gaze was locked on the silhouettes of Jungkook and Lee. Their movements were synchronized in a way that made her stomach churn—two wolves prowling side by side, a partnership forged in shared ruthlessness. The sight sent a chill creeping down her spine.

Ahead, Lee leaned toward Jungkook, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s nasty business,” he said. “But it’s no worse than what a battlefield doc does. They call it triage.”

Jungkook’s reply was as cold as the steel glint in his eyes. “Funny. They called it murder when I did it.”

Lee waved a dismissive hand, brushing the comment aside like a bothersome insect. “Call it what you want,” he said. “It’s something you can wrap your head around.”

Jungkook didn’t respond, his expression an unreadable mask, but the silence between them was an invitation for Lee to continue.

“We make a sacrifice play,” Lee explained, his voice turning disturbingly conversational. “One body at the canyon’s entrance. Call it chum in the water.”

Jungkook tilted his head, his dark amusement flickering faintly. “You’d drag it behind us with the sled cable,” he guessed, his tone dry and detached.

“Exactly,” Lee said, nodding. “Just enough to keep those land sharks off our scent. We don’t feed ‘em—we just distract ‘em.”

Jungkook’s gaze shifted back to the group, lingering on each face for a moment too long. When he spoke, his words were deliberate, carefully chosen. “So,” he said softly, “which one caught your eye?”

Lee muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed ahead, as though refusing to meet Jungkook’s eyes absolved him. “Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look,” he mumbled, the words barely audible.

From the rear, Y/N caught the exchange, the way Lee averted his gaze and the way Jungkook’s lingered. Her stomach twisted into a tight knot of unease. “Namjoon,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” Namjoon turned to her, his brows furrowed.

“Slow down,” Y/N hissed, her urgency cutting through his hesitation. “Don’t stop—just slow down. Put some distance between us and them.”

Namjoon hesitated, torn between instinct and her pleading tone. “We should stay together—”

“Just do it,” she said, desperation sharpening her words. “Please.”

Ahead, Jungkook’s voice broke the fragile silence. “What’s her name, anyway?”

Lee shot him a sharp look, defensive. “What do you care?”

Jungkook shrugged, his lips twitching into a humorless smile. “I don’t.”

“Then don’t name the turkey,” Lee muttered. “Keep it simple. You still got a shiv, right?”

Jungkook’s smirk widened, but his eyes remained devoid of humor. “You expect me to do it?”

Lee’s tone turned mocking, disdain dripping from every word. “What’s one more? You think this is the one that punches your ticket to hell?”

“Oh, you’re a masterpiece, Lee,” Jungkook replied, his voice calm but steeped in contempt. “They should hang you in a museum. Or just hang you.”

The group behind them slowed further, the gap between them growing wider. Y/N kept her focus on the pair ahead, dread pooling in her gut as she watched the silent exchange.

“All right,” Lee said after a moment, his tone sharpening. “You do the girl. I’ll keep the others off your back.”

Jungkook stopped abruptly, turning his head to study Lee with unsettling curiosity.

“Don’t tell me you’re growin’ a conscience,” Lee sneered, exasperation edging his voice.

Jungkook shook his head slowly, his expression unreadable. “Just thinking,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “What if we need a bigger piece of chum?”

Lee froze, his shoulders stiffening as the meaning behind the words settled over him. “Like who, Mr. Chrislam?” he snapped.

The night pressed in around them, the flickering torchlight offering little solace. From the rear, Y/N gripped Leo’s torch tightly, the flames sputtering like a dying star. The weight of their reality bore down on her, and as the group moved in uneasy silence, the dread gnawed at her relentlessly.

“Bottle count,” Y/N demanded, her voice sharp, taut as a drawn wire.

Leo hesitated, her eyes flicking nervously to the dwindling torchlight. “Four fulls, one half. Does that mean we’re halfway there? I hope?”

Y/N didn’t respond, her focus fixed on the light bobbing on Jungkook’s back, a ghostly beacon in the suffocating gloom. His silent, purposeful stride cut through the night like a blade. She tightened her grip on the torch, the heat a meager comfort against the growing dread. “Can we pick up the pace?”

Ahead, Lee trudged with the slow, unrelenting gait of a beast bearing too much weight. He muttered under his breath, “If you think you can do better...” The words faded as he suddenly threw an arm out, halting Namjoon. His gaze dropped to the ground. Tracks. Their own tracks, forming a circle.

The ominous click of a shotgun being cocked shattered the air like a gunshot itself. Y/N whirled just in time to see Lee, unchained and unhinged, pressing the barrel against the back of Jungkook’s neck. His grin was a predator’s snarl, all teeth and venom. “We aren’t completely stupid,” he growled.

“Stay in the light!” Y/N barked, her voice rising above the chaos. “Everybody! Stay in the fucking light!”

Namjoon’s voice trembled. “We’ve crossed our own tracks.”

Jungkook didn’t flinch, his calm defying the shotgun at his nape. “Listen,” he said, his voice like iron against the storm.

Then came the sound—a metallic hum riding the wind, sharp and insistent, like a hundred Geiger counters ticking in unison. It crawled under their skin, making their bones itch.

“Canyon ahead,” Jungkook explained, his tone unnervingly steady. “I circled once to buy time to think.”

“Think about what?” Y/N demanded, her voice like a whip crack.

“About how to kill us and still get those cells to the skiff,” Lee snarled, his anger boiling over. “We’re just the mules for this bastard!”

The accusation hit Y/N like a hammer blow, knocking the breath from her lungs. Her mind reeled, dread coiling tight in her stomach.

Lee moved before she could process it. The shotgun swung wide, and the world exploded into chaos.

“Bring the light!” Y/N shouted, her voice cutting through the panic. “Leave the sled! Move, now!”

The torchlight hit the ground, casting a harsh, flickering circle around them. Jungkook and Lee collided, a feral clash of bodies and brute force. They grappled like wild animals, their movements raw and savage, the shotgun skittering away into the darkness.

Jungkook moved with a predator’s grace, his shiv glinting faintly in the dying light as he sidestepped Lee’s first clumsy swing. His movements were measured, precise—each step deliberate, like a hunter toying with wounded prey.

“Gotta stay in the light, Lee,” Jungkook taunted, his voice low and cutting, sharp enough to bite through the heavy tension in the air. “That’s the only rule.”

Lee’s breath came in harsh, ragged bursts as he circled, his boots grinding against the brittle bones scattered beneath their feet. His eyes darted nervously between the dim circle of light and Jungkook, who seemed almost to dissolve into the encroaching darkness, reappearing only when he moved closer to strike.

With a growl of frustration, Lee lunged, swinging wildly. Jungkook ducked under the blow with a fluid ease that was almost nonchalant, his shiv flashing upward in a shallow slice across Lee’s forearm. Blood welled immediately, dripping onto the ground.

“Damn you,” Lee hissed, clutching his arm as he stumbled back.

“Not yet,” Jungkook replied, his voice cold, mocking. “You’ll know when it happens.”

Lee’s hand scrabbled desperately across the ground until it found purchase on a jagged rib-bone. He swung it upward with both hands, aiming for Jungkook’s head, but the blow never landed.

Jungkook sidestepped again, faster this time, and slammed his boot into Lee’s ribs. The force of the kick sent Lee staggering backward, his grip on the makeshift club faltering. The bone clattered to the ground as Jungkook closed the distance, his shiv darting forward like a striking serpent.

“Should’ve kept the chains on, Lee,” Jungkook murmured as the blade nicked Lee’s shoulder. His tone was conversational, dripping with disdain. “You had guts back then. Now look at you—Billy Bad-Ass, all bark and no bite.”

Lee lunged again, his movements growing more desperate with each passing second. He managed to shove Jungkook off-balance, sending them both sprawling into the circle of light.

Lee rolled first, scrambling toward the fallen shotgun. His fingers brushed the barrel just as Jungkook grabbed his ankle, yanking him backward with such force that he slammed face-first into the ground. Blood smeared across the dirt as Lee spat a curse, twisting to kick at Jungkook.

Jungkook didn’t flinch. He caught Lee’s boot mid-kick and twisted, eliciting a sharp crack from Lee’s ankle. Lee howled in pain, collapsing onto his back.

“You’re making this too easy,” Jungkook said, his voice dripping with disappointment as he rose to his feet. He stepped deliberately into the narrow cone of light cast by the discarded torch, his expression cold and unreadable.

Lee clawed at the ground, dragging himself toward the shotgun with trembling hands. He reached it, curling his fingers around the stock, and turned with a feral grin.

“Still Billy Bad-Ass,” Lee rasped, blood staining his teeth as he swung the weapon upward.

But then the light flickered, stuttering like a dying heartbeat. Shadows surged forward, thick and consuming, swallowing the edges of the circle.

Lee froze, his grin faltering. The clicking returned—closer now, sharp and insistent, a metallic cacophony that prickled along their spines.

Jungkook stepped back, his dark eyes glinting as he watched Lee’s panic mount.

“You feel that?” Jungkook asked, his voice soft, almost curious. “That’s what real fear feels like, Lee. No shotgun’s gonna save you now.”

The darkness swallowed the last remnants of light, leaving only the sound—the deafening CLICKING—and Lee’s ragged, terrified breaths.

The predator struck like a living shadow, silent and sudden. It lifted Lee effortlessly, its massive form outlined only by faint starlight. For a moment, it seemed almost curious, its blade-like appendage tracing along Lee’s body with a grotesque sort of delicacy.

Lee’s screams shattered the silence, high-pitched and guttural. The predator paused, as if savoring the sound, before driving its blade home with a sickening crunch.

Jungkook stood motionless, his silhouette blending into the shadows as the predator retreated, dragging Lee’s limp body into the void. The clicking faded, leaving only silence.

When Y/N, Namjoon, and Leo caught up, Jungkook stood motionless in the shadows, his figure outlined by the faint glow of their approaching torches. His goggles glinted like the eyes of a predator at rest, his posture deceptively calm.

“Where’s Mr. Lee?” Namjoon asked, his voice trembling, the question catching in his throat.

Jungkook tilted his head, his tone almost casual, though his words cut like glass. “Which half?”

Leo froze, her face crumpling under the weight of the answer. “Gonna lose everybody out here,” she whispered, her voice breaking like brittle glass. Her grip on the bottle she held faltered, and it slipped slightly before she caught it.

For a moment, something unspoken passed through Jungkook’s gaze—a fleeting softness, gone as quickly as it appeared. “He died fast,” he said quietly, his voice unexpectedly gentle. “And if we have any choice, that’s how we should all go out.”

He crouched to Leo’s level, his presence commanding but his tone almost tender. “Don’t cry for Lee,” Jungkook said firmly, his dark eyes boring into hers. “Don’t you dare. Tears out here are a waste.”

Above them, the canyon roared with noise—clicking, snapping, the grotesque wet sounds of rending flesh and the unmistakable crunch of bone. It was a symphony of death, the air heavy with dread and the acrid smell of decay.

The small group stood on the edge of the boneyard, their torches casting trembling halos of light into the encroaching darkness. The skeletal remains scattered across the ground seemed to mock their efforts, whispering the inevitability of their fate.

“How many do you see?” Y/N asked, forcing her voice to steady despite the knot of fear in her chest.

Jungkook’s head turned slightly, his goggles reflecting the faint light like the eyes of some nocturnal beast. “One. Maybe two.”

Y/N glanced toward Leo. “What do we have left?”

Leo’s hand trembled as she checked their remaining supply. “Three full bottles. But it’s almost time to refill.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

Y/N cursed under her breath. “Doesn’t sound like enough to double back.”

Jungkook shrugged, a grim smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Doesn’t matter. Only one way now.”

“What way?” Namjoon asked cautiously.

Jungkook gestured toward the sled. “Turn it over, drag it like a shield. Keep the girl down low. Light everything we’ve got—and run through like dogs on fire.”

Namjoon frowned, his voice hesitant. “The sled... as a shield?”

“It’ll buy us seconds,” Jungkook replied, his voice steady and too calm.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “And the cells?”

Jungkook’s smirk widened slightly. “I’ll take those.”

Her gaze bore into him, sharp and unyielding. “We’re just here to carry your light, aren’t we? Just the torch-bearers.”

Jungkook met her stare without flinching. “Let’s drop back and boot up.”

They set to work among the skeletal ruins, their movements urgent but controlled. Jungkook lashed the cells together with strips of fabric, fashioning a crude harness as Namjoon stood close by, murmuring softly under his breath.

Jungkook glanced at him, his hands tightening the knots. “What’re you mumbling about?”

Namjoon hesitated, then answered, “Blessing you. Like the others.”

Jungkook huffed a humorless laugh. “Waste of breath.”

“It’s not,” Namjoon said softly, his voice unwavering. “Even if you don’t believe in God, that doesn’t mean He won’t—”

Jungkook cut him off, his voice low and sharp. “Oh, I believe in God. You don’t spend half your life locked up with a horse-bit in your mouth and not believe. You don’t start out in a liquor store trash bin with an umbilical cord wrapped around your neck and not believe.” His gaze turned icy, his tone colder still. “I believe in Him. And I hate the fucker.”

Namjoon swallowed hard but said nothing.

Jungkook adjusted the harness with practiced efficiency, his voice softening slightly. “Save your blessings for the girl. She’ll need a spare.”

When they reached the start of the gauntlet, their torches burned brighter than ever, every flame stoked to its limit. Y/N and Namjoon strapped themselves to the overturned sled, their breathers hissing in sync. Leo crawled beneath the sled, curling into its shadow, her trembling hands clutching the last remaining bottles. Yeonjun clung to his handlight, his knuckles white with strain.

Jungkook stood apart, his goggles in place, his expression unreadable as he shouldered the harnessed cells. “As fast as you can,” he said to Y/N, his tone leaving no room for debate.

“You sure you can—” she started, but he cut her off with a sharp glare.

“As fast as you can,” he repeated, his voice final.

The group surged forward.

The sled scraped and jolted as Y/N and Namjoon pulled with everything they had, their muscles straining under the weight. Leo kept low, her breaths audible and panicked, while Yeonjun stumbled alongside, his light bobbing erratically.

Behind them, Jungkook moved like a machine, the harness digging into his shoulders as he dragged the cells through the boneyard. The torches painted wild, flickering patterns on the canyon walls, creating a fragile wall of light that barely held back the encroaching shadows.

Above, predators launched from the canyon rim, their shadows stretching like monstrous wings against the jagged rock faces. Their cries, sharp and guttural, echoed through the narrow pass, amplifying the chaos. The first wave of hatchlings swarmed toward the torchlight, their sleek, scaled bodies darting like arrows. At the last second, they veered away, repelled by the searing flames.

“Don’t look!” Jungkook’s voice rang out, sharp and commanding over the cacophony.

Thin streaks of glowing blue liquid splattered down from above, hissing as they hit the hot, rocky ground. Y/N instinctively glanced upward, a decision she regretted instantly. The sky above was alive with writhing forms—predators slashing and tearing at one another in a frenzy of hunger and rage. Wings and limbs tangled, snapping bones and spilling glowing blood as they collided mid-air. The sheer size and ferocity of the beasts made her breath catch in her throat.

“Do not look up!” Jungkook barked, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Eyes on the ground! Keep going, keep going, keep going!”

Y/N forced her gaze downward, her heart hammering as she quickened her pace. The ground was slick with the iridescent, metallic-smelling blood of the creatures, and the sickening thuds of entrails raining from above filled the air. It was like running through a storm of gore.

Namjoon’s voice rose above the chaos, calm and unwavering despite the madness. “So dark the clouds around my way, I cannot see. But through the darkness, I believe God leadeth me...” His words, steady and rhythmic, cut through the noise like a fragile lifeline.

The rain of bodies intensified. Broken predators slammed into the ground with bone-shaking force, their corpses twisting grotesquely as they landed. One crashed dangerously close to Yeonjun, its razor-edged blade slicing across his leg. He staggered, biting down a cry of pain, and kept moving, his face pale but determined.

Ahead, the canyon loomed like the gaping maw of some ancient beast, its jagged walls narrowing to form a sinister throat. Every sound seemed magnified, the clicking, snapping, and howling bouncing off the rock, trapping them in a symphony of terror.

Y/N’s torchlight revealed the choke-point first: a grotesque barricade of predator corpses piled high across the path, steaming and glistening with fresh blood. The tangled mass of bodies looked like the aftermath of a brutal battle, their twisted forms creating a barrier that blocked the way forward. Y/N froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Jungkook?” she called, her voice edged with panic. “JUNGKOOK?”

Jungkook stopped just ahead of the group, his silhouette stark against the flickering torchlight. He turned his head slightly, his tone flat and grim. “It’s a fucking staircase,” he said, his voice cold. “Go over it. GO OVER IT!”

Leo was the first to move, her torch quivering in her hands as she crouched down, using the corpses as handholds to climb. The stench of death clung to her, the heat rising from the pile making her gag. Her foot slipped on the slick surface of a predator’s shredded wing, and she choked back a cry.

Then one of the “dead” predators moved.

Its head snapped toward her, razor-sharp teeth gnashing as it lunged. Leo screamed, jerking back, and lost her footing completely. She tumbled down the mound of bodies, landing hard at the base, exposed in the flickering light.

“Leo!” Y/N shouted, already scrambling down after her.

Leo barely had time to roll to her side before a massive predator slammed onto the sled-shield she had been crawling beneath. Bone-blades pierced through the metal with a deafening screech, missing her by mere inches. The creature howled, thrashing violently as it tried to free itself from the shield. Its fury was palpable, steam rising from its heaving body as the torchlight illuminated its jagged, serrated form.

Jungkook was a blur of movement.

He stepped to the edge of the light, his posture eerily calm, his muscles coiled like a predator himself. The creature turned to face him, its clicking intensifying into a furious crescendo. It lunged, its scythe-like blades slicing through the air with deadly precision.

Jungkook dodged, his movements impossibly fast and fluid. He slid under the predator’s chest, his shiv flashing as it carved deep into its vulnerable underbelly. Blue blood sprayed, hissing as it hit the ground.

The predator screamed, a sound so piercing it made Y/N’s ears ring. It reared back, swiping wildly, but Jungkook was relentless. He moved like a shadow, every step calculated, every strike precise. The creature lunged again, its massive jaws snapping shut where Jungkook had been just a second before.

“Stay down, Leo!” Y/N yelled, dragging the girl back toward the shield as the battle raged.

Jungkook ducked under another swipe, his shiv slicing through the creature’s tendon. It stumbled, one of its legs collapsing beneath it. He didn’t hesitate. In a single fluid motion, he vaulted onto its back, driving his blade into the base of its skull. The predator convulsed violently, its death throes shaking the ground.

Jungkook leapt clear just as the creature collapsed, its massive form slamming into the pile of corpses with a sickening crunch.

For a moment, there was silence, save for the labored breathing of the group. Jungkook turned, his face streaked with blue blood, his eyes unreadable behind his goggles.

“Get up,” he said to Leo, his voice steady but firm. “We’re not stopping here.”

He gestured toward the pile. “Over it. Now.”

Y/N helped Leo to her feet, her own legs trembling as she nodded. They climbed the barricade, the others following close behind. The sound of clicking returned, growing louder, the darkness behind them shifting as more predators closed in.

Jungkook glanced back once, his expression grim. “Move faster. Or you’ll find out how fast I can’t save you.”

A piercing, shrieking click cut through the air, reverberating off the canyon walls. Jungkook spun instinctively, his movements sharp and precise. Above them, a monstrous shape unfurled, its hammer-shaped head swaying like a deadly pendulum. The creature’s pale, segmented body shimmered grotesquely in the faint light, its sinewy muscles rippling as it prepared to strike.

Hot, rancid breath washed over them, thick and suffocating. The predator loomed closer, every inch of it screaming lethal intent. Y/N felt her limbs lock in place, her instincts fighting against the primal urge to run.

Jungkook, however, was already moving. His hand darted to his belt, and with a metallic whisper, he unsheathed his shiv. The blade caught the faint flicker of torchlight, gleaming like a sliver of salvation.

The beast lunged, its hammerhead smashing down toward Jungkook with a force that cracked the earth beneath it. But Jungkook had already sidestepped, the ground where he’d stood exploding into shards of stone and dust.

“Back up!” he barked, his voice cutting through the chaos like a whip.

Y/N and Namjoon obeyed immediately, stumbling backward as they dragged Leo and the sled-shield with them. The predator rose again, its massive frame casting long, twisting shadows. It released a guttural howl, its hammerhead shifting slightly to reveal serrated mandibles that snapped together with terrifying precision.

Jungkook didn’t falter. His expression remained cold and unyielding, his eyes locked on the beast. He moved with the calculated grace of a predator himself, circling the creature, his shiv gripped tightly in his hand.

The creature lunged a second time, faster and more deliberate. Its head whipped through the air with a sound like a breaking whip, aiming to crush him. But Jungkook dropped low, sliding forward beneath its torso with lethal precision.

In a single, fluid motion, he drove his blade upward. The shiv’s edge found the soft, pale flesh of the beast’s underbelly, slicing through with sickening ease. Blue, viscous blood sprayed out in a violent arc, steaming as it hit the cold rocks.

The creature let out a bone-rattling shriek, a sound so loud and alien it felt like it might tear the sky apart. Its segmented legs spasmed wildly, gouging the ground as it staggered. Blue blood poured from the gash Jungkook had made, its innards spilling out in a grotesque heap of steaming flesh.

Jungkook rolled clear as the beast crumpled, its body convulsing once before collapsing in a heap. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burning gore.

He rose to his feet, his movements steady and controlled. Without a second thought, he wiped the blade clean on the predator’s hide, blue streaks staining his fingers. His breathing was calm, almost unnervingly so, as if slaying such a monstrous foe was routine.

Turning back to the group, Jungkook’s face was unreadable beneath the streaks of blue ichor smeared across his skin. His eyes, however, burned with a glint of something dangerous and unyielding.

Y/N and Namjoon stared at him, frozen in shock, their breaths ragged and shallow. Even Leo, half-hidden beneath the sled, peeked out with wide, horrified eyes.

“Didn’t know who he was fuckin’ with,” Jungkook muttered, his tone flat but laced with a quiet venom.

There was no time to linger. The distant clicking and howling of more predators echoed from deeper in the canyon, the sound growing louder. Jungkook turned away from the beast’s steaming corpse, his focus already shifting to the next threat.

Namjoon’s voice broke the silence, panicked and raw. “Yeonjun! Where’s Yeonjun?”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t stop moving. He gestured sharply toward the sled. “Get the girl back under. Keep going,” he ordered.

“YEONJUN!” Namjoon shouted again, his voice cracking with desperation.

Jungkook’s tone turned lethal, a growl that cut through the canyon air. “KEEP GOING OR I WILL!”

Before they could argue, Yeonjun reappeared—but not in the way they’d hoped. He was thrown into the flickering light by some unseen force, his body a broken, jerking silhouette. Blood streamed from jagged wounds, his limbs twitching feebly as he reached out, his eyes wide with terror.

“Yeonjun!” Namjoon surged forward, but before he could reach him, the boy was yanked back into the darkness by a pair of glistening mandibles. His scream was cut short, swallowed by the clicking and howling of the predators.

Jungkook didn’t look back. “Move!” he barked. “Now!”

The group stumbled forward, dragging the sled-shield and their trembling bodies into the widening canyon. The worst of the sounds began to fall behind them, the predators momentarily distracted by their own frenzied feeding. Y/N dared to hope—just for a second—that they might survive.

But then the torches sputtered.

Leo froze beneath the sled, staring at the shield above her as faint pattering sounds hit the metal. At first, it was soft, almost like mist. Then it grew heavier, louder.

“What’s that?” she whispered.

Y/N extended her hand past the edge of the sled, catching the liquid on her palm. Her stomach churned as she realized it wasn’t blood.

“Rain,” Namjoon murmured, his voice hollow.

The downpour came fast and relentless, extinguishing one torch after another. The flames hissed and sputtered, fighting for survival before dying entirely. They were plunged into near-total darkness, the air heavy with the metallic scent of wet rock and desperation.

Jungkook ripped off his goggles, his eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. He stared up at the black void above, his lips curling into a snarl. “So where the hell’s God now, huh?” he growled, his voice bitter and venomous. “I’ll tell you where! He’s up there, PISSING ON ME!”

“Jungkook!” Y/N’s voice was sharp, cutting through his anger. “How close?”

He squinted into the darkness, his face giving nothing away.

“Tell me the settlement is right there!” she pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation. “JUNGKOOK, PLEASE!”

His answer gutted her. “We can’t make it.”

The sound behind them swelled, the predators closing in. Jungkook’s gaze darted to the canyon wall, spotting a narrow fissure in the rock. He pointed sharply. “Here. Hide here.”

They scrambled toward the crevice, Leo crawling beneath the sled as Y/N and Namjoon wedged themselves into the narrow space. The last torch flickered and died, leaving them in utter darkness.

Y/N hesitated, watching as Jungkook moved to lift the sled-shield, sliding it over the opening like a makeshift barrier.

“Why’s he still out there?” Leo whispered, her voice trembling.

Y/N didn’t answer. She didn’t know. Was he protecting them? Or leaving them to fend for themselves?

Jungkook’s silhouette lingered outside for a moment, his shiv gleaming faintly as he faced the growing darkness. The sounds of clicking and snapping grew louder, closing in. He rolled his shoulders, adjusting his grip on the blade.

“I’ll buy you time,” he said quietly, more to himself than to them. “Stay hidden. Don’t move.”

Then he stepped away from the crevice, swallowed by the shadows.

Outside, the storm raged with relentless fury, rain pouring down in sheets that turned the rocky ground into a slick, treacherous incline. Jungkook planted his boots firmly in the mud, every step a battle as he hauled the cells up the slope. The harness straps bit into his shoulders, the weight of the cells dragging him backward with every movement. His muscles burned, veins bulging as he gritted his teeth against the strain.

The wind howled, carrying with it the faint, distant echoes of predators’ clicks and howls, a haunting reminder that the danger was far from over. But Jungkook didn’t waver. He bent his body into the climb, his breath coming in harsh bursts, the sound swallowed by the cacophony of the storm.

Finally, his boots found purchase on the uneven ground near the top of the rise. With one last, herculean effort, he heaved the cells over the edge, collapsing to his knees in the mud for a fleeting moment. Rain lashed at his face, plastering his hair to his forehead and running in rivulets down his sharp features. He ignored it, his chest heaving as he forced himself upright.

And then he saw it.

The settlement.

Faintly illuminated by the glow of the skiff’s engines, it lay in the distance, a flickering beacon of hope against the oppressive darkness. Its lights shimmered through the rain, blurred by the sheets of water cascading from the heavens, but it was there. Real. A sanctuary within reach.

Jungkook’s gaze lingered on the sight, his jaw tightening. Relief tried to claw its way into his chest, but he shoved it down. There was no room for celebration, not yet. Not until the others were here. Not until they were all safe.

He gripped the harness straps again, his fingers slipping briefly on the rain-soaked leather. A grim determination settled over him, his expression hardening like stone. He adjusted the weight of the cells, bending slightly to center it, and began moving again.

Each step was deliberate, methodical, as he dragged the cells through the thickening mud. The rain intensified, hammering down with almost punishing force, but he didn’t falter. His boots slipped occasionally, sending jolts through his body as he corrected his balance, but he kept his focus forward, his eyes locked on the faint glow ahead.

The storm seemed to rise against him, as if the world itself were trying to keep him from reaching that distant light. Lightning split the sky, illuminating the canyon walls behind him in stark flashes, revealing shapes that moved too fast to be human. He didn’t look back.

The weight of the cells bore down on him, the straps digging deeper into his shoulders, his back screaming in protest. But he didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

With a final push, he crested the incline, dragging the cells fully onto the flat ground beyond. For a moment, he paused, his silhouette stark against the storm-lit backdrop. Rain plastered his shirt to his frame, water dripping from his lashes as he gazed out at the settlement.

Without looking back, he adjusted the straps once more.

The crevice was cold and damp, the muffled sounds of the storm outside a constant reminder of the chaos just beyond their fragile sanctuary. Leo huddled closer to Y/N, her small frame trembling as much from fear as from the chill. Her voice was barely above a whisper, strained and fragile, as though speaking louder might shatter the fragile silence. “He’s not coming back, is he?”

Y/N’s heart twisted at the question. She tightened her grip on the girl, pulling her closer, though her own thoughts churned with doubt and dread. Her gaze shifted to Namjoon, who sat hunched against the wall, his face shadowed and unreadable. “Did Jungkook say anything to you?” she asked, her voice sharper than she intended.

Namjoon’s head lifted slightly, and he shook it, his expression neutral but weighted with unspoken thoughts. “No,” he said simply, his tone calm but offering no comfort.

Y/N opened her mouth to press further, but something stopped her. She squinted at Namjoon, her brow furrowing. It wasn’t his face—no, it was the fact that she could see it. The dim, suffocating darkness that had surrounded them since they entered the crevice was no longer absolute. A faint light illuminated the space, soft and bluish, like a distant star.

“There’s light in here,” she said, her voice tinged with confusion and a flicker of hope.

Namjoon noticed it too. He pushed himself up, his eyes scanning the rocky walls of the crevice. Slowly, he climbed higher, his hands brushing along the slick surface until they found the source. “It’s here,” he murmured, plucking at something clinging to the stone.

He descended carefully, holding his hand out to Y/N and Leo. In his palm were faintly glowing shapes, tiny and delicate, their soft blue-white light pulsing faintly like the beat of a distant heart.

“Larva,” Namjoon said, his voice hushed as though he feared disturbing the fragile creatures.

Leo leaned in closer, her wide eyes reflecting the glow. “Glow worms,” she whispered, awe mingling with exhaustion.

Y/N stared at the glimmering larvae, her mind snapping into motion like a gear clicking into place. The light was faint, but it was light. It had potential. “How many bottles do we have?” she asked suddenly, her voice taking on an urgent edge. “Empty ones?”

Namjoon frowned, the question catching him off guard. “Maybe two, three?” he guessed, glancing toward the sled.

“Check,” Y/N ordered, her voice brisk now. She shifted Leo off her lap gently but firmly, her mind already piecing together a plan.

Namjoon nodded, crawling over to the sled where the group’s supplies had been hastily stowed. He rummaged through the bags, pulling out three empty glass bottles, their surfaces slick with condensation.

Y/N examined the larvae still glowing in Namjoon’s palm, then the faint traces on the wall above them. They were scattered, but there were enough to work with. Carefully, she reached out to one of the glowing clusters on the wall. It stuck to her fingers, its glow intensifying slightly as she transferred it into an empty bottle.

“We can use this,” she said, her mind racing. “If we can gather enough, we can make light. Not like the torches, but enough to see—enough to move.”

“But won’t the predators see it too?” Leo asked hesitantly, her fear still overriding her budding hope.

Y/N nodded. “That’s the goal. Light keeps those fuckers away.”

Namjoon passed her another bottle, and Y/N worked quickly, carefully gathering more of the bioluminescent larvae from the walls. Leo watched her hands move, her awe slowly returning. “They’re...beautiful,” she murmured, almost to herself.

Namjoon stood back, watching the bottles begin to glow brighter as they filled with the pulsing larvae. His expression softened for the first time since they’d entered the crevice. “It’s something,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

“It’s a start,” Y/N corrected, holding up the glowing bottle like a fragile beacon. “Now we just have to survive long enough for it to matter.”

The rain hammered down relentlessly, turning the settlement into a glistening, muddy expanse. Every surface gleamed under the rhythmic assault, and the air buzzed with the sharp tang of ozone and wet metal. Jungkook stood in the skiff’s cockpit, his face illuminated by the dim glow of its dormant control panel. He wiped his soaked brow with the back of his hand, his fingers trembling—not from fear, but from the bone-deep exhaustion that clawed at him.

The skiff was old. Its metal frame bore the scars of countless missions: scratches, scorch marks, and hastily patched-over dents. Inside, wires dangled from an open panel beneath the dashboard, sparking faintly as rainwater dripped onto them. Jungkook muttered a curse under his breath, dropping to one knee to get to work.

He yanked his toolkit from a side compartment, flipping it open with a snap. Tools clattered inside—a tangled mess of spanners, screwdrivers, and salvaged parts that looked as battered as the skiff itself. Grabbing a pair of pliers and a wire cutter, Jungkook leaned into the open panel, his eyes narrowing as he examined the mess of frayed wires and corroded circuits.

The primary ignition system was fried. The storm’s earlier surge must’ve shorted it out. Jungkook’s jaw tightened as he traced the damage, his fingers working methodically to strip away the melted insulation and reveal the intact copper beneath.

“Come on,” he growled, his voice low, almost a prayer to the skiff’s battered machinery. “You’ve been through worse. Don’t die on me now.”

He cut and reconnected wires, twisting them tightly together before sealing the joins with a strip of adhesive tape he’d salvaged from the settlement’s dwindling supplies. Sparks flew as he tested the connection, but the hum of power returning to the system sent a flicker of hope through him.

Jungkook shoved himself out from under the dashboard and slammed the panel closed. Standing, he reached for the control lever, his knuckles white as he pulled it. The skiff groaned in protest, the engines sputtering weakly before falling silent again.

“Damn it!” he spat, slamming his fist against the console.

The rain continued its relentless assault, pooling around his boots as he climbed out of the cockpit. He scrambled onto the rear deck, where the exposed engine compartment loomed like the heart of a dying beast. Peeling back the protective cover, Jungkook grimaced at the sight of water pooling in the housing.

Grabbing a hand pump, he worked quickly to siphon the rainwater out, his muscles burning with the effort. His breath came in short bursts, misting in the cold air as he worked, his focus unwavering.

Once the water was cleared, Jungkook leaned over the engine, inspecting the fuel cells he’d hauled up from the canyon earlier. One of them was cracked, the faint smell of leaking fuel mixing with the rain-soaked air. He switched it out with a spare, his hands steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him.

“Almost there,” he muttered to himself, tightening the last connection.

Back in the cockpit, Jungkook wiped his hands on his damp pants and gripped the controls. He hit the ignition switch again, his heart pounding. The skiff sputtered, choked, and then roared to life, its twin engines glowing with a fierce, amber light that cut through the storm. The hum deepened, steadying into a powerful thrum that reverberated through the ground beneath him.

Outside, the light from the engines spilled across the settlement, illuminating the rain-soaked landscape with an otherworldly glow. The mud glistened like molten metal, and the structures of the settlement cast jagged shadows that danced in the downpour.

Jungkook allowed himself a brief smile, his chest rising and falling with relief. He adjusted the controls, testing the throttle as the skiff responded, its frame vibrating beneath him like a creature eager to move.

But his work wasn’t finished. He checked the fuel levels, ensuring the cells were stable. He grabbed a handful of rope and tied down the loose cargo, his mind running through every possible failure point. The skiff might have been operational now, but it was far from invincible.

As the engines settled into a steady hum, Jungkook climbed back into the cockpit and stared out at the stormy horizon. The glow of the engines reflected in his eyes, fierce and determined.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, her breaths ragged as she scrambled out of the crevice. The faint glow of the worms clinging to the rocks illuminated her path, their eerie light casting trembling shadows on the canyon walls. Behind her, Leo whispered a frantic protest, but Y/N didn’t stop to listen. She couldn’t.

Her boots slipped on the rain-slicked rock as she clambered up the incline, the roar of the storm masking the sound of her hurried movements. Above, the dark sky churned with ominous clouds, lightning splitting the heavens in jagged streaks. Her gaze locked on the faint glimmer in the distance—the settlement.

It stood like a lone beacon in the night, faintly illuminated by the glow of the skiff’s engines. The sight filled her with equal parts relief and fury. Jungkook was there, preparing to leave, and he was about to do it without them.

Her mind raced, her thoughts a whirlwind of desperation and anger. How could he? After everything they’d been through together, after the sacrifices and bloodshed, how could he even think about abandoning them?

Her lungs burned, her legs screaming in protest as she pushed herself harder. The mud sucked at her boots, threatening to slow her, but she fought against it. She slipped once, landing hard on her hands and knees, but the pain barely registered. She was back on her feet in an instant, her resolve unshaken.

Ahead, the settlement’s crude perimeter loomed closer. The skeletal remains of makeshift barricades stood silhouetted against the glow of the skiff. She could hear the faint hum of its engines now, the sound growing louder with each step.

Leo and Namjoon huddled close around the faint glow of their makeshift light—a repurposed bottle filled with wriggling glow-worms. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had, their only barrier against the consuming darkness. The dim bioluminescence painted the walls of the narrow crevice in ghostly blue light, casting long, trembling shadows that danced with each movement of the worms.

Namjoon’s hands trembled as he clutched the bottle, the light shifting faintly with his every shudder. His knuckles were white, his grip desperate, as though he believed the fragile container of light was the only thing keeping them tethered to hope. Leo sat pressed against his side, her knees drawn up to her chest, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.

The air was stifling, heavy with the smell of damp earth and the acrid tang of fear. Every sound seemed amplified in the tight space—the drip of water from the rocks above, the ragged breaths of their small group, and, worst of all, the relentless scrabbling from outside.

The claws had started again, raking against the shield that Jungkook had shoved over the crevice to keep them hidden. The metal groaned under the strain, the scraping sound grating against their nerves like nails on glass.

Namjoon leaned forward, his jaw clenched as he squinted through a small hole in the makeshift barrier. His breath hitched, his chest rising and falling quickly, the bottle trembling in his grasp.

“What do you see?” Leo whispered, her voice barely audible.

Namjoon didn’t answer right away. His eyes strained to make out shapes beyond the faint glow, but the storm outside was relentless, rain pounding against the shield, masking the shapes of their predators.

And then it happened.

A blade shot through the hole without warning, slicing through the air where Namjoon’s face had been a split second earlier. The metallic edge glinted in the faint light, a deadly flash of silver that disappeared as quickly as it came.

Namjoon yelped, his body jerking back violently. He clutched the bottle of glow-worms to his chest like a talisman, the light within casting wild, chaotic shadows on the walls as it shook in his hands.

“Namjoon!” Leo gasped, her hands darting out to steady him. Her voice quavered, teetering on the edge of panic.

“I’m fine,” Namjoon panted, though his voice betrayed his terror. He glanced at the barrier, his eyes wide and unblinking, the image of the blade burned into his mind. The light from the glow-worms reflected in his gaze, making him look almost as ghostly as the creatures they were hiding from.

The scratching sounds didn’t stop. If anything, they grew louder, more insistent, as if the predators were testing the limits of the shield. The scraping of claws against metal was interspersed with sharp clicking noises—communication, perhaps, or the prelude to an attack.

Namjoon shifted closer to Leo, his free hand gripping her arm tightly. The pressure of his fingers was almost painful, but she didn’t pull away. She welcomed the contact, grounding herself in the reality of his presence.

“We can’t just sit here,” Leo whispered, her voice shaking.

“We don’t have a choice,” Namjoon replied, his voice hoarse. He held the glow-worms higher, angling the faint light toward the hole. The bioluminescence seemed to hold the creatures at bay for now, the clicking and scraping faltering whenever the glow intensified.

“They’re scared of the light,” Leo murmured, her voice filled with a fragile hope.

“Not scared enough,” Namjoon muttered grimly. He glanced down at the bottle in his hands, watching the tiny worms squirm inside. It was a fragile thing, their makeshift light, and he didn’t know how long it would last.

A sudden thud against the shield made both of them jump, their heads snapping toward the source of the sound. The metal barrier bowed inward slightly, the force behind it unmistakable.

“They’re getting bolder,” Leo said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Namjoon swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the glow-worms. “We have to hold out,” he said, his tone wavering but determined. “Jungkook will come back. He has to.”

But even as he said the words, doubt crept into his voice. They had no way of knowing if Jungkook was still alive, if he’d managed to make it to the settlement—or if he’d abandoned them entirely.

Leo glanced at Namjoon, her fear mirrored in his face. They both knew the truth: they were running out of time.

The rain drummed incessantly on the skiff’s hull as Jungkook sat in the cockpit, his fingers dancing over the controls. The interior lights dimmed to a soft glow while the external beams pierced the downpour, illuminating the barren, desolate landscape. He exhaled sharply, leaning back in the chair, his eyes scanning the monitors for any threats. Then something outside caught his attention—a figure standing defiantly in the headbeams.

Y/N.

Rain streamed down her face, her hair plastered against her skin, but her expression burned with intensity. She wasn’t moving. She wasn’t stepping aside. If anything, she seemed ready to throw herself under the skiff to stop it from taking off. Her silhouette, stark against the rain and light, was both fragile and unyielding. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, neither moved.

Jungkook sighed heavily and flipped a switch. The hatch hissed open, the sound barely audible over the pounding rain. He didn’t say a word as Y/N climbed aboard, water dripping from her clothes in rivulets that pooled on the floor. She paused midway down the gangway, the faint interior glow casting harsh shadows on her face. Despite her soaked appearance, the light seemed to carve her features sharper, her resolve unshakable.

“You’re not leaving,” she said, her voice firm, each word deliberate. “Not until we go back for the others.”

Jungkook leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression unbothered. He let out a low, humorless laugh, the sound more dismissive than amused.

“I promised them,” Y/N pressed, taking a step closer. “I said we’d go back with more light. That’s exactly what we’re going to do.”

“You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a shit,” Jungkook replied, his tone cold, his gaze steady.

Y/N’s eyes narrowed, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “What’s the matter, Jungkook? Afraid?”

At that, he raised an eyebrow. “You’re confusing me with Lee,” he said, his voice calm and measured. “Fear was his monkey. Me? I deal in life and death. All that stuff in between? Shades of gray my eyes don’t see.”

Y/N’s anger flared. “I trusted you. I thought maybe—just maybe—some part of you wanted to be human again.”

Jungkook pushed off the wall, closing the distance between them in a deliberate, slow stride. “Truthfully?” he said with a faint shrug. “I wouldn’t even know how.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, her determination faltering for just a moment. “Then wait for me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll go back myself. Just give me the light.”

Jungkook smirked and tossed her a light. It clattered to the floor at her feet, broken and useless. Y/N glared at him, her fists clenching at her sides. “You bastard,” she hissed. “Just come with me.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “You come with me.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She stared at him, incredulous.

“They’re already dead,” he said bluntly, his eyes scanning her face for a reaction. “Get on board.”

“You’re messing with me,” she said, her voice cracking. “I know you are.”

“Of course I am,” Jungkook admitted with infuriating calm. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t leave you here. If you believe anything about me, believe that.”

Y/N’s voice rose, trembling with desperation. “I promised them. I have to go. I have to…”

Jungkook reached out, his movements deliberate and slow. “Step aboard, Y/N.”

“I can’t…” Her voice wavered, her confidence slipping.

“Here,” he said, extending his hand. “Make it easy on yourself.”

“Don’t do this to me,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“Just give me your hand.”

“They could still be…” Her voice was barely audible now, choked with emotion.

“No one’s going to blame you,” he said softly, his tone almost kind. “Take my hand and save yourself.”

Y/N stared at his hand, her thoughts a whirlwind of guilt and defiance. Then, in a burst of motion, she grabbed it—but instead of stepping aboard, she yanked him down the gangway. They tumbled into the mud, the rain soaking them both instantly. Jungkook tried to rise, but Y/N was faster. She planted a knee on his neck, pinning him down with surprising strength.

“I will not give up on them!” she snarled, her voice raw with emotion. “I will not leave anyone on this rock with those things!”

Jungkook moved in a blur, rolling them over until he was on top, pinning her arms with his hands. The sharp tip of his shiv pressed lightly against her neck, but his face wasn’t angry. His expression was calm, curious even. His voice, when he spoke, was soft. “You’d die for them?”

“I would try for them,” Y/N spat back, her eyes blazing up at him.

“You barely know them,” he countered, his tone almost detached.

“I’m human,” she replied, her voice trembling but fierce. “I know you think that’s a weakness, but I feel fear—mine and theirs. Goddammit, Jungkook, yes. I would die for them.”

For a long moment, Jungkook didn’t move. Rain dripped from his hair onto her face, mingling with her tears. Finally, he sighed and eased back, the shiv disappearing into its sheath.

“You’re an idiot,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Let’s fucking move before they get eaten and we’ve wasted our time.”

The scrabbling at the shield grew louder, each scratch like a countdown to disaster. Namjoon tensed, his fingers wrapped tightly around the hilt of his blade. His breath came fast and shallow as he fixed his eyes on the vibrating metal, ready to strike at whatever horror broke through.

Suddenly, the shield shifted. It heaved to one side, and for a split second, Namjoon thought the worst. Then, with a grunt of effort, Y/N appeared, her arms trembling as she dragged the barrier aside. Her soaked face was flushed with determination, streaked with mud and rain.

Behind her, looming like a shadow, was Jungkook. His dark eyes scanned the interior with an intensity that sent a chill through the air. “You came for us,” Leo whispered, her voice shaky, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook muttered, brushing past her without a second glance. “We’re all fucking amazed. Anyone not ready for this?”

They wasted no time. Y/N and Namjoon moved to gather the last of their makeshift lights—bottles filled with dimly glowing worms. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had. Outside, the rain poured harder, drenching them as they emerged from the crevice. The ground had turned to slick mud, making every step treacherous.

“Tighter,” Jungkook barked, his voice cutting through the downpour. “Stay tight and stay quiet.”

They moved in a huddled cluster, their breaths hitching with every distant screech or skittering sound. The faint glow of their lights barely illuminated the space in front of them, leaving the surrounding darkness heavy and oppressive. Jungkook led the way, his steps sure, his eyes constantly scanning for movement.

At the top of a muddy rise, Jungkook stopped abruptly, throwing up a hand. The group froze behind him, their breaths suspended.

“What is it?” Namjoon whispered, straining to see.

“I don’t hear—” Y/N started, but Jungkook’s hand shot out, clamping over her mouth. He didn’t speak, just tilted his head toward the base of the rise.

In the dim glow of the worms, the scene below slowly came into focus. A predator crouched by a pool of water, its elongated limbs gleaming with rain. It moved with a predatory grace, lapping at the water in sharp, mechanical motions. A second one appeared, then a third. Soon, the pool became a grotesque gathering, the creatures landing silently, their guttural clicks blending with the patter of the rain.

“Get behind me,” Jungkook whispered, his voice barely audible but commanding.

Y/N and the others moved closer together, gripping one another tightly. The predators shifted, revealing a slim gap in their formation. A path.

“When I go, we go,” Jungkook murmured, his tone steady as steel. “Full-throttle. No stopping, no looking back.”

The group nodded, their hands trembling as they prepared to run. The rain seemed to fall even harder, each drop a drumbeat against the tense silence.

The gap widened. Jungkook tensed, his muscles coiled like a spring. “Ready... ready…”

Then he bolted.

The group followed in a chaotic, stumbling chain, their glow-worm lights bobbing wildly. The predators scattered at the sudden intrusion, their clicks turning to screeches as they scrambled out of the way. The sound was deafening, a cacophony of rage and hunger. Water splashed up in arcs as they charged through the pool and up the rise.

Leo slipped, her foot catching on a root hidden in the mud. She screamed as she slid backward, her legs plunging into the water. The predators snapped their heads toward her, their movements too fast to track.

“Leo!” Y/N screamed, but Jungkook was already moving. He spun on his heel, skidding through the mud to reach her just as the first predator lunged. With a growl of effort, he caught her arm and hauled her upward, throwing her over the top of the rise with a strength that defied belief.

“Go!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “You know the way!”

Y/N hesitated for a fraction of a second, torn between running and staying. Then Namjoon grabbed her arm, dragging her forward. Together, they helped Leo to her feet, and the three of them scrambled down the other side of the rise.

The settlement was a faint silhouette in the distance, its jagged structures barely visible through the rain and darkness. The glow-worm light flickered as they ran, the mud sucking at their boots with every step. Y/N’s lungs burned, her legs screaming for rest, but she forced herself onward. She couldn’t stop. Not now.

Behind them, the night came alive with sound. The screeches of the predators grew louder, accompanied by the sharp clang of metal against claws. Y/N risked a glance back, her heart plummeting.

Jungkook wasn’t there.

Her feet faltered, panic surging through her. “Jungkook!” she shouted into the night, her voice hoarse. Namjoon grabbed her arm, pulling her forward.

“Keep moving!” he yelled. “He’ll catch up!”

A sound cut through the rain—heavy, wet breathing, like some monstrous engine laboring in the dark. Then, out of the shadows, movement. Jungkook appeared, his figure a blur of mud and blood, his steps unrelenting.

But he wasn’t alone.

A predator lunged out of the darkness, its jagged limbs slicing through the air. Jungkook skidded to a halt, his boots digging into the mud. Another predator perched above, crouched like a nightmare on the edge of a building, its clicking reverberating in the night.

Jungkook’s hands moved in a flash, twin shivs appearing in his grip. The faint light caught the blades, illuminating his face—a mask of focus and feral determination. His breathing steadied, his body lowering into a stance that spoke of countless battles.

Behind him, the creatures circled, their movements deliberate, their clicks crescendoing into a symphony of death.

Y/N froze at the settlement’s edge, her heart pounding. “Jungkook!” she screamed again, her voice breaking.

He didn’t look back. Instead, he bared his teeth in a sharp grin, his eyes glinting with something primal. “Keep running!” he roared, the sound cutting through the rain like a war cry.

Then he charged.

Back at the skiff, Namjoon and Leo staggered up the gangway, their soaked bodies leaning heavily on one another. The warm glow of the headlamps engulfed them, offering a fleeting sense of safety, but the fear in their eyes remained.

Y/N stood just outside, her body trembling, every muscle screaming at her to board. Her hand gripped the metal railing so tightly her knuckles shone white against the rain-slick surface. The storm pelted her relentlessly, its cold bite barely registering against the heat of her adrenaline.

“Captain,” Namjoon called softly, urgency threading through his tone. “Come aboard. Please.”

But Y/N didn’t move. Her eyes scanned the ink-black night, searching for any sign of life—or death. She couldn’t abandon him. Not like this.

Then it came: a sound that turned her blood to ice. A terrible, gut-wrenching cacophony of screams—human and beast, interwoven into a symphony of violence.

Jungkook.

Her instincts overtook her. Without hesitation, she yanked the glow-worm bottle from Namjoon’s neck and plunged into the darkness, ignoring his frantic shouts behind her.

“Y/N! Don’t! Frenchie!”

The glow-worms threw shaky halos of light as Y/N sprinted through the downpour, breath tearing from her lungs in ragged bursts. Rain sheeted down, soaking her to the bone, blurring her vision until the trees became shadows and shadows became monsters. But she didn’t stop. She didn’t slow. She couldn’t. Somewhere ahead, someone was screaming. Screaming like they were being ripped apart.

Her boots hit the mud with heavy slaps, slipping and catching, slipping again. Her heartbeat was a thunderclap in her ears, almost drowning out the storm. Almost. Because the sounds ahead were louder now—sharp, inhuman, brutal. Screeches. Something tearing. Something dying.

She burst into the clearing like a bullet through fog, and the scene hit her like a punch to the gut.

The glow-worms gave off just enough light to illuminate the horror: a chaos of blood and shadow and steel.

Jungkook was on his knees, soaked and wild-eyed, his chest rising and falling like he’d been running for days. He was swinging something—a metal bar, maybe? A broken pipe? —at the circling predators that slithered in and out of the gloom, slick limbs glinting with rain and blood. They were fast, terrifyingly coordinated, like some nightmarish ballet. Shadows slicing through shadows, all limbs and blades and hunger.

Blood streaked his face. Some of it his. Some of it not. He looked like something carved from war.

One of the things—taller than the rest, limbs bending wrong—peeled off from the pack and lunged at her.

Y/N barely had time to register it. Just instinct. She dropped like a stone, hitting the ground hard as the creature’s blade of a limb whistled past her skull, close enough to feel the wind of it. She hit the mud face-first, the impact jarring, cold and wet and full of blood.

Her own, maybe. She didn’t care.

“It’s me! It’s me!” she screamed, scrambling forward on hands and knees. “Jungkook, it’s me!”

He turned toward her like he’d been yanked on a string, and for a second—a single, gut-twisting second—his eyes didn’t recognize her. They were wide, haunted, raw.

Not scared of the monsters. Jungkook had never been afraid to die.

No, this was something else.

This was the look of a man afraid he was about to lose everything.

The second they were close enough, Y/N threw herself into his arms. No plan. No hesitation. She just collapsed into him, wrapped her arms tight around his sides and buried her face in his chest.

She couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. All the strength she’d been clutching onto shattered.

She sobbed like something inside her had cracked open. Big, shaking, gasping sobs. The kind you don’t come back from right away.

She cried for Bindi and Daku. For Peter and Namjoon’s boys.

For Leo. For Namjoon.

Even for Lee. Poor, broken, strung-out Lee, who’d never stood a chance.

And she cried—for Shields.

Shields, who she hated. Who had died screaming. Shields, who’d put himself between the crew and death anyway.

“It’s not fair,” she moaned against Jungkook’s chest, her voice raw and small and lost.

He didn’t say anything at first. Didn’t know what to say.

This wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he was good at. Women didn’t throw themselves at him—not like this. Not with tears and shaking hands. Not with trust.

But he didn’t push her away.

Instead, slowly, he dropped his hands from where they’d hovered, unsure, and pulled her close. Wrapped those strong arms around her like they were made for this.

There were no chains this time.

Oh, Y/N.

She fit.

That was the weirdest part. She fit. Her body curved into his like it belonged there. Her head rested right beneath his chin, snug and natural. He wasn’t thinking about anything stupid—he wasn’t even thinking. He was just there, holding her.

And maybe that was enough.

Y/N’s sobs faded into quiet crying, just small sniffles now, her breath still hiccupping as she tried to pull herself back together.

She didn’t want to look at him.

Didn’t want him to see how far she’d fallen apart.

Didn’t want to see what he saw when he looked at her.

But she remembered—how safe she’d felt back on the skiff, when he’d held her waist to help her up. It hadn’t made sense then, but it hadn’t needed to. That pull toward him had been strange and terrifyingly familiar.

There was something about Jungkook. Always had been.

Now, in the dim glow from the bottle between them, the light from the glow-worms casting strange shadows on their faces, she let herself feel it.

The rain was still pouring, thick and relentless.

The planet was still dead.

But for a moment, it didn’t feel like it.

They pulled away at the same time, like something unspoken had passed between them. Just a few seconds of an embrace—but it had stretched out, slow and meaningful.

Y/N wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffling hard, avoiding his eyes. The embarrassment kicked in like a reflex. God, what was she doing breaking down like that?

But Jungkook didn’t mock her. Didn’t smirk. He was just watching her, face soft in a way she hadn’t seen before.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked, voice hoarse. “The holy man?”

And then his knees buckled.

Y/N barely caught him.

For the first time since the crash, Jungkook had fallen—and not because of anything trying to kill him. Just because his body had finally had enough.

She bent down, her hands fumbling, trembling. Found the bottle she’d dropped earlier and cradled it like it held the last light in the universe.

“The skiff,” she said, sliding to her knees next to him. She looped the bottle around his neck, the soft glow painting shadows across his bloodied skin. “Come on.”

Her voice cracked. But she kept going.

“We’re not dying here. Not today.”

Jungkook swayed, eyes fluttering like he was on the edge of giving up. For a second, she really thought he was going to. That his body had finally surrendered.

But then his jaw clenched. He gritted his teeth. Forced himself up, inch by inch, like a man rising from a grave.

She threw his arm around her shoulders, and they leaned on each other like two halves of something broken trying to walk in one piece.

“Just keep moving,” Y/N whispered, dragging in air like glass. “Ten steps. That’s all we need. Ten steps, Jungkook. We can do this.”

Maybe the words were for him. Maybe they were for her.

Didn’t matter. She needed them said.

“Nine steps. Almost there. Eight. Don’t look back. Don’t stop.”

The predators were screaming again behind them. Clicking, snarling, hunting. That terrible, guttural chorus rising like a stormcloud chasing them down.

Y/N’s legs felt like they were full of molten lead. Her back ached, her lungs felt carved out, her vision was doing that scary fuzzy thing at the edges—but she didn’t stop.

Jungkook was heavy. But he was moving.

They kept going, leaning hard into each other.

And then it happened.

That sound.

Sharp and wet and awful—like the world itself had split open. It sliced through the thick, rain-heavy air, and it didn’t belong. It wasn’t natural, didn’t come from the wind or the storm or the things hunting in the dark. It was something wrong.

And then came the impact.

A brutal hit, all force and chaos, like a freight hauler slamming into their backs. One second they were standing, barely upright, the next they were airborne—flung apart like rag dolls. Y/N hit the ground first, and it hurt.

Hard.

The breath exploded out of her lungs in a raw, useless gasp. Her spine jarred. Her head snapped back. Everything inside her rattled like she’d cracked open. The glow-worm bottle slipped from her hand, rolled into the muck, and kept rolling, casting a dim, sickly light across the slick, churning dirt.

Then the silence came.

That eerie, wrong silence. Like the world had hit pause. The rain kept falling, but she couldn’t hear it. The creatures in the distance—silent. Her own heartbeat—gone, or maybe just buried too deep beneath the throb of pain. It was a silence that swallowed sound, and breath, and hope.

Y/N blinked hard, tried to push herself up, but her body didn’t want to move. Her hands trembled as they sank into the cold, wet earth. She felt hollow, like something vital had been scooped out of her while she wasn’t looking.

Something was wrong.

Something terribly wrong.

And then the pain bloomed.

It didn’t creep in. It ripped through her.

A white-hot bolt of agony erupted in her side, sharp and blinding, and her scream caught in her throat like it didn’t know how to get out. Her eyes shot down, and for a moment—just one split second—she didn’t understand what she was seeing.

Then her mind caught up.

Something was inside her.

A grotesque, jagged limb jutted out from her side—bone, but not. It looked like bone filtered through a nightmare. Shiny and twisted, flecked with blood, slick with her own warmth.

It had punched through her.

Panic surged, all cold and frantic. Her thoughts fractured, scattered like broken glass. She tried to scream but managed only a strangled sob. Her body trembled beneath the weight of shock.

"Not for me," Jungkook’s voice cut through the haze. Hoarse. Raw. He was there suddenly, hands grabbing her, pulling her in.

His grip was strong, but his voice—there was something behind it. Something thin and cracking.

Fear.

Not for himself. For her.

She clung to him with what little strength she had left, her fingers clawing at his shirt, trying to hold on to something real. Her vision swam, dark at the edges, and everything was slipping. Her breath rattled in her chest like it didn’t belong to her anymore.

She wanted to fight. She wanted to. But it was too fast. Too much.

The light faded from her eyes as she collapsed against him. No scream. No last word. Just gone.

Y/N disappeared into the quiet.

The stillness was complete.

For one breath, two, maybe three, the entire world seemed to hold itself still. Then came the scream—not hers, but his.

Jungkook’s voice tore into the silence like a blade, raw and violent and desperate. It echoed off the trees, off the dirt, into the stars.

He laid her down like something sacred, but his hands were shaking. He didn’t know what he was doing. He wasn’t built for this—this kind of loss. Not her.

Never her.

Then the creatures were on him.

The snarl of a hunter cut through the silence behind him, and without thinking, he spun. Rage rose, unfiltered and unchecked. The first one lunged—fast, too fast—but Jungkook was faster.

His hand gripped the jagged metal pipe he’d dropped earlier, and he swung hard, driving it straight into the creature’s throat. There was a sickening crunch, a gurgling shriek, and it collapsed.

Another came from the side—he ducked low, rolled through the mud, came up swinging. The edge of the pipe caught the creature across the head, split it open with a wet crack.

They came fast after that.

Three more. Maybe four. Didn’t matter.

Jungkook moved like a storm, all fury and instinct. The pipe became an extension of his rage—jabbing, swinging, breaking bones, snapping limbs. He didn’t stop. Didn’t feel. Not the blood on his hands or the pain in his muscles or the ache blooming in his ribs.

One of them got close enough to rake a claw across his back. He roared, spun, drove the pipe through its chest so hard it got stuck. He let it go and pulled a blade from the body of another, used that instead.

When the last one fell, the clearing went still again.

Bodies twitched and bled into the mud.

Jungkook stood there for a long second, soaked in rain and blood, panting like a wild animal. The bodies of the creatures lay broken around him, steam rising from their carcasses in the cold night air. His chest heaved, every breath like fire in his throat. His hands—still clenched, still ready to kill—dripped red.

Then he turned.

And everything inside him stopped.

Y/N was gone.

The spot where she'd fallen, where he'd held her, where her blood had soaked into the earth—empty. No body. No trace. Just the flickering glow-worm bottle, cracked and sputtering out in the mud, casting its weak light over churned dirt and drag marks vanishing into the trees.

“No...” The word came out hoarse, broken. His eyes darted wildly into the shadows, scanning the treeline, searching for any movement, any sound—anything that might tell him this wasn’t real. That she wasn’t really gone. That maybe he’d just turned away for too long.

But he knew better. He felt it.

They had taken her.

He let out a sound—somewhere between a growl and a sob—and took off.

Back toward the skiff. Back through the dark.

The storm screamed around him, but he didn’t slow. His boots pounded the ground in a wild rhythm, slipping in the mud, crashing through low-hanging branches. He could still feel the warmth of her blood on his arms, still see her eyes fading into that terrible stillness.

He couldn’t think. Couldn’t feel. There was only forward.

The skiff. That was all that mattered now.

The rain blurred everything—trees, ground, sky—it all became one frantic smear of motion and noise. He didn’t know if he was screaming or just breathing too loud. Didn’t care.

When the ship finally broke through the clouds, it looked like both salvation and ruin.

The hull groaned under the strain of re-entry, its scorched wings catching fire as it tore through the atmosphere—like dying stars burning out in silence. It wasn’t built for this kind of flight. The skiff was a fragile thing, pieced together with desperation and whatever scraps were left behind. But it was all he had. It was all that remained.

Jungkook dropped into the pilot’s seat, muscles barely cooperating, every breath heavy with exhaustion. Blood slid down his back where one of the creatures had caught him—he didn’t remember when. Time had blurred into one long moment of loss and survival.

His hands found the controls automatically, guided by muscle memory. But they felt wrong. As if they belonged to someone else now. Someone untouched by grief. Someone who hadn’t just watched the last good thing in their life vanish into darkness.

His fingers drifted across the console, leaving a streak of blood. Not his.

Hers.

He didn’t wipe it away.

Instead, he stared at it—longer than he should have—jaw locked so tight it sent pain shooting up to his temples.

The nav screen flickered to life: Sol-Track 17B. The route was plotted. The destination didn’t matter. Not anymore. What mattered was the hollow space inside his chest. That aching, consuming absence.

Beside him, Leo sat motionless. A shadow of herself. Her eyes fixed on the stars like she was trying to fall into them, or maybe disappear altogether. The silence between them was unbearable. Heavy. Too real.

Jungkook was the one who finally broke it.

“You can talk to me now,” he said, voice cracked and raw, scraped from somewhere deep inside.

Leo didn’t respond right away. She stayed quiet, gaze lost in the black. When she finally spoke, it was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t know where to go,” she said. The words landed with weight, not just confusion but something deeper. “I was just running when this all started. Running from everything.”

She paused, fingers fidgeting against the worn edge of her seat. Then, softer, “Where are you going?”

Jungkook didn’t answer at first. Because he didn’t know. Maybe he never had.

“Nowhere,” he said finally, barely audible above the low hum of the engines. “I was just… running too.”

It wasn’t much. It wasn’t even an answer. But it was true. And in that moment, it was enough. Two people drifting, directionless, bound only by shared loss and silence. And somewhere in the middle of that quiet, they seemed to understand each other.

Neither had answers. Neither had safety. Only this—this ship, this moment, this space between everything they’d lost and whatever came next.

The skiff shifted course slightly, engines humming steady. Outside, the stars seemed to move with them, like the universe was shifting, realigning itself. A single bright star emerged in the darkness, clear and sharp.

Jungkook stared at it, something tightening in his chest.

“Might be worth seeing,” he said under his breath. He didn’t mean to say it aloud. It just… slipped out.

From the back, Namjoon stepped into view. Quiet. Grounded. The kind of calm that didn’t ask questions. His gaze landed on the same star, and something passed over his face—something soft, reverent.

“New Mecca,” he said, almost a whisper. As if the name itself held meaning. As if it carried hope.

Jungkook turned to look at him, unreadable. But when he spoke again, his voice held something between skepticism and longing.

“Think a soul could get lost there?” he asked. “In a place like that? Surrounded by people chasing something they’ll never catch?”

Namjoon didn’t blink. “It’s more the kind of place where souls are found,” he said simply. “Not lost.”

Jungkook said nothing, eyes drifting back to the star. He didn’t know if he believed it. He wasn’t sure if he could believe anything anymore.

The silence held, stretched taut over the hum of the skiff.

Leo shifted in her seat. Still staring at the void, but her voice cut through it.

“What do we tell them?” she asked. “When we land. About you.”

Jungkook didn’t turn. He kept his eyes forward, face unreadable.

“Tell ’em I died on that rock.”

Leo looked over at him, brow drawn. “You serious?”

He finally glanced her way—just a flicker of a look. Cold. Tired. Certain.

“Yeah.”

She didn’t push it. Just nodded, slowly. “Alright.”

Namjoon stood in the back, arms crossed, leaning against the wall like he’d been listening the whole time. His voice came low.

“Cleanest lie we’ve got.”

Jungkook’s mouth curved—barely. Not a smile. Not even close. But something like it.

“Let the dead man take the blame,” he said. “Might keep you all safer.”

No one argued.

Leo settled back into her seat, letting the weight of everything sink into her bones. Namjoon moved to the co-pilot’s chair and keyed in the final approach vector. The skiff adjusted, smooth and quiet.

They didn’t speak again.

The light from the nearby star started to spill across the dash, casting long shadows inside the cockpit. The scorched metal of the skiff caught the glow, gleaming faintly—wreckage limping its way toward something that might, on a generous day, be called hope.

Jungkook leaned into his seat, staring at that one bright point in the dark. A place with temples and pilgrims. A place where people went to be saved.

Didn’t matter.

He’d done what he had to. Got them off that planet. Got them through.

That was enough.

Behind him, the planet shrank into nothing—just another dead world in a galaxy full of them.

And in front of him, New Mecca waited.

Not for him.

Just for the story of him.

Let them believe the killer died down there. Let them believe the monster went down with the dark.

It was better that way.

The skiff surged forward, engines low and steady. And somewhere behind the silence, behind the metal, behind the blood and ash and fire...

A man who wasn’t supposed to survive lived on anyway.

Taglist: @fancypeacepersona @ssbb-22 @mar-lo-pap @sathom013 @kimyishin @ttanniett @sweetvoidstuff @keiarajm @sathom013 @miniesjams32

[collgeruledzebra]

ok these results might be more extreme than i expected and i could write paragraphs and paragraphs about this but I'm just going to let the ratio between options 3 and 4 speak for itself -- y'all if you haven't read 2010 odyssey two please please read it, it's on the internet archive for free, you can probably find it at your local library or used book store, give yourself a late gift for whatever winter holiday you like and just read itttt

there's no neither option because i know not many people are familiar with 2010 and i don't want it to dominate the poll. if you want a button to click you can like or reblog

[breakindishesinaelevator]

FLY AWAY

Mark Grayson x Reader

—————————————————

guys it took me the whole day making this please like it

3k+ words

takes place in season two and mark and amber dont get back together

(GO LISTEN TO LEY SOUL 👹👹)

(and ty for my bff for making this heading for me)

anyways fic under the cut

Fly away, on Saturday

Fighting to decay

Who am I to find out?

After Amber dumped Mark, obviously he would feel like the worst person ever. Alongside what happened with his dad, he'd rather just do whatever to get his mind off of it all.

Hearing alarms, another opportunity presents itself to him. Sighing, he takes off to the downtown city.

On his arrival, it seems like some other hero has already beaten him there. He gets ready to fly away again before hearing a child scream for help.

He might as well since he's here.

He zooms down, landing in front of the enemies, causing a shockwave to hit the ground as they're thrown back.

Turning around, he finds the same little girl who is affiliated with Titan. His daughter, Fiona. But, what's his daughter doing out here? She screams.

"Look out!"

One of the men has a rocket launcher. Where the hell did he get that?!

Moving to brace himself and Fiona for the coming impact, a wall of stone rises once the rocket is launched. The wall explodes on impact, only turning to dust. No debris for whatever reason. Holding Fiona, he looks to see who that is.

Another girl, looking around his age, jumps out of a now-demolished building. Who is that?

Grunting as you rise from the rubble, you use the leftover dust from the wall that was destroyed before and make stone spikes out of them.

"Fi-fi! Cover your eyes!"

Yelling the command to Fiona, she hides her face in the crook of Mark's neck.

You close your fist and make a motion as if you're throwing something. The stone spikes listen to your command and are launched towards your foes. Some are impaled, others jump out of the way.

As you continue to fight the people, Mark sets Fiona a safe distance away before jumping in as well. You both fought side by side, protecting Mark with your stone formations as much as you could whenever someone would move to harm him. You probably weren't aware that he couldn't be hurt by their weapons but he still appreciated the thought.

Throughout the fight and even after the fight, he couldn't stop watching you. You were at the very least caring seeing as you protected him. You weren't bad-looking. You were pretty. Gorgeous, even.

Who were you?

Fly away

Fly, Fly, Fly away

Fly away

Fly, Fly

After the fight, you ran over to Fiona to make sure she was okay. If your dad found out you were attacked, he'd kill whoever it was and whatever gang they're from. If he also found out you snuck out with your sister, he'd probably kill you.

Fiona squirmed out of your hold and ran over to Mark. Throwing herself at him, he went to catch her. She hugged him tight.

"Thank you, thank you Mr. Invincible! Thank you for helping my sis!"

Oh shit. You were also Titan's daughter. He pats her back, setting her back down on the ground. Sheepishly looks back up to you with a small smile.

"Of course! It was no big deal- I'm always here to help!"

You look at him skeptically. How does Fiona know him but you don't? He doesn't look that familiar. You've kept track of the news. As much as you could at least. Your dad was very protective of what you were exposed to. Nevertheless, you hold out your hand for Mark to shake.

"[Name]. Thanks for your help but I was handling it perfectly fine."

Mark's mind blanks as you cross your arms, half-glaring at him. Don't look at him like that. Jeez, he just got out of a relationship! He can't move on this fast, can he?

"R-right... Does- does your dad know you're both out here?"

Watching as you freeze slightly, you sputter to quickly make an excuse for your reasoning out here. It was a stupid reason anyway.

Mark's smile broadens as he realizes that you snuck out. And with your sister as well? He knows Titan well enough that he doesn't allow those he loves out in the world.

"Well, maybe I can fly you both back home?"

Where would you like to go?

Both you and Invincible are better acquainted now. You still don't know what he looks like under that mask. Hell, you sneak out sometimes just to see him. He'll even fly by and bring you things. Or he'd fly by to pick you up and you both fight crime together. Things ranging from little souvenirs from all over the world.

He comes by again, knocking on your given room window. Excitedly opening it, you move to let him inside. He doesn't though.

"Hey, wanna come on a fly with me?"

(The present moment is life)

"C'mon now, and go where? I've been listening to the police scanner and it's been pretty dead tonight."

Mark smiles at your words. He likes how close you both have gotten. It almost makes him want to show you his real identity. But alas, he can't until he's 100% about you. You are a crime lord's daughter after all.

He ended up convincing you to go with him. Flying was never your strong suit though. You always liked being on the ground. Maybe it was something to do with your powers.

He carries you bridal style through the air, enjoying the feeling of you clutching onto him through his suit.

You wouldn't even look down. Or up. Or anywhere that isn't underneath your eyelids. You just didn't feel stable when in the air. You don't even go onto planes or helicopters or even your dad's private jet.

Mark chuckles, his grip tightening on you.

"We're almost there, I promise. Don't open your eyes until I tell you to."

You heat up a bit. You had a small growing crush on Invincible. He's been good to you. Even if you don't know what he looks like. It doesn't matter.

You finally feel the ground under your feet as Mark places you down. Missing the feel of his hands on you, you distract yourself by covering your face with your hands. Feeling Invincible's hand place itself on your forearm, slowly dragging you over to something.

"Okay, open your eyes."

You gasp softly seeing the most beautiful view ever. He brought you to the high point of a mountain out in the wilderness, overlooking the vast expanse of nature. The moon is at the right spot, shining light on you both perfectly. Looking over to where Invincible is standing, you see him lighting up some candles that are near a blanket with food and fruits on it.

Was this a date?

I am not afraid to stare into shadow

You and Invincible have been going on dates here and there and finally made your relationship official. This being said, he revealed his true identity to you.

Mark finally decides it now time for you to have your supersuit, and he brings you to Art.

Now with your new supersuit, you want to go out a test-run it immediately.

(You stand strong in the unknown)

Mark brings you to a battle that even the Guardians were at. You fight alongside them, a great help. You'd create stone formations to protect any bystanders from getting hit. You'd create stone pillars to keep buildings from collapsing onto civilians.

The people loved you! They began to call you Sandstorm. Fits you pretty well, to be honest. You can control sand making them solid or turn to dust.

The Guardians were pleased to meet you. Eve was a bit skeptical, about how you've come out of nowhere. With Mark as well on top of that. But she didn't end up minding it at all.

You were on the news, and on social media, people did love you! They said your costume was cute, your powers were cool, how you saved a lot of lives! You loved the attention! You'd geek out to Mark about how it felt, being in a real villain fight. How free it felt to do something on your own away from home.

Mark also eventually brought you to meet his mom. She was super nice and caring. You saw where Mark got his kindness from. Debbie was praising you on your work in the battle, how she saw you move on the moves.

The night went on and Mark brought you home. Once he left you were met with one last obstacle.

Your father.

From the final look over my back

Long story short. Titan was livid. How could you sneak around under his nose like this? He trusted you to be responsible! To be better than this!

And to make it all worse, you were running around with that goody two-shoes, probably rich boy, Invincible! A boy who's never known struggle as he has. Or you! The things you've had been through before he took down Machine Head!

He's tripled the security around your room. Now being more strict than ever. He doesn't approve of you putting yourself in danger as you have been doing. Especially for these people of the world who probably could care less about you if your life was in danger.

"If I ever catch you sneaking out again or anywhere you're not supposed to be, the next time you'll be on the news it'll be an obituary."

Leaving your room after those words, Titan takes a deep breath. He hates saying that kind of thing to you, but it seems you never listen until he does get threatening. He calls for Isotope.

"Tell the security staff, that if they see even a speck of Invincible floating around here, they tell me immediately. I got some not-nice things to say to that boy."

(The present moment is life)

You did text Mark what happened. He was going to go to you immediately and possibly knock some sense into your father.

You tell Mark not to, that you'll be okay. And that you'll try to talk to your dad instead. Show him that you're helping the world get better by becoming a hero. Maybe give him an ultimatum as well. There's no reason for him to be acting this way anyway. You're an adult! Eighteen for crying out loud! You're not a child so why does he do this?

Undo all, Return

Finally talking to your father and making him see reason, you're allowed out of the house. You've proven to him that you could take care of yourself. (You fought.)

When you guys did fight, Titan did not hold back. Yes, you're his daughter, but since you want to be grown and go into the world-- he was going to show you that no one will pull their punches.

Obviously! You knew that already! But you weren't going to tell him.

You also got him to give Mark a chance. Both of them meet again, (Mark being in costume, of course, he doesn't trust Titan that much.) Mark proves to Titan that he's capable of protecting you. (They fought as well but with Isotope in the mix.)

Now reunited with Mark, you guys go on dates as always. You hang out with the Guardians. You even met Cecil and were offered a place in the GDA. You didn't know about trusting him though.

You were also getting used to flying. Even started to fly yourself using your powers to make dust devils that carry you places. Nothing beats flying with Mark though.

You even joined his college. Finally moved out of your father's control. You got the smarts. You got the money. So why not? Only brings you and Mark closer.

Another, Rebirth

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

Anywhere babe that you wanna go

Hero work is tiring. After much persuasion from Mark, you joined the GDA. And man, Cecil doesn't give a fuck about how tired you are. You are Guardian level strong. Why don't you join the Guardians? Because if Mark isn't, then you won't either. You're a package deal!

Joining Mark on missions, he worries a bit about your safety. Yes, you're strong. Yes, he trusts you. But you're not... invincible... like he is.

(The present moment is life)

The first time you got severely hurt almost scared him to death. Even seeing a bruise blemishing your perfect skin pains him. He loves you too, too much. Who is he to complain though?

You are the, you are the legacy

Why not leave a tall shadow?

"If they need you, Mark, then who am I to keep you from saving lives?"

Mark just came to you in the middle of the night with some kind of anthropomorphic bug. He said the bug's people need his help. Why specifically Mark? You don't know. The bug seems genuine though.

"I don't know... it's a bit... fishy to me."

Sighing, you place a gentle kiss on his lips. Instinctively, he places his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"It'll be okay. You're Invincible after all! What's the worst they can do?"

Mark smiles at what he assumes to be a pun. He kisses your cheek, holding you tight like he's trying to remember the shape and feel of you before leaving for some planet in space.

"I love you."

"I love you more... Be careful, and come back to me in one piece."

(You stand strong in the unknown)

Two months later, Mark comes back... with a baby?!

"Who's baby is that. That better not be yours, Markus Sebastian Grayson!"

"Woah! Woah! Woah! It's not-! He's not mine!.... How do you know my full name???"

Mark panics not wanting you to get the wrong idea. He came home expecting to see his mom but found you there with her also. He was gonna tell you..... after dropping Oliver off with Debbie of course.

I swam and conquered the waves

“Come on! Cecil’s giving me two nights off every week! Let’s go out and have fun!”

Mark is currently wrapped around you like a koala but beaming like a golden retriever.

“Hmmm… I don’t know~~ I got to study for some tests that are coming up…”

Groaning and rolling his eyes, Mark closes the book you’re reading and lifts you into his arms. You squeal as he raises you into the air and nuzzles your cheek.

He takes you both to the window and opens it. Flying out of your room, you both soar into the sky above the clouds. Your eyes twinkle as they take in the stars and Mark’s eyes twinkle just by watching at you.

Looking back at him, you lean in to rest your forehead on his. Mark closes the gap between you, gently kissing you. You kiss back immediately, wrapping your arms around him.

Mark took you to many places. He brought you to Kenya, Switzerland, Japan, Taiwan, Egypt, Ontario, and many more countries. All in one night too!

Your final stop was Venice. Both of you now sitting at a table. One plate of pasta in the middle of you both. This was about to become a Lady and the Tramp scene.

You talked about school and recent local missions that you’ve done. Truly enjoying your time together, you both lean in for another kiss.

“Mark Grayson. Invincible.”

“What?”

Mark leans back to look at the woman who just appeared out of nowhere.

“Come with me now. Or this woman dies.”

You freeze. Not daring to turn around. For some reason, that voice immediately ran chills through your body. It took you so off guard that you don’t even know what to think right now. Mark is caught off guard too, just staring at the woman before him.

“Did you hear me?”

The woman then places her hand around your neck, squeezing slightly. Your breath stutters and even nerves in your body are on fire due to the stress you’re going through now.

“…Mark?”

Now I am not going away

Mark stops by your dorm room to check if you were there after the encounter with Anissa. You weren’t. Mark sucks in a breath, gaining an idea of where you might be. He takes off into the night sky, hoping you’re alright.

Knocking on your window at Titan’s penthouse, Mark slowly lets himself inside. You didn’t lock your windows ever since you and Mark first started dating.

“Hey… Oof-!”

You rushed to Mark, instantly crushing him in a hug.

“You’re okay! Oh, thank God you’re okay!”

Mark smiles and hugs you back. No, he’s glad you’re okay. You’re safe and alive. As you should always be.

“I was- I was so scared that maybe that woman might’ve done something to you! Something bad-! I-“

Mark cut off your rambling with a kiss.

“I love you so fucking much.”

Undo all, Return

“Get the fuck away from them!!”

Mark rushes towards Angstrom in rage. Once again, Angstrom opens another portal in front of him, trapping Mark in another dimension.

Angstrom thought Mark wasn’t mad enough. So he brought you into the mix.

While Mark was struggling to survive in another dimension, Angstrom forced Debbie to lure you to the house.

Upon arrival, you were shot in the abdomen immediately. Rendering you immobile. Alive, but barely. You couldn’t move. You could barely speak. Coughing out blood almost every time you breathed.

When Mark was brought back, seeing the sight of you bleeding out and your head under Angstrom’s foot, made him snap.

Roaring, he moves to grab Angstrom. Once again thrown in another portal. This time though, he was brought back quicker. Mark now pauses to plan rather than throw himself in another dimension.

Angstrom laughs in sick enjoyment.

“Hm. I guess this still isn’t enough to push you further. Very well then.”

Angstrom lifts his foot and kicks your motionless body toward Mark. Mark reaches for you instantly, only for a portal to open right before he can get you. Trapping you in another world.

“No!!!”

Another,

“Oh? And what do we have here?”

Rebirth.