#be prepared for some sort of unexpected things in the next few replies

[humanjarvis]

i'm sorry for scaring you

synopsis: caleb shows a new side of himself during one of your fights. it almost makes you believe he's changed.

tags: angst, suggestive (psychologically), fluff (sorta kinda), caleb kneels, caleb crawls, caleb is pathetic, caleb is overprotective and unwell pairing: farspace colonel!caleb x reader word count: 1.7k

a/n: this is angstier than i intended i wanted it to be hot, maybe it's still hot, when he tries to lock u up in his house but he has lethal booboo face ⬆️

“I didn't ask for any of this! I didn’t ask for your protection, and I sure as hell don’t want it.”

“You not wanting it doesn’t change the fact that you need it,” Caleb replied blankly. 

In the four months since you’d reunited with Caleb in Skyhaven, your relationship had taken a hit. In the first few weeks, you’d barely seen each other; he’d stop by to check on you, assume you thought him the scum of the earth, and abruptly retreat back home. It wasn’t until you’d grown fed up with the awkwardness and uncertainty that you began approaching him again—asking him about his day, initiating phone calls, and even starting the rare video call, if he was lucky. 

Around the last month or so, things had gotten better. During your increasingly frequent visits, you’d gone out together several times—to see the new cyberpunk action movie, to window shop in the pet store, to marvel at the Skyhaven nightscape from the safety of his personal aircraft. Just as you thought you’d both been making progress adapting to your new dynamic, a wave of highly dangerous wanderers had infiltrated the city, and Caleb had had the nerve to essentially place you on house arrest until the threat was dealt with. Fast forward to now, his composure threatening to overpower your impassioned rebuttals. 

“Did you honestly think I’d let you leave right now?” he asked. “You’re here for a week. The Fleet will take the next couple of days to sort out the problem, and we can go out together when it’s done.”

“We can go out together. Right. So you can rush me back here the second someone looks at me the wrong way?”

“No one will look at you the wrong way. Not here. Not while you’re with me. But you need to understand, Pipsqueak: you came to Skyhaven for me. You’re in skyhaven for me. I won’t stand by and watch you put yourself in danger, and you won’t change my mind,” he replied, his large frame looming over you as he stepped closer. 

You’d had enough. You’d spent almost an hour on the losing side of this back-and-forth, and you were too exhausted to pull your punches anymore. “My first time seeing you after the explosion,” you started, voice trembling. “Do you know how it felt? When you stepped off that plane, when you interrogated me behaving like you never have in your life—I didn’t know what to think. But when you brought me back here? Started spewing off that shit about a world where my only world is you? I was scared, Caleb. I thought I’d needed to be afraid for you, but I was afraid of you. That you’d lock me in this house forever, that I'd only see the sun when you decided it wasn’t top bright for me. I was afraid that I’d die here having grown to hate the person I’d wanted to live for,” you finished, your words dripping with venom.

Seething, you spun around, ready to storm out of the kitchen and into the quiet of the guest room Caleb had remodeled for you. 

You’d taken three steps toward the door when you heard something hit the ground with a heavy thud. 

Body still facing the door, you stopped in your tracks. This was new. Unexpected. You’d been prepared to hear a few calls of your name, some “Wait!”s, maybe even a “Don't walk away from me.” Worst case, you’d expected him to pin you in place with his Evol, preventing your exit and prolonging your fight. 

But a thud? A thud could mean many things. Enough things for you to remain frozen contemplating the possibilities before the voice in the back of your head broke through your thoughts, reminding you of the very real chance that you’d spiked Caleb's blood pressure so much that he’d fainted.

The fear that he was hurt made you finally turn around, only for Caleb to catch you off guard yet again.

Caleb the Loathsome, the overprotective, obsessive, now cold-blooded colonel of the Farspace Fleet, was on the floor before you. Kneeling.

All at once, your anger dissipated, melting into shock at the assertive man before you’s sudden display of submission. 

Realizing you’d turned around, Caleb lifted his head, meeting your flustered expression with his pained one. His furrowed brows, shining eyes, and pouted lips—he looked pitiful, honestly. And as much as it tugged at your heartstrings, it awakened something dormant inside you. 

It made you feel powerful. It gave you an idea. 

Biting the inside of your bottom lip, you took several steps toward Caleb’s kneeling form, closing the distance you'd been so eager to put between you all of ten minutes ago. A slight gasp escaped Caleb at your movement, and he swiftly lowered his gaze back to the floor, as if worried that daring to watch your approaching form would make you retreat. 

When you came to a stop, you were just in front of his knees, looking down your nose at his bowed head. For a few moments, Caleb’s heavy breaths were the only sounds between you, thickening the cold air in the room. 

Then, finally—finally—you touched him, lifting his chin up before resting your palm on his cheek. At your touch, he leaned forward, nuzzling his head against your thigh. 

“…You want this that bad, huh? Want me that bad?”

“More than anything,” he breathed. 

You stared at him. 

“Please,” he whispered, turning his head into your hand to brush his lips across your fingers. 

At this, you hummed softly, running your thumb across his cheek twice before turning away from him once more. When you break contact, Caleb freezes in the midst of rubbing his face on your leg, his eyes popping open in panic. He only calms when he sees you heading for the armchair tucked into the right back corner of the room, slowly taking a seat, your legs spread. 

“Relax,” you call out, settling in your chair. He didn’t move a muscle.

You decided you’d had enough of the tense silence after a few more beats. It was time to test him.

“…Come here, Caleb.”

In an instant, his head snapped up. His gaze, abruptly ending its budding relationship with the floor tiles, held yours for more than a few seconds this time, your slight smirk challenging his slight disbelief.

Caleb had all the cunning in the world. Since joining the Fleet, nothing got by him—and on the rare chance that it did, he’d chase it down and make it beg for mercy. He was a prideful man. He was a calculated man. So when you called for him in your sweet voice, slightly breathy with unadmitted nerves, he figured you out quite quickly. 

You were testing him—to see if he’d walk or crawl to you—and he knew it. 

And unfortunately for his dignity, any reservation he held about the latter was overshadowed by his desire for you: to be in your space, to breathe your air, to be close enough to feel you—even if he rarely did now, out of fear that his touch would repulse you.

He needed you to need him. So he crawled. 

Inch by inch, Caleb crawled toward you, the only person who would ever see him reduced to this. The only person who could reduce him to this. And all the while, as the fabric of his dark pants dragged across the floor, his violet eyes never left yours. In them, you saw resignation. You saw anticipation. You saw the shattered remnants of a pride that he’d let be broken, and you saw them rebuild themselves in lust the closer he came.

A few inches away from you, Caleb stops, sitting demurely on his heels. His hands twitch in hesitation before falling into his lap. His vulnerability is palpable, and you can feel him banishing himself back to his hell of self-deprecation, the guilt-eroded space in his mind where he repeats how little he deserves you. Before he can lower his gaze again, you beckon him upwards,  guiding his palms to rest on your knees. His kneeling form almost equals your seated one in height.

“I used to love watching you scare off the boys who were mean to me,” you tell him, placing your palm back on his cheek. “But as much as I like you intimidating, this little act might be my new favorite.” 

His nervous breaths come to a momentary halt before he brightens slightly, chasing your touch. He nuzzles into your palm like he did your leg earlier, and you sigh. 

“You scared me, Caleb,” you murmur. 

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“I know you want to keep me safe, that you have kept me safe for as long as either of us can remember,” you say, continuing to stroke his head. “But I don’t want to be afraid of you, Caleb. I won't be afraid of you. So if you want to keep doing this, if you want us to move on, if you want me—it can’t happen again. Tell me it won’t happen again.”

Your movements still as you tighten your grip on his jaw, forcing him to meet your eyes. A grimace flashes across his face as he goes quiet for a moment. But you wait for him. You have to. As exhilarating as it’d been to see him crawl before you, this was the true test—if you extend your trust, will he extend his lenience? You have to believe that he will. To give him the chance to. 

And as you’re wrapped up in your optimism, your fantasies that he’ll acquiesce and let your relationship go back to normal, Caleb responds. 

“...I’m sorry for scaring you.” 

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 1

author's note ⸺ Hello lovely people! Here is the introductory chapter to a new series I have had in mind for a while, I hope you enjoy! I am hoping to upload chapters weekly, as it will be a relativly long series, so if you'd like to join along for the emotional rollercoaster this will take me though, please feel free! Also, I am ALWAYS open to requests, so don't be shyyyyy!! luv u all, thank you to all who support my work :) pairing ⸺ Satoru Gojo x reader chapter summary ⸺ After a mission to investigate a special grade curse, Gojo and the first-years discover y/n, who has no memory of the past week. Despite a series of tests, her innocence is confirmed. Gojo becomes unusually protective of her, sparking curiosity among the students and other sorcerers. As y/n begins to adjust to life at Jujutsu High, Gojo finds himself increasingly drawn to her, unable to ignore his growing attachment. word count ⸺ 3.8k content warnings ⸺ none (for this chapter, wink wink), maybe slight mental overstimulation?

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The forest was cloaked in an oppressive silence, where every sound seemed swallowed by the ominous presence of cursed energy, the type that even the lowest-level sources could feel in their bones. Footsteps crunched over twigs and leaves, disturbing the stillness as Gojo Satoru led his first-year students deeper into the thick of the cursed energy's source. 

His casual demeanor, hands tucked into his pockets and a laid-back smile playing on his lips, contrasted with the seriousness of the situation. It was as if they were out for a casual stroll instead of on a mission to investigate a reported special-grade curse.

Itadori Yuji, Fushiguro Megumi, and Kugisaki Nobara followed closely behind, their expressions ranging from excitement to apprehension. 

The blend of eagerness and wariness that accompanied every encounter with curses was palpable. Yuji’s bright, curious eyes darted around, already anticipating the unexpected. Nobara, less enthused, let her irritation show in the way she muttered complaints under her breath. Megumi, the most composed, kept his focus sharp, his brow furrowed in anticipation.

“So, we’re just here to observe, right?” Nobara asked, her voice laced with frustration. She wasn’t one for waiting around, especially when the promise of action loomed. “If it’s a special-grade curse, I doubt we’re doing much besides standing around.”

Gojo chuckled lightly, the sound teasing. “Observing is just as important as fighting, Nobara. It's all about learning how curses work.”

Yuji shot Gojo a curious look. “But it’s dangerous, right? You’re the strongest sorcerer, so we’ll be fine?”

Gojo was amused by Yuji’s innocent confidence. “Special-grade curses can be unpredictable, Yuji. It’s not just about strength; it’s about knowing what to do when things don’t go as planned.” He grinned wider and put his hands behind his head, adding a sense of cockiness as he walked, “But yes, Yuji, I am the strongest.”

Megumi sighed and rolled his eyes at his sensei's snarky comment, his skepticism apparent. “I still don’t see how standing around helps us learn anything.”

“Trust me, Megumi,” Gojo replied, his tone cryptic. “You’ll see soon enough.”

As they ventured deeper into the forest, the heavy cursed energy they had been tracking began to grow stronger. A sort of power Gojo had only felt a few times before in his life, evoking a feeling of both excitement, and fear, the latter which he hadn’t felt in a while.

“We are close to the special grade…stay alert students! You don’t want to miss a master in action!” Gojo said in his usual excited tone. 

Beginning to dramatically stretch to prepare for the battle, Gojo was about to give the three first-years instructions to just observe the battle and take out any low-grade curses they encountered. However, before he could open his mouth, the strong cursed energy began to vanish.

It was subtle at first, like the fading scent of something foul in the air, but soon, it became clear that what should have been an overpowering force now felt faint, practically gone.

Yuji frowned, his senses alert. “It’s weaker. Shouldn’t it be getting stronger as we get closer?”

Nobara’s irritation grew. “I swear if we came all this way for nothing—”

Before she could finish, Gojo came to a sudden stop, his blindfolded gaze fixed on a small clearing ahead. The students followed his line of sight, and that’s when they saw you. Gojo’s eyes, even beneath that blindfold, were locked onto you.

—

You sat in the clearing, your body frozen with fear and cold. The forest around you was dark, the shadows stretching and twisting unnaturally. You had no memory of how you ended up here; the only thought that was present in your mind was that you were scared and disoriented. 

Your hands trembled as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to make sense of the situation. You were a relatively calm and happy person, but as of late things had been changing, although, your memory seemed to be fading more rapidly the more you thought about it.

Footsteps approached, and your body tensed, instinctively curling tighter. The voice that spoke was startlingly bright, almost cheerful, not fitting the heavy atmosphere of the forest at all.

“Well, what do we have here?”

The man who spoke was tall, his white hair glowing faintly in the dim light. His face was obscured by a black blindfold, but there was an intensity in his demeanour that you couldn’t ignore. He crouched in front of you, his tone oddly reassuring despite the circumstances. 

“Are you alright?” he asked gently.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your voice caught in your throat. Fear and confusion overwhelmed you, making it hard to form words. You managed a slight shake of your head, your body trembling under the weight of everything you couldn’t remember.

Gojo studied you, his expression unreadable behind the blindfold, but there was a certain softness in his tone. “Interesting,” he murmured to himself, his words more for his own contemplation than anyone else’s.

Behind him, the first-years approached cautiously. Megumi’s gaze was sharp, scrutinizing you closely. Yuji and Nobara exchanged uncertain glances, their confusion and concern growing with each passing second.

Gojo straightened, his playful demeanour replaced by a more serious edge. “What is your name?” he said leaning in closer to your face. 

You finally managed to get words out, not much above a whisper, as this white haired man was only inches from your face, “I-I’m y/n, y/n y/l/n.” 

He nodded once and stood up swiftly, causing you to flinch. “Well hello y/n!” He said flashing a wide grin at you. “I am Satoru Gojo! A legendary sorcerer, if I might add.” He said proudly, provoking a loud sigh from Nobara. 

He hinged at the hips and switched his tone back to a more serious one. “What are you doing here in this forest, doesn’t seem like a nice place to camp for a young girl like you” He asked you, and boy did you wish you had an answer. 

“I don’t know…” You loosened the tight grip you had around your legs. “I, I really don’t remember anything at all, not from the past few weeks at least.” 

Gojo looked at you intensely straightening his spine as he stood up straight, ‘Her eyes, they’re so…’ he quickly interrupted his thoughts and glanced at the the dark haird boy. “Megumi, can you sense any cursed energy from her?”

Megumi closed his eyes, concentrating on the surrounding area. His frown deepened. “Nothing of significance. Whatever cursed energy we felt here a few minutes ago, it’s gone now.”

Gojo turned back to you, crouching once more. His hand extended toward you, a kind but firm gesture. “Let’s get you somewhere safe. We can figure this out.”

You hesitated for a moment, your fear warring with the overwhelming relief that someone was offering help. Slowly, you reached out and took his hand. 

The touch was warm and steady, a small comfort in the midst of your disorientation.

As Gojo helped you to your feet, your mind raced. Who were these people? How had you ended up in this situation? 

And why couldn’t you remember anything from the last few days? The only thing you were sure of was that you had always been able to see curses—creatures others couldn’t perceive, lurking just beyond the edges of reality. But this? This was something entirely different.

You swallowed hard, gathering the courage to speak. “I don’t… I don’t remember how I got here,” you admitted, your voice still barely above a whisper. “I’ve always been able to see curses, but this… I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Gojo tilted his head, his expression unreadable beneath the blindfold. “No memory, huh?” He sounded curious but not judgmental. “Well, we’ll figure that out.”

—

Back at Jujutsu High, the atmosphere was tense. You were seated in a room, surrounded by people you barely knew, all of them sorcerers far more skilled than you could ever hope to be. The tests began almost immediately. 

Every inch of your story was picked apart, your memory—or lack thereof—under scrutiny. They questioned you about the forest, about the curses, about anything that could provide a clue.

One by one, the sorcerers took turns assessing you. They used techniques, spells, and devices you couldn’t begin to comprehend, all in an attempt to uncover something—anything—that could explain your presence in that cursed clearing.

It was gruelling, mentally and emotionally exhausting. You answered the same questions over and over again, your frustration and mental fatigue climbing with each repetition. The truth was simple: you had no memory of what had happened. 

And yet, the interrogations persisted, leaving you feeling more confused and overwhelmed by the second.

Gojo watched silently from the sidelines, his usual playful demeanour replaced by something quieter, more contemplative. His eyes—hidden behind the blindfold—never left you. The longer the tests dragged on, the more something about the entire situation seemed off to him.

Beside him, Principal Yaga and another special grade sorcerer, and Utahime Iori, continued their assessment. Utahime frowned as she used her ability to sense the flow of your cursed energy—or lack thereof.

“She doesn’t seem to be lying,” Utahime said softly, more to herself than anyone else. “But there’s something odd about this. It’s like there’s a barrier, something we can’t quite break through.”

Yaga crossed his arms, his expression stern. “We need to cover all possibilities. She could still be hiding something.”

As the tests continued, you felt yourself growing more drained. The sorcerers probed deeper into your mind, looking for gaps, inconsistencies—anything to suggest you weren’t telling the truth. But no matter how hard they pushed, your story remained the same. You didn’t know. You didn’t remember.

The pressure mounted until, finally, Gojo stepped forward, his voice cutting through the room with an authority you had yet to hear from him. “That’s enough.”

The suddenness of his command startled everyone, even Yaga, who raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Gojo, we need to make sure—”

“She’s not lying,” Gojo interrupted, his voice firm. “There’s minimal cursed energy coming from her, and she clearly has no memory of what happened. We’re not going to find any answers by grilling her like this.”

Utahime glanced at Gojo, her expression curious. “You’re sure about this?”

Gojo turned toward her, his grin returning, though it lacked its usual mischief. “I’m the strongest sorcerer, aren’t I? Just trust me.”

Yaga still seemed skeptical, but after a long pause, he sighed and relented. “Fine. We’ll stop for now. But we still need to figure out what she was doing in that forest. Especially since a veil was drawn…”

Gojo gave a small nod of satisfaction, then turned his attention back to you. His expression softened. “You’ve been through enough today. Let’s get you some rest.”

As the other sorcerers began to disperse, the first-years remained behind, exchanging confused glances. Yuji was the first to speak, his voice low but curious. ���It’s not like Gojo-sensei to be this… invested, right?”

Nobara crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah, it’s weird. He’s acting different.”

Megumi, ever perceptive, watched Gojo closely. “He’s unpredictable, but this is definitely unusual.”

Gojo, sensing the shift in the room, flashed his signature grin, waving off their concerns with a casual hand. “Don’t get any weird ideas, kids. I’m just looking out for someone who got caught up in a bad situation. That’s all.”

But even as he dismissed their concerns, Gojo couldn’t shake the thoughts swirling in his mind. There was something about you that unsettled him—something beyond the circumstances of your discovery in the forest. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it gnawed at him, refusing to be ignored.

He wanted to be closer to you. To understand why, of all the strange and dangerous things he’d encountered, you had managed to occupy so much space in his thoughts. 

—

The next morning, you awoke in a small room within the Jujutsu High compound. The soft light of dawn filtered through the windows, casting the space in a gentle glow. Despite the calm atmosphere, your mind was anything but settled.

You had been told to stay here until they figured out what had happened to you. 

While the thought of staying at Jujutsu High was daunting, you couldn’t deny the strange sense of safety you felt, knowing that Gojo was nearby. In addition to this, there was nothing waiting for you back in Tokyo, you’ve always been alone, and as a 24 year old girl, it was not the most exiting life to live. 

A knock on the door interrupted your thoughts. It opened before you had a chance to respond, and Gojo stepped inside, his usual playful expression firmly in place.

“Morning,” he said cheerfully, leaning casually against the doorframe. “How are you feeling?”

You hesitated before answering, still unsure of how to navigate this strange new world you’d been thrust into. “Confused,” you admitted softly. “But… better, I guess.”

Gojo nodded, stepping further into the room. “Good to hear. We’ve decided to keep you around for a while.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “Keep me around?”

“Yep,” Gojo confirmed with a grin. “You barely have any cursed energy, and you clearly don’t know how you ended up in that forest. But until we can figure out what happened, it’s safer for you to stay here, where we can keep an eye on things.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of the situation settling in your chest. “So… what happens now?”

Gojo’s grin softened slightly, and for the briefest moment, his playful facade cracked, revealing something more genuine beneath. “For now? You’ll help out around the school. Get to know the students, maybe even learn a bit about how we handle curses.”

He paused, his tone becoming more serious. “And I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and it seemed to catch Gojo off guard too. You had only known him for a short time, but something about the way he spoke to you made you believe him. 

There was a depth to his words that you hadn’t expected, a promise that went beyond the typical duties of a sorcerer.

And as Gojo left the room, you couldn’t help but wonder why he seemed so determined to protect you.

—

As the days passed, the curiosity surrounding Gojo’s sudden attentiveness only grew. The first-years, in particular, found it strange how their usually carefree and unpredictable teacher seemed to go out of his way to check on you.

Yuji, ever the optimist, chalked it up to Gojo’s natural inclination to help people in need. “He’s just looking out for her. You know how he is.”

Nobara, however, wasn’t convinced. “It’s more than that. He’s never this focused on one person. It’s weird.”

Even Megumi, though more reserved in his judgments, couldn’t deny the oddness of Gojo’s behaviour. “There’s something going on. He’s not acting like himself.”

Gojo, of course, dismissed all their concerns with a wave of his hand and his usual grin. “You’re all overthinking it. I’m just making sure she doesn’t get into any more trouble.”

But no matter how many times he deflected their questions, the truth was something Gojo couldn’t even admit to himself. The more time he spent around you, the more he found his thoughts drifting back to that clearing in the forest—the way you had looked so lost, so vulnerable, but still so strong.

He couldn’t explain it, but there was something about you that pulled at him, something that made him want to be closer.

And for the first time in a long while, Gojo Satoru—the strongest sorcerer in the world—felt something…almost like uncertainty.

Days turned into weeks, and you slowly adjusted to life at Jujutsu High. The students, though initially unsure about your presence, began to warm up to you. 

Yuji, with his endless optimism and genuine kindness, was the first to make you feel welcome, even though he was almost a decade younger than you. He’d often drop by to chat, always trying to lighten the mood with stories of his own awkward experiences as a novice in the world of jujutsu sorcery.

Nobara, though more distant at first, soon took to you as well. She admired your strength or at least the fact that you were handling your situation without falling apart completely. "I respect that," she said one day with a shrug. "Not everyone could be thrown into this and not lose their mind."

Megumi was the hardest to read. His sharp, critical gaze often lingered on you, as though he was still assessing whether or not you were truly a threat. But over time, his cold demeanour thawed, and though he didn’t openly show it, there were moments where you could tell he had begun to trust you—or at least tolerate your presence.

However, it was Gojo who remained the most enigmatic. He would check in on you often, always with his playful grin and teasing remarks. 

But there was something beneath the surface, something you couldn’t quite place. His visits were frequent, his concern palpable, but he never pushed. 

Whenever you asked him why he was so invested in helping you, he would just shrug it off, offering a casual, "I’m the strongest, remember? It’s my job to make sure nothing happens to you."

But even you could see that there was more to it. His presence was constant, and no matter how much he tried to play it off, there was a tension between you—something unspoken but undeniable. 

The first-years noticed it too, though none of them dared to say anything directly to him. Yuji, ever the optimist, thought it was just Gojo being protective, but Nobara and Megumi weren’t as easily convinced.

One evening, as you sat in the common room, absentmindedly flipping through a book Yuji had recommended, Gojo appeared, leaning against the doorway with his usual smirk.

"Reading? I’m impressed," he teased, strolling into the room without invitation. "What’s the book?"

You glanced up, meeting his blindfolded gaze. "Just something Yuji thought I’d like. It’s… fine."

Gojo chuckled, dropping down onto the couch beside you, far too close for what most would consider appropriate. His casual attitude about personal space had long since become something you were used to, though it still made your heart race a little faster each time.

"I was just checking on you," he said lightly. "Make sure you're not too bored here."

You raised an eyebrow. "Bored? After all the tests and constant probing into my memory? Yeah, I’d say I could use a bit more excitement."

His smile softened, just a touch. "Those tests were tough on you, huh?"

You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "They were necessary, I guess. I don’t blame them for wanting answers. I want answers, too."

Silence stretched between you for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension. Then, to your surprise, Gojo spoke again, his tone more serious than you’d ever heard it before.

"You’re handling all of this pretty well," he said quietly. "Most people wouldn’t be as calm about it."

You turned to face him fully, searching for the meaning behind his words. "I’m not sure if I’d call it calm. I’m just trying to… survive, I guess."

Gojo tilted his head, his smile still in place but his voice softer. "You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, you know."

Something about his words made your chest tighten and your eyes lifted above the page of your book, stunned. A warmth began to spread through you that you didn’t quite understand. Why was he being so kind? So attentive?

Before you could respond, the door to the common room creaked open, and Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi appeared, clearly having overheard at least part of the conversation. Yuji’s bright smile lit up the room, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

"Are we interrupting something?" Nobara asked, her tone playful but her gaze sharp as she looked between you and Gojo.

Gojo leaned back, waving his hand dismissively. "Nope, just checking in on our guest. You know, making sure she’s not too lonely."

Yuji chuckled, but Nobara wasn’t fooled. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she leaned closer to Megumi, whispering something that made him roll his eyes.

Megumi, always the most perceptive, shot Gojo a questioning look. "You’re being unusually… protective."

Gojo’s grin widened, but his tone remained light. "What can I say? I decided I’d try and be a nice guy this year, a New Years resolution thing, ya know?."

But Megumi wasn’t satisfied with that answer. "It’s not like you to take such a personal interest in someone who isn’t a sorcerer."

There it was—the suspicion that had been bubbling under the surface for weeks. Those words hurt a bit. 

You knew you weren’t of much importance compared to everyone here, but it was harsh to hear out loud. The first-years weren’t blind. They had seen how Gojo had gone out of his way to ensure you were safe, how his visits to check on you had become more frequent, more personal.

Gojo, for once, seemed caught off guard by the directness of the question. He shrugged, his grin never faltering. "What can I say? I like keeping things interesting."

But as the first-years exchanged glances, it was clear that none of them believed his nonchalance. There was more to it—there had to be. But none of them pressed the issue further.

After they left, the room grew quiet once more, and you could feel the weight of Gojo’s attention on you. For the first time, it felt like he wasn’t hiding behind his usual playful demeanour. There was something deeper in his gaze, something that made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear.

"You should get some rest," he said finally, his voice low. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

As he stood to leave, you found yourself wanting to say something—anything to break the tension. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you watched as he left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

And as the silence settled around you, one thought echoed in your mind: why did it feel like you were missing something important? 

—

Later that night, as Gojo lay in his quarters, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The confusion, the vulnerability, the strength you didn’t even realize you had—it all stirred something in him that he couldn’t quite explain.

For someone as powerful as Gojo, emotions had always been a distant second to his duties as a sorcerer. But with you, it was different. There was something about you that made him want to protect you, to keep you close.

But more than that, he wanted to understand you. To know what it was that drew him to you in the first place.

And as he closed his eyes, one thought lingered in his mind: he wasn’t sure what it was about you, but he was certain of one thing.

He couldn’t stay away from you.

Author's Note II: I hope you enjoyed this first chapter!! Please feel free to send me any feedback or comments you have! Many more chapters to come soon, and this series will eventually become...18+ so read at your own discretion :)

Cheers!

[sweetvoidstuff]

Undead, Undressed, Unexpected I Part 1

Jungkook x Reader I Slowburn (sort of) I zombie larp au I smut with feelings I friends to lovers vibes I soft but messy I table trauma I kinda domestic kinda feral I camping chaos I emotional intimacy

Summary: A LARP weekend takes an unexpected turn when BTS wants to film there Vlog there. Or: “I don’t know what’s weirder,” Yoongi muttered, sipping the beer you’d tossed at him. “That this is happening or that you’re all so prepared for it.”

Word Count: 50K (both Parts)

Masterlist

Part 2

A/N: Well, I wanted to post this as one, but Tumblr won’t let me… so I’ll be posting Part 1 and Part 2 back to back. Sorry about that! Hope you still enjoy it!

Just a quick note on formatting: Bold text is used for dialogue spoken in Korean. Italic text represents internal thoughts or feelings. Normal text is used for dialogue spoken in English.

I hope this helps make things easier to follow while reading. Thanks so much for giving my story a chance!

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You had always thought your inbox was a place of controlled chaos—occasional partnership requests, a flood of player questions, shipping delays on makeup foam, and the usual budget arguments with your logistics friend, Pia. But the chaos started earlier than usual that day—with a phone call from Lea, the friend who usually handled the LARP's shared email account.

“Hey,” she said casually, “some Korean entertainment company emailed us? Something about a possible collab for the next event?” You nearly dropped your lunch.

“Wait—what Korean company?”

“I don’t know, Big-something. Big…Hit? BigPunch? I forwarded it to you.”

You froze. Your heart stuttered. “BigHit? Are you serious?”

Lea made a confused noise. “Yeah, is that a big deal? I just thought it was, like, a local talent agency or something. They didn’t say much. You okay? You sound like you’re gonna combust.” You didn’t answer right away because your brain was rebooting.

“They’re—Lea, they manage BTS. Like, the BTS. Global. World tour. Grammy-stage BTS.”

There was a pause on her end. “...Oh. Uh. Is that the one with the guy who did a thing with Charlie Puth? Or is that the ramen guy?” You laughed, a choked, borderline hysterical sound. “Yes. No. Sort of. I’ll check the email. Just—thank you.”

“Anytime,” she replied, bemused. “I guess let me know if the ramen guy’s showing up.” You hung up with shaking hands and sprinted for your laptop, yanking it open so fast the battery nearly popped out.

And there it was.

FROM: bhentertainment.official@bighit.com SUBJECT: Collaboration Inquiry – Upcoming LARP Project

You stared at it for a solid minute, blinking hard, rereading the signature and domain. You even copied the email into a group chat with your seven friends titled “Project Zombie Apocalypse 202X” with the caption:

"Tell me I’m hallucinating."

You didn’t.

Over the next few weeks, the back-and-forth with BigHit solidified something real and turned into a full-blown project folder on your desktop—contracts, security forms, scheduling proposals, and endless discussions about what was feasible and what wasn’t.

They were interested in sending one of their groups for a LARP experience to include in their “challenge vlog” series. They loved your concept: four days in a remote woodland complex turned survival horror sim, where around 250 participants would play out a fictional zombie outbreak in real-time. Minimum power except for medical posts and staff centers. No phone service. Just radios, bloodied props, a kitchen, and pure adrenaline.

At first, your team didn’t take it seriously.

“Some Korean band wants to vlog here?” Pia had said during your first group Zoom call. “Okay, sure. Do they know our kitchen runs on two electric hot plates and prayers?”

“They know,” you sighed, rubbing your temple. “I told them in the first reply. I made it very clear that we’re... rustic.”

“They probably think we’re some scenic wilderness experience,” Erik muttered. “Wait ‘til they see our ‘bedding options.’”

“It’s not just some band,” you shot back. “It’s BigHit. That’s... that’s massive. This is actual, career-changing visibility. Even if they send a small or new band.” That caught everyone’s attention, but the tone shifted from surprise to skepticism quickly.

“Okay, but do we want that kind of visibility?” Lea asked. “We built this to be immersive, chaotic fun. Not something where we have to worry about stepping on a celebrity’s shoe.”

“It would mean a lot more work,” Pia added cautiously. “Like...a lot. Extra infrastructure, coordination, liability coverage. Probably hiring more crew down the line. And taxes—Jesus, we’ll have to register it differently. No more fun hobby exemption. We’ll need to go full business mode.” You felt a cold knot in your gut. She wasn’t wrong.

“But it also means we could finally get paid properly,” you said, more softly now. “Like... not just break even. We could maybe even fund the next LARP without crowdfunding. Or get better props. Maybe even hire full-time help. This could be our way out of ‘barely-making-it.’” That silenced them. For a moment.

“Only if we survive it first,” Erik muttered. “And if it doesn’t kill the vibe.”

In the end it was decided, you would give it a try.

You found yourself writing emails late into the night, negotiating with BigHit’s reps while triple-checking your spreadsheets for costs. At one point, you were balancing on a stepladder fixing a hanging light while on the phone with your accountant friend, trying to figure out how to legally declare sudden international income.

BigHit wanted privacy, but also good footage. They wanted realism, but no actual injuries. You had to promise fast response plans, prep multilingual safety briefings, and accommodate a small filming crew without giving the players any clue who was coming.

It was exhausting, overwhelming, and a logistical headache—but when BigHit confirmed the collaboration and wired the down payment, you stared at the numbers in your bank account for a full minute in shock.

This wasn’t just a cool opportunity. This could be the thing that made your dream sustainable.

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It was the day before the event—the day you’d circled in red on every planning calendar and spreadsheet. You and one of the BigHit staff had agreed: the band would arrive a full day early for privacy, filming, and a crash course in zombie apocalypse survival.

You were their primary contact for the duration. The only one on your team fluent in Korean and English, which meant every question, every request, every last-minute panic would come straight to you.

The old asylum grounds you rented every year sat deep in the woods, surrounded by rusted fences, gravel paths, and fog-thick silence. It looked exactly as eerie and perfect as ever—half horror movie set, half forgotten relic. Soon, over two hundred players would fight to survive a fictional outbreak here. The zombies (your tireless NSC crew) would sleep in a locked-off wing of the asylum, like always. The uppermost floor—off-limits to players—was reserved for the organizing staff. You’d already transformed it with air mattresses, fairy lights, warm blankets, and the half-desperate charm of veteran event runners.

Whoever BigHit sent would be staying there too. In the same room as you.

For privacy. And for emergencies. And not to interfere with the other Orga or the plot.

The Orga floor had its own bathrooms—tiny, ancient, and a little creepy—but it was better than the alternative: the heavily trafficked bathrooms down near the NSC quarters, split by gender but used by dozens. The kitchen was also down near the NSC zone, which meant any idol who wanted a snack might have to wade through latex-coated zombie crew at 2 a.m. That’s why you had your personal stash of snacks on hand.

You’d explained all of this to BigHit in a painfully detailed PDF. They had agreed. You still weren’t sure if they fully understood what they were walking into.

You had just finished breakfast—instant coffee and a lukewarm breakfast wrap—and were lounging outside in a creaky camping chair, soaking in your last hour of relative calm before the storm. Erik was beside you, sorting through printed liability waivers and contracts for the players arriving tomorrow to sign.

“I still don’t get why they want to film here,” he muttered, flipping a page. “Like, no offense to our haunted horror dreamscape, but... this isn’t luxury content.” You shrugged, sipping from your dented thermos. “Maybe they want something gritty. Or real. Or ironic. I dunno. Maybe they just like zombies.”

He smirked. “Sure. Maybe one of them has a secret undead kink.” You opened your mouth to sass him back—then stopped cold. Three sleek black SUVs rolled down the gravel path toward the asylum gates. Silent, shiny, and entirely out of place.

Erik raised a brow. “...Oh shit.”

You stood so fast your chair fell backward into the dirt. You swore your heart stopped. The first door opened. Jeon Jungkook stepped out of the first SUV like it was nothing. Like this was normal. Casual in black cargo pants, a harness vest, and a hoodie, he looked like he’d walked straight off a dystopian movie poster. His eyes flicked over the asylum grounds with quiet curiosity.

Behind him came Taehyung, laughing at something Jin said as he followed. Taehyung wore a long coat and combat boots like it was fashion week.

Yoongi had earbuds in, head down, expression unreadable. Jimin waved cheerfully, his hair fluffing in the breeze. Namjoon caught your eye and nodded—calm, respectful, already reading the vibe. And Hoseok, last out, stretched and turned his face toward the fog like he was trying to feel the mood in the air.

They were all here. All of BTS.

In your forest. At your LARP. At your chaos-riddled, mud-streaked, budget-scraping zombie survival event.

Erik leaned closer, whispering, “So uh… I guess it’s not the ramen guy after all.” You couldn’t answer. Your brain had short-circuited.

And the real chaos hadn’t even started yet.

You took a deep breath, forced your legs to move, and tried your best to walk over professionally, even though the inside of your chest felt like a popcorn machine of nerves. All seven members of BTS stood together, flanked by three guys from the filming crew—compact gear bags slung over shoulders, cameras padded in protective foam, one of them already eyeing angles like he was mapping a cinematic plan in real-time.

You greeted them in Korean, voice steady even as your palms sweated.

"Welcome to Outbreak Protocol. I’m Y/N, I’ll be your main contact before and during the event." Namjoon smiled, surprised but happy you spoke Korean, his voice warm. "We’ve heard a lot about the project. Sounds pretty intense." Jungkook’s eyes drifted past you to the rusted fences and fog-cloaked trees. "This place looks like a horror movie set."

You grinned like he’d handed you an Oscar. "Perfect. Because tomorrow, you’re all survivors."

You shifted into logistics mode before your brain could spiral. You pointed toward the makeshift parking area. "You can park over there. We’ve got the legal documents all ready—Erik will help you with those." The filming crew gave polite nods and peeled off toward the cars. Erik waved and waited near the porch, clipboard in hand.

You turned back to the members. "Would you like the grand tour first, or do you want to settle in upstairs and look around later?" The group exchanged glances, some rolling their shoulders to shake off travel fatigue. Jin was already shifting his backpack into a more comfortable position. Jungkook flexed one hand to crack his knuckles.

“We’ll drop our stuff off first,” Namjoon said. “But we’re definitely doing the tour after.” You nodded. “Follow me then.”

As you led the way toward the heavy front doors and up the creaking staircase, you caught a few quiet murmurs of interest from behind—Yoongi commenting on the paint-peeling walls, Jimin quietly admiring the fog that still clung to the edges of the broken windows.

A strange thump echoed from the lower hallway, something shifting in the NSC quarters. Probably a dropped bin or one of the staff testing props. Hoseok jumped. You couldn’t help your grin as you looked back. “First scare of the weekend goes to you, I guess.”

He laughed, embarrassed but entertained. “Is it always like this?”

“Sometimes it’s worse,” you teased. Just as you reached the upper floor, Lea passed by holding a coil of LED fairy lights and two rolls of duct tape under her arm. She paused, nodded politely to the group, then looked at you and held out a radio.

“For you,” she said. “Orga team check-ins start now.” You took the radio and clipped it to your belt, clicking the button twice before speaking: “Unit Sparkles to HQ. Guests incoming.” There was a long pause, then Erik’s voice crackled through, dramatic and low: “Copy that, Sparkles. Hostiles confirmed. Prepare for contact.”

Taehyung laughed aloud, almost tripping on the last step. “Wait—did you say Sparkles?” You looked over your shoulder with a wink. “I did.”

“Is that your code name?”

“It is.”

“Why?”

You grinned wider. “Just because.”

Taehyung snorted. “That’s not a reason.”

“That’s exactly the point.” He grinned at you like you were a riddle he wanted to solve. You opened the door to the upper dorm hallway, leading them past the first room on the left. “This one here,” you said, pausing with your hand on the frame, “is the organizers-only room. Our private space, mostly for sensitive documents, extra gear, and collapsing in secret when the caffeine wears off.”

You continued walking and stopped at the next room, opening it fully this time. “This one,” you gestured them in, “is where you’ll stay. It’s a shared space. Sorry, no luxury suites here.” Inside, air mattresses had already been inflated and neatly spaced out. Each was made with sleeping bags, throw blankets, and a small labeled bag of towels and toiletries. Fairy lights flickered lazily along the upper edge of the ceiling. The air smelled faintly of mint tea, dust and fresh laundry.

“We had to compromise,” you explained. “This room has somewhat heating, and it’s closer to the emergency exit in case of… well, any kind of problem. Plus, it’s more private than the downstairs dorms. The bathroom’s through there—shared, though. Welcome to the apocalypse.” Jin raised an eyebrow, inspecting the setup. “Charming.”

“I did warn your manager about the rustic conditions,” you said with a small shrug. “It’s better than some green rooms we’ve had,” Yoongi mumbled, setting down his backpack. Namjoon gave you a grateful nod. “This’ll do. Thanks for being upfront about everything.”

You returned the nod with a smile, then turned to gesture down the hallway. “This floor is the staff area. Off-limits to players, which means you’ll have some privacy here when needed. Once the game starts, though—”

You turned back toward them, your smile shifting into something more mischievous.

“—you’re all survivors. No exceptions. Survivors can’t come up here—not even to sleep. You’ll have to make do with what you find out there and work with other players to get a place to rest. And trust me,” your voice dropped to a playful threat, “I run the NSC , the zombie side of the event. I make sure survivors get very little sleep.”

Taehyung looked half-terrified, half-thrilled. Jungkook grinned like someone had just challenged him to a fight. Yoongi raised a hand immediately. “Can I just be a zombie from the start and skip the sleep deprivation part?”

You laughed. “Yes, absolutely. You can request to switch roles if you want. It’s a game—not actual torture. If anyone gets too exhausted, just tell me. You can and should rest. This is meant to be immersive fun, not military training.” He nodded in approval, clearly filing away that option.

As they set their bags down, Jimin drifted toward one of the mattresses—clean, thick blankets folded neatly, some big fluffy pillows, a water bottle placed in the middle like a hotel mint. It looked more like an actual bed. He tilted his head and asked: “Who gets the fancy bed?”

You followed his gaze and smirked. “That one’s mine.” A beat. Then a chorus of mock groans followed. “Of course it is,” Jin muttered. “I respect the flex,” Jungkook said, dropping his bag onto the floor next to a less-decorated mattress.

But then something in the air shifted—a glance shared between a few of them. Some of the members looked uncertain, shifting slightly in place. Hoseok scratched the back of his neck. Taehyung was unusually quiet. Finally, it was Yoongi who broke the silence. “Wait, so… we’re all sleeping in here with you?”

You blinked, nodding. “Yeah. Didn’t they tell you? This was the agreement with your staff—one room for all of you and me, so I’m close in case of an emergency and you don’t have to look for me. This is the safest and most direct setup.”

Namjoon cleared his throat, clearly trying to choose his words carefully. “Right. They did tell us that. We just didn’t know about you and logistics, exactly…”

You tilted your head, eyebrows drawing together in genuine confusion. “What about me and logistics?” There was a beat of silence. Namjoon sighed and rubbed at his temple. “This might sound awkward, but… you know, sleeping in the same room. You are a woman and might be in, uh, sleeping clothes. Or… yeah.”

You blinked. Jungkook suddenly found the floor intensely interesting. His ears flushed red. You stared for a second longer, and then laughed—just once, not mocking, but surprised. “Oh. I mean—sure. I get it. Thanks for saying something.”

Then your tone shifted into something firmer but still friendly. You looked at each of them in turn. “This could turn into a cultural, or language misfire so bear with me I will be direct... Let me ask you this: do any of you intend to do anything to me—without my consent?” The effect was instant. A few of them looked scandalized. Jimin’s eyes widened like a deer in headlights. Hoseok choked on a breath. Jungkook’s ears turned even redder.

Namjoon stepped forward, hands raised slightly. “No. Absolutely not. Never.” You nodded once, satisfied. “Then, I don’t see a problem. I’m not here to be uncomfortable—I’m here to make sure this whole thing doesn’t fall apart. And at night it can get really cold. So no way for short shorts. I’ll probably pass out in leggings and a hoodie, and you’ll be too tired to care.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, and then Yoongi let out a single low chuckle. “That… actually makes me feel better.”

“Same,” Jin muttered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called out so politely and so brutally in the same sentence.”

You grinned. “Good. Now that that’s settled—pick your mattress. Tomorrow, you're all getting hunted by the undead.” Jungkook finally looked up, still red around the ears, but with the corner of his mouth twitching into a reluctant smile.

Taehyung slung his bag onto the far corner mattress. “I want the spot closest to the door in case I have to run from you.” You gasped in mock offense, hand to your chest. “Run from me? Please, I’m the safest person here—unless you insult my campfire coffee. Then it’s over for you.” Taehyung grinned wide, eyes crinkling. “Noted. No coffee jokes.”

“Exactly,” you said with a wink. “Respect the bean or face the consequences.” The others chuckled, and you caught a flicker of movement from the corner of your eye. Jungkook, who had just set his bag   on a mattress near the edge of the room, paused. His gaze flicked from Taehyung to you—lingering for half a beat longer than necessary. Without a word, he picked his bag back up, walked past a few other mattresses, and set it down on the one right next to yours.

You noticed—of course you did—but didn’t say anything. You just glanced down at where he was now crouched, adjusting the pillow like it needed perfect alignment. “Strategic placement?” you asked lightly, not looking directly at him.

Jungkook glanced up through his lashes, a crooked smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Just figured I’d want to be near the person who controls the zombie apocalypse.”

“Oh, smart,” you replied, lips twitching into a sly grin. “Stick close to the Game Master. That’s either genius or cheating.” He looked like he might respond, but Jimin threw himself backward onto his chosen mattress with a groan, breaking the moment.

Taehyung leaned toward you and whispered loud enough for only the closest to hear, “I still think you’re secretly a final boss.” You gave him a dangerous smile. “You’re not ready for my final form.” Jungkook coughed—just once—and looked back down at his bag like it had suddenly become fascinating.

You raised your walkie again, clicking it twice. “Unit Sparkles to HQ. Base camp secured. Survivors setting up now.” Erik’s voice crackled through after a second. “HQ copies. Keep ‘em alive, Sparkles.”

“Can’t promise that,” you muttered, already mentally ticking off the next steps on your checklist.

“Why Sparkles again?” Taehyung asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. You winked. “Because it makes people underestimate me.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Noted.”

You smiled at them all as you backed toward the door. “Once you’re settled, come find me downstairs. We’ll start the tour, walk through the storyline, and then go over the filming schedule. If you have time, I’d like to give you a short survival orientation too.”

Jungkook perked up. “Like… a zombie boot camp?” You smirked, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. “Exactly. Think of it as your apocalypse training montage.”

His mouth parted like he was about to say something else, but just then, the walkie crackled at your hip. “Sparkles, this is HQ. Got a delivery truck trying to get through the west gate—paperwork’s a mess.” You sighed and clicked your radio. “On it.”

Turning back to the room, you gave the guys a quick wave. “Duty calls. I’ll see you all in a bit.” With that, you slipped out the door, your boots soft against the scuffed linoleum.

Jungkook watched you go, his brow furrowed slightly. You were cool. Open. Friendly in a way that wasn’t fake or overly impressed. You didn’t act like they were some otherworldly beings descended from the sky. You were just… normal. Confident. You had a job to do, a passion you clearly lived and breathed—and somehow, you still kept it together even when seven global superstars walked out of three SUVs.

And now you were gone before he got to ask what role you usually played. Or how long you’d been running events. Or what made you pick zombies of all things. He frowned at the floor. How had Taehyung managed to flirt so much with you already?

His grumbling thoughts were cut off when Hobi dramatically fell backward onto a mattress and groaned, face squishing into the pillow.

“Ugh. I’m already regretting this. You know they’re gonna put me through hell tomorrow.” Yoongi, setting his phone to charge beside his mattress, didn’t even look up. “You can die early and join the dark side. I plan to. I already feel like a corpse.”

“Can I be a fast zombie?” Taehyung asked. “I want to be dramatic.”

“You are always dramatic,” Jin replied, tossing him a rolled-up blanket. Namjoon glanced around at the mattresses and raised an eyebrow at Jungkook. “You moved your stuff?”

Jungkook didn’t answer right away, just mumbled something about lighting and space. Not about the way you’d smiled at Taehyung, or how you’d winked during that “respect the bean” comment. Jimin sprawled across two mattresses and groaned, “I’m not ready to fight for food in the woods.”

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon replied dryly. “If we lose you, I’ll eat your snacks first.” The room filled with laughter as the group continued settling in. They unpacked bags, laid out blankets, and immediately began comparing the modest comforts of their temporary setup to your very clearly upgraded, fairy-light-lit corner of the room.

“Yo,” Jimin said, poking Jungkook’s side. “She really has the best bed.”

“I saw,” Jungkook murmured, glancing again at the door you’d disappeared through.

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When they came back down to find you, they didn’t expect the sight they walked into. You were hunched forward, arms wrapped around one side of a massive wooden euro pallet—one of three—that you and Erik were hauling toward the large toolshed near the edge of the gravel lot. From the looks of it, you weren’t on your first trip and dangerously close to snapping your spine in half.

“Wait—are they lifting pallets?” Jin blinked.

“Damn,” Taehyung murmured. “She’s gonna pop something.” Before you could straighten or even notice them fully, Jungkook was already moving. He practically jogged ahead of the group, brushing past Jimin, who huffed, “There he goes.”

You saw motion and started, “It’s fine, I—”

But it was too late. Jungkook was already there, nudging you gently out of the way with the side of his shoulder, his brows furrowed in focus. He slipped in opposite Erik, bent down, and lifted the side you’d been hauling with practiced ease.

“Where to?” he asked. You blinked, slightly thrown off. “Uh—behind the shed. Along the wall. They’re barricade props.” Jungkook nodded without another word and followed Erik, muscles shifting under his sleeves, tattoos dancing as he hoisted the pallet like it weighed nothing.

“Helpful,” Jimin chuckled behind you, watching your expression. “He’s just bad at saying it out loud.”

“I noticed,” you said with a small smile, brushing your hair back from your face. “Thanks.” A few minutes later, Erik came back, Jungkook trailing behind him and brushing dirt off his hands. You made sure to stop him with a light tap to the arm.

“Hey,” you said, looking him in the eye. “Seriously—thanks. That was a lot.” He gave a small, sheepish grin. “It’s no problem.” And with that, you launched into what you’d promised earlier—the grand tour.

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You led them through the central facilities first, starting with the compact, camp-style kitchen.

“This is where the NSC—Non-Survivor Characters, but also the makeup team and staff—get food. Basic stuff. We’ll prep three times a day but no five-course meals, sorry.” You gave them a mock apologetic shrug. Jin raised a hand. “Will there be snacks?”

“No promises,” you teased.

The next stop was the makeup rooms, where several folding chairs, makeup kits, and prosthetic materials lined the walls. “Here’s where we zombify people. If you die in-game, you’ll come here, get turned, and be sent back out with directions. Sometimes as slow walkers, sometimes fast. Sometimes… something weirder.”

Jimin leaned in. “Something weirder?”

You just smiled. “You’ll see.”

Then came the outdoor terrain. You walked them past several adjacent cabins and storage sheds. “These are part of the playable zones. All of them are open unless marked otherwise. We have hidden clue points, some locked areas, and a couple jumpscares set up, but you’ll get used to it.”

You led them toward the forest edge, indicating with hand signals where the terrain began and ended. “The game area ends about five hundred meters that way. Beyond that? Too steep, too muddy, or just plain dangerous. Avoid it.” Yoongi eyed the tree line. “How will we know?”

“I’ll point it out tomorrow again before game start, but we’ve also put up orange tape and warning markers. You’ll know.” Back near the edge of the game field, you turned to face them all again and reached into your backpack. You pulled out a bright, eye-searing pink warning vest and held it up dramatically.

“This is your holy relic,” you said, grinning. “If you see me wearing this during the game, it means I’m in staff mode. You can approach me for help, questions, breaks, water, whatever. I’ll avoid interfering unless it’s an emergency. But my every word is law.”

“And if you’re not wearing it?” Namjoon asked. “Then I’m playing as a survivor or NSC. You’ll find me out there, somewhere, scrounging for food and dodging zombies like the rest of you. However—if you get uncomfortable or need out of a situation for any reason, say the phrase, ‘That has a nice sparkle to it.’ Or something similar.”

Taehyung snorted. “Seriously?”

“Dead serious,” you said. “It’s a safe phrase. The game can get intense. If I hear it or any other Orga for that matter, we’ll pull you from the scene immediately—no questions, no breaking character.”

“That’s actually smart,” Namjoon admitted.

Jungkook stepped in closer, curiosity in his voice. “So if you’re out there as a survivor… are you playing to win?” You raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of your mouth twitching. “You think there's winning at the literal end of the world?”

He blinked, taken off guard for a second, but you didn’t give him time to recover. You smiled—but didn’t tell him how you really liked to play the game. Instead, you slipped into a mock arrogance that fit too easily. “I’ll be scavenging, bartering… probably stealing. So stay alert.”

“I will,” Jungkook said, mouth curling in a slow grin. “Just don’t expect me to go easy on you.” You smirked, gaze flicking up and down him. “That goes both ways.” Taehyung slung an arm over Jungkook’s shoulder, all mischief. “She’s got bite, huh?”

You didn’t miss a beat, voice sweet but edged with a grin. “Some zombies every year actually do. But me?” You flashed your signature mocking smile. “I only bite if you ask nicely.”

Jungkook’s head turned toward you too fast—eyes narrowing with a spark of surprised amusement, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or lean in closer. Taehyung burst out cackling. Even Yoongi gave a low whistle under his breath.

Jungkook shook Taehyung’s arm off with a grumble and stepped just a touch closer to you, adjusting his hoodie like he needed something to do with his hands.

“So,” he asked, tone a bit lower, “what’s your tip for surviving the first night?” You tilted your head, studying him. For a moment, you actually thought about it. Then you answered, quietly but clearly, “Stay moving. And don’t just trust any survivor. If they kill you, they’ll loot your shit.” His brows furrowed slightly.

You added, “So yeah… best tip? Stay quiet. And stay off the main road.” Jungkook looked at you like he was filing away every word. “Noted,” he said softly.

After you had finished explaining how to fake fight and how “death” in the game would work—that the moment they "died," you'd pull them aside to explain how to play as a zombie and give them their undead assignment—they were all quiet for a second. Attentive. Processing.

Especially Jungkook. His gaze didn’t leave you. “And… you designed all this? The rules, the props, all of it?” You gave a small, casual shrug. “With my friends, yeah. A lot of long nights. A lot of coffee.” There was something about the way he looked at you that caught you off guard. Not the usual idol poker-face. He looked… impressed. And maybe a little something else—like he was trying to figure out you, not just the game.

“It’s… impressive,” Jungkook said, voice quieter than the others. “Kinda crazy. In a good way.” You opened your mouth, unsure whether to say thank you or make a joke—but all that came was a laugh, slightly flustered. You turned away before you could smile too obviously.

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Later that evening, the guys were off filming some of their vlog content—lots of running through the woods, fake dramatic reactions, and over-the-top “lost in the apocalypse” monologues. You gave them full freedom for the rest of the day to capture whatever material they wanted. You had work to do anyway: final checks on game mechanics, syncing walkie-talkie channels, triple-confirming the food schedule, and helping your team scatter props in the right zones.

You only got pulled in once—when Jin called over to you with a shout about “something moody.” Yoongi was standing next to him, holding up a camera and trying to catch the golden-hour light streaking between the trees. “Do you have something… cinematic?”

You pulled off your bag, unzipped one of the side pouches, and without missing a beat, produced a smoke grenade—sleek, matte black, like something out of a spy movie. Jin’s eyebrows hit his hairline. “Wait, what?”

Yoongi blinked. “You just have that in your bag?”  You gave a sweet smile. “Always keep one for emergencies.” Hoseok, already half-suspicious about the creepy makeup room earlier, took a cautious step back. “What kind of emergencies need smoke grenades?!” You didn’t answer—just gave him a devilish grin.

Jimin cracked up. “She’s totally evil.” Taehyung beamed, clearly delighted. “That’s exactly the vibe. I love it.” Jungkook didn’t laugh immediately—he was watching you again. But then a soft chuckle escaped him, and he looked down like he hadn’t meant to smile that wide. “Remind me to never piss you off.”

You shot him a wink. “Naw, too fun.”

He laughed properly then—low and surprised—and you had to turn back to your work fast before anyone saw the grin tugging at your lips.

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You had just come from the shower, wrapped up in your oversized hoodie—your LARP team’s logo printed proudly on the back—and a pair of leggings that still clung to you with faint humidity. Your hair was damp and pulled into a loose braid over one shoulder, a quiet testimony to how fast you’d gotten ready after a long day.

You found an empty camping chair near the bonfire and immediately sank into it, curling around a warm mug of tea or maybe mulled juice—whatever had been available. The scent of grilled vegetables, meat, and woodsmoke hung heavy in the air. Laughter bubbled from you as Pia leaned over to mutter something only meant for your ears, and you nearly choked on your drink in response.

Not far away, Jungkook emerged from the trees with the rest of the BTS members, the last golden slivers of twilight painting their silhouettes as they returned from filming. He spotted you immediately.

You looked different now. Not in a dramatic way—just… softer. Cozy. The sharp, efficient energy you’d carried during the tour and safety briefing had melted into something warm and content. It was the first time today he saw you truly at rest. You noticed them coming in and lifted your hand in greeting.

“Hey,” you called, voice already lazy with bonfire comfort. “Food’s self-serve. We grilled ahead for the evening. I made two kinds of pasta salad, Lea did her cucumber-dill thing, and Erik has clearly declared war on every sausage in the region.”

They laughed, and Namjoon gave a thankful little bow as he made his way toward the tables. “It smells amazing.”

“All the stuff we don’t finish gets put out again tomorrow,” you added. “So dig in. There’s no losing here.” Jungkook’s eyes wandered from the food to the little table you and your friends had arranged—organized chaos, a mix of homemade sides in mismatched containers and tin trays with foil. Without realizing it, he made a mental note: Try the pasta salad you made first.

The group spread out slowly—Yoongi asked where he could find drinks, Jin demanded more marshmallows with absolute seriousness, and Hoseok yelped dramatically when an owl hooted a bit too close for comfort. You were still translating here and there, weaving between your team and theirs with a natural ease, until eventually things just settled.

Jungkook ended up back near the fire, hoodie pulled over his head, paper plate in one hand as he lowered himself into the camping chair beside you.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

You weren’t trying to impress anyone. You just sat there, cheeks a little flushed from the heat, watching the fire flicker and crackle with the same quiet pleasure as everyone else. The shadows danced across your face. Jungkook looked at you, a bit longer than maybe he should’ve, and realized he didn’t want to interrupt the peace you were wrapped in.

But still, he found himself asking, “Tired?” You turned your head just slightly toward him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “So tired I forgot I’m tired. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook said, mirroring your smile. “It does.” He took a bite of your pasta salad, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “This is really good.” You looked smug. “Lea and I spent an unreasonable amount of time arguing about whether we needed more garlic. The answer is always more garlic.”

Jungkook chuckled. “You should sell this stuff.”

“Oh, yeah,” you drawled playfully. “Just a side hustle while running full-scale zombie wars in the woods and having an adult job. Easy.”

“You don’t mind being out here for days?” he asked, voice low, pitched only for you. You turned your head toward him, and your smile was quiet, grounded. “I live for this. It’s exhausting, sure. But when the game starts? Everyone forgets it’s fake. And for four days… it’s just survival. Emotionally messy. Physically brutal. And unforgettable. If you let it happen.”

Jungkook studied your face for a moment—how the embers danced in your eyes, how certain you sounded. You weren’t just hosting a game. You were throwing people headfirst into a world you loved. He leaned in, just a little. “You ever thought about filming it like a movie? You’re already doing something cinematic.”

You blinked, surprised by the question, then smiled. His tone hadn’t been flippant. He really meant it. “Actually… yeah. We’ve talked about a YouTube channel. Mini-series, behind-the-scenes stuff. But we don’t have the gear. Or the time. Or a consistent enough crew.” You glanced at him with a tilt of your head. “You think people would actually watch?”

“I’d watch it,” Jungkook said without hesitation. His grin turned a little crooked. “I mean, if I survive the next four days.” That made you laugh, and the sound felt natural between you, easy. Warmer than the fire now burning low in the pit.

The longer you sat next to him, the stranger it felt that you hadn’t known him longer. There was an openness to him tonight—a curiosity, a genuine effort to understand your world, and it wasn’t performative. He hadn’t needed to ask those questions. He just wanted to.

The fire crackled again. Your friends and his were mingling in overlapping conversations now—language barriers half-forgotten in the mix of food and warmth. Your friends were joking around in rapid English while trying to coax Namjoon and Taehyung into playing some kind of night-tag game with glow sticks. Jimin was fully horizontal in a deck chair, whisper-singing spooky background music. Jin had given up and wrapped a blanket around himself like a burrito, muttering about zombie bites and indigestion.

You took another sip from your mug, and Jungkook watched as you closed your eyes for just a second, letting the night settle over your shoulders like a second hoodie. It was quiet, comfortable, unforced.

And Jungkook thought—not for the first time today—how unfair it was that Taehyung had gotten to flirt with you first.

One by one, people started trickling back to the sleeping quarters. Eventually, Erik started packing up the grill with sleepy movements, Pia tossed a blanket over her shoulders, and Hoseok finally declared he couldn’t feel his toes.

As you stood, knees crackling a bit from sitting so long, you stretched your arms above your head with a quiet groan. Jungkook’s eyes lingered, just for a second—like he couldn’t help watching your hoodie move higher—before he stood too, brushing stray bits of ash off his sleeves.

The rest of the members were already grumbling about the cold, groggy and slow-moving.

So they began retreating into the main house or their sleeping quarters. Jin flapped his arms dramatically. “Why does it feel like I’m sleeping in a refrigerator? Who builds houses out here with no insulation?”

“It’s historical,” you reminded him, biting back a grin as you grabbed your toiletry bag. “Be honored. You’re basically in a museum.” You turned in the low, amber-hued glow of the fairy lights strung loosely above the old rafters, their dim twinkle casting soft halos over the mattresses lined up like dominoes across the floor. Yours was nestled near the corner, extra blankets piled at the edge, and Jungkook’s mat had ended up right beside it—not close enough to touch, but closer than coincidence.

“Yeah, a museum of frostbite,” Jin shot back, wrapping his hoodie tighter. By the time you got to the bathroom, you found Jimin leaning against the doorframe. “Can I brush with you?” he asked, voice soft, already holding his toothbrush.

You nodded with a smile, and the two of you brushed side-by-side. Soon, Hoseok padded in to rinse his face and complain about the cold again. Jungkook came in last, hair still tousled from the hoodie, looking far too good for someone about to camp in a half-renovated asylum for the night.

Back in the sleeping area everyone was getting situated. The fairy lights making barely any light. Despite the portable heaters you had brought, it was still drafty. The floorboards creaked under your steps. The windows hissed with night wind.

“Okay, no, seriously,” Hoseok groaned from his nest of sleeping bag. “This is inhuman. Jin-hyung, I can feel my soul freezing. My kneecaps are shivering. Who brought us to the North Pole?!”

“I think I lost three toes already,” Jin added dramatically, clutching his hoodie like a shawl. “This is not what I signed up for. I’m not even a real actor and I don’t deserve this.”

“You’re not even outside,” Yoongi mumbled from under a blanket. “Doesn’t matter,” Jin whispered, haunted. “The cold found me.” Hoseok rolled closer to Jin like a dying Victorian noble. “Hyung. If I don’t make it through the night… tell my stylist I loved her.” Namjoon groaned loudly from the other side of the room. “Oh my god, Hyung, please. Just sleep!”

“Easy fix,” you said, sitting up and tightening your hoodie. “Just bunk with someone. Body heat solves most of it.” You meant it practically—your team had done this a dozen times. It was survival basics. But before the sentence even finished, Taehyung had already propped himself up with an eager glint in his eyes.

“Can I bunk with you?” he asked with a mischievous grin, already halfway toward your mat like a very cold puppy. You snorted, raising an eyebrow. “That wasn’t an invitation.” Before you could answer, Jungkook sat up from his corner with a sharp huff. “Yah—don’t just ask like that.”

Taehyung turned toward him slowly, eyes gleaming with mischief. “You wanna bunk with us, Jungkook? You keep her right side warm, I’ll be her left?” You lost it, full-on laughing now as Yoongi let out a long, tortured groan and flopped a pillow over his face. Namjoon was face-down in his blanket, shaking his head in exhausted disapproval.

Jungkook looked mortified. His ears flushed pink even in the low light. “It’s not—! I wasn’t—!” He cleared his throat hard. “It’s rude, that’s all. She’s the organizer. She needs space.” Your brows lifted, amusement all over your face. “Uh-huh.” Taehyung looked like he was biting his tongue just to stop himself from saying something even worse.

Jimin, bless  him, nudged Taehyung back toward the other side of the room. “Come on, Tae. You’re gonna get us kicked out. I’ll bunk with you. Stop flirting.” With a dramatic sigh, Taehyung accepted it, flopping down beside Jimin and stealing half his blanket. “But just know—I could have been the hottest option.”

Yoongi didn’t even open his eyes. “You radiate chaos, not heat.”, when Hoseok snuck under his blanket and just sighed like a man who had given up on peace. Jin wiggled his eyebrows at Namjoon, who just deadpanned: “Try it and I’m tossing you outside.”

You shook your head fondly, digging into your supplies. “Jin, I’ve got an extra blanket if you want one.”  He hesitated, shaking his head. “No, no, I’ll manage—”

“Really its fine,” already holding it out. He accepted it with a sheepish grin. “You’re sure you don’t need it?”

“I’ve still got two more and a sleeping bag. I’ll be fine.” You moved carefully through the half-dark, stepping around boots and duffel bags, a folded blanket in your arms for Jin. The wooden floor creaked beneath your socked feet, each step an exercise in balance over warped boards and chaos. You murmured something to Jin, who accepted the blanket like he’d been rescued from an arctic death, dramatically clutching it to his chest.

You turned back toward your mattress, navigating the familiar obstacles in reverse. As you made your way back to your spot. And then you caught your foot on the edge of someone's abandoned hoodie.

“Shit—!” You stumbled forward—arms flailing—and would’ve face-planted if it weren’t for a solid pair of hands catching you mid-fall. Warmth met you.

You blinked.

Jungkook.

He was already sitting up, half-covered in his sleeping bag, hoodie still up, his phone forgotten beside him. His hands had caught your arms instinctively, steady but not grabbing. You were kneeling awkwardly now, one hand on his chest, the other braced on the mattress behind him, close enough to feel his breath.

“You okay?” he asked, voice quiet with concern, eyes wide in the fairy-lit dark. Mortified didn’t even begin to cover it. “I—yeah—sorry,” you stammered, cheeks already burning. “Didn’t see where I—uh—my foot—hoodie—” He chuckled under his breath, one hand still lightly on your elbow. “It’s okay. You didn’t fall. Technically.”

Your eyes flicked up to his—too close, too pretty in this soft, sleepy light—and then down again, like maybe you could disappear straight into the floorboards if you just willed it hard enough.

From the dark, Jimin’s voice floated lazily through the room. “Everything good over there?”

“Yup!” you squeaked, trying to stand too fast and instead just half-falling sideways—straight into your sleeping bag with a flustered huff. There was a moment of silence before Jungkook chuckled again, softer this time. You could hear the shift of fabric as he laid back down beside you, his voice pitched low. “Smooth recovery.”

“Shut up,” you whispered through a grin, tugging the sleeping bag over your head in self-defense.

The fairy lights buzzed faintly above, and somewhere in the room Jin sighed contentedly into his new blanket like a satisfied burrito. But Jungkook stayed quiet beside you now, arms folded under his head, gaze occasionally drifting in your direction long after the rest had fallen asleep.

He couldn’t help the small smile that pulled at his lips.

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The house woke slowly. The soft creak of floors and the smell of coffee drifted through the old wooden frame as morning sunlight filtered in through mismatched curtains. Jin was the first to loudly complain that someone had stolen his blanket—which turned out to be Hoseok, who claimed it had “drifted onto his mat” during the night.

“You were snoring like a vacuum cleaner,” Hoseok groaned, head buried under a pillow, insisting he needed another hour. “It’s the least you owe me.”

“I don’t snore,” Jin declared with wounded dignity. Namjoon hummed dryly. “You do. Aggressively.” Laughter bubbled through the group, even as no one quite managed to leave the warmth of their sleeping bags. Jungkook was the last to sit up, hoodie still half covering his eyes, glancing once to his left—to where your mat lay empty. Already cold. You’d been up for hours.

The smell of instant coffee and toast lingered faintly in the air, and while the boys slowly filtered through breakfast—some filming themselves with still-sleepy voices—you and your team were already darting between bags of props, radio check-ins, and set dressing. You'd been radioing Pia about the entrance setup while giving Erik a checklist and stuffing a walkie into your jacket all before most of the group had even laced their boots.

“Do you even sleep?” Jungkook had asked, watching you with something like awe as he munched on toast with one hand and held his camera with the other. “After the apocalypse,” you’d joked without slowing down, already halfway through sorting a box of bloodied bandages and prop ID cards.

Around midmorning, it was time to head to the game zone.

The boys filmed their "arrival" separately, capturing the forest entrance and the handmade wooden signpost marked "ZONE 3 – MISSION: BLACKOUT" while Erik, now dressed in dusty cargo pants and boots, played the enthusiastic guide.

"Welcome to hell, gentlemen," Erik grinned in-character, flinging his arms wide. Jin burst out laughing immediately, and Yoongi muttered, “This already feels like a fever dream.” Meanwhile, you and your friends were spread across the clearing and bunker grounds, setting up props, panning out gear to the incoming LARPers, and checking walkie frequencies.

You pulled the boys aside just before the first players arrived.

“All right,” you said, already in your organizer vest and scarf. “Masks, caps, scarves—anything to obscure your faces. Just until everyone’s settled.”

“I feel like a secret agent,” Taehyung said as you handed him a half-face tactical mask.

“Good,” you smirked. “You’re not supposed to be famous here. You’re a dirty, starving survivor like the rest.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jin huffed dramatically. “I’m going to be the hottest starving man in the zone.”

“AH! And no selfies unless you’re dead,” you added with a teasing glance.

“That’s so specific,” Namjoon muttered.

“It’s been a problem before,” you grinned. “One guy literally tried to live-stream his own death scene. Kinda ruined the mood.” Still, they complied—caps tugged low, scarves around mouths, sunglasses here and there. They settled off to the side near a small outcrop of trees, watching the entry path as players trickled in.

Jungkook pulled his mask halfway over his face, watching you bounce from person to person, still radiating energy despite the chaos. Even beneath your scarf and with your walkie clipped to your belt, you looked in your element. Confident. Happy.

That’s when the first wave of survivors started to arrive.

Boots crunched gravel. Cars rolled in, gear piled high on roof racks. The first few survivors were new and wide-eyed, some shy, some filming themselves as they approached. But others came in loud, excited—familiar faces from past games. People spilled out in various levels of post-apocalyptic chic—some clearly new, blinking in wonder, others grinning with the casual swagger of veterans. Some even had also Go-Pros on them.

“Hey, look at them,” Jimin nudged Jungkook, nodding toward a group of heavily geared players striding in like Mad Max extras. “Wow,” Taehyung whispered. “Some of these people look like they live here.”

Then they saw you.

You were greeting people by name, hugging a few, clapping shoulders. One player—a tall, bearded man with a thick leather coat and a ridiculous foam axe strapped to his back—let out a joyful bellow.

“THERE SHE IS!” he boomed, arms already out. “My favorite corpse-wrangler!”

You turned just in time for him to lift you clean off the ground and spin you in a circle, your laughter ringing out across the lot. “Markus!” you wheezed, swatting at his shoulder as he set you down. “Warn me next time! My spine isn’t apocalypse-proof!”

“Missed you, boss,” he grinned. “Ready to get emotionally traumatized again?”

“Always.”

Jungkook’s jaw ticked. He was too slow to school his expression. Taehyung, still beside him, caught it instantly. “Ohhh?” Taehyung leaned closer with a smug grin. “What was that face, Jeon Jungkook?”

Before Jungkook could deny anything, another man approached you—this one younger, maybe late twenties, tall and lanky with buzzed hair dyed copper red. “Hey there, fluffball,” he grinned, eyes dragging down your body.

You gave him a polite smile but stepped slightly back, putting some space between you as you shook his hand instead of accepting the hug he clearly wanted. “Hi, Lukas.” He didn’t quite get the hint, his hand brushing along your back as if to pull you into a side hug, but you dipped forward just in time to greet someone else passing by.

“Excuse me! I’ve been looking for you!” you said loudly to a surprised but delighted player behind him. Lukas was left smiling awkwardly at your back. He was, one of the newer regulars, known for pushing boundaries and blaming it on “just being friendly.”

Jungkook had taken a step forward, body tense—but as you gracefully handled it, he forced himself to stop. Taehyung saw that too.

“...Someone’s jealous,” Tae sing-songed under his breath, elbowing Jungkook lightly in the ribs.  “Looked like ‘mildly jealous caveman’ to me,” Jimin added, peeking over his mask. “Shut up,” Jungkook muttered. Taehyung grinned. “You want to go spin her around too? Or just go hug her? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind—”

Jungkook snorted. “Shut up.”

Jimin held up both hands, laughing. “You’re so obvious, man. You’ve been watching her like she’s the main quest.”

“She is the organizer,” Jungkook grumbled, though his eyes followed you again as you helped someone fix their shoulder rig. “Of course I’m watching her.”

“Sure,” Taehyung said. “It’s definitely about the logistics. Not about how you almost exploded when the Mad Max McThighs got touchy.” Jungkook tugged his scarf higher up his face to hide the small, helpless smile. He’d never seen you laugh like that. Not while working, not while briefing them. It was unguarded. Effortless.

And somehow, he wanted to see it again.

Even if the guy spinning you around was the size of a refrigerator.

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By noon, the grounds were buzzing. The last car had pulled up, and nearly 200 players were now scattered around the staging area. Some stood in loose, eager groups, already forming alliances. Others sat quietly with water bottles, eyes scanning every detail like it might matter later.

You, already hoarse from shouting, clapped your hands to gather attention. "NPCs to the barn! Survivors over here—yeah, red scarves, come to Erik. Zombies, you're with me. Group A briefing starts now, Group B you're next."

As you walked backward through the chaos, still calling instructions, Jungkook spotted your pink vest and your megaphone clipped to your belt. It amazed him how you moved through the mess with such control. Like a general of the end times.

The members had already received their own briefing—thankfully in Korean, which made it easier to absorb the detailed rules and storyline. BigHit’s crew, mostly keeping a low profile, helped secure GoPros and test audio. They would run after the members and try to get as much footage as possible.

“You ready?” Jungkook asked, testing the strap of his fake holster as he caught up to Taehyung. Taehyung tilted his foam machete like it was a guitar. “Born ready. I’m emotionally prepared to die in the first ten minutes.” Jin snorted. “Please. I’m planning to survive and retire with a fake garden and fake dog.”

“Can we have fake ramen?” Jungkook asked, smirking. “Or do we have to scavenge that too?” Then, like a starter pistol, the airhorn blasted. A long, echoing blare that shattered the warm afternoon.

Everywhere, people moved.

Screams. Laughter. Stomping boots. Half the crowd surged toward the tree line, another half bolted for the barn. Some fell immediately into character, yelling things like, “Split up! Head north!” or “They’re coming from the creek!”

Jungkook was startled to see how real it felt.

He hadn’t expected the panic—the thrill. Despite the fake weapons, the rubber knives, and the painted faces, when a mass of snarling “zombies” came barreling out of the woods, the instinct was to run.

Even he flinched before catching himself.

The zombies were good. Dirty, growling, twitchy. You were leading the pack from behind—he recognized your pink vest, your voice barking direction to the others in character, but you were already gone again into the trees.

Only those with long-range weapons made a stand—firing their limited fake ammo with purpose, trying to buy time for others to flee. In the chaos they had already lost some of the members. Jin clutched a piece of bent cardboard like a broken riot shield. “Okay, okay, fallback, regroup, hide—what are we doing?”

“Hide,” Jungkook said immediately. “Barricade if we can.”

“Find ramen,” Taehyung added.

“You’re obsessed,” Jin said.

“I’m hungry, Hyung.”

Behind them, Erik—wearing a bright pink vest that read “MODERATOR”—raised two arms and made a dramatic “breaking” motion.

“That’s the signal!” Jungkook yelled. “Barricade’s compromised!” Players screamed, laughing as they fled in a dozen directions. Taehyung grabbed Jin’s arm and bolted toward a row of abandoned sheds, while Jungkook pushed the crew member following them behind a thick wooden post before diving for cover himself.

“Okay, now what?” Jin gasped, crouched behind a fallen sign. “We regroup,” Jungkook said, catching his breath. “Try to find Yoongi or Namjoon.”

“Or her,” Taehyung added, eyes twinkling even beneath his mask.

Jungkook pretended not to hear it. Still, his thoughts drifted back to you—your voice, you disappearing into the woods, your laughter from earlier. He hoped you were okay out there in the madness you’d helped create.

Though, something told him you were probably more than fine.

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The first day had been equal parts chaos and clever hiding. It was kind of a miracle that he, Jin, and Taehyung had stayed out of the early chaos—ducking behind barns, creeping through drainage ditches, hiding under an overturned canoe at one point while a group of howling zombies passed within arm’s reach. Some groups had immediately gone feral, fighting over water jugs or arguing about whose map was correct. Others just wandered, yelling for allies or screaming when someone leapt out of the bushes as a fake infected.

Jin’s idea had been simple: “Stick together, don’t get bitten, and avoid anything that sounds like foley work.”

Jungkook agreed. They didn’t run. They didn’t shout. They watched. Stuck to the edges. By the time the sun began to dip past the tree line, casting a soft violet glow over the LARP zone, they had only minor dirt smears and one near-miss.

“I never thought crawling through actual dirt would be part of this,” Jin muttered, wiping leaves from his face. Taehyung laughed, breathless. “We were born for this. We’re survivors, Hyung.” Jungkook had just grinned, heart thudding, feeling more alive than he had in weeks.

By the time the sun dipped below the tree line and the shadows turned long and gold, they were dirty, tired, and hungry—but they found them.

“Jimin-ah!” Taehyung called in a stage whisper. Jimin—who had been rifling through an overturned toolbox with Namjoon and two strangers—turned, eyes wide, then relaxed into a smile. “Hyung! You’re alive!”

“Holy crap,” Namjoon said with a breathless laugh. “You made it.” The reunion was short but sweet. The group Jimin and Namjoon had fallen in with—mostly guys in tattered cosplay and thrift-store camo—were initially suspicious of the newcomers.

Several of them were already carrying canvas satchels and worn-looking packs, with scavenged “rations” (pre-placed supplies from the orga) tied at their hips. A few were skeptical at first.

“Who the hell are the new guys?” a tall man with a buzzcut muttered.

“We’re clean,” Jin said with a flash of his ‘actor smile.’ “Untouched. Pure. Like rice at a wedding.”

“I hate that metaphor,” Taehyung whispered.

It took some convincing. Namjoon vouched for them—half in character, half with real charisma—and eventually, the group let them stay. The trek back to the safe zone was cautious, deliberate. No one shouted. No one ran. Even the leaves beneath their feet seemed to hush under the weight of tension.

Their new “base camp” turned out to be a miracle of DIY survivalist craft. And Jungkook was impressed. There were rotating shifts for keeping watch and a pile of ration cards being counted for their next food run. Spotlight had been placed and where working, casting bright cones of light around the camp's edge. A whiteboard on the wall labeled who was “on shift,” “scouting,” or “MIA.”

It felt like a real camp.

“Who built all this in six hours?” Jin asked, amazed as he folded onto an upturned crate near a lantern. “Apparently some of the veteran players just… knew what to do,” Jimin said, unwrapping a protein bar. “It was like instinct kicked in. With the things the Orga carried around yesterday.”

“I watched a guy build a water collection system from trash bags and a mop,” Namjoon added, shaking his head. “People are scary smart under pressure.”

“He wants to drink from it?” Jungkook looked shocked. But Namjoon shook his head, “Said the Orga would bring water if he builds it.”

“It’s crazy, So much for realism.” Taehyung muttered back.

 Jungkook sat near the barricade, fake rifle laid across his lap. He chewed a bite of cold ration bread and scanned the tree line, still charged with energy. They were just starting to relax—just starting to settle for the night—when the first growl came from the tree line.

It was subtle at first. A rustle of leaves. Then a shuffling footstep. Then a hiss.

Just two at first—figures staggering toward the barricade in the fading light, their shadows stretching long over the grass. The nearest watchman gave the alarm, and others scrambled into place. Flashlights switched on with shaky hands. Someone dropped a rubber axe.

“They’re coming!” a survivor called.

But the barricade held. More zombies emerged from the trees, groaning and clawing. Foam weapons swung, shouts echoed. One particularly committed zombie hurled himself at the gate with a blood-curdling screech that made even Jin yelp behind Jungkook.

“They’re good,” Jungkook muttered, eyes wide. “Too good,” Jimin whispered beside him, holding a battered flashlight like it might actually do something. Taehyung was grinning ear to ear. “I want to die dramatically. Let me jump from the roof.”

“No,” Jin said. “You’ll twist your ankle.”

“Then carry my corpse and avenge me.” Jungkook was laughing quietly, heart thudding.

Then—

From the woods. A flicker of movement. A splash of pink just barely visible beyond the tree line. His breath caught. There. A pink vest. It was you. Even in the low light, he knew. The confident way you moved, one hand raised in signal, clipboard tucked under your arm like a weapon. You watched the chaos unfold with a hand on your hip, head tilted.

Jungkook’s pulse jumped. He nudged Taehyung, whispering, “It’s her.”

“Huh?”

He pointed. “Pink vest.” Taehyung squinted, then smirked. “Your little crush?”

“Shut up.” But he couldn’t help the grin pulling at his lips. You were behind this. Orchestrating this wild, thrilling, immersive madness. He remembered what you’d said the night before: I run the NSC side of the event. I make sure survivors get very little sleep.

“What are you planning now?” he murmured to himself, eyes locked on your figure as you turned and melted into the woods again.

Whatever it was—you’d already hooked him.

And he had a feeling things were just getting started.

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The air had stilled for a moment. No more groans from the woods. No rustling leaves. The tension that had coiled tight for the last hour had begun to loosen. Jungkook leaned back against the cabin’s wooden siding, rifle balanced across his knees. “Maybe they’ve gone to harass another group,” Jin whispered to Jimin, who was starting to doze upright.

Namjoon was jotting something down on a paper map in the corner while Taehyung peered through a crack in the barricade with childlike fascination. Jin had found a reasonably clean blanket and was curled up with it like an idol with his stage towel.

Then—

Jungkook saw you again. His eyes caught movement near the tree line, just beyond the rough gravel road leading to the cabin. You stepped into view like some trick of the moonlight—vest still on, hoodie zipped to your chin, your silhouette unmistakable even in the dark.

He sat up straighter. No zombies around. Just you. Watching. His heart thudded in a mix of nerves and anticipation. Were you just checking in on them? Taking notes? Or—

Then your hand lifted. Tapped the button on your walkie. And you smiled. Right at him.

He couldn’t hear your voice, but your lips moved. He was sure you said, “Good luck… Now.”

A second later, the lights went out. With an audible click, the generator died. The spotlights illuminating the barricades flickered, then vanished. Instant pitch black—except for the sliver of moonlight painting the gravel and one flickering lantern down the street.

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

“Shit,” he muttered, not even realizing he’d said it in English. “What?” Jimin hissed beside him, now fully awake.  “I saw her. Just now. She was smiling. That was not a friendly smile. Taehyung perked up. “A plot twist?” Jin groaned from under his blanket. “I hate plot twists.”

Then—

The moans began. Soft at first. Far off. But they built, swelling like a tide. Multiple voices. Low, rasping. Fast. Namjoon was already grabbing his weapon. “Positions!” People scrambled. Someone dropped their flashlight. Someone else screamed as a “guard” tripped over his own feet trying to get back into place.

Then Jungkook saw it. A flicker. A bounce of light. Something small fell a few feet before him on the ground, rolling toward him—right up to the edge of the barricade.

“What the—?”

PFFFFFTT—

A cloud of smoke exploded outward, thick and grey. “Oh come on—a smoke grenade?!” Jungkook backing up.

“Smoke!” a woman with a crossbow screamed, not missing a beat. “They use those for haunted houses. Totally safe.”

“Terrifying,” Jin muttered, waving a hand in front of his face. “I smell artificial doom.” The fog rolled over the makeshift barricade and down the path, mixing with the moonlight and giving the street a cinematic glow—soft yet eerie. Every silhouette looked ten times taller, their edges distorted by smoke and shifting shadows.

Then came the moans.

So many.

Zombies surged from the smoke like nightmares. They were louder now. Hungrier. Faster. Their makeup looked worse in the dark—more grotesque, more desperate. Foam weapons still in their hands, but they snarled and lunged and shrieked with a commitment that made Jungkook’s blood run cold.

“THEY LOOK POSSESSED,” Jin yelped as a pair slammed against the wooden fence.

“Shit,” someone whispered from the rear. “They’re using the smoke to cover a flank.” Jungkook grinned, adrenaline kicking in again. You were really going for it tonight. One “undead” scrambled over the barricade, wild-eyed, reaching for Jimin. Jimin screamed—then clocked the guy in the shoulder with a rubber hammer.

Taehyung had tears in his eyes—from laughing. “This is the best night of my life.” Jungkook couldn’t help it—he was terrified and thrilled. He felt like a kid again. A very armed kid with a fake rifle and a vendetta.

And then—figures appeared in the fog. Dozens. Some slow, arms dragging. Others twitching unnaturally, heads jerking with every step. Even though he knew it was fake, Jungkook's heart pounded. The lighting, the fog, the groans, the chaos—it was better than any horror game. You’d turned the entire woods into a living set.

He braced his foam knife tighter in one hand and his fake gun in the other. Beside him, a guy in a battered leather jacket grinned. “Whoever planned this is evil.” Jungkook beamed, eyes locked on the misty tree line. “Yeah,” he said under his breath, spotting a flash of pink from your vest in the shadows. “She really is.”

"Positions! Now!" someone barked—not one of Jungkook’s friends, but a woman near the barricade. She had a blue streak in her hair and a crossbow slung over her back. "Close-ranged to the front! Spotters up top!"

Players sprang into action. This wasn’t just cosplay—it was commitment. Everyone threw themselves into the game like it was real. A guy wearing a dirtied duster coat and fake blood smeared across his cheek grabbed an axe and stood shoulder to shoulder with Jungkook.

“You new?” the guy asked, breath fogging. “You three look fresh.”

Jungkook grinned, ducking as a zombie thumped against the boards. “First time.”

“Hell of a night to start. If we make it out, I’ll show you where we hide the real snacks. Not the ration boxes. The actual chocolate.”

Jungkook laughed. “Deal.”

Meanwhile, Jin had cornered himself behind a crate. “Does this look like a hero arc to you?” he snapped at a random player crawling beside him with a prop spear. “I am a bard. I sing. I complain. I don’t get eaten!”

“I don’t understand shit! You’re literally holding a hammer,” the other player said, crawling past him. “You’re doing great.” Taehyung, meanwhile, had somehow ended up in a roleplay conversation mid-battle with a grizzled survivor in a torn biker jacket and a toy pistol. “My name’s Snake,” the man said seriously. “I used to run with a group out east before the swarms came.”

Taehyung blinked. “Out east, like… Seoul?” The guy didn’t break character. “Used to be called that. Now it’s a graveyard.” Taehyung whispered to Jin, “This guy’s living his dream.”

“Yeah, and we’re living his fan fiction,” Jin muttered. The barricade groaned again—another wave.

Jimin dove forward with a group of other survivors to reinforce a gap, slamming a foam board across it just in time to hold back a zombie clawing through. Someone shouted, “We need more cover left side!” and Namjoon ran to help, organizing people like he was born to be a post-apocalyptic general.

One of the players, an older man with a scar drawn across his cheek and a “Medic” patch sewn on his jacket, muttered, “Something’s wrong.” Jungkook edged closer to the front again.

And then he saw it—you, darting across the tree line just long enough to be spotted. Just long enough for him to catch the wicked grin on your face. You disappeared into the trees again like a shadow, headset still pressed to your ear.

“She's still here,” Jungkook whispered, oddly proud. “Of course she is,” the chocolate-smuggling player muttered beside him. “We call her secretly the Puppetmaster. She only smiles like that when something real bad is about to happen.”

And then it did.

A guttural howl tore through the woods—different from the earlier zombie moans. Everyone froze. “What the hell was that?” Jin asked, eyes wide. “Boss zombie?” Jimin guessed, not sounding confident. Namjoon slowly rose from behind his makeshift command table. “Or worse.”

The front barricade shook again—but not from a horde. From something heavier. Then smoke again—this time from behind. Jungkook spun. “Back entrance!”

Several players rushed to the rear barricade as you unleashed the next chaos round. Amid the smoke, a dozen zombies swarmed from the woods—some moving faster than before. Their groans were louder, their makeup more grotesque, their eyes glowing faintly from the LEDs embedded in their masks.

You had leveled up.

“GUYS—THIS IS SO COOL,” Taehyung screamed as he dodged behind a barrel. Jin smacked a zombie's arm with his foam hammer, panic written across his face. “THIS IS A FORMAL COMPLAINT!” The players were laughing, yelling, swearing, acting—and Jungkook loved every second. The adrenaline, the immersion, the fact that you were the mastermind behind it all.

Then he caught a flash of pink again.

Your vest. You were darting through the shadows behind the zombies—counting, correcting, watching them as they attacked. Fully in control. He couldn’t help but grin. Then, your voice cut through the night commanding: “GAME STOP!”

The word was like a spell. Every player froze, weapons half-raised, breaths held in the chill dawn air. Only the few you signaled with a hand gesture moved, carefully shifting the faux-barricade aside to make the scene safe again. Jungkook blinked, heart still thudding. Even though he knew it was a game, the adrenaline refused to fade.

And then—there you were.

Stepping lightly over the uneven ground, in that same pink vest, headset snug against your cheek, clipboard in hand. You made your rounds like a stage manager inspecting the set after a complicated scene—checking faces, weapons, broken props.

When you passed Jungkook’s side of the barricade, you didn’t say anything. Just gave him a sly wink. He didn’t even try to hide his grin. Then, turning to face the cabin, you lifted your voice: “Ready?”

A few tired nods. Some thumbs up. You waited one extra beat… and then stepped aside with a flourish of your hand. “Continue.” The world shifted again—players jolting into motion as if time had resumed. As zombies now flooded the cabin.

He raised his fake gun, nodded to his new squad of random survivors, and shouted: “Let’s defend this place!” Someone cheered back, “For the chocolate stash!” “FOR SEOUL!” Snake added dramatically.

Jungkook aimed and fired a foam dart into the chest of a rushing zombie, adrenaline coursing through him like fire. He was in your world now.

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The attack had ended.

The aftermath was quiet, eerie. Six players had “died” during the horde, and one had been “bitten.” Jungkook watched as the bitten man and his friend played out a painfully convincing scene by the fire—whispers, pleading, an emotional goodbye, then a single dramatic “stab” to the chest with a foam knife. The bitten man fell back into the shadows, now part of the undead ranks.

Jungkook was impressed. He hadn’t expected people to feel this much playing pretend.

After that, the next few hours passed in relative quiet.

They re-secured the barricade—Jin helping hammer prop-boards into place while Jimin argued over who should take the next watch. Namjoon and Taehyung went through “scavenged” supplies, checking LARP rations, carefully labeled in duct-taped bags. The fake walkie-talkie system still worked, and the illusion of apocalypse held steady.

As the deep purple of night slowly melted into that strange, pale blue of early morning, Jungkook sat against the side of the shed, rubbing at his neck and breathing in the cold.

“I thought we were dead for sure,” Jin murmured next to him, legs stretched out. “I almost cried,” Jimin said dramatically, flopping down onto a sleeping mat. “I thought Tae got bitten.” Taehyung scoffed. “I was performing, thank you. Some of us have range.”

Namjoon sipped from a thermos of something that was definitely just instant coffee, but in this world felt like a potion of life. “Honestly, I’m surprised we made it through the night. That will give amazing footage.” Jungkook didn’t say anything at first.

He was looking past them—toward the tree line again, where the smoke had cleared and the trees looked just like trees again. He had seen you there, in the middle of it all. Smiling. Running the show. Creating chaos and keeping them all safe inside it.

And he’d felt… exhilarated. Not just because he’d survived. But because you’d made it feel real.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured without thinking. The others glanced at him. “Huh?” Jimin blinked. “Who’s amazing?” Jin teased, raising an eyebrow. “No one,” Jungkook said too quickly, but his ears were already red. Taehyung didn’t say a word, just smirked, bumping Jungkook’s knee with his own.

Jungkook looked up again, just as you appeared around the corner, talking into your headset with that same intense focus—head tilted, brows furrowed, clipboard under one arm.

Still working. Still organizing. Still making this world turn.

And somehow, even after staying up all night surviving fake zombies and crawling through fake smoke, Jungkook had never been more awake.

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You jogged across the field, half-laced boots kicking up dust in the early light. You had just gotten word from your comms team: one of the BTS members had officially “died” in-game.

Time to pick up the body.

The makeshift makeup atelier was full with people that wanted to turn into zombies, turn from reality into the ruined world your team had crafted. You expected someone tired, maybe a little dramatic. You did not expect Yoongi lying on a fold-out chair like a lazy vampire, arms crossed and hoodie pulled halfway over his head.

“Yo,” you greeted, brushing back your windswept hair. “Dead, or just felt like napping?” Yoongi cracked one eye open and gave you a smirk. “Bit of both. I figured I’m way better at being creepy than surviving.” You laughed. “Honestly, valid. Want a break first or should I track down the others for you?”

Yoongi sat up, hoodie slipping from his head. His eyes glittered, mischievous and strangely at peace with his new undead status. “Food. Nap. Then undead chaos.”

“Respect,” you said with a grin. “Come on. I’ll walk you to the kitchen. You good with whatever they’ve got, or should I threaten someone to find you a real croissant?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes but followed. “If there’s a real croissant, you’re legally required to bring it to me.” You held your hand over your heart. “Scout’s honor.”

The kitchen was one of the few non-immersive zones—filled with thermoses, cereal, toast, and bleary-eyed crew. You led Yoongi in, checked he had everything he needed (which, as expected, was basically a piece of toast, tea and a quiet seat), and leaned on the table.

“If you wanna hop back in after your nap,” you said, “just head to makeup. They’ll get you zombified. Walk-ins welcome.” Yoongi gave a lazy salute. “Enjoy the chaos.”

You smirked. “Oh, I will.”

As you stepped back outside, you pulled your vest off, checked your headset, and tapped your radio.

“Sparkles goes in to play,” you told everybody in the Orga channel.

The wind stirred your hair as you walked up the stairs to get into your survivor outfit. Somewhere out there, survivors were scavenging. Somewhere in the trees, barricades were being reinforced, stories played out.

And maybe—just maybe—Jungkook would spot you again.

You couldn’t help smiling at the thought.

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You had changed.

Gone was the confident, sharp-eyed game runner in a bright vest and headset. In her place, standing at the back entrance of the ruined asylum terrain, was a frail young woman—dirty, disheveled, a little wild in the eyes. Your cheeks were flushed as if you’d cried, and your hair was messily pulled back like it hadn’t been washed in days. You wore a torn oversized knit sweater that hung off one shoulder, stained and torn, and your jeans were fraying at the hems like you’d worn them through hell. A ratty scarf was wrapped around your wrist, and your hair was a tangled mess like you hadn’t had a brush or mirror in days. But it was the lifeless plastic baby doll swaddled in a stained cloth to your chest like it was your entire world that completed the look.

You looked haunted.

You were embodying the character you'd warned the staff about weeks before—the “young mother,” a deeply unhinged, petty chaos agent with one goal: survival. At everyone else’s expense.

The back entrance of the asylum was quiet now, but as you predicted, players had already started establishing a trade hub there. Makeshift tables held bartered goods—scraps of old food props, dummy ammunition, lighters, glowsticks, water bottles, a few hand-written “currency” notes. Some players stood guard, clearly skeptical of strangers, while others played smooth-talking scavengers or suspicious loners.

You blended in perfectly.

Your current mark was a man with a fake shotgun and far too much fake canned food to his name. You rocked the doll in your arms, sniffled, and gestured toward the woods as you explained in slow, stilted English that you were looking for your brother.

“I’m just… looking for my brother,” you said softly in a broken, unsure tone, gently rocking the baby doll in your arms. “He… he wanted to look for food…but… I think something happened…”

A weathered-looking survivor with a fake scar across his jaw nodded slowly. “You armed?”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “No. I—I’m not stupid, I had a knife, but I traded it. For formula.” You shook the baby slightly. “She… she was screaming. And people were starting to look. Please… he said he’d meet me here, if something happens. Please, I don’t want anything. I just… I don’t want to be alone.”

Your eyes glittered with wetness. The man softened, the way players do when they think they’re being heroes. “Stay close, alright? If you need anything—”

Jungkook, Taehyung, Snake (still inexplicably calling himself that), and Molly—crossbow-slinger extraordinaire—were making their way through the asylum’s crumbling courtyard. A day and a half in, they looked the part now: mud on their clothes, sweat-dampened shirts, fake bandages here and there. They had clearly made it through a night and a morning of scavenging, and judging by the pack Taehyung carried, they were doing well.

That’s when Taehyung spotted you from a distance.

He nudged Jungkook and hissed under his breath, “No way. Is that Y/N?”

Jungkook’s eyes locked on you—and froze. “She’s… acting, right?” Jungkook asked, but he was already moving toward you.

Gone was the confident, sharp-eyed you that Jungkook had seen commanding a smoke grenade like it was part of your DNA. Gone was the grinning puppet master who had thrown him and his friends into a zombie nightmare for the sheer love of chaos. Instead—standing under the gray, early-morning sky—you looked like someone lost.

You stood at the trading post near the old asylum ruins, speaking softly to a weathered player with fake dirt on his face and a rusted toy gun slung over his back. Your voice was shaking. So were your hands.

“Y/N?” he said uncertainly, a flicker of hope in his voice. You didn’t react. Of course not. That wasn’t your name right now.

So he tried again, stepping closer, more hesitant. “Hey… are you okay?”

Taehyung beat him to it, his Korean accent thick but clear. “Miss? Is everything okay?”

You turned toward them slowly. Your lip trembled. And the look you gave them… it was so raw it knocked the wind out of Jungkook’s chest. You looked at all of them like you didn’t know whether to run or cry. You glanced from Taehyung to Jungkook to the two strangers flanking them. You held the baby tighter to your chest. Your lip wobbling, and your voice came out small.

“I’m just… looking for my brother,” you said. “We—we said we’d meet here. I lost my knife. I traded it for formula. For her. Please, I don’t want anything. I just—I need help.”

You clutched the baby doll tighter and gave a little, heartbreaking smile. And Jungkook’s heart squeezed in a way that shocked him. He should know better. He did know better. This was a game. You were in character. You were one of the organizers. Hell, he’d seen you cut the power and signal a horde like a general commanding troops just last night. But right now…

Right now, all he could see was you looking scared, tired, alone—and goddammit, holding a baby. Even if it was a fake one. You looked down at the baby doll, brushing your thumb over its plastic cheek. “She’s been so quiet, but I think she’s hungry. I… I don’t know where else to go.”

Jungkook couldn’t breathe.

Your vulnerability wasn’t just convincing—it felt real. Too real. He knew it was stupid. He knew this was part of the game. But still, something primal and protective swelled in his chest. He wanted to shield you. Even from pretend danger. Even if you were one of the people causing it.

You looked up at them again with a shiver. “You’re not with the men from the train, right? They had—masks. And one had this axe…”

Molly gave a soft, reassuring nod. “We’re not with the train people. You can come with us, okay?” You nodded, eyes wide. “Thank you. Thank you so much.” Snake muttered under his breath, “If that baby starts crying tonight, I swear—”

“I’ll keep her quiet,” you said quickly, gripping the doll tighter. “She knows not to cry anymore.” Jungkook couldn’t take his eyes off you. His brain kept screaming it’s fake, it’s fake, it’s fake—but his heart wasn’t listening.

As the group turned and began to walk back toward their temporary outpost, you fell in step beside them, eyes alert but downcast. Jungkook moved quietly beside you, matching your pace. You didn’t look up, but you let your arm brush against his as if by accident. He glanced sideways—and for the briefest moment, your expression cracked just enough for him to see the smallest flicker of a smirk.

You knew. You knew exactly what you were doing. And god, it was working. Jungkook ran a hand through his hair and sighed through his nose, exasperated with himself.

He was so. fucking. doomed.

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It was crazy. Absolutely insane.

From the second Jungkook’s group took you in, everything changed. One of the trade vendors, a grizzled guy with a sheriff badge duct-taped to his chest, handed them two extra magazines of Nerf ammo “for the baby.” Another gave a can of pineapple, whispering with serious urgency, “Good for nursing moms.”

You nodded, clutching the doll like your life depended on it, eyes watery with gratitude. You didn’t overplay it. You didn’t need to. Back at their camp—a semicircle of barricades and scavenged supplies around the shed—chaos broke loose. You walked in and people lost their minds.

“She’s got a baby?” “She has a baby!” “Is she alone?” “Where’s the father?” “Was she pregnant during the outbreak?!”

People took it way to serious. But Jungkook kind of understood. The men swore to protect you. Loudly. With solemn nods and fist-to-chest pledges. Even the quieter ones suddenly sharpened their focus, ready to fend off zombie hordes at the sound of a rattle.

The women? They were instantly circling. One gently tugged your sleeve and whispered, “You should sleep, hon. Let someone else take care of the little one for a bit.” Another offered to heat water and try to sterilize a bottle. A third handed over a slightly-clean blanket, saying it would be softer for the baby.

Molly, tough-as-nails Molly with her battered crossbow and flinty eyes, was the most surprising of all. She stepped up, arms crossed. “You need to eat. Properly. Sit.” You blinked, nodding slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”

Molly took the baby doll from your arms like it was made of glass. Then—dead serious—she growled at it. “Don’t give me that face. Your mom’s busy.” You couldn’t help but laugh, eyes crinkling with warmth. When you returned from the warm food someone shoved into your hands, Molly handed the baby back with a straight face. “Grumpy little thing. Missed you.”

“Thank you,” you said, genuinely touched, your hands brushing hers as you took the baby back. “You’re… really kind.” 

Taehyung, crouched by a rusted fire barrel with Jungkook, Jimin, and Namjoon, leaned in and hissed low under his breath, “Don’t let her distract you. She’s got villain energy written all over her right now.” Jimin snorted. “Bro, she’s holding a doll and crying.”

“That’s exactly why,” Taehyung said seriously. “That’s exactly how they get you.” Namjoon didn’t speak. He just looked across the camp, watching you sit under the tarp, huddled with the baby like a storm-wrecked statue.

Jungkook… didn’t speak either. He just looked at you.

Watched the way you curled your body around the doll, like you were shielding it from the cold. The tiny smile you gave to the woman who offered to stitch the tear in your sweater. The way your eyes scanned each person like you were searching for something real. Your brother. Maybe hope. Maybe a way out.

He knew you were acting. He knew you were playing a role.

But the tenderness of it—the truth underneath it—cut into him.

You were building something. A narrative. A presence. A story that folded into theirs, made their world feel larger, more real. You asked softly, eyes tired but kind, “Has anyone here seen my brother? He’s about this tall…” You held your hand a bit above your head, eyes sweeping over their faces. Everyone shook their head with murmurs of apology. No one had seen him. You gave a small nod, looking down at the baby. “Okay. Maybe he’s further south.”

And then, reluctantly, after they insisted—you let them lead you to a cot inside the shed, where two women covered you in blankets and one brushed your hair softly from your forehead. “Sleep,” she whispered. “We’ll keep watch.”

And you did.

 He didn’t know why it hit him so hard. Maybe because you trusted them, even just in-character. Trusted them enough to sleep.

Jungkook stood nearby, cross-legged on an overturned crate, his gun across his lap. He kept his eyes on the tree line. But every few minutes, he turned and looked toward you.

Just to be sure you were okay.

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You woke slowly, groggy but warm. For a moment, the peaceful hum of camp lulled you—muted conversations, the scrape of someone sharpening a weapon, distant birdsong. And then your hand slid over the blanket beside you. Nothing.

The baby doll was gone.

Your eyes snapped open. You sat up fast, breath catching, scanning around wildly until you spotted one of the women from earlier—Annette, the redhead with the braid—standing by the fire barrel. Holding the baby. You stormed over. And went into character.

“Give me back my child!”

Every head turned. The group froze. Annette startled, backing up a step. “I was just—he was cold! You were asleep—!”

“You took him without asking! Without telling me!” You were full of fake hysteria now, body trembling, eyes shining with fresh tears as you stomped toward her. “You were passed out!” she snapped back, holding the doll protectively. “You’re lucky you have people to help you. Don’t act like a saint—you’ve got a whole family around you now!”

“Don’t you dare guilt me for caring about my own child!” you screamed, and the camp exploded into noise.

Women yelled. Men hovered uncertainly, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Namjoon staring wide-eyed as you and Annette tore into each other like wild animals in rags and apocalypse grime. Jimin held his hands up like he wanted to say something but thought better of it.

Molly shoved through the circle. “Alright! Enough!” She snatched the baby out of Annette’s arms, cradled it to her chest, and stalked back toward your bed. “I’m putting him down where he belongs.” But the damage was done.

From the woods, groans began—deep, feral, unmistakable.

“Zombies!” someone shouted.

And then you and Annette were surrounded by indecision. The men hesitated—do they break up the fight? Do they protect you? Annette was still fuming. “You can’t even handle being a mother!” You looked around wildly—then saw the zombies moving closer. Ten? Maybe more.

You didn’t flinch.

“You don’t deserve him!” Annette screamed. And with a dramatic sob, you shoved her hard—right toward the oncoming horde. You stumbled back just in time not to end as Annette.  As Annette let out a perfectly-timed scream as she stumbled backward into their arms. The zombie players descended in full choreographed carnage—screeching, arms grabbing, paint splattering.

“NOOOO!” she wailed, perfectly, theatrically, just as she was “bitten” and dragged to the ground. Her hand reached out… and dropped.

Game over.

The whole camp went dead silent. Jungkook’s heart was hammering. He saw it all—your heaving shoulders, your wide tearful eyes, your trembling hands. As some of the guards went to deal with the zombies now coming your way. You had just killed someone.

Sort of.

Molly returned, baby doll back in your arms. “She touched your kid. That’s on her.” Another woman nodded sharply. “No one takes a child from its mother.”

Taehyung whispered, “She’s terrifying.” Namjoon exhaled like he’d forgotten how to breathe. Jimin blinked. “Did she just—?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook whispered. “She did.” But it wasn’t condemnation in his voice. It was awe.

You pulled the baby closer to your chest as the zombie players—groaning, covered in fake blood and smugness—left toward the next part of the map. You wiped your eyes and turned toward the fire, shaking.

And the group? They closed in around you, no questions asked. Annette’s name was crossed off the board.

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ

Jungkook approached slowly, hands in the pockets of his tattered apocalypse jacket, still glancing at the baby doll cradled in your arms as if it might blink.

“You know…” he said, voice low and a little awkward, “the kid has the same sparkle… in his eyes as you.” You froze. Your head snapped up immediately. Your gaze flicked to Jungkook. You gave him a small, quiet nod of understanding. “Thanks,” you said, softly. Then, to Molly, “Could you watch him for a second? I need… I need a breath.”

Molly, rocking the fake baby as if it were the most precious thing in the world, smiled. “Of course. He’s an angel when he naps.” Before you could turn, she added, “Take Jungkook with you. He looks like he needs it too.”

You looked at him grinning, one brow raised. He looked… startled. But he nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”

The trees offered some quiet from the chaos behind you. For a while, you just listened to the wind threading through the branches and the crunch of your boots on dry leaves. It was strange how easily the game dissolved out here. No screams. No laughter. Just you and him. Then you stopped and looked at him with the same gentle concern you’d shown to the doll not five minutes ago.

Jungkook stared at you, confused. For a moment—just a second—he wasn’t sure what was real anymore.

“I… I think I used the wrong phrase,” he admitted. “The sparkle thing—I thought that’s how people got out of the game? Like… a code?” You looked at him, something melting in your expression. “It is a code,” you said softly. “You used it perfectly.” He blinked. “Then… why do I feel so messed up?”

You inhaled slowly and reached up to remove the scarf around your head, your shoulders relaxing as you let the mask of your character slide off. “I’m going to talk to you now as me,” you said. “Not the mother. Not the Game Master. Just… Y/N.”

Jungkook nodded and saw your entire demeanor change. You were instantly more open—more you.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently.

“I don’t know why it hit me so hard,” he admitted eventually. “I knew it wasn’t real. You were holding a doll. I saw it. But something about it—your voice, the way you shook, how scared you looked…” He laughed bitterly. “I thought, if something happens to her, I won’t be able to fix it.” You watched him with quiet patience.

“You know,” you said, “a lot of people come into these games thinking they’ll be cool and strategic. Like it’s chess with costumes. And then they see someone crying over soup, or hear a scream at night—and suddenly their brain forgets it’s a simulation.”

Jungkook gave a tired nod. “Yeah. That happened about three hours in.”

“Of course it did,” you smiled. “You’re human. Your empathy isn’t fake.” He looked at you. This time, really looked. “You were so good,” he said. “I thought—” His voice broke off like it betrayed something too personal.

You didn’t press. You gave him space.

“I’ve been doing this a while,” you said. “I’ve seen heroes break down because someone pretended to die in their arms. Seen friends scream at each other over fake betrayals. Emotions can be real even if the context isn’t.”

He laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “So you mean I’m not crazy?”

“Not even a little,” you said, stepping closer. “But I will say this—” He met your eyes again, waiting. “If you do ever get too close to a character—too emotionally tied—step out. Use the sparkle phrase. And don’t be ashamed of needing a breather. It’s not weak.”

Jungkook exhaled, long and slow. “You’re really good at this.” Your lips twitched into a grin. “That was my evil plan.” He laughed—genuine, breathy, warm. “Well, it’s working. You’ve got, like, twelve people ready to die for you back there.”

“I know,” you said, brushing a leaf off your sleeve. “I love watching human psychology unfold in these settings. Throw in a helpless baby and a crying woman, and boom—pack instinct. Protector mode activated.” Jungkook chuckled again. “You’re dangerous.”

“I try.”

You walked a little further, the air calmer now, your heart beating less like you were in a game and more like you were just… here. With him. “Do you feel better now?” you asked, tilting your head. He exhaled, but it didn’t quite reach the bottom of his lungs. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I do.”

But you could see it—how his body still carried it. The weight. The leftover adrenaline. The strange, instinctual need to protect something that was never real. You hesitated for only a breath, then took a small step closer.

“Can I offer you something?” you asked. Jungkook blinked. “Uh… what?”

“A hug.” His eyes widened, and he laughed—not at you, but because he hadn’t expected that. “A hug?”

“Sometimes it helps,” you said with a gentle smile. “Just—Something human. Especially after hours of zombies, crying, and everyone screaming about rations.” He paused. You could see him considering it. Then, with an almost sheepish smile, he said, “Yeah… okay.”

You stepped forward, arms open but soft, giving him room to change his mind. He didn’t. Instead, Jungkook folded into the hug like he hadn’t realized how much he needed it until it was happening. How it made him realize you were safe. His arms wrapped around you, firm but hesitant at first. Then, when you didn’t pull away, he held tighter.

And for a moment, there was nothing but the two of you in that quiet patch of woods—no fake apocalypse, no baby dolls, no cameras. Just his heartbeat against your chest. Just your breath near his ear. “You smell… nice,” he mumbled, half-laughing, and you felt his smile against your shoulder. You grinned too. “Thanks. Its called a shower.”

He pulled back laughing, just enough to look at you. His eyes were clearer now—less dazed, less confused. Grounded. You gave him a look like, See?

“Thank you,” he said, quietly. And he meant it. You nodded. “You’re welcome.” You started turning back toward camp, but paused, reaching out and placing your hand lightly on his forearm. “One last thing,” you said quietly. He looked at you, attentive. “When the time comes,” you said, voice more serious now, “don’t try to save me.”  Jungkook frowned. “What?”

“I’m supposed to die,” you explained. With how serious he took this you didn’t want to traumatize him. “It’s planned. For story, tension, payoff—all of it. So when it happens… let it happen. Don’t let your character die for me.” He looked at you for a long moment, lips pressed tight. He didn’t like it. Not even a little.

But eventually, he gave a small nod. “Okay. I’ll try.” You smiled at him. “That’s all I ask.”

And the two of you walked back to camp—quietly, but closer. Something between you had shifted. And the end of the world kept spinning.

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ

Back at camp, the mood was lighter for a while. People were laughing over old canned soup, swapping stories about their fake injuries, showing off smudged zombie makeup like war medals. Jungkook sat beside the fire pit with Taehyung and Jimin, poking at the embers with a stick as the sun dipped lower behind the trees.

“I talked with Y/N earlier,” he said, voice quieter than before. Jimin raised a brow. “The mother?”

“She broke character. For me,” Jungkook added. Taehyung leaned forward, grinning. “That’s unexpected. You okay?”

“I think so,” Jungkook said, then smiled a little to himself. “It just felt… too real. Like I couldn’t separate her from the game. I looked at her and couldn’t tell where the mother ended and she began. I needed to separate them for a moment.”

“She offered me a hug,” he added softly, almost like it embarrassed him to say it. “You took it, right?” Taehyung asked, nudging him. “Yeah,” Jungkook said. “And it helped. It made it feel like… it was okay to enjoy it again.” Jimin nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. “She’s good. I think she sees when someone’s slipping too far into it.”

Before they could say more, a horn blared from the far end of the camp. Then came the scream.

It was you.

Blood-curdling. Raw. Real enough that even the most seasoned players froze for a heartbeat. You crashed into camp, fake tears streaking your cheeks, your baby doll clutched tight to your chest. “They’re coming—I can’t—I can’t do this—please, someone—!”

Jungkook's body moved before his brain did. He stepped forward—but too late. Then, in your frantic scramble, you fumbled with the makeshift barricade and ripped it open. And the horde swarmed in.

Chaos erupted.

It was like a dam breaking. Zombies—dozens of them—surged from the trees with low groans and guttural snarls, their movements jerky and terrifyingly fast for something supposed to be undead. The illusion was flawless. You bolted for the other side of camp, stumbling with your doll in your arms, and vanished.

The scream that came next didn’t belong to you.

It was Jin.

“NOPE. NOPE. I’M OUT!” he yelled, laughing even as he backed himself into a corner, behind some stacked crates meant to look like a supply station. “I’m not fast enough for this sh—!”

They got him.

One of the zombies tackled him, then another. Then three more. Jin disappeared under the pile, mock screaming and laughing at the same time, smacking at the air with ketchup-smeared hands. “I’M BEING EATEN ALIVE! SAVE ME—ACTUALLY DON’T—THIS IS KINDA FUN—”

And then his hand dropped limp. Fake-dead. Out of the game.

Jungkook turned to call for Jimin—but Jimin was already being overwhelmed. He had tried to hold a makeshift line near the fire pit, swinging a padded bat and shouting commands, rallying three of the younger players behind him. “Hold the flank! Hold the—AH—!”

One grabbed him from behind. Then another. A third clung to his legs. “Shit—shit—I’m down! I’m—gah—nooooooo—!” Jimin crumpled dramatically, laughing breathlessly as he disappeared beneath a tangle of groaning zombie players. He held up a hand one last time before letting it fall with a thud. His “death” was over-the-top—classic Jimin—and it still managed to hit Jungkook square in the chest.

Within minutes, nearly half of their group had gone down.

Some were taken trying to flee. Others died fighting. Some just froze in the panic, paralyzed by the sheer size of the horde. And when it cleared, only three of the members were left, with only a few of the original survivor group.

Jungkook.

Namjoon.

Taehyung.

The camp was littered with bodies—players lying still, arms splayed, makeup smeared with fake blood, laughing and groaning as they pretended to be “fresh kills.” Jungkook stood, chest heaving, heart racing. His bat dripped red corn syrup. He looked around, adrenaline still buzzing under his skin, and spotted you.

You were across the camp, standing slowly, brushing leaves off your shirt. You still had the doll but now hit hung limp like a doll in your hand, your expression was calm again. Collected. You turned. Found him with your eyes. And waved. And for the first time since the screaming started, Jungkook remembered to breathe.

He waved back, just once.

Then you were gone again—heading off toward the makeup rooms with Jin and Jimin rising to follow. They teased each other as they walked, still catching their breath, still smiling through the chaos. Followed by many other undead, ready to find other survivors or to go with you the makeup rooms.

“You really went all in,” Jin said, chuckling. “God, I thought you were actually going to cry for real.”

You laughed. “Almost did.” But it was Jimin who leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You left an impression,” he said. You blinked. “Thanks. I wasn’t sure how the baby would play with the—”

“No,” Jimin cut in. “Not the character. You.” Your brow furrowed, caught off guard. “What do you mean?” Jimin smirked. “I mean, you—Y/N—you got under Jungkook’s skin. He’s still pretending not to notice, but I’m telling you now, something cracked open in him. You’re in there.” You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the warmth creeping up your neck. “He just got stuck in immersion.”

“Nope,” Jimin said confidently. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but I saw the way he looked at you. That wasn’t caring for just your roll.” You glanced back once, just before disappearing behind the curtain of trees toward the makeup.

Jungkook was still watching. And your chest fluttered—just a little. You smiled shyly at Jimin, brushing dust from your shirt, cheeks still warm from the earlier chaos. “Oh… then Jungkook won’t like my next character,” you murmured. Jimin raised a brow and leaned in. “Oh? What’s it gonna be?”

You only grinned. “First? Food. And maybe an hour of sleep.” Jimin laughed, nodding. “Fair. I’ll be around. Don’t forget to scare me later.” You gave him a mock salute and started making your way upstairs—up into the top floor of the asylum, where players weren’t allowed. Where you could take a breath, eat without breaking immersion, and switch roles without being spotted.

On the way up, you passed a surreal little scene—Yoongi, fully zombified with his head twisted at an odd angle and one eye gone pale with makeup, lumbered through the halls muttering, “Did you see Hoseok? I want to scare him."

You stifled a laugh. “No but I will let you know.”

“Acceptable,” Yoongi mumbled in his zombie voice, shuffling away.

You made it to the upper ward, peeled off your layers, and managed to get two and a half hours of rest. Your alarm buzzed at 9:45pm.

It was time.

By 10:00, the event would shift. The safe zones would crumble. And from 11 onward… there would be no mercy. Downstairs, five of your most seasoned zombie player had been briefed and would meet you at the NSC hall. You wanted your entrance to be theatrical, disruptive, and unforgettable.

By 10:15, you were halfway through your transformation—tight brown neoprene pants clinging to your legs, the lower half of your costume fitted. The upper part, a terrifying piece of neoprene and latex-mottled horror, hung around your hip, along with the harness system that would make your movements twitchy and unnatural.

You were just adjusting your sports bra and reaching for the torso suit when the door creaked.

“Hey, did you—” Taehyung froze in the doorway, wide-eyed like a deer caught in headlights. He blinked hard, processing the sight of you: half-dressed, back turned, casually sorting through prosthetics and blood tubes.

You turned around, utterly unfazed in your sports bra and pants. “Dead or tired?” Taehyung swallowed, his voice catching. “Uh. Dead. I died. Heroically. Saved Snake and Molly. Got torn apart. Y’know. Normal day.” You chuckled, reaching for the suit. “Glad someone made it out with flair.”

Taehyung lingered, clearing his throat. “Uh—do you… want help?”

“Please,” you said immediately, stepping toward him and turning your back to him. “The zipper’s a nightmare.” He caught the heavy latex piece awkwardly and stepped closer. The suit was clammy from the spray blood and tight as hell, almost impossible to shimmy into without another person. You guided your arms in, shifting your weight.

Taehyung tried not to look at the way the fabric stretched around your body. “You alright?” you asked as he fumbled with the zipper. “I—yeah. It’s just—tight,” he mumbled, finally getting the zip started, pulling it slowly up your back.

When it clicked into place, you rolled your shoulders, adjusting the neckline and tugging at the seals. You met his eyes over your shoulder. “Thanks. This character’s a little… worse.”

“How bad?”

You smirked darkly, your voice lowering. “Tonight… there’s no more safe space.” Taehyung blinked. “Like—none?”

“None,” you confirmed. “No sanctuary. No barricades. Only hiding. Running. Or dying. And I’m going to make sure they remember it.” Taehyung stared at you. “I think Jungkook’s gonna have a heart attack.” You laughed. “Good. Maybe I’ll let him live if he plays it right.” He shook his head with a grin, backing toward the door. “Remind me not to get on your bad side, Y/N.”

“You should’ve remembered that the moment you walked in on me half-naked,” you called after him. Taehyung flushed but grinned wider. “That wasn’t my fault!” You grinned back. “It is now.”

You picked up your blood capsule belt, slipping it over your shoulder. The last part of your transformation was almost complete. From here on out, no one would recognize you under the makeup, the prosthetics, and the twitchy, grotesque movements of your new role.

Tonight, you would become the thing people whispered about.

And Jungkook would be right in the middle of it.

The night was thick with fog and the smell of wet leaves, the moonlight too thin to offer comfort. You stood in the shadows just beyond the NSC hall, the five zombies around you adjusting their gear in eerie silence. Your neoprene suit clung to your body like diseased skin, the painted latex blistered and blackened. You had blended the mask into your neckline so your real face disappeared beneath rot and ruin. Only your eyes remained—but even they were ringed in thick, oily black makeup, obscuring any hint of humanity.

Taehyung stood nearby, wide-eyed, one hand over his mouth. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “You guys look like something from Silent Hill.”

You tilted your head slowly toward him, silent.

“That’s not helping,” he added, stepping back.

The other five—Alex, David, Mira, Yuji, and Garam—stood tall beside you, identical in costume and horror. A collective nightmare. One of them cracked her neck; another flexed their fingers in tight gloves soaked in darkened blood. You all looked like a single organism splintered into six lethal bodies.

And when Eriks voice whispered through your comms—Go—you didn’t stumble or lurch like the rest of the infected.

You ran.

Fast.

The six of you surged into the night like a flock of death crows, howling, shrieking, voices jagged with distortion. You had trained for this—months of movement practice, stunts, and horror choreography. Every motion you made was unhinged and wrong, arms twitching, heads jerking too far. Real terror wrapped in rubber and foam. And when the normal zombies saw your group emerging from the darkness, they actually cheered.

“Let’s go, monsters!”

“The bosses are here!”

“Hunt them!”

It was like a celebrity entrance from hell. And that’s exactly what you were—hell in motion. And Taehyung watched in horror. He was suddenly very happy he had died and hadn’t had to face you.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the map…

Jungkook sat against the cracked wall of an abandoned two-story building, head tilted back, breath steady. He hadn’t realized just how badly he needed the break until now. Namjoon dozed lightly beside him, one hand still on the prop axe resting across his lap. A few others—veteran players and a couple of newer ones—had taken refuge here too. One, who played a frazzled but skilled doctor, had claimed the cellar and set up shop with fake supplies and dim LED lights to simulate a generator hum. He’d even set up a patient cot.

Snake sat at the window, looking out into the forest with haunted eyes. “Taehyung shouldn’t have saved me,” he murmured. Jungkook leaned forward. “He would’ve done it every time.” Snake didn’t reply, just gripped the curtain tighter.

Since you had left the game earlier in the day, Jungkook had finally started breathing normally again. Watching you with that doll—sobbing, panicking, screaming as you threw open the barricades—had twisted something inside him he hadn’t expected. Even knowing it was part of the event, it had pierced something too real. Too much. Your trembling hands. Your broken cries.

And then you were gone. Not dead, not hurt. Just… absent from the game. And that distance, as strange as it was, helped. He could see it as a game again. He could focus on survival. Strategy. The vlog footage. The thrill.

But then—

The screams began. Far off at first, like crows fighting. Then closer. Louder. Sharper. Wrong. Jungkook shot up. Namjoon blinked awake, eyes wide. “What the hell is that?” It wasn’t the usual zombie moan. Not even a fast-zombie screech. This was like someone being torn in half.

And then the first impact hit.

Something—or someone—slammed into the front of the building with a crunch and a spray of fake blood. One of the new players screamed as the front barricade gave way and something darted through the broken opening.

It wasn’t stumbling. It was sprinting.

“Upstairs!” Namjoon barked. “Now!” Jungkook grabbed Snake’s arm and hauled him back as one of the monsters—rotting flesh, twitchy limbs, face all wrong—threw itself at the nearest survivor. They weren’t like the others. These were different. Silent coordination. Screaming, yes—but like hunters calling to each other, not mindless noise.

Upstairs, the survivors scrambled. Jungkook kicked over a shelf to block the stairwell. It bought them seconds at best. And then another scream—closer, more guttural. One of the new players was down. He looked out the broken top-floor window.

There were five of them. All identical in horror.

Jungkook backed away from the window, breath caught in his throat. Below, the five nightmares prowled through the dark yard like wolves who had just learned how to hate. They didn’t move like zombies. They moved like something smarter.

And then came the curse: “FUCK,” one of the veteran players snapped, fumbling with the fake gun strapped to his shoulder. “What?” Namjoon asked, crouched behind a toppled cabinet. The veteran pointed sharply out the window. “They brought them again.”

“Them?” said a new player, confused and wide-eyed.

“Crawlers,” the vet spat like it was a slur. “They’re fast, they’re coordinated, and worst of all—they don’t go down like normal zombies. You can’t just push them or tag their arm. You have to fight them. Hard.” Even Namjoon’s brow furrowed at that. “I thought this was supposed to be a survival horror game. Not full-on combat.”

“Oh, it’s both, still LARP fighting only,” the vet said grimly. “But that’s the boss class.”

The "doctor" player popped up from the cellar stairwell, glasses askew, fully in character. “But if we catch one,” he said, voice buzzing with faux-manic glee, “I might be able to extract the virus. Create an antidote.”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?” he said, indignant. “That’s literally my quest line.”

Upstairs, they fortified the landing. One staircase. One hallway. If nothing came through, they were safe—for now. Official game rules meant no break-ins unless an Orga member approved it. Everyone relaxed slightly.

Until a scream ripped through the room.

The vet player stumbled back, swearing again. “Window! They’re coming in through the fucking window!” Two of the Crawlers were halfway inside—literally crawling through the second-story window frame, their movements contorted and snapping, their masks reflecting the dim LED lights with a shine that made everyone recoil.

“They climbed the goddamn drainpipe!” someone shouted.

The room exploded into chaos.

One of the Crawlers lunged for the doctor, who barely rolled out of the way. The second went for the vet, who fought back—but in the scuffle, he clocked the monster hard in the ribs.

“GAME STOP!” the veteran called, hands shooting up in the air. “STOP, STOP, STOP!”

Everyone froze mid-motion. The doctor, mid-laugh, cut off instantly. Namjoon swore and backed up, gun lowered. Jungkook was halfway through a lunge and immediately paused, breath caught in his throat. Garam was slumped against the wall, arms cradling his side, eyes shut tight.

“Garam?” someone asked, voice tense.

“I didn’t mean to hit that hard—shit, I’m sorry, man,” the veteran said quickly, rushing over but stopping short, hands out in apology. “I panicked. You were coming at me like a fucking demon.”

“I’m fine,” Garam said hoarsely, holding up a hand.

“No, for real—are you sure?” Jungkook stepped in now, crouching next to him. Looking beyond the horror of a costume. “Don’t push through if you’re actually hurt.” Garam drew in a breath, sharp and shaky, then slowly exhaled. “I’m okay. Winded. Just… give me a sec.”

Namjoon knelt beside them, offering his canteen. Garam took a sip, then leaned his head back, already laughing softly. “God, you guys are so soft now. Its cute.“ The veteran muttered, visibly shaken. “I’m really sorry. I got scared, man.”

Garam looked at him properly now. “It’s okay. Honest. You got a clean hit. No cracked ribs, I think. Just knocked the air outta me. Good reaction time.” He smiled—strained, but genuine. The group laughed lightly, nerves easing. The veteran still looked remorseful but nodded gratefully as Garam gave him a reassuring pat on the leg.

“Let’s keep going,” Garam said. “I want my death scene to be worth it.” The players regrouped fast. And the fight picked up again with renewed fury. One Crawler went down under coordinated fire from Namjoon and the vet. Another—Yuji—was tackled and “captured” by the doctor with wild delight. The remaining Crawlers hissed, shrieked, and clawed, but were picked off one by one.

And then there was you.

You’d gone for Namjoon—darting in from the shadows with a curved movement that made his skin crawl. You tackled him into the wall with a guttural cry. He shouted in shock, the breath knocked from him.

But just as you leaned in to “bite,” Jungkook moved like lightning. He grabbed the prop axe from the ground and turned you off Namjoon with a strike so fast it made everyone pause.

You froze.

You dropped like a puppet with cut strings, dead in the game.

Unmoving.

Breathing hard, Jungkook stood over you. Startled for a moment. Had he hurt you? But the crawler didn’t groan or called for a stop. “Nice save,” Namjoon muttered, rubbing his side. The doctor was practically dancing in place. “Bring the bodies down! I’ll dissect them for a cure!”

Normally, a dead player would be tapped or, just sit up and ask where to go. But Jungkook was staring at you like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

He crouched beside you, prop axe still in hand, and leaned down to “double tap” for dramatic effect. But as he did, he whispered low: “Y/N…?” You gave the smallest nod.

His heart jumped.

He hadn’t been wrong.

You were here. You’d been one of them. One of the nightmares. The others were getting ready to drag the bodies into the cellar, the doctor already spinning in-character theories about viral extraction and neural mutation. The noise fell away for a moment when Jungkook leaned closer, hoodie brushing your side.

He cleared his throat. “Y/N… would you be part of the cellar scene?” You gave a tiny nod, keeping your body limp. “Can I move you?”

Again, you nodded—expecting the usual signal. Normally, the player in charge of corpse transport would tap the "dead" player twice on the shoulder, telling them to get up and walk to the next area. But instead of that, Jungkook didn’t hesitate. He simply leaned down and scooped you up into his arms like it was second nature. Like you weighed nothing, in front of the entire group, Jungkook slipped his arms under you and carefully picked you up, cradling you against his chest.

Startled, you tensed—and your hands instinctively gripped the front of his hoodie. Tight. Jungkook paused the second he felt it. “You okay?” he whispered softly, head close to yours. You hesitated a second, then exhaled shakily and slowly relaxed. Your body went slack in his arms.

Jungkook felt it. Felt your trust settle into his chest like warmth. He held you tighter, more securely, and started moving down the hallway toward the stairs.

The doctor whooped. “To the lab!”

“Man, how are you touching that thing like it’s not disgusting?” one of the players called playfully. “Dude, it smells like rubber and old meat!” another joked. “Jungkook,” Namjoon called, eyeing him curiously, “you sure you wanna carry that thing?”

Jungkook didn’t even look back. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I’ve got her.”

“Think he likes corpses now,” a third laughed.

Jungkook ignored them all, only shifting you slightly in his arms so your head wouldn’t bump the stairwell wall. As he stepped onto the first stair, he heard it: a whisper, muffled under your latex mask. “Please don’t bump me against anything…” He smiled.

His grip tightened again, protective, steady. “Never,” he whispered back.

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The doctor’s “lab” in the cellar was cluttered and eerie, dimly lit by flickering lanterns. It smelled like fake blood and floor polish. He’d cleared a long table in the center for dramatic effect, and when Jungkook arrived, the doctor clapped gleefully.

“Put her here, yes, yes—right under the light!”

Jungkook didn’t just drop you off. He gently lowered you onto the table, hands bracing your back and shoulders until he was sure you were resting comfortably. The latex of your suit squeaked faintly as you settled.

The others filed in, dragging the other Crawlers. Garam gave Jungkook a thumbs-up before collapsing back into his dramatic corpse pose. The doctor hovered over you, monologuing in detail about virus strains, moral quandaries, and the possibility of a cure—“if only we can harvest enough tissue before the mutation completes!”

Half an hour passed before the doctor clapped his hands and declared, “That’s a wrap on dissection!”

People relaxed. It was an immersion break. But sometimes that was the only way to get a group of zombies out of a scene. Laughter bubbled up. Someone offered Garam a bottle of water. Another player grabbed a granola bar.

You sat up slowly—but before you could stand, Jungkook gently touched your arm. “Wait.” You blinked at him through the mask. Your body still wore the look of rot and infection. Only your eyes were visible—blackened around the edges with makeup, narrowed at him curiously.

He stared for a moment.

Then you reached up and peeled your mask back, the latex lifting with a soft hiss. Your face was flushed from the heat, and the black makeup had smudged slightly around your eyes. Your hair stuck to your forehead.

“Better?” you asked, voice hoarse but warm. Jungkook’s lips curled into the softest smile. He nodded. “I think…” He cleared his throat, suddenly shy. “I think it’s easier when you’re the danger.” You chuckled—tired and amused—and without thinking too hard, you leaned forward and gave him a hug. Arms around his shoulders. Quick. Sincere. Real.

He hugged you back before he even realized it.

Then you stepped away, slipping the mask back into place like a switch had flipped. The creature returned. Crawling death. Fear incarnate. The doctor gave a playful salute. “See you on the battlefield.”

With a blood-curdling scream, you launched yourself back into the night with the other Crawlers, skittering up the stairs like nightmares given shape. Namjoon leaned into Jungkook’s side as they watched you vanish around the corner. “You’re down bad.” he teased. Jungkook didn’t look away, eyes fixed on where you vanished.

“She hugged you coverd in latex, dude. Latex.”

“Shut up,” Jungkook muttered cheeks flushing just a little. Namjoon laughed, shaking his head. “And that’s not even the weirdest thing you’ve been into this week.” Jungkook’s voice dropped, quieter than before. “She is just cool…”

Namjoon blinked, “She let you carry her like a princess.” then clapped him on the shoulder, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “You need to calm down before you propose in the basement, Romeo.”

Jungkook didn’t even hear him. He was still staring toward the stairwell. Waiting for the screams.

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Now, early morning had settled over the camp. Despite all their efforts to survive the night, the relentless game had even caught up to Jungkook and Namjoon. But even the strongest couldn’t escape unscathed.

Namjoon was the first to go down. It happened so fast, almost by pure chance. They had been trying to treat a wounded player nearby when a zombie slipped in unnoticed from a side corridor. Namjoon barely had time to react before the creature was on him.

Half an hour later, Jungkook went down too. He and Snake had gone to refill their water bottles when one of the Crawlers—not you— ambushed him suddenly, and he was taken down, collapsing hard to the ground.

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Now, around the breakfast table in the NSC lounge, the members tried to catch their breath and regroup. The early morning light was soft, the room cluttered with empty coffee cups and half-eaten granola bars. Yoongi sat back, arms crossed, shaking his head with a wry smile. “I couldn’t find Hoseok anywhere last night. He’s got to be the last living member out there, right?”

Taehyung smirked, leaning forward with a mischievous glint in his eyes, hell bent on changing the topic. “You know, Y/N’s got a really nice trained body.” The others immediately turned to him, eyebrows raised. “How would you know that?” Jin asked, clearly curious.

Jungkook cut in quickly, voice low but firm, “Taehyung, maybe you should drop it.” Jimin gave Taehyung a pointed look, then glanced over at Jungkook with a slight warning. “Yeah, Tae, that’s not really something you should say out loud.”

But Taehyung just laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not lying. I actually saw her—in her underwear, earlier.” Jungkook’s jaw twitched involuntarily at that confession, a flicker of irritation flashing across his face. Taehyung grinned wider, clearly enjoying the moment. “I was helping her get dressed after her break. You know, the suit’s tricky to put on alone.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, but Jungkook’s expression was unreadable, caught somewhere between frustration and reluctant amusement. Jin clapped his hands, eager to change the mood. “Hey Namjoon, why don’t you get zombified with us? We can go find Hoseok and scare the hell out of him.”

Namjoon grinned, nodding enthusiastically. “Sounds like a plan.” He looked expectantly at Jungkook. Jungkook shook his head firmly, rubbing his tired eyes. “No way. I want to sleep for at least two hours before anything else. I’m wiped.”

Just then, the door creaked open and you walked in, still in your Crawler costume — the latex suit clinging tightly, eyes rimmed with smudged black makeup from sweat. You grabbed a banana and a granola bar from the counter, munching casually.

“Morning. Looks like you all had fun without me.”

Yoongi grinned slyly, waving a hand. “You have no idea. I’ve been having a blast scaring the other players. You should see their faces.” They shared stories, laughing about close calls and wild moments. You smiled, genuinely happy they’d had fun.

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You and Jungkook moved quietly up the creaking stairs together, the weight of the night’s chaos finally pressing down on both of you. The stale air clung to your skin, mixed with sweat and the grime of hours spent playing your part in the nightmare. You could already feel the tight neoprene suit clinging uncomfortably, suffocating you in every movement.

You placed your mask and gloves at the foot of your mattress, giving a small sigh of relief to finally be rid of them. The room still smelled faintly of latex, dust, and whatever old building materials had long since decayed here. Now came the tricky part—getting out of your suit. You reached behind your back, fingers fumbling for the zipper, but as expected, it was nearly impossible to grab at that angle.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted Jungkook walking by, towel slung over one shoulder and his small toiletry bag in hand, clearly headed for the showers.

“Hey, Jungkook,” you called, turning your head toward him with a sheepish smile. “Can you help me with the zipper real quick?” He stopped mid-step, blinking. “Oh—uh… yeah, sure.” His voice cracked slightly, caught off guard, but he didn’t need to be asked twice.

You turned around fully, holding your hair out of the way so he could see the zipper running along the back of your suit. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing lightly against your back as he grabbed the zipper tab. His touch was warm—surprisingly careful. The sound of the zipper sliding down seemed louder than it should have been in the quiet of the room.

As he pulled it lower, his eyes involuntarily dropped, catching a glimpse of the smooth expanse of your sweat-slicked back. Taehyung hadn’t lied—your body was strong, defined, glistening slightly from the hours of movement. Jungkook’s fingers lingered a moment longer than they had to, hovering near your spine before he cleared his throat and stepped back like he’d touched something sacred.

“There,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “You’re good.”

You turned back to him with an easy smile. “Thanks, lifesaver.” He gave you a short nod, but didn’t meet your eyes. As you peeled the top of the suit down and started pulling it off your legs, Jungkook retreated into the bathroom, flushing hard even before he got to his cabin.

Inside, the showers were basic—four stalls with curtains, old tiles that had probably seen better days. Still, the hot water was a gift after hours in costume. Jungkook stepped into his stall, undressed and put his clothes on a hock and turned the knob, exhaling as the warm water hit his skin. But then he heard your voice from the stall just two over—cheerful and relaxed.

“So how did you die?” you asked through the running water.

“Huh?” he answered, caught off guard again to here your voice so close with his state of undress. “In the game,” you laughed. “Last I saw you, you were still human. What got you?”

“Oh. Uh… Namjoon went first, some zombie got him when we were trying to distract for a medic run. Then me and Snake went to refill water and one of your creepy little friends came crawling out of a hole and nailed me.” He chuckled. “I didn’t even see them coming. They were small.”

“That was probably Mira,” you replied, amused. “She’s got the smallest frame but is pure chaos in the dark. She lives for that kind of ambush.”

“She’s terrifying,” Jungkook admitted, grinning despite himself. You laughed, and he could hear the sound of you scrubbing your hair. “So you didn’t last long without me.”

“Are you saying I need you for survival?” he teased back, as he washed his own hair.

“I’m saying you should’ve let me kill you. I would’ve taken you out dramatically.”

Your banter echoed between the stalls, easy and natural—both of you shedding more than just the sweat and grime of the game in that moment. The intimacy wasn’t physical, but it was there, warm and unspoken.

After the shower, both of you dressed in sleepwear—loose, clean clothes that smelled faintly of soap. You stepped out first, toweling off your hair. Jungkook followed shortly after, ruffling his own damp hair into a messy puff. He was wearing simple sweatpants and a hoodie, but he still managed to look unfairly good in the dim light.

You returned to your mat with a small yawn, ready to collapse—and then frowned.

Your blankets were gone. You looked around once. Twice. Only your sleeping bag remained. “What the hell,” you muttered. “Did Pia take my blankets again?”

Jungkook glanced over, already halfway through pulling on his hood. “What’s wrong?”

“My blankets are missing,” you said flatly, rubbing your arms. “Again. That’s like, the third time during a break. I’m gonna freeze.” You grumbled under your breath, tugging your sleeping bag tighter around you as you curled inward, trying to trap any hint of warmth. It wasn’t working. The bag alone just wasn’t enough, not after hours of sweat and adrenaline that had now chilled on your skin.

Next to your mattress, Jungkook had already made himself comfortable, lying cocooned in his own sleeping bag, arms tucked under his head. He watched you silently for a moment, then sat up a little, reaching for the extra blanket that lay folded over his legs.

“Here,” he offered gently, holding it out to you. “Take this.” You looked up at him, surprised, and hesitated before shaking your head. “I’ll be fine,” you murmured, forcing a small smile. “Just need to fall asleep quickly, that’s all.”

Jungkook didn’t argue at first, but you could tell from his expression that he didn’t buy it. And honestly, neither did you. Not even a minute later, your body gave you away as a shiver rippled through you, followed by another. Jungkook sat up again with a sigh, clearly having reached his limit.

“Seriously—just take the blanket,” he said, a little firmer this time. You shook your head again, teeth almost chattering. “You need it too—if you give it to me, you’ll be cold.” Jungkook stared at you, frustration twitching in his brow, and then—without warning—he huffed loudly and tossed the blanket at you with a bit more force than necessary.

“Okay, then we’re both using it,” he muttered.

Before you could even react, he scooted over with a soft grunt, shifting from his mat to yours with a little “hup.” You blinked at him, startled, still lying on your back as he threw the blanket over both of you and pulled the edge down to tuck it around your sides.

“There,” he said, grumbling, but not unkindly. “Better?” You swallowed, your heart giving a strange little kick as you nodded slowly. “Yeah. Better.” Your voice came out quiet, meek even. “Thanks.”

You could still feel the cold—your limbs hadn’t quite caught up yet—but the difference was immediate. The blanket added a crucial barrier, but more than that, Jungkook's body was a furnace next to yours. You were lying close, shoulders nearly touching, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of your hoodie like sunlight under a door.

Minutes passed in silence. You stayed perfectly still, listening to the quiet rise and fall of his breath, hoping he’d fallen asleep—because the truth was, you were still cold. Less so than before, but it lingered. The kind of chill that settled into your bones. You hated the idea of waking him if he had managed to doze off.

But then, you heard it—another huff. A small, exasperated sigh that made it obvious he was still awake. “Are you seriously still cold?” he asked, voice low but clear in the darkness. You didn’t answer right away, unsure if you should lie or not. “I’m fine,” you whispered eventually. Jungkook shifted beside you, the sound of fabric rustling. “You’re shaking.”

You opened your mouth to protest—but the next second, you felt his arm slip across your waist, pulling you ever so slightly toward him. Not forceful. Just enough that your sides touched fully now, his chest against your shoulder. The heat from him was immediate, his hoodie warm against your arms.

“Okay?” he asked softly, this time with less exasperation—just concern. You hesitated, heart thudding, then nodded into the pillow. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Thank you.” He didn’t answer right away. Just let out a quieter sigh, this one sounding more like relief. His hand stayed at your side, resting lightly, and the closeness wasn’t awkward—it was grounding. Your shivering slowed, then stopped.

As the minutes ticked by, the room grew quiet again. The air had stilled. But the space between you and Jungkook was something different—small, warm, shared. You closed your eyes.

“Night,” Jungkook murmured, his voice just barely audible.

And for once, you were warm enough to whisper back, “Night.”

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You woke slowly, the edge of sleep still soft around your thoughts. Everything was warm. Comfortable. Familiar. Sometime during your rest, your sleeping bag had worked itself open—or maybe Jungkook had helped, you weren’t sure—but now you lay wrapped in something better. Jungkook’s arm, solid and warm, lay snug around your waist, pulling you gently back against his chest. His tattooed forearm rested across your middle, the ink just barely brushing your skin where your hoodie had ridden up. You could feel the rise and fall of his breathing, steady and slow.

You didn’t move for a long moment.

Even with all the work still to come—players to scare, undead routes to reset, makeup touch-ups to manage—you couldn’t bring yourself to shift away. Not yet. Instead, you nuzzled back a little deeper against his chest, murmuring a quiet, contented, “Warm.”

A subtle ripple moved through Jungkook’s chest in response—a slight hitch of breath, then the unmistakable rumble of his voice, low and gravelly from sleep. “Morning,” he murmured, the sound wrapping around you like a second blanket.

His arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you more securely against him until the crumpled sleeping bags beneath you rustled. You felt the line of his body at your back, his warmth chasing away the last of the chill from your sleep. You smiled. “Morning.”

He stayed quiet for a moment longer before speaking again. “Did you sleep okay?” You hummed, nodding as you tipped your head gently back against him. “Yeah. I did. You?” There was a pause. And then, too honest to be casual, came his answer: “I did. Best sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

The quiet that followed was thick and strange and sweet all at once. Your heart did an unhelpful little flutter as you stared at the wall. His voice had been quiet—like a secret—but it was the way he said it, the way it settled under your skin, that startled you.

Still tucked in his arms, you hesitated before slowly peeling yourself away, stretching your legs and arms with a small groan. “We should probably get up,” you muttered. Jungkook made a reluctant noise behind you, but eventually pushed himself upright, dragging a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. He blinked down at you, his voice still a little hoarse. “So… what horrors await us today?”

You reached for your phone and tapped the screen. Your eyes widened. “Shit. We overslept.” You turned to him, already scrambling to gather your things. “We were supposed to be up at least an hour ago to prep the player routes. Come on!”

Jungkook followed suit, grabbing his clothes and slipping them on with smooth, practiced motions. He grinned as he shoved his arm through a hoodie sleeve. “Guess I really did sleep well.”

“You better hope I can still get you into the zombie ranks,” you teased over your shoulder, pulling on your boots. “They might reject you for being too cuddly.”

“Hey,” he said, raising a brow as he followed you out into the hall. “That was survival cuddling.”

“Oh yeah?” you laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Absolutely. Basic warmth acquisition.” He bumped his shoulder against yours lightly, and the two of you headed down the stairs, your footsteps echoing in the sleepy silence of the building.

You both made your way to the kitchen, where the smell of instant coffee and oatmeal powder greeted you. Inside, Taehyung was leaning against the counter, his long limbs wrapped in a tattered bloodstained robe, clearly halfway into his zombie transformation (or out of it) already. Jimin sat at the table eating a banana, one eye shadowed with black makeup.

“Well, well,” Jimin drawled, spotting the two of you. “Look who finally decided to rise from the dead.” Taehyung grinned. “Didn’t know we had to go wake the lovebirds.” Jungkook rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to the bait. You just raised a brow and headed to the table for the last granola bar. “You’re just mad we look better rested than you,” you quipped.

“Debatable,” Jimin muttered around a mouthful of banana. “So. We still got one survivor left—Hoseok. You two in?” Jungkook grinned. “Absolutely.” You leaned on the counter next to him, smirking. “He won’t know what hit him.”

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The day moved at a full sprint. The final night of the event loomed close—players were on edge, volunteers ran from one side of the forested game area to the other, and the undead roamed with renewed energy, determined to make the last full round of scares their best yet.

Jungkook, freshly zombiefied with a smear of fake blood on his cheek and a torn-up hoodie that somehow still looked good on him, had left with Jimin and Taehyung just after lunch. The three of them had dramatically limped into the woods, groaning and growling, arms outstretched as they slipped into character followed by on of there camera guys. You’d only had a second to wave at Jungkook before he disappeared behind the tree line, flashing you a boyish grin beneath all the gore.

You, meanwhile, were knee-deep in logistics. Between coordinating player movements, monitoring timelines, and fixing half a dozen costume or prop-related mishaps, your feet barely touched the ground. Still, through the organized chaos, you caught glimpses of the guys doing what they did best—causing a scene.

At one point, you spotted Jungkook chasing a trio of screaming players down a muddy path with Jimin crawling out of the bushes behind them. Later, you heard Taehyung howling like a banshee near the river checkpoint. It was impossible not to smile. They were having the time of their lives.

But by nightfall, with just a few hours left before the grand finale at 6pm tomorrow—and the afterparty that would follow—it was becoming clear that one thing was still unresolved. “Hoseok’s still MIA?” you asked one of the Orgas, brows raised as you checked your notes. “Completely vanished,” the guy replied, breathless from running equipment between checkpoints. “Jungkook swore he saw him near the cornfield trail, but then poof. Gone.”

“Okay, either he’s in deep stealth mode, or he’s sleeping in a tree,” you muttered.

Around 10 PM, drained but steady, you made your way back to the NSCs rooms. You were just about to climb the stairs toward the staff rooms when the door burst open and the rest of the crew poured in—Yoongi, Jin, and Namjoon among them.

“I’m done,” Yoongi declared, already pulling off his gloves. “Like, corpse-mode. Actual sleep tonight.”

“Same,” Jin said, groaning. “If Hoseok’s really vanished, I’ll haunt him tomorrow.”

You smiled tiredly. “I just came to change back into my crawler costume. I need to help with the tunnels. We’ve got a group going through in twenty minutes.” Taehyung immediately perked up, nearly tripping over his own boots as he took a step forward. “Want help changing again?” he asked, eyes bright and hand half-raised like an eager kid.

You hesitated, suddenly more flustered than you expected to be. Taehyung had already helped you into the suit earlier with no shame whatsoever. He hadn’t done anything inappropriate—it had just been functional.

Still... you’d kind of hoped someone else might offer this time.

You stumbled for a second, unsure how to phrase your answer, but you didn’t have to say anything. Wordlessly, Jungkook came up beside you and gently placed a hand on the small of your back. Without saying a thing, he guided you up the rest of the stairs.

Taehyung blinked after you both. “I was just—”

“She’s fine,” Jungkook said over his shoulder, calm but firm. “We’ll wait outside if she needs help.”

“Wait, we?” Taehyung started. But Jungkook turned, holding a hand out against Taehyung’s chest and calmly, but with that subtle steel in his tone, said again, “Wait. Outside.” Before Taehyung could protest again, Jungkook closed the door with a soft click, leaving you blinking inside the small room, alone and stunned.

That… was kind of adorable.

You got changed fast, tugging on the skin-tight crawler suit, grimy from hours of wear. With the bulk of it on, you opened the door a crack, needing just a bit of help with the zipper. The first thing you saw was Jungkook’s back—broad, inked arm crossed as he leaned against the railing, still arguing quietly with Taehyung about “giving people space.”

He must have sensed your presence because he turned at once, and the second your eyes met his, you grinned. Wordlessly, you turned around and held up your hair.

Without hesitation, Jungkook stepped into the room, his hands warm against your back as he reached for the zipper. His fingers brushed your skin lightly as he drew it up, not rushed, not clumsy. You could feel his breath near your neck, the subtle tension in his shoulders. His touch lingered just a second longer than it needed to—his fingertips barely grazing your lower back before he let go.

It wasn’t overt.

But it was enough for your heart to stutter. Was that on purpose? You didn’t dare turn around yet, just let your hair fall back down and murmured, “Thanks.” Behind you, Jungkook cleared his throat, voice quiet. “Anytime.” There was something intimate in the silence that followed, something thick and unspoken. You finally turned, meeting his eyes.

He didn’t say anything, but he was watching you—really watching you. Not with teasing or smugness like Taehyung, but something quieter. Something... careful.

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The moody, overcast sky hung low as your group of undead moved silently across the clearing, a grim swarm of crawling, shuffling figures. Those who hadn’t needed rest—the tireless, restless ones—had followed you and the other crawlers, forming the largest horde of the weekend so far. It was impressive. Terrifying. Beautiful.

Jungkook kept close to your side, his gait eerily fluid now that he’d embraced the undead role. His makeup—smudged and dripping as intended—made him look like he’d clawed his way from a shallow grave. It was hard to look at him and not feel a chill, even knowing it was all fake.

Your target loomed ahead: the same weather-worn house from yesterday. The survivors had taken the whole day reinforcing it, piling fake furniture against doors, jamming wood panels over the windows, and even reinforcing the crawlspaces and drainage. You had to admit—you were impressed.

No ordinary zombie was going to breach those defenses.

But you and the crawlers weren’t ordinary.

You circled to the back, scanning every possible entry point. The drain was blocked. The cellar sealed. Windows barricaded. But then you spotted it—an open skylight above the sunroom extension. Small, maybe two feet wide, but you could make it through.

You just needed a lift.

Turning to Jungkook, you lowered your voice to a whisper. “How strong are you?” He blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—what?” You pointed toward the skylight. Jungkook followed your gaze, his expression morphing from confusion to surprise. “You want me to… hurl you up there?”

“If you think that’s too much, I can ask someone else,” you teased, your voice cool, deliberate. Jungkook's jaw set. “No way. I’ve got you.” He wouldn’t risk someone else making a mistake that could get you hurt. You grinned, already backing up to get a running start, moving in position as Jungkook did as well. “Alright then. Just don’t drop me.” He crouched, hands out in position. “You better jump like you mean it.”

The two of you moved like you’d practiced it for years. You dashed toward him, boots silent on the damp grass. At the right moment, you planted your feet into his hands. Jungkook grunted as he pushed upward with strength that surprised even you. The world tilted—sky, house, the sharp outline of the skylight racing toward you.

Fingertips caught the ledge. You gritted your teeth, swung a leg up, and wriggled through. It was tight—but you made it.

You dropped into the attic-like space below with a soft thud and a grin, heart pounding from the adrenaline. A second later, you peeked back through the skylight. Jungkook stood below, looking stunned. You whispered down, “I will never ask someone else for this shit ever again!” He gave a breathless laugh, already approached by the next crawler.

In the next few minutes, you helped pull up two more. One got through on their own, the other needed Jungkook’s full strength and a bit of a climb. From your high perch, you coordinated their positions through narrow crawlspaces and above ceiling beams. Inside the house, muffled voices from the survivors grew louder—unaware of the silent, slithering danger creeping above.

And then the screams began.

Chaos erupted inside.

One of the crawlers dropped from the attic into a bedroom and shrieked. Another lunged from the shadows of the hallway, forcing a survivor to tumble back and crash through a makeshift barricade. The rest of the horde—waiting like hungry wolves—poured through the newly opened path.

You grinned with satisfaction as the house devolved into beautiful, fake carnage.

By the time it was over, the “survivors” were either “dead” or fleeing into the woods with wildly flailing arms, laughing and screaming in equal parts. You climbed out through the front window, breathing heavy but beaming, makeup streaked with sweat again.

Jungkook waited by the tree line, breath caught in his throat when he saw you. “That was… insane.” You sauntered toward him, brushing a cobweb from your shoulder, the thrill still sparkling in your chest. “You mean brilliant,” you corrected, giving his shoulder a friendly nudge. “Couldn’t have done it without my undead catapult.”

Jungkook chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You were just—like—gone. I thought I overthrew you for a second.”

“Well, lucky for both of us,” you said, nudging him again, “I have excellent upper body strength.” He looked at you for a moment longer than he probably meant to, eyes tracing your face, your smirk, the fading makeup. There was something new in the way he was seeing you—somewhere between admiration and being completely, quietly floored.

“I’m seriously not sure if I should be impressed,” he murmured, “or mildly intimidated.” You raised a brow, amused. “Why not both?” Jungkook grinned—genuine, wide, and a little shy. “Yeah. Both works.”

And together, shoulder to shoulder, you wandered back toward camp, the last moans of the “dead” trailing off behind you.

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You had played through the night. One relentless wave after another, your massive horde had flushed the most of the remaining survivors out of every hideout they had pieced together over the weekend. Some screamed. Some laughed. Some fought back valiantly—but none of them lasted long. It had been glorious.

Jungkook had stuck by your side for most of it, shambling and snarling beside you as if he'd been part of your crew since day one. By now, he fully understood why you loved this—why Yoongi had defected to the undead team without hesitation. There was something cathartic about giving in to chaos, something addicting in being the fear rather than the prey.

But still… playing a survivor had made Jungkook feel more. Adrenaline. Hope. Loss. Victory. Desperation. And you. You, always right in the thick of it. There was something unforgettable about the way you'd looked at him, teasing and alive.

It was nearing 10 AM now. The fog was finally burning off the morning air. Everyone had dragged themselves back to base. Some were already sleeping in bunks or huddled in chairs. Others slumped over mugs of instant coffee. The ones that hadn’t been up all night, just came back from their zombification to pick up were you left of.

You had wandered into the break area for off-duty undead NSCs. There, without a word, you'd climbed onto the billiard table, peeled off your gloves and mask, and lay down flat on your back, arms draped across your stomach. Eyes closed. Still in costume. Still streaked with grime and fake blood. But utterly at peace.

And Jungkook couldn’t stop looking at you.

He wasn’t the only one. Taehyung leaned lazily against the wall next to Namjoon, watching you with a curious tilt of his head. “She’s knocked out cold?” Taehyung asked, though he already knew the answer. Namjoon smirked faintly. “Nah. Just recharging. Like a haunted Roomba.”

“Should I poke her?” Taehyung grinned, raising a finger.

“Do it and lose that finger,” Yoongi mumbled from his spot in a nearby armchair, eyes barely open. “She hasn’t slept properly since Thursday.” Jungkook smiled to himself at Yoongi’s comment. But then someone else entered the room. The last person Jungkook wanted to see.

Lukas.

The same guy who had all but tried to force himself on you as he arrived here on the first day, eager and overly familiar from the start. A former survivor who’d now joined the undead side like everyone else. And apparently still hadn’t taken the hint.

Lukas sauntered over to your resting spot, standing at the edge of the billiard table and launching into some one-sided conversation about how epic the finale last year had been and how this year would probably be even better, he’d totally bring better gear next year, and how “you and me should team up next time” and on and on.

You didn’t move much, didn’t open your eyes, but the subtle pinch of your brow was all Jungkook needed to see. You weren’t relaxed anymore. Jungkook set down the energy bar he’d been holding and stood up.

Namjoon noticed. “Oh?” he murmured, nudging Taehyung. Taehyung leaned closer. “Here we go.”

Jungkook ignored them both, grabbed a bottle of water and a bag of chips from the supply table, and made his way over to you. He stopped right beside Lukas, who faltered midsentence, startled by the sudden appearance of the younger man.

In slow, careful English, Jungkook said, “Make space, please.” You opened one eye in surprise.

Lukas blinked. Jungkook held the bottle out toward you. “Water. For you.”

You stared at him for a second, then slowly sat up to make room on the table, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thanks,” you said, genuinely touched. You hadn’t asked him for anything—but you also wouldn’t say no. Especially not if it meant Lukas stopped talking.

Jungkook climbed up next to you without hesitation, stretching out on the green felt beside you, propping his head on one arm like it was the most natural thing in the world. He wasn’t even subtle about it—he just was there. Close enough to feel the heat of him again. Like last night.

Lukas stood awkwardly at the edge of the table, clearly thrown. “Uh… well. I guess… I’ll see you later?”

You hummed in acknowledgment but didn’t look at him. Lukas lingered for a second more, then mumbled something and left the room. Taehyung whistled low. “Oh damn.” Namjoon laughed under his breath. “That was smooth. Very nonchalant. Ten out of ten for execution.”

Yoongi cracked one eye open from his chair. “Is he lying next to her now?” Taehyung nodded. “Full-on pool table cuddling. He just stared that dude down in second language flirtation mode and won.” Yoongi closed his eye again. “About time.”

Jungkook ignored them, offering you the chips as well. You took one, still smiling. “Didn’t mean to steal your table,” he murmured. “You didn’t,” you said, voice soft and relaxed now. “You upgraded it.” His grin was small but pleased. You lay back down beside him, arms occasionally brushing as the room fell into a comfortable lull.

The room buzzed around you in muted tones—people talking in corners, the occasional thud of boots, a laugh carried on the tired air—but next to him, it felt like the eye of the storm. Warm, peaceful, grounded. You didn’t need words. Just the rise and fall of Jungkook’s chest next to yours and the shared quiet of mutual exhaustion. And this time, no one interrupted your peace.

That was, until Jimin appeared.

Without hesitation, he climbed up onto the billiard table with the agility of a cat and flopped across your legs like he belonged there. Which, apparently, he did. “Comfy,” Jimin murmured, his head pillowed on your thigh. “You’re crushing my soul,” you replied, flicking the back of his head affectionately. “Good. You weren’t using it.”

Jungkook snorted, as you muttered, “He always like this?”

“Worse when he’s had sugar.”

You all stayed like that until the walkie-talkie on your belt crackled and broke the spell. “HQ to zombie queen Sparkles. Everything’s in place. Megaphone announcement’s done. All survivors have been warned. Last stand is good to go.” Eriks voice offered.

You sighed, sitting up with an exaggerated groan. Jimin flopped onto the floor dramatically like you’d cast him off a cliff. Jungkook stretched beside you, rubbing a hand over his face and smearing the last of his undead face paint across his cheek. The three of you reluctantly peeled yourselves off the table and made your way to the final battlefield.

The terrain had been cleared. Flags were up. The megaphone had roared across the campgrounds announcing the final stand. The survivors, what few were left, had gathered and were bracing themselves behind makeshift defenses, guns ready, darts loaded.

You moved among your horde. Dead eyes. Snarling mouths. Fake blood drying on skin and clothes and fingernails. All of them buzzing with excitement and end-of-event adrenaline. Everyone was here.

Everyone… but Hoseok.

You were starting to worry, but then—

A scream. A scramble. And then, emerging from the woods, looking like he’d barely slept or eaten in a week, came Hoseok followed by a cameraman and hunted by two Zombies. Mud-streaked. Wide-eyed. Alive.

Barely.

Yoongi didn’t miss a beat—lunging from a bush with a banshee screech. Hoseok screamed. Like a horror movie final girl. Dropped to the ground, arms over his face, bracing for impact. Yoongi just cackled and stood over him. Namjoon helped Hoseok to his feet, who was still shaking like a leaf.

“How the hell—” Namjoon began, looking both amused and baffled, “—how are you still alive?” Hoseok blinked rapidly, eyes darting around at all the undead closing in now. “I… I did what she said,” he stammered, gesturing weakly toward you.

You raised an eyebrow. “What did I say?”

“Keep moving,” Hoseok replied. “Don’t stay too long in any one group. Hide when it’s quiet. I—” He swallowed. “I spent the night in a tree.” There was a beat of stunned silence. Taehyung let out a bark of laughter. “You feral squirrel! You slept in a tree?”

“I panicked, okay!” Hoseok shouted, hands in the air. The final stand didn’t last long after that. You and your horde overwhelmed the last defenders like a slow-moving tidal wave of moans, shrieks, and Nerf darts. The end came gloriously, with dramatic deaths and heroic sacrifice.

And then—it was over.

Cheers erupted. Everyone collapsed on the grass. Some in laughter, some in total exhaustion. Hugs were exchanged. Final photos were taken. The event was officially declared a success.

Which meant only one thing: the after party.

What began as a mad dash turned into a full-blown war in the dorms. Everyone rushed after you as they saw you make a run for the room and then to the limited bathroom stalls. You, Jungkook, Taehyung, and Yoongi ended up in a four-way standoff in the hallway outside the bathrooms, all equally caked in grime and fake blood.

“There’s four showers!” you said, already tugging at the zipper of your jacket. “We can do this. We can be civil.”

“We’re never civil,” Yoongi muttered, eyeing the doors like he was going to sprint at the first handle that turned. “I vote Taehyung showers last,” Jungkook said, pointing at Taehyung’s face. “You literally have glitter glued to your cheek.”

“It’s part of my character,” Taehyung retorted. “I was a vampire zombie warlord, thank you very much.”

“I call stall three,” Jimin shouted as he skidded in, already half out of costume. “And if anyone touches my conditioner, I will bite.” You laughed, giving up the illusion of control. “We’re all feral.” But you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Especially not the way Jungkook’s eyes kept drifting toward you, even now—mud-streaked, tired, and grinning like a man who had just found something worth crawling through dirt and fake gore to keep seeing.

From your group of eight, you, Jimin, Jungkook, and—surprisingly—Namjoon had won the great shower battle and secured first dibs on the stalls. Victory had never felt so warm and sudsy.

But that victory came with a price: the walk of shame.

Wrapped in nothing but a towel, hair still dripping and skin flushed from hot water and scrubbing off layers of fake gore, you had to walk barefoot from the shared bathroom back into your room—with them. Not your usual mix of female friends and old LARP buddies, but instead a full suite of K-pop idols with unfair cheekbones and far too many curious eyes.

You opened the door and stepped inside, water-slicked and entirely underdressed. Yoongi whistled, long and low.

Taehyung? Didn’t even pretend to be subtle. His eyes dragged over you like it was part of a performance piece. Jungkook, bless him, nearly dropped the hoodie he was folding and spluttered, “You—you forgot to grab clothes?”

You shrugged, casual as could be, striding across the room to your duffel bag. “Didn’t forget. Just didn’t want to lose my spot in the shower queue.” This wasn’t your first post-bathroom towel walk. But you had to admit, it was a lot easier around your usual chaos crew. You were used to that. You weren’t used to standing in a towel while the nation’s heartthrobs stared at you like you were a comet they weren’t supposed to look directly at.

You bent down, rifled through your things, and grabbed your black underwear and—

—pulled out your party outfit.

Jimin, still towel-drying his hair, froze. “You’re serious.”

“I’m dead serious.” As you wiggled into your panties, trying not to lose your dignity and keeping the towel in place, Jungkook caught Taehyung shifting on his bed and very pointedly moved to block his view. With Jungkook’s back turned to you like a protective wall, you quickly slipped on the rest of your clothes and zipped up the front of your fuzzy red panda onesie.

You were warm, soft, and immediately happier. Taehyung laughed, incredulous. “A red panda? For a party?” You grinned, cheeks flushed but triumphant. “All the Orga are wearing onesies tonight. And this one’s warm. And comfy. And now—” you spread your arms with mock pride “—I am fluffy.” Jimin ran over like a heat-seeking missile and threw his arms around you. “Confirmed. Very fluffy.”

Jungkook, finally looking at you in full red-panda glory, let out a soft laugh, and the last of the embarrassment in his expression faded into something gentler. He didn’t say it out loud, but the look in his eyes clearly read: adorable.

By the time the group of you arrived at the after-party, the hall had already transformed. Music was pumping, string lights strung between beams. People were dancing, drinking, lounging on couches—some still in costume, some freshly scrubbed clean like you, and others halfway in between.

You headed toward the bar, where Lea was already pouring drinks with practiced speed and familiar chaos, dressed in a beautiful dragon onesie.

“Beer?” she asked, without needing to be prompted.

“You know it.” You turned to Jungkook, who was already pulling out his wallet with that polite determination he always showed when trying to do something nice. “I’ll get hers too,” he said to Lea. You chuckled and lightly pushed his hand down. “No need, golden boy.”

“Huh?”

You leaned in, voice pitched over the music. “It’s my event, remember? My name’s on the staff list. I drink for free.” His eyes went wide. “Wait—you organizers drink for free?”

“Perks of power,” you said, and with a wink, handed him a beer instead—on your tab. Jungkook stared at it like it might explode in his hand. “You got me a drink?”

“Don’t look so shocked. You helped me catapult into a house full of screaming survivors, I figured I owed you one.” He took it with both hands like it was sacred. And then he blushed.

Hard.

Taehyung, passing behind him with two colorful drinks and glitter again clinging to his jaw, gave you a knowing smirk. “Careful. Jungkook might fall harder than that survivor who tripped into the fog machine earlier.” You raised your beer to your lips and shrugged, grinning. “I don’t mind a little drama.” And beside you, Jungkook drank, trying not to smile too hard—and failing.

The party had a warm chaos to it, the kind that made the exhaustion of the last few days dissolve into beer foam and basslines.

Somewhere during the first hour, a regular player—Mads, one of the older guys who had survived every single event you ran—took over Erik’s place at the grill. Erik, grateful, passed off the tongs with mock ceremony and rejoined the rest of the organizer crew.

That meant, for once, all of you (except poor Lea, glued to the bar like a bartender in some Viking saga) could give your traditional end-of-event speech.

So there you were: standing on the makeshift podium in your red panda onesie, Erik beside you in his lemur suit (complete with a striped tail and hauntingly round eyes), Pia in an inflatable frog getup, and four more of your crew in various animal-shaped fleeces. You each held beers, shouted into the mic, and barely kept a straight face.

“Thank you for not dying too early!” Erik called out, the lemur ears wobbling as he waved his beer in salute. “Thank you for dying dramatically!” Pia added. “And remember,” you said, holding your mic aloft with one paw-gloved hand, “when in doubt—scream louder.”

Your crew’s unofficial anthem blared from the speakers. And with that, the dance floor was officially open.

Players whooped. Some already half-drunk stumbled forward. Others started clapping, and the lights dimmed enough to encourage even the shy ones. Your crew, still in onesies, immediately launched into the most chaotic, uncoordinated, off-beat dancing the LARP world had ever seen.

You waved your arms like a raver raccoon on energy drinks. Pia was hopping. Erik did something disturbingly close to twerking with his lemur tail. It was a mess. Jungkook watched from the sidelines, drink in hand, shoulders shaking as he tried—and failed—not to laugh. “What… are they doing?” he asked quietly, in disbelief. “They’re dancing,” Namjoon said around a mouthful of chips. “I think.”

“No one taught them rhythm?” Taehyung asked, grinning. Yoongi chuckled. “Who needs rhythm when you’ve got that much conviction?” Jungkook took another sip of his beer, gaze lingering on you, red panda tail bouncing as you did a spin that nearly knocked over Pia. It was stupid. It was adorable.

But then his jaw tensed.

Because there, half-shadowed near the back of the hall, stood Lukas—again—watching you with a kind of focus that rubbed Jungkook the wrong way.

He stiffened.

Yoongi noticed immediately. “What’s up, lover boy?” Jungkook blinked, caught. “You’re staring at that guy staring at her,” Jimin chimed, leaning into Jungkook’s side like a nosy little devil. “You gonna do something or keep clutching that beer like it’s gonna kiss her for you?”

“He’s just… watching her. Again.” Jungkook’s tone was too neutral to fool them. Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “So you watch her, but when someone else does it, it’s creepy?”

“Yeah, because he didn’t get her hint. Not the first day, not earlier. He doesn’t even know her.” Jimin tilted his head. “And you do?” Jungkook opened his mouth—then closed it. “I know enough.”

“Then go talk to her,” Yoongi said simply. “It’s not that easy.” Jungkook looked away, jaw tight. “She’s… different. This isn’t some club. We’re in the woods. This whole thing’s temporary. What am I supposed to give her? A one-night stand in a barrack at the ass-end of nowhere?”

Yoongi was quiet for a moment. Then: “Why are you deciding for her?”

Jungkook blinked.

“If that’s all she wants,” Jimin added, “fine. Go for it and stop looking at her like a lovesick puppy. But what if she wants more?”

“I’m an idol,” Jungkook said quietly. “Schedules. Tours. Cameras. Chaos. I don’t even know where I’ll be next month. How do you fit something real into that?”

Yoongi leaned on the table next to him. “First of, this doesn’t look real to me,” and with that Yoongi pointed back at you and your friends now all twerking… in a circle… rubbing your butts together? “Second, maybe you don’t. Maybe she fits you into her life.”

That thought lingered, heavy and hopeful. Jungkook stared into the crowd, finding you again—laughing now as you leaned on the bar next to Lea, talking with some of the remaining players. One girl clasped your hand and said something earnest. Another guy raised his drink and said, “Best LARP I’ve ever done.”

You looked genuinely happy. Genuinely in your element. Jungkook felt his chest tighten. But before he could take a step—before he could even turn around—

There was a commotion.

All heads turned. Glass clinked. Music faltered for a second. Jungkook shoved his drink into Yoongi’s hand and moved. He didn’t hear Yoongi call after him. He was already in motion, eyes locked on you, on Lukas, on the way your shoulders tensed and your voice cut through the music like glass.

“Let me GO!”

Lukas had you by the arm—tight. His face was flushed, not just with drink but something rawer. Jungkook’s pulse surged. By the time he got to you, Erik and two other guys were already there, trying to pry Lukas off. You weren’t crying, but your face was pale, and the way you leaned back, straining against Lukas’ grip, made Jungkook’s stomach twist. Your body was tight with fury.

Jungkook didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t posture. He just stepped forward and gripped Lukas’s wrist—not his shoulder, not his chest, but right at the tendon and bone where Lukas was holding you. His grip was precise. Firm. Final. His other hand found your waist. Gentle. Protective. Steadying.

“Let go,” Jungkook said—low, dangerous, and razor-sharp. Lukas jolted at the tone, but his grip stayed locked on your arm. “I just wanted to talk—”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, voice ringing out above the crowd. “Not now. Not ever.” Lukas faltered, blinking at you like he couldn’t believe you’d just said that in front of everyone—as if his entitlement had never once been challenged. His hand stayed where it was, fingers tight around your skin.

Jungkook’s fingers pressed harder on Lukas’s wrist, just enough to make the point clearer. But you weren’t done. Your eyes blazed as your spine straightened. “If you don’t let me go in the next five seconds,” you said, voice shaking with rage, “I swear to god I will break your nose.” Jungkook could feel the rage vibrating through you—radiating off your body like a storm about to burst. He wasn’t sure if you were bluffing or if you were about to swing.

Honestly? He wasn’t sure if he should stop you if you swung.

But Lukas still didn’t let go. His pride puffed up like a balloon on the verge of popping. He looked around, suddenly aware of all the eyes on him. Of how many people weren’t stepping in to defend him—but you. Cornered, humiliated, he snapped. His voice turned sharp and bitter as he sneered at Jungkook, eyes flicking to the hand still resting protectively on your waist.

“What, a ching chong like you thinks he can just show up here and take my girl?”

The words hit like a slap—sharp, vile, and so incredibly wrong. Jungkook didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. He’d been called worse before—more vile, more venomous. He’d learned, long ago, to let it pass over him like cold wind. But here? In a place like this, surrounded by paint-stained props and foam swords and people just trying to have a good time? It surprised him. How casual the cruelty was.

And it surprised him even more—how fast you moved.

Your fists clenched, words hissed. “What did you just say?” Everything about that sentence—the racism, the possessiveness, the delusion—made your blood boil. And you lunged.

And Jungkook caught you. Barely.

His arms snapped around your waist like instinct. His fingers curled tight, grounding you as your momentum dragged both of you forward a step. He was strong, but you were all rage, and it took everything in him to anchor you still. Erik and his friends surged forward again, grabbing Lukas and dragging him off you.

You thrashed once in his hold, fists curled, jaw clenched. “Let me go,” you growled, low and lethal. “I’ll break his fucking jaw for that—I swear to God—" Every inch of you wanted to throw your fist into Lukas’s face. And you would’ve—if Jungkook didn’t hold you.

“Hey—hey,” he breathed against your temple, voice still calm, still quiet—but laced with something tight and simmering underneath. “He’s not worth it. Not your hands. Not your energy. He’s not worth you.”

But you were shaking with more than rage now—humiliation, helplessness, the aftershock of being touched like that, spoken to like that, in front of everyone. If not for Jungkook holding you tight, grounding you, you might’ve done it. You wanted to.

Lukas shouted something incoherent as Erik and his friends dragged him away, kicking and protesting. “This is bullshit! I didn’t even do anything—!” As they dragged Lukas toward the gate, shouting and protests growing quieter, you stood trembling—but trying to take slow and controlled breaths. Your hands shook as they fisted in Jungkook’s hoodie. Your jaw locked so tight it ached.

You weren’t scared. Not with Jungkook behind you, Erik standing guard, and half the event ready to rip Lukas apart. But you had been handled. In public. Dragged like you didn’t matter.

And that... stayed with you.

Jungkook’s grip loosened just slightly, but he didn’t let go. You didn’t either.

He glanced down, brows tight with worry. His hands were steady. But his pulse wasn’t. He could feel the fury in you—righteous, volcanic—and for a second, something deep inside him marveled. At how fast you’d defended him. He wasn’t proud that it had happened—wasn’t proud of being reduced to a slur in front of strangers. But he was proud of you.

Proud he’d had to catch you mid-swing because you’d chosen to step in—for him.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” you muttered automatically. But you weren’t. Your arm was red—angrily so—and your fingers, curled into his hoodie shaky. That told him all he needed to know. You weren’t fine. And the way the red panda fluff of your onesie caught in the light only made it more noticeable. Jungkook followed your line of sight, then looked down at you again, brows pinched.

“Can I see?” he asked gently, nodding toward your arm. You hesitated—just for a second—then gave a short nod. He let go of you slowly. You turned to face him as he carefully reached for your wrist. His fingertips brushed the discolored skin—hot, raised, aching.

You hissed through your teeth before you could stop it. He pulled back instantly. “Okay,” he said softly, like talking to a cornered animal. “You’re gonna need ice. And space.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered.

But your voice was strained, and your hand trembled again—this time against the chest of his hoodie, where you were still holding on.

You weren’t fine. You were furious. And humiliated.

Jungkook didn’t say anything else. He just looked at you. You were standing there—shaking, unsure, your arm throbbing now that the adrenaline had started to burn out of your bloodstream. You felt the ache settling in, the way your fingers trembled at your side, the warmth of Jungkook’s presence suddenly too close and not close enough.

Embarrassment burned hotter than the bruise.

You couldn’t look at him. Not really. Not after lunging like that. Not after being manhandled in front of half your own damn crew. Behind Jungkook, Jimin and Yoongi stood nearby. They hadn’t interfered but had clearly been ready to jump in if things had escalated. Jimin’s jaw was set, eyes still flinty and sharp with anger on your behalf. Yoongi, meanwhile, had that unreadable look—cool, assessing, but not uncaring.

Then Yoongi tilted his head, dry humor flickering in his eyes. “I’m just saying…” he said, glancing at your clenched fist. “Jungkook should’ve let you throw that punch.” That broke the tension like glass underfoot. You blinked up, startled. So did Jungkook.

A small laugh escaped you—wry and strained, but real. Jungkook huffed a soft sound. “Don’t encourage her,” he said, though his mouth twitched. “She was serious.”

Yoongi just shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “Exactly. When was the last time a pretty lady was ready to throw a punch for you?” that forced a chuckle out of you and Jungkook.Seconds later, Taehyung arrived with long strides and no smile in sight. His usual easy warmth was replaced by something clipped and focused as he held out a bottle of water to you.

“Erik’s walking him out,” he reported, eyes flicking to Jungkook, then back to you. “I called our security. He’s handled.” He paused. “Jungkook, you might want to press charges.” You nodded before Jungkook could answer, your fingers brushing his. Even that soft contact was shaky. Your grip was weak around a water bottle, and it took you more strength than normal to unscrew the cap. Your mouth was dry, but swallowing felt harder.

Jungkook’s voice was calm but resolute. “I’m not pressing charges.” That made your head snap toward him, brows pinched. He met your gaze. “It’ll only drag the event into it. Headlines, attention… you don’t need that.” The quiet that followed wasn’t reassuring. It wasn’t peace. It was the stillness of something raw, exposed.

You nodded slowly, but you felt small. Shrinking. The ember of humiliation sat low in your chest—tight and awful. Being grabbed like that—dismissed like that—had settled in your bones. Your voice was smaller than you intended. “I think I’m gonna sit down for a second.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate. “Come on.” He placed a hand lightly on your back, steering you gently toward a quieter corner behind the bar. You weren’t sure how you got there—just that he never left your side. You could still feel the aftershocks in your hands. The tremble wouldn’t stop.

Lea saw you coming and immediately crossed the bar with urgency. She passed Jungkook a folded towel packed with ice, eyes widening at the redness blooming across your arm. “Thanks,” you murmured, pressing the bundle to your skin.

You sank onto the bench like your knees had finally given out. Jungkook crouched in front of you, eyes locked on your face. His brows furrowed—not with frustration, but with a quiet, watchful worry. He waited until your gaze finally lifted to meet his.

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, throat thick. “For… ruining the mood.”

“You didn’t,” Jungkook said immediately, voice low, unwavering. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” But still, the weight of it sat heavy in your chest—like you’d broken something sacred by needing help.

“Yeah, no offense,” Jimin chimed in gently from somewhere just behind Jungkook, “but the mood was already kinda dead when you guys started that weird circle twerk thing.” You blinked. Then snorted. Taehyung pulled another bench over, slouching onto it with theatrical despair. “Was that meant to be dancing? Because I think my eyes need therapy.”

Yoongi gave a low chuckle from behind a cup of water someone had handed him. “Honestly, I think I preferred the screaming zombies.” The laughter this time was softer, but it curled through your chest like something healing.

The boys were trying to lighten the air, you realized. Trying to give you a minute to feel normal again. And you realized—this was what safety felt like. Jungkook didn’t smile, though. Not really. He huffed, looking down with a rueful smile, then leaned in a little closer, voice quiet and serious. “Honestly? Would’ve been nice to watch Lukas get dropped flat. Especially by you.”

Yoongi gave a quiet snort of agreement, and Jimin let out a low, appreciative, “Damn.” Then Jungkook looked back up at you, head tilting. “And you came in swinging for my honor. That was… sweet.” Your stomach dropped. You groaned, burying your face in one hand. “Don’t make it sound like that.”

“What?” Jungkook grinned, teasing. “It was kinda romantic.”

“I hate this,” you mumbled into your hand, burning. “I should’ve just bitten him.”

“You were aiming,” Yoongi commented. “I saw that jaw clench.” Jimin leaned in, mock-serious. “Next time, lead with the knee.” Taehyung, blinked. “I miss five minutes of drama and apparently it turned into Mortal Kombat?” That finally earned a real laugh from you—soft and sore-throated but genuine.

You looked down at Jungkook—still crouched in front of you like you might fall over again if he wasn’t anchoring you. He looked up, eyes dark and gentle. “You sure you’re okay?”

You hesitated. Then nodded once. “…Getting there.”

Jungkook didn’t say anything to that. But the look in his eyes said enough.

✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩ͯ•͙͙✧⃝•͙͙✩ͯ┄•͙✧⃝•͙┄✩̣̣̣̣̣ͯ

Part 2

Masterlist

A/N: Hi! Just wanted to mention that I use ChatGPT and DeepL to clean up grammar and spelling in my writing. English is my second language, and this tools help me share stories the way I imagine them, without spending hours double-checking every word. Writing is just a hobby I enjoy after a full workweek—I’m not trying to make money from it. If you’re curious or have thoughts on it, I’d love to have a friendly discussion!

Taglist: @dachshunddame @hecatesdescendant @chaeisrichnow @canarystwin @mar-lo-pap @notyourfriendooo @bjoriis

Not sure if i did everyting right with the tag list. Please let me know if there was a mistake.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Picture This (Kinktober)

Word Count: 1.8k

Juraj and you were on a road trip through the rugged backcountry, your love for adventure driving you both deep into the heart of nature's beauty. You left the city behind before hockey season started, seeking solace in the quiet solitude of the wilderness. As you followed the winding road, the towering mountains and dense forests surrounded you, their peaks and valleys like a vast sea of green. You stopped at a secluded spot, a vast clearing hidden from the world, and prepared a meal together, sharing stories and laughter as the sky slowly turned from blue to orange to a deep, inky black dotted with stars. You stood in awe, admiring the breathtaking view of the vast clearing, the tall mountains in the distance, and the dense forests surrounding them. The beauty of nature was something you had always found captivating, and today was no exception. "Juraj," you called out, turning towards your partner. "This is absolutely beautiful, isn't it?" Juraj nods, his gaze fixed on the endless horizon. "It sure is," *he says, his voice filled with admiration and wonder. "There's just something about being out here that makes everything seem so much more… real." He turns to face you, a gentle smile playing on his lips and a flirty tone in his voice. "And I think we're going to make some amazing memories tonight, don't you?"

You grin, the corners of your mouth curving up in a mixture of anticipation and playfulness. "I think you're right," you reply, your voice soft and sultry. "Just you and me, out here in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the stars to keep us company…" You lean a little closer, your eyes sparkling in the dim light. "And who knows what other kinds of… memories we might make tonight?" Juraj's breath catches slightly as he notices the playful glimmer in your eye. A slow, sensual smirk spreads across his handsome features. "Oh, I have a few ideas myself," he murmurs, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. His fingers linger, grazing your cheek ever so lightly. "But first things first - how about we enjoy this incredible sunset together? Maybe even open a bottle of wine…" He gestures towards the small cooler he packed earlier, filled with all sorts of goodies for their romantic getaway. "What do you say?" You feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine at his touch. You can tell he has more than just the setting sun on his mind, and you're more than ready to see where this night takes you. With a coy smile, you nod in agreement. "That sounds perfect," you say, your voice laced with anticipation. "A beautiful sunset, a bottle of wine, and some… let's call them 'unexpected surprises.' You really know how to plan the perfect date, don't you?" Juraj chuckles softly, his dark eyes gleaming with desire. "Well, when you've got a partner as amazing as you, planning dates becomes second nature," he teases, before pouring two glasses of rich red wine. He hands one to you, clinking it against yours in a silent toast. "To an unforgettable night under the stars," he whispers, his gaze locked onto yours. As the sun dips lower, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, Juraj leads you over to a blanket spread out beneath a sturdy pine tree, its branches providing a natural canopy overhead. He settles down beside you, the warmth of his body radiating against yours as he leans in close. "Now, where were we?" he purrs, his hand resting possessively on your thigh.

His words and touch send a jolt of electricity through your body, awakening a burning desire within you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I think you were just about to show me those… 'ideas' you had," you reply, your voice low and sultry. You lean into him, your body practically melting into his embrace. The setting sun casts a warm, golden glow over everything, but all you can focus on is the man sitting next to you. Juraj smirks devilishly, clearly pleased by your response. He sets his glass aside and turns to face you fully, his large hands sliding up your thighs until they rest on your hips. "Mmmm, I am," he growls softly, pulling you flush against him. "But first…" His head dips down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that steals your breath away. It starts off slow and sensual, but quickly builds in intensity as he pours all of his pent-up passion and longing into it. His tongue delves past your parted lips, tangling with yours. One hand slides up to tangle in your hair while the other grips your hip tightly, holding you captive in his embrace. When he finally pulls back, you're both panting heavily, hearts racing in sync. You feel a wave of heat wash over you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. Your hands come up to fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer in a silent plea for more. You can feel his desire matching your own, and it only serves to fuel the fire burning between you. "Juraj," you whisper, your voice ragged and breathless. "You're… you're driving me crazy here.."

Juraj groans at your words, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck," he rasps, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "You have no idea what you do to me." His teeth nip at your earlobe before trailing scorching kisses down the side of your neck. "I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs, his hands beginning to roam your body with increasing urgency. He palms your breasts through your clothes, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them pebble with arousal. "Tell me to stop if you need to," he warns, even as his lips find yours once more, kissing you deeply, hungrily. "But I'm not promising anything." Your moan mingles with the sound of the rustling leaves above, your body arching into his touch. You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, but you manage to whimper out, "Don't… please, don't stop." The sensation of his mouth on your skin sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. Your hands slide down to grasp his ass, squeezing firmly as you pull him even tighter against you. "I need you," you confess, your voice thick with lust. Juraj's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a growl of pure, unadulterated need, he tears at your clothing, tossing pieces of fabric haphazardly to the ground. His mouth never leaves your skin, blazing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to your breasts. He takes one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking hard as his hand kneads the other. Your gasp of pleasure spurs him on, and he grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his own aching arousal. "Fuck, baby," he pants, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking sexy. I can't wait to be inside you." His hand slips between your legs, fingers stroking your slick folds teasingly. "So wet already," he grabbed his phone and angled it to start taking pictures of ruining you on his fingers.

Your back arches off the blanket, pushing your chest further into his eager mouth. The feeling of his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple sends sparks shooting straight to your core. "Yes," you hiss, bucking into his hand as he strokes you. "More, please… I need more." Your body is alight with a fiery need, craving his touch, his possession. You reach down to undo his belt, wanting nothing more than to free the throbbing cock you know awaits below. Juraj releases your breast with a wet pop, his dark eyes blazing with primal hunger as he watches you work on his belt. "Fuck yes, touch me," he urges, his voice strained with desire. Once you've freed him, he lets out a guttural groan, his hand leaving your dripping sex to wrap around his own thick cock. He gives himself a few rough strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip to coat his fingers. "Look at me," he commands, his intense gaze locking onto yours. You obey instantly, captivated by the raw lust etched on his face. He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your soaked folds. "Ready for me, baby?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly. You nod frantically, too consumed by the need for him to form words. Your hips lift, seeking him out, begging for penetration. "Please, Juraj," you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you inside me now." With a swift, powerful thrust, he sheathes himself to the hilt, stretching and filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around him as he begins to move. Each stroke is deep and deliberate, hitting that sweet spot within you that makes your vision blur and your toes curl. "God, you feel incredible," Juraj groans, his pace quickening as he loses himself in the tight, slick heat of your body. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Juraj's movements become more erratic as he loses himself in the intoxicating sensations of your body wrapped around his. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, his expression a mix of awe and fierce possessiveness. "So goddamn perfect," he rasps, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the air, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps. His phone camera clicks repeatedly, capturing the erotic sight of him buried deep within you, his muscles straining with each powerful thrust. "Gonna make you come so hard on my cock," he vows, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. The added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your inner walls fluttering wildly around him as your orgasm approaches. "Pose for me, baby." Your body trembles beneath him, overwhelmed by the relentless pressure building inside you. As he demands, you arch your back, presenting yourself to the camera, your breasts bouncing with each forceful thrust. Your hands claw at his back, urging him deeper, harder. "Yes, oh God yes!" you chant, your voice rising to a keening wail as he hits that magical spot within you again and again. The combination of his thick cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers working your clit sends you hurtling towards the brink of ecstasy. "I'm… I'm gonna-" Your words dissolve into a wordless scream as your climax crashes over you, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice as waves of pleasure ripple through your entire being.

Juraj groans in triumph as your pussy spasms around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. He buries himself to the hilt, grinding against your g-spot as he chases his own release. "Fuck! Come on my cock!" he snarls, his hips pistoning furiously as he races towards the finish line. With one final, brutal thrust, he stills, his seed erupting deep inside you in long, pulsing spurts. He collapses on top of you, his heavy breaths mingling with yours as he savors the aftermath of their explosive coupling. After a moment, he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms as he cuddles you close. "That was… fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. "You're amazing, you know that?" Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you catch your breath, your body still humming with residual pleasure. You turn to face him, a lazy smile curving your lips. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your voice still laced with satisfaction. You snuggle closer to him, relishing the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "And just think, we haven't even made it to the tent yet," you say with a wicked grin, knowing full well there will be many more rounds to come.

[ultramagicalternate]

ULTRAMagic Interlude (BC) Chapter 45

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Blood-Wraith returned home after lunch to see that he had an unexpected guest. “Alexia, what are you doing here?”

“Hello, Blood. Pardon my intrusion, but I have some news about Tusk and what he’s been up to… Something he was supposed to tell you about a while ago.” Alexia did not look pleased.

“Yeah, Uncle Tusk is dragging his feet, Mr. Fire,” Auda stated as she got up from the couch.

“Oh hey, Auda,” said Blood-Wraith. “So what has Tusk been up to? He said he had something to tell me back before Vlastimir left.”

Auda took Blood-Wraith by the hand and led him out the door. “Soon, but first I want to show you something cool.”

Alexia followed the two, her armor clanking as she walked. “I trust you still want to go and explore that one spot on Aqua World, Auda?”

“Yes! Let’s go. Besides, it’ll give Uncle Tusk time to get off his roots…”

“Wait, Auda,” Blood-Wraith interrupted, halting the two. “I still need to check in with Theobold.”

“Don’t worry, dear,” Alexia replied. “I anticipated this happening, so I took the liberty of informing him ahead of time.”

Blood-Wraith was pleased to hear that. “Oh, alright then. Let’s get there quickly…” Stepping away from the two, a vortex of golden flames engulfed him leading to Golden Dragon appearing before them.

Once his passengers were ready, Blood-Wraith took off with a great flap of his wings. Aqua World was just as it had been left, the cerulean oceans shimmering in the vast dark of the Unlight sky. A welcome sight was that the derelict spaceships seemed to be doing a lot better. Shuttles were going to and from them and they appeared more lively in general. Touching down on the nice, sandy beaches, Blood-Wraith felt pretty good seeing the tropical trees and hearing the melodic sounds of the jungle again. Auda and Alexia eagerly hopped down off of Blood-Wraith, allowing him to return to normal. The first thing he did was fetch a ripened fruit from the ground.

Auda got down and watched as a crab skittered away from Blood-Wraith. “I’ve been wanting to try exploring for a while now, ever since I met you guys. It’s just that I need to learn how to do it and everyone’s been busy.” She also picked up a fruit and began eating.

“It’s not hard, Auda,” Blood-Wraith replied. “Know where you’re going, prepare accordingly, and be sensible about it… also don’t do what Drago does. She’s too reckless for her own good.” This made Auda laugh.

“A fair point, Blood,” Alexia pointed out. “But a reasonable dose of daring doesn’t hurt every now and then.”

He paused for a moment. “Touche. So what do you want to check out, Auda?”

Auda had bent down again to study a rock she had found interesting, followed by her putting it in her pouch. “I was talking to the Lich… sorry, Deimos and he said there’s a cove with all sorts of pretty rocks to collect.”

Alexia chuckled. “My, Auda, fancy yourself a geologist?”

“Geolo… geo… geologist… what’s that?”

“It is someone who studies the Earth and its properties.”

Auda nodded steadily. “Sounds neat. Alright, let’s go this way” she said, pointing to a stream that was flowing calmly. “We need to follow this.”

The trio followed the winding stream, moving through brush that went up to their waists. Auda had a map that Deimos had given her, but there were a few times where she got confused. Fortunately Alexia was very familiar with Deimos’ style of writing. After making their way past a series of leaning trees, not too far from the location of the terminal Deimos had once configured, Auda took a moment to think. How did she want to get into the cove?

“Stumped, sweetie?” Alexia asked.

“Hum…” Auda looked at the map closely, then at her surroundings. There was a cave entrance to her left and the path to the terminal spring on her right.

Blood-Wraith yawned a little, somewhat exhausted from his trip back to the Unlight from Inferno. “We’ll take the cave. There’s a good chance the pool at the terminal is in use. Besides, I’d probably have to become Ochre Serpent and I’m not sure how that would go.”

The cave was quite relaxing to walk through. It did not go deep and the sound of running water was quite soothing. Alexia in particular made a note to return there at a later date. Something that they noticed as they walked were the glittering stones embedded in the walls and ground. Auda went around inspecting them, tempted to start collecting. Instead, she continued onward, knowing that she could not bring home every stone with her.

After maneuvering around some stalagmites and treading some deep water, the trio found the cove. Sunlight shone through a hole in the ceiling, illuminating the glittering rocks and allowing one to gaze into the crystal clear water. All of it was quite beautiful and Blood-Wraith was glad Auda had brought him there. Naturally she was darting about, picking up stones left and right. Auda only put a select few in her pouch, her favorites being silver ones and gemstones.

As Blood-Wraith inspected a metallic orange rock, he noticed that Auda had paused her collecting. “What’s up, Auda?”

“There’s a weird stone here. It kind of looks like grandpa’s stone, the one he uses for alchemy.”

This caught Alexia’s attention, with her concern flaring up. “Where is it, Auda?” The girl pointed at it, with Alexia plucking it from the ground. It looked like a crimson crystal that was all too familiar to her. “Goodness, is this Eustorgio’s Philosopher’s Stone? What in the Cosmos is it doing here?”

Blood-Wraith looked at it, scratching his head. “Well let’s head to his temple and ask him about it.”

Auda then scurried around, grabbing whatever stone she could for her collection. “Agreed. Grandpa says it’s bad luck to abandon a stone like that.”

Heading back the way they came, Blood-Wraith led them down the path that took the three back to the beach. He then flew them to the island that Deimos had called home in recent times. Nothing had changed since their encounter there, and climbing to the top of the pyramid revealed the stones that Blood-Wraith and Dragoslava had sat on were still there. Blood-Wraith took a seat on his stone, with Auda occupying the one Dragoslava had.

“Wow, it feels so long ago since I was here with Leif and Drago…” Blood-Wraith remembered.

Auda glanced around, admiring the breathtaking sights. “Deimos picked a good spot to hide out. You can see anything coming from here.”

Alexia gave a light laugh. “Very true, Auda. If I had to guess, this most likely reminded him of where he was born. Plus this planet being a paradise also probably helped.”

“Really?” Blood-Wraith wondered.

Alexia nodded. “Certainly. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was his home realm, reborn in the present…”

“Well that’s because it is,” Deimos said with pride in his voice as he appeared on his throne. “This was the Pyramid of the 10th Sun, where you could commune with the gods.”

“Hey, Uncle Deimos,” said Blood-Wraith. “We found something in the cove.”

“Oh? What did you find?”

Alexia held up the stone and gave him an unamused look. “Eustorgio, what was this doing in the mud and dirt?”

Deimos opened his mouth, then closed it with a guilty look on his face. “Yeah, about that…”

“Uncle?” Blood-Wraith had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be told something that would anger him. “What’s the deal with your stone?”

Deimos took the stone and sighed. “Things were… things were pretty rough for me after I arrived here. When I was split, I kept my Philosopher’s Stone for obvious reasons. In my anger and haste, I tossed it into the cove, cursing God, screaming that I’d fix this whole issue by myself. I’m not sure what came over me that day, but I’d imagine arriving at an abandoned version of my home realm didn’t help in the slightest…”

“HOLD UP” Blood-Wraith cut in. “You had a functional Philosopher’s Stone AND YOU DIDN’T USE IT!?!”

Deimos knew he was in trouble. “Well, I mean, everything worked out in the end…”

Blood-Wraith screamed, took off into the air as Golden Dragon, then plunged into the water as Ochre Serpent. He then began to ram his indestructible head into the seabed over and over again. “WHY DIDN’T I FREAKING CHECK!? I KNEW I SENSED SOMETHING BACK THEN!!” Only parts of this tirade was heard back at the temple as the ground shook.

Alexia turned back to Deimos and groaned. “Eustorgio, a lot was riding on the battles with The Lich and Milosh. I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

Deimos slumped on his seat. “Add that on to the pile of mistakes…”

Alexia sighed. “Don’t beat yourself up, Eustorgio. Self-loathing gets us nowhere.”

“Yeah, Deimos,” Auda added. “Maybe it just wasn’t your time to do Alchemy.”

Deimos sat up and smiled. “Auda, Tiberius taught us never to do alchemy if our spirit ever faltered. Sometimes we just need a break to get our priorities back in order. I wish the timing had been better, but it’s probably for the best that I didn’t try to force myself to do alchemy…”

“Why? What could have happened?” Auda wondered.

“Lord only knows. And given that state I was in? I don’t want to even imagine it.”

“A fair point” Alexia conceded. “Still, you should have at least kept it on hand. Even the most desperate beggar can create gold with the right ambition.”

Deimos rested his face on his fist, “I guess you’re right, Alexia…”

Blood-Wraith returned to the top of the pyramid, rubbing his forehead. “Did I miss anything?” he inquired as he ate a different fruit.

“Not really,” Auda answered.

“Blood, I’d like to apologize,” said Deimos.

Blood-Wraith finished his food. “It’s alright…” before he could speak further, Deimos walked over and gave him a hug.

“No, let me have this. I’m sorry for putting all of us in jeopardy. I should have used my head instead of thinking with my emotions.”

“I forgive you, Uncle Deimos. To be fair, haven’t you and Vex been telling me that we shouldn’t have things handed to us on a silver platter?”

“Yes, what about it?”

“Well there you go. I’m still mad at myself for not being diligent, but it’s too late now.”

“And despite that, all of you managed to accomplish great things” Alexia clarified.

“Just like what you said about beggars a moment ago,” Auda added.

Deimos squeezed his temples, sighed, and chuckled. “Darkness was getting on my case about the stone. I hand waved it, but that boy was persistent.” 

“Best be careful he doesn’t adopt your work ethic, Eustorgio,” Alexia cautioned. 

This made him laugh. “I don’t think he will. So, Blood, school’s starting soon, aye?”

He nodded. “Yup. I’m looking forward to it too.”

“Well if you ever need a good subject to do a history report on, feel free to come here and ask whatever you want.”

“Thank you, Uncle Deimos. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Alexia then remembered something important. “Eustorgio, you haven’t seen Valerie, have you?”

“No, but she is definitely on the move at the moment. Gostislav has been keeping his eyes and ears open for me.”

Blood-Wraith groaned. “Oh boy. Let’s head home before my headache gets worse… See you later, Uncle Deimos.”

The trip home was peaceful and the rushing air helped clear Blood-Wraith’s head, but Tusk was nowhere to be seen back at the city. It was close to dinner time, so Blood-Wraith invited Auda to stay for the meal. Alexia would make her way to the tower as Englehart was expecting her and Tiberius that night. Plus she wanted to visit Mal as she had not seen in so long. The news of Tusk’s adventures would be saved for the next day.

“Glad to have you here tonight, Auda,” Drusa said as she served her some spaghetti.

Thank you for having me” she replied as she mixed up her food and dug into her meal.

Vexation laughed to himself over what Deimos had told Blood-Wraith and Auda. “I was wondering why Eustorgio was playing so defensively…”

Blood-Wraith slurped a mouthful of noodles and sauce. “That was a bit surreal,” he said after he swallowed his food.

“He’s done similar before. Hopefully with Tiberius back in the picture things will return to what they once were.”

“Vexation, can you tell me about those times tonight?” Auda asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Ah yes, back before everything hit the wall like an Atlantean debate hall” Drusa remarked. “There’s a lot of stories to tell about the time before time.”

“Why do I get the feeling things were just as chaotic back then?” Blood-Wraith questioned.

Vexation shrugged with a smile on his face. “That’s just how it goes, Blood. You have to fight for peace, and fight as hard as you can.”

Next: Chapter 46

ULTRAMagic Alternate © 2022 William Ford II (ChaoticTempleKnight)

[paintedscales]

022. Noykin

Journeying form the Malaguld Iloh, Nomin starts her trek across the Steppe in earnest. Where her feet or Horse will take her, she has no idea. Though she certainly never expected for her journey to start off with such an unexpected meeting.

Word Count: 3,246

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Nomin’s time with the Malaguld and her Sagahli brethren were moments that she had to cherish each and every part of. Though Narantuyaa started her journey back to the Mol with some Malaguld escorts, she had left Nomin with a parting gift -- and nothing to have been taken lightly, either. At least by Mol standards.

They were shagai -- a kind of dice set -- made of polished bone, and her parting words were: “even if you may not find yourself turning to the Gods for guidance, should you ever find yourself looking for an answer, roll these and see what They have to say to you.”

At first, Nomin had let out a scoff of dry amusement once Narantuyaa had gone and she had only the shagai to reflect upon. She thought it terribly ironic that she would be given something in order to commune with the Gods. Heartfelt and meaningful as the gift was all things considered, Nomin had only found herself staring at the red leather pouch at first. It had been a sometimes subconscious thing in between conversations or drawing in her journal.

In a few days' time, however, Nomin had found herself idly rolling the sheep bone dice between her fingers, feeling the polished surfaces in her palm. Though she had been no stranger to the games played with these ankle bone dice, using them for divination was something she never saw herself doing when she did play such games with her Sagahli brethren, or even with other Jhungid peers that had originally been from other tribes. Luckily, Narantuyaa had also given her a refresher on the positions before departing.

Horse and sheep were lucky sides with horse being the luckiest -- they were the convex sides. Camel and goat sides were unlucky -- they were the concave sides. Rolling all four was indicative of good fortune. Nomin could remember that…hopefully.

Placing the dice back into the red pouch, Nomin sighed and went to retrieve a notebook she had asked the Malaguld for. Her handwriting was still shaky, but she could at least read what she wrote now after learning more of what she could with the Jhungid. She made notes about the divination of the shagai by the remaining light of the day before sighing to herself.

Nomin’s heart weighed heavily in her chest. She already had a number of materials for travel: dried meats, dried fruit, rope, jars of fat, jam, butter, two waterskins, aaruul, charcoal -- both for writing and keeping her fire warm, a light blanket made from flax, her bow, her quiver and arrows, and a new journal.

Still…even with as prepared as she felt, she felt guilt for knowing that she would be hurting those she cared about by simply leaving.

It was not an easy task she set for herself.

When the next morning came, Nomin had made sure she was one of the first to awake by bedding early the night before. She gathered her belongings and went out to where Horse had been penned. Getting him dressed in his tack, Nomin had been tightening his saddle when she suddenly turned at the sound of someone approaching, arms raised to fight out of instinct from surprise attack training from the Jhungid. However, when Nomin saw who was standing there, she relaxed, sighing as she dropped her hands to her side.

“Turakina…” Nomin started, shaking her head. “I’m not staying if you’re going to try and convince me to.”

“I’m not,” Turakina replied simply. She was holding a book in her hands that Nomin could sort of make out in the dawn's light. When it had been handed to her, Nomin slowly reached for it and took it. That was when Turakina spoke up again: “more of our teachings -- what knowledge we have as Sagahl. To aid you wherever you might not have been able to learn yourself.” Nomin looked down at the book, then back at Turakina. She was at a loss for words.

“I may not have been able to be the same teacher Bayarmaa was to you, or even the same as…as Esenaij…” Turakina said. It seemed that even for her, the topic of Esenaij and what she had learned from Nomin had been a sore spot for the both of them. “But…the Jhungid had some of us compiling what we knew to turn into books for their people. We took some of the ones we had made to bring back to their rightful place… That one is for you.”

“I’m…but I’m not…” Nomin started to say, an ache in her heart remembering Esenaij’s last words to her that urged her to run. Quietly, she finished her thought, “I’m not Sagahl…”

“You are, little sister. You are one of us.” Turakina firmly placed her hands on both sides of Nomin’s shoulders. She stared down into Nomin’s eyes, her brow furrowed.

“Your time with us as a whole may have been cut short, but hold no doubt in your heart that you are one of us. Bayarmaa and Esenaij took you into their care where they could…and I’m sorry that I could not do the same when we were with the Jhungid.” Turakina’s grip tightened both affectionately, and to emphasize her words. “What you did for us, Nomin? The feat that you achieved to see us safe and on our way back to where we belong? You. Are. Sagahl. And maybe you will choose to not bear our tribe in your name, but you have a place among us -- you are one of us.”

With that, Turakina pulled Nomin into a tight embrace.

For a moment, Nomin seemed unsure of what to do before she finally lifted her arms and hugged Turakina back. One free hand clutching onto the fabric of her clothing as her eyes stung with tears. This was one thing she had been afraid of happening -- she did not want a tearful goodbye. But all things considered, maybe it was a better goodbye than merely leaving without saying anything at all.

"If…" Nomin started, letting out a choked sigh. "If you see Bayarmaa again…please tell her that not a day passed that I wasn't thinking of her and Esenaij. A-And…that I'm sorry. For everything. For Esenaij."

Upon hearing Nomin’s plea, Turakina’s embrace upon Nomin tightened. Softly, she responded, "you can be sure that I will. Just…remember that none of this was ever your fault. Esenaij wasn't your fault. He would have been proud of you in his own way. I know he would."

Nomin’s breath hitched in her throat, and tears finally started streaming down her face as her fingers curled into Turakina’s robes. Her heart hurt in her chest; she was conscientious of every beat it made -- how it felt as it beat. As if something were lodged within and her heart struggled to beat against or around it.

When they finally parted, Nomin got upon Horse and looked at Turakina whilst rubbing the tears from her eyes and face, putting the book away into her satchel. She gave the Malaguld Iloh one last look before clicking her tongue and then urging Horse into a gallop toward the southwest.

Where their journey would take them, even Nomin had no idea, but anything was better than the potential for endangering those she called family.

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Winds gently blew past Nomin and Horse as the two of them traversed back out through the Ceol Aen. A song danced upon the winds as the singing stones offered what they could after their generations of wear. It had still been an experience worth noting for Nomin as she stopped Horse and took a moment to listen to the chorus of notes that sang with the wind’s passing.

Humming with the notes at times, Nomin had taken the time to dismount Horse and pop a couple aaruul into her mouth to idly suckle upon. She had a great view of the land, and it would have been a shame to let that go to waste. With her journal, Nomin flipped to a blank canvas of vellum before starting to sketch out the lands and their features.

Life was exceedingly peaceful at this moment. Almost too peaceful for some, but for Nomin…well, she did her best to scan the area every now and then to ensure that no one was ready to sneak up on her. A watchful eye certainly served her well, but it was when she heard sharp whistling and whooping that she looked around for the disturbance. The beating of hooves were apparent, but the whistling and whooping seemed much more a threat to the sounds of the wind Nomin had otherwise been enjoying.

There were three riders on horses, and one who was not. The one who was not had rope in his hands, and he was working with the other riders to catch a horse that had been both riderless and without saddle. Curiosity getting the better of her, Nomin slowly closed her book and put it and her drawing utensils away.

Luckily, it seemed Horse was fine grazing away in the grass. His ear only flicked every now and then, clearly listening to the disruptive riders. However, it seemed that the training he underwent with the Jhungid had desensitized him to battle and what would have otherwise been alarming sounds. All in the name of preparing the steed for combat. Nomin had to count her blessings there, thankfully.

One of the things that Nomin had noticed about the riders is that they all wore the same tribal color, however…the one without a horse to ride upon wore a color Nomin had seen in the past. She thought hard about it before she realized that the young man down there trying to lasso the horse on foot was a member of the Dotharl.

An interesting sight to behold, all things considered.

Sharp whistles sounded again, and the horse that it seemed the group was chasing had reared a couple of times before the Dotharli man had finally managed to get the lasso tossed and secured onto it. The horse nickered and struggled, but the Dotharli man had managed to stand his own ground, avoiding any potential injuries from the equine beast.

The whooping that came from the horse riders this time was different. They cheered after the horse had been lassoed, and pumped their fists into the air to celebrate the Dotharl’s success in at least doing what he could. Nomin was a little curious what the group was going to do as a whole, but that might have been something she would have to follow them back to their iloh for.

That was not particularly a thought or plan she had wanted to commit herself to.

Though, it seemed that Nomin’s curiosities were interrupted when someone noticed her presence. One of the riders -- a woman -- had called out, pointing specifically at the former Tumet.

Startled, Nomin started for her horse, thinking it a safer bet that she should run rather than stay. After all, whoever that tribe was, they were with a Dotharl -- and even if Nomin had relatively positive interaction with the Dotharl the brief time she had seen them several summers ago, there was no telling how this one would be outside the Khaa.

“Sister of Malaguld! Why do you run?” the first female rider called out. Nomin was acutely reminded how she was wearing the colors of the Malaguld, and she paused for a moment. “You cannot possibly be afraid of our Dotharli ally, can you?”

In truth, Nomin kind of was, considering how the Dotharl reveled in combat from the stories she had heard shared and what she knew of the tribe. She had even borne witness to one of their rituals where the khan or khatun looked into the eyes of one of the newborns to see whose soul now inhabited the child. Their reincarnations and cycles are what made them unkillable, made them the ‘undying’.

Even as battle-hardened as she had been, Nomin was not interested in combat. Not unless her life really depended on it.

“My apologies…” Nomin meekly called back. “I was not to stay here too long. I am on a journey south and east, toward Reunion.”

In the back of her mind, Nomin was now just wondering heavily what tribe these people were from -- especially if they saw the Malaguld as allies. Given their desire to cow and capture a horse, she thought of the Goro or Dataq, but the colors she saw them wear did not align at all with what she knew.

“In another time, you wore the colors of the Sagahl. Today, you wear the colors of Malaguld…” the Dotharl spoke, walking up to the others with the horse they had been chasing in tow. The horse clearly still resisted, though it seemed the Dotharli man had a firm grip on the rope. “Should I congratulate you for a marriage, or question if you’ve integrated with a different tribe?”

Nomin felt her heart race as she backed up and placed a hand on Horse’s saddle. Did she know this Dotharli individual?

“I do know that you’re a friend, though, and that you stand among friends all the same,” the Dotharl continued with conviction, making Nomin pause. He looked up at her before reaching into his robes and pulling the leather cord around his neck.

When the pendant was revealed, Nomin stared at the shard of copper in surprise, a gasp leaving her lips. She recognized it as the tool that she used to free herself from her trial of ten summers -- and though she never thought she would ever see it again, she felt her heart swell.

Memories of their meeting came rushing back. How they sat in the shade of Esenaij’s wain and shared their shared experiences with one another. What a series of events that she would see the Sagahl well and run into an old friendly acquaintance soon after.

“Arik…” Nomin whispered under her breath with a small smile.

“I told you I was reincarnated from the Noykin, did I not? I decided to pursue my old life’s talents,” Arik called out to her, a smile growing upon his own lips. “It is good to see you in good health, my friend. It has been some time!”

“... I…I promised, didn’t I?” Nomin asked, laughing to try and prevent the happy tears that threatened to overcome her. The emotions she felt surely were just another byproduct of having been with the Jhungid for that time -- wondering if she would have ever seen old friends and the like. She held them back, though, her wide smile remaining firm upon her face as she beheld Arik.

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Nomin rode Horse behind the three others of the Noykin while Arik walked alongside her, having to temper the horse that still resisted him more times than not. Nomin learned of the other three riders’ names: the two women were Mide and Uranchimeg, while the other man was Hychyt.

While the two of them traveled side-by-side, Nomin and Arik shared stories and spoke of their experiences, though the mood had gone somber rather quickly when Nomin shared of her time with the Sagahl and then the Jhungid. It was clear that the tales of her time with them upset Arik greatly.

“Bastards, the lot of them,” Arik breathed, gritting his teeth. He sighed to dispel his clearly growing anger at the situation shared with him before looking up at Nomin and apologizing, “sorry. Had I known of the trials and tribulations ahead of you at the time…well, I don’t know what I would have done. When we first met, I was just happy I made a friend that seemed to be like me in some way. Born to a tribe where they knew they did not belong.”

Glancing at Arik after he had made such a statement, Nomin’s eyes flicked downward and then up. She observed him again, noting the garb he wore once more.

“Might I ask why you still don the Dotharl colors?” Nomin inquired, genuinely curious.

“Ah…the Noykin regard my tales from the Dotharl with skepticism. Of course, should I be bold enough to tell Sadu khatun of any of my own doubts, I would surely be banished from ever returning to the Dotharl should my exploits here prove fruitless,” Arik spoke, waving a hand in front of his face with a hint of annoyance. “But…the Noykin said they would accept me should I tame a wild stallion of the Steppe and break it within three days. Such is the claim of the previous Arik.”

Glancing back at the horse behind him, Arik grinned and then looked at Nomin. “The khatun bade me capture and tame this particular one -- Wild Sun.”

“I see…” Nomin replied, thinking about it for a moment. She looked at Arik properly as they traveled alongside one another.

He had certainly grown much taller -- easily as tall as any proud Xaela warrior born as male. His horns had developed well, too, sharply curving forward. So too did his tail, the appendage sleek and long; starting smooth and ending in a taper that saw no distress. His scales were a lovely, deep obsidian with subtle flecks of dark red along the outlines of the scales.

A pang of envy had beat in her heart.

“Is something wrong, Nomin?” Arik asked, looking up at her.

That was when Nomin had finally caught herself staring, and she turned away, surprised by herself more than anything. She shook her head and just scoffed, replying to his question with: “sorry…no, there’s nothing wrong. I’m just…a lot changes in five summers, does it not? We’ve certainly grown.”

The corners of Arik’s lips twitched upward in a small smile. He looked ahead at the Noykin riders, watching them converse happily among themselves. It seemed evident the other three were giving both Arik and Nomin the space they required to speak with one another and catch up.

“Indeed…” Arik finally concurred. “Truth be told, the only reason I recognized you at all was because of your scales.”

“Ah…yes… These blemishes that set me apart from everyone else… What Xaela worth their scales would not be able to see me riding a malm away?” Her tone contained the slight venom of self-loathing, and Nomin looked at the mottling on the scales on one of her hands. She had been made fun of and teased by Jhungid children and teens who were the perpetrators of internal conflict regarding her scales. She had been a target for plenty, the nickname of ‘Broken Scale’ being a prevalent one of the time.

If only she had still been around Bayarmaa, things might have been different. At least…that was what Nomin believed.

“... They certainly set you apart, Nomin…but they’re by no means blemishes… They’re unique. Different! Like the both of us. I always thought they looked rather…well, nice,” Arik admitted. “I thought your markings also the reason you named yourself ‘Nomin’.”

“They were… I was young, I didn’t think of anything better…” Nomin said, deflecting. It was only half true.

“It was a name given through the voice and eyes of a child who saw herself for who she was and the future she wanted. You found meaning in that.”

Arik’s words were touching, but also profound in the moment. Nomin could really only watch the back of Horse’s head as another scoff fell from her lips, this one silent this time.

[lgcparker]

“Let’s see. It was after I worked on the yacht of that electronics CEO— he was really into warm water fish, and the amount he would pay for us to import swordfish from the Australian coast— well, that was certainly an extravagance. I’m personally not the biggest fan of swordfish, but if prepared correctly, it’s hard to refuse, and if I must say, I have perfected my recipe. Ah, that’s actually a good idea. Perhaps once this thing blows over, I’ll prepare swardfish for the next trip; my lemon and butter sauce sounds simple, but that’s what makes it difficult. Simple things can be the most misleading.” The chef rambles on before his mind circles back to the question at hand. “Two going on three years,” Parker replies to Hyoseop’s question with a nod, the rest of his body language as relaxed as one could be given the circumstances. He would much rather be back in his kitchens, prepping for tomorrow, than here, but even he knows how poor it would look if he were to try and excuse himself. He tips his head to one side as he listens to teach one of his peers speak and bring up their theories and accusations. Just like he couldn’t blame the scrutiny he would face if he were to dismiss himself, he couldn’t help but be interested in the situation itself. 

Pushing a hand through his hair, he lets his mind wonder just a moment until Carter inquires about the kitchens, and the chef can’t help but go momentarily rigid. Naturally, he was protective over his sacred space, but the request was reasonable enough. “Yes, I don’t see the problem with that, but remember, it’s not a place to be playing around in. All our pots and utensils aren’t toys and very expensive. Ingredients are important, but so are the tools you make them with. The fact that someone came in and decided it was okay to leave a pot on the heat until it burnt and adhered to the surface— not to mention that it could have easily burned down the whole train but the pot is near ruined! This is exactly why I would prefer for people not to poke around with proofing the dough for tomorrow's dinner, and the last thing we need is another thing ruined. It is winter, and naturally, the warmth is necessary!” 

The comment about the flamingos is a bit odd, even for Su and he nods a bit dumbly before a thought occurs to him. “Shrimp! Shrimp is also what gives them such nice color, isn’t that right? I do think we have some shrimp in the freezer car— perhaps there is still time for me to change over the chef’s special for tomorrow. They’re not swordfish, but I think it’ll still be a hit!”

“What do you think, Choi? Do you think the first-class passengers would agree? Especuilly given this whole incedient, I’m sure something a bit unexpected will put a few people in better sorts.” Perhaps it was because of the fact they worked with each other for a bit of time, but the Parker’s disposition towards the Clerk was easy as ever. Of course, someone who took such pride in their work would do something that would literally derail their journey.   

@lgckai

Porter Carter’s fingers twitched at the thought of a drink, his throat suddenly dry, but when Sculptor Kwon’s words rang out, unease settled over him. Had he heard something? He wasn’t sure, but Kwon’s insistence made him reconsider.

“Did I hear anything?” he repeated too quickly. “Well, I was focused on cleaning, but… there was a lot going on—people moving about, talking... I didn’t hear anything loud or strange, but maybe I was just too caught up in my work to notice. It’s possible I missed something.”

Groom Cha’s sharp words shifted his attention. Carter caught Cha’s gaze—seemed they were thinking the same thing. Something about Medical Student Kim felt off, like he was too quick to rule himself out.

“I noticed that too,” he said quietly, glancing at Cha. “Seems like Kim’s very quick to dismiss himself. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?” He paused, adding, “Did you know in ancient Greece, grapes were thought to keep away evil spirits? Not relevant, but interesting.”

Then Groom Cha pushed further, asking how long everyone had worked on the train. The Porter’s pulse quickened. How long had he been here? He didn’t want to seem defensive, but someone who worked here would know the layout, where to hide things, and where to escape.

“I’ve been here a few years,” Porter Carter replied, trying to sound casual. “Long enough to know the ins and outs, where things are kept, where someone might hide something... or how to get away unnoticed.” His eyes flicked to Ticket Clerk Choi and Chef Su. “Same for Choi and Su, I’m sure. We all know the place pretty well.”

Groom Cha was sweating, clearly uncomfortable under the scrutiny. The tension in the air was thick. The suspicion was mounting. The Porter cleared his throat, realizing there was something he hadn’t mentioned earlier—the missing towel. It had been nagging at him, and now he couldn’t keep it to himself.

“Actually, there’s something I should have said earlier,” the Porter began, his voice steady . “I noticed a missing towel near the dining car. I was cleaning, and it was just gone. Not sure if it’s significant, but it could have been used to clean something up or even hide something. Worth mentioning.”

The conversation paused, but his gaze shifted to Chef Su. “Would you have a problem if we checked the kitchen? I think it’s worth a look. Could be something there we’re missing.”He noticed how Chef Su had been rambling earlier—too much for someone who wasn’t nervous. Why ramble unless… The thought lingered, but the Porter pushed it down, not letting it show.

He couldn’t help but insert an irrelevant tidbit, his reflex kicking in. “Did you know that a group of flamingos is called a ‘flamboyance’? Odd, but I think it suits the situation. A little too much flair for comfort, don’t you think?”

@lgcparker

[daceydeath]

A Working Proposal (Part 2)

Pairing: Chan x Reader x Changbin

Word Count: 2.5K

Genre: Smut

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex (don't be dumb), creampie, oral sex (male receiving), vaginal fingering, swearing, threesome (MMF)

You had been working with Stray Kids for a while now and after a long day at work turns into a very unexpected but intriguing proposal. Will this change your world or end your career?

The next few days had flown with all the extra tasks that needed to be done to prepare for not only shooting the music video but the whole album intro teaser. You had organised four separate looks including hair make up and outfits, two dozen locations and organised for the whole process to be documented so that behinds the scenes footage could be ready to go. It had been exhausting and you had not had a moment to even think about the boys in terms of your contact with them, until that was Felix had asked you to come to the studio. You had remembered smiling when you got the text thinking that he was being sweet to worry until you remembered that it might be more than you initially thought. You dragged yourself to the dance studio pausing to try to pull yourself together before entering, hoping your smile was believable you opened the door and entered the room.

"Good you made it" Felix grinned happily getting up from where he was sitting on the floor with the others surrounded by food containers.

"Well you asked me to Felix" you blinked slightly confused about what was going in.

"And good thing too" Minho replied sternly "when did you eat last?"

"Umm... I definitely had breakfast at least I'm pretty sure I had breakfast" you answered slowly thinking hard, the last few days were busy remembering to eat didn't seem like the important information to retain.

"Exactly" Chan echoed as Felix dragged you to the loose circle they were sitting in making you sit "You need to take care of yourself"

"Says the man who doesn't sleep, eat proper meals or have the ability to stop working ever" you rolled your eyes at him watching him blush slightly at your words.

"Open up" Minho instructed and you did without question turning to him as he put a piece of meat in your mouth making you shy suddenly.

"How are we supposed to even start this thing if you are working yourself harder than us?" Changbin sighed teasingly your eyes widening suddenly before you could swallow your mouthful of food.

"Is that why I'm here? you think I'm working too hard for your comeback?" you quirked your eyebrow at him smiling.

"Well yeah a bit" Han admitted a light dusting of pink across his cheeks making you giggle "none of us like seeing you worked to exhaustion"

"It's kind of my real job to get everything sorted out so everything goes smoothly for you, then sit back and let you do all the heavy lifting" you smirked.

"That's not how I remember it" snickered Chan making your skin heat up instantly.

"I mean here Chan, not your bed" you rolled your eyes as Minho held out more food for you to eat, which you took without hesitation.

"Excuse me?" Hyunjin squeaked dramatically nearly causing you to inhale your food.

"A few nights ago she came round to deliver the contract" Chan shrugged seeming like he knew it was going to set them all off, a chorus of loud 'what's' and 'the fucks' did indeed follow as they all yelled over each other until they were almost too loud for you and you winched a little.

"Shit sorry kitten" Minho gasped dropping his chopsticks and covering your ears instantly.

"I'm ok, I'm mostly used to this by now anyway" you smiled at him as he lowered his hands from the side of your head to your shoulders smugly pulling you against him so he could feed you some more.

"Oh smooth" Hyunjin teased as you squeaked in surprise making you feel a little embarrassed all over again.

"Are you going to be at the shoot tomorrow?" Jeongin asked you diverting attention from where Minho's hand was on your hip.

"I can be there if you need me to be" you smiled softly "I don't usually need to be there unless there is an issue or things are still not fully organized"

"So if I request it you can be?" Chan smirked

"Yes, no one says no to you Chan and you know it" you sassed knowing they would all get the double meaning.

You arrived for the shoot before the kids did making it easier for you to check with the director and staff that everything was indeed ready for when they arrived. The process had run smoothly them arriving, hair and makeup and then the run through of what they would all be doing, the shoot had been expected to last three days but there was always room for issues so you were going to hang around that entire time, mainly at Chan's request. The members were to be shot in small groups leaving the rest with little else to do but hang around and tease each other while you tried your hardest to remain utterly professional.

You had been quite happy to just do your job remotely making sure anything that the kids needed was brought in all while aiming to look like you were watching them lustfully as the danced or acted in perfectly fitting clothes that accentuated every perfect part of them. Minho's pants clung perfectly to his strong thighs, Chan's shirt would rise to reveal his abs with every high energy dance move and Changbin's shoulders and chest straining the buttons on his shirt was going to kill you at some point you were sure. Flicking you eyes back to your work you continued to organize their next set of interviews.

After a while it became obvious to you that there was some sort of issue with Minho and Changbin, choreography you guessed since Minho had needed to adjust a few things in the days leading up to the shoot. Your eyes widened as the director stepped in saying they would change the filming order to make it easier for them which frustrated both the boys more and Changbin walked away to calm himself down. You decided to leave it for a moment Chan would come find you if he needed anything and you could finish your emails while you waited.

"Miss?" the AD smiled pulling your attention from your tablet "I have been asked to send you back to the dressing room there has been an issue"

"Of course thank you" you smiled politely excusing yourself and making your way to the dressing rooms the boys had been given. Walking in you found Changbin sitting on one of the couches looking annoyed but Chan was nowhere to be seen, until the door shut behind you and the lock clicked.

"Thank you for being to prompt baby" Chan whispered into the shell of your ear making you shiver as he kissed his way down to the nape of your neck "Binnie was wanting to borrow you for a little while and I thought I might stay and watch".

"If you don't mind" Changbin added standing up and stepping towards you with his hand outstretched, intertwining his fingers with yours he pulled you from Chan and into his own arms pressing a gentle kiss you your lips.

"I don't mind" you breathed against his lips, he smirked before kissing you again this time much more forcefully as his hands began roaming your body. Your hands mapped out his impressive chest and arms gasping as he slapped your arse sharply before grabbing it roughly.

Taking that as his cue he broke away from your lips spinning you suddenly so you were facing Chan who could help him self but sneak a kiss as Changbin began unbuttoning and pushing down your jeans.

"We don't have much time baby so forgive me for not giving you more" Changbin mumbled into your skin of your neck as you heard his own pants hit the floor "Chan get on the couch man" he directed which made Chan grin and do as he was asked his dark jeans straining against his erection making your eyes go wider.

Stepping out of his fallen jeans Changbin picked you up and placed you down behind the sofa he had been sitting on, pushing your head forward until you were bent over like he wanted, Chan perched just in front of your face his cock inches from your face. Spitting on his hand he reached down to you waiting pussy slipping his fingers between you wet folds smearing both his saliva and your juices between your clit and your entrance.

"Fuck baby, already wet for me and I haven't even touched you" Changbin grunted his fingers slowly circling your clit teasingly making you groan softly.

"You going to let Chan watch me fuck you baby, let him watch me fill up your pretty pussy" He asked smugly as your body continued to react to his fingers making you wetter and wetter.

"Fuck...yes, he can watch you fuck me" you whined pushing your arse towards him.

"Good girl, so ready for me already huh?" he grinned letting his fingers drop from your clit and instead rubbing his dick through you folds painfully slowly before lining himself up and slowly sinking into your waiting hole. You cried out softly your mouth falling open at the feeling of how deep he was inside you, how thick and hard he felt as he held you in place to stop you moving.

"You look so fucking cute taking his cock baby" Chan smirked leaning forward to kiss your lips again masking you clench around Changbin.

"Fuuck" Changbin moaned lowly slowly starting to pull back out of you before sinking back in painfully slowly. "I will cum so fucking fast if you keep that up baby" You sighed against Chan's lips as Changbin began pumping in and out of your cunt slowly increasing his speed rubbing your walls just right.

"She likes that man, gotten all fucked out for you" Chan chuckled looking at your hazy expression.

"Good girl, how about you suck Chan off while I fuck you huh? Be a good girl and show him you're grateful to have me fucking you" Changbin instructed grabbing your hair and pulling you head back to look as Chan, without answering you simple opened your mouth and waited for him to decide what he wanted.

"You sure baby?" Chan asked making you nod firmly as knelt infront of you and slipped himself from his jeans guiding himself between your waiting lips. "Your mouth is so good baby just like last time" Chan grunted matching Changbin's rhythm.

You let your jaw relax as Chan took the lead carefully fucking your throat as Changbin began pounding into you from behind, the sound of slapping skin and the squelch of your wet cunt the only noise in the room as the two boys desperately tried to keep themselves quiet, you could feel your orgasm closing in on you as the two of them used you for their own high you began mewling around Chan's dick each time Changbin pulled your hair forcing himself deeper and deeper into you with each thrust.

"Can I come in you baby?" Changbin panted his thrust getting sloppy as he chased his released, Chan pulled himself from your mouth to let you answer.

"Yes, please" you gasped seconds later feeling Changbin swell inside you before he came hard inside you pausing for a second before pulling out of you, a small amount of his semen trickling out of your used hole.

"My turn" Chan grinned climbing over the couch and pushing Changbin out of the way "You can admire he pretty pussy later"

Sliding inside you he began thrusting hard pushing you further forward onto the couch leaving you on your tiptoes as he pumped into you to chase the high he was already so close to before he had to pull himself from your mouth. Angling himself just right he began to pound against your g spot with each thrust making you thrust your hips back into him.

"Fuck Chan, I'm going to cum" you wailed softly still trying to keep quiet.

"Good Girl, cum on my cock baby, show me how much you love our cocks in you" Chan grunted through gritted teeth trying to hold off until you came.

"Oh god Chan" you gasped as your walls clamped down hard on him making him fuck you even harder. He came moments later filling you to the brim with his seed before carefully pulling himself from you and pulling you up against his chest.

"That was incredible baby" Chan kissed the side of your head leaning you against him as he pulled his jeans back into place. "Bin help me clean her up" he asked gently maneuvering you onto the couch.

"Here darling" Changbin cooed spreading your thighs and cleaning you up with a towel he had pulled from his bag, once he finished he helped you to pull you underwear and jeans back on as Chan got you some cool water to drink. "Thank you, you are incredible" he smiled sweetly kissing your cheek.

"Was that alright? I know I said we would start slow" Chan scratched the back of his neck shyly hoping they didn't already cross any lines.

"I'm totally ok with what happened Chan, I would have said no if I wasn't" you replied honestly "That was pretty good first threesome though" you joked hoping to make them see you were fine.

"First!" Changbin gaped "Holy shit we should have totally gone slower with you"

"I'm fine, I enjoyed that a lot" you chuckled embarrassed by your own admission "But we need to get back you need to get back to set before others notice" A few minutes later you were back in the same chair you had been in before you had casually let two of them fuck you. The AD the had fetched smiled as she walked passed you handing you a bottle of cold water.

"Mr Bang said you were feeling off, it is hot in here you need to keep your fluids up" She smiled innocently.

"Thank you so much, I really shouldn't have worn jeans but I didn't think it would be so hot on set" you replied casually hoping that she really didn't know what had just happened in the other room.

"Oh yes when we have groups with such intense choreography and concepts the lighting heats everything up a huge amount, but you will know that for tomorrow" She excused herself leaving you to continue trying to work even though you knew that was never going to happen after what you had just done. It was going to be a long rest of the shoot.

After a few more hours you were called back to the office where you were able to distance yourself a little bit more from what you had just done, you chastised yourself repeatedly at how reckless you had been letting them fuck you where anyone could have found you locked door or not. You made a note to talk to Chan about it to see if you could make that a condition that you wouldn't risk them by potentially being caught during work hours.

A/N: Thank you for reading all comments, reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated xx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @symptoms-of-moonlight, @septicrebel, @ayoitschannie, @krishatumblernow, @tangerminie, @elizalabs3, @armystay89, @kpflyn,

[seospicybin]

HOMESICK PREVIEW.

The next chapter of Haven.

Bangchan x reader. (s,f)

Synopsis: After being separated by the distance, Chan learns to build a new home with you.

Preview under the cut!

...

Chan likes how you invaded his life.

Your warm smile replaced the void that usually welcomes him home, your laugh filled the quiet in the room, your scent clung to the bedsheet, and your body became his new comfort pillow.

He couldn't look around his place without seeing a trace of you, instead of feeling like he doesn't belong there, he feels quite the opposite.

He feels at home and he believes that's because you're in it.

It was very unusual of him to come home early that day and it was even rare of him for wanting to cook, he planned on greeting you home from work with dinner.

He heard you unlocking the door and he waited for you to notice him standing by the threshold with his arms open.

The surprised look on your face tells it all, you were happy to see him that you immediately crashed yourself at him.

"You're home early!" You exclaimed as you threw your hands around him.

He lifted you off the ground and hugged you tight, "I'm cooking dinner," he told you.

"Really?"

"What's with the surprised tone?" He narrowed his eyes at you.

"Nothing," you answered with a sly smile.

He let the conversation slide and kissed you, a long kiss that makes up for the hours of not seeing you. You let him as you always do, letting him deepen the kiss and have as much taste of you as he wants.

You gasped when he broke the kiss, "go get changed," he said.

He gently squeezed your waist, "I'll prepare dinner."

You nodded and obeyed his words without complaint, went to the bedroom while Chan made his way back to the kitchen.

He stirred the soup he was simmering on the stove and added a few seasonings to perfect its flavor.

What you said to him earlier got into his head that he started to doubt his cooking.

"Babe, can you come here and taste it for me?" He shouted as he kept stirring the bubbling soup.

"Just a minute!" You shouted back from the bedroom.

"It only takes a second," he said back to urge you to come to the kitchen.

"Coming!"

You came behind him and he scooped a spoonful of the broth, he blew on it first before feeding it to you.

"A little bit more pepper will do," you suggested.

Chan sprinkled some into the pot and stirred it, having another taste test with you.

"Good?"

"Perfect!" You replied.

He triumphantly smiled and held your face to kiss your lips, he was expecting to feel any sort of clothing on you but instead of that, his palm met the warmth of your skin.

That was when he realized you came to the kitchen half-naked.

"What are you doing?"

You were covering your breasts with your hand but then you didn't feel the need to since he has seen everything. Also, you didn't want to miss a chance to tease him.

"I was barely dressed when you called me here," you explained.

He gave you the unsatisfied look on his face but it could be two things, mad or aroused, you couldn't tell which but he looks so hot nonetheless.

You took a step back to give him a better view of your body only dressed in white shorts.

"Also, you're not the only one who can walk around the house topless, you know," you said with a playful grin and kept walking backward in the direction of your bedroom.

It's something unexpected like this that keeps things exciting in your relationship and your body will always be enticing to him.

He rested one hand against the kitchen counter and tipped his head to the side, "Oh, is that so?"

You nodded and said, "I can do what I want with my body."

You teased him more by cupping your breasts in your hands.

"They're mine!" He said in the most possessive way.

You shook your head, "no, sir. These are not your property!"

He pointed his spatula at you with a deadly glare on, "pull your pants down!"

"No!" You refused while lingering in the doorway of your bedroom.

"I said pull your pants down!" He ordered once again, louder.

"No!" You answered with a daring smirk and ran into the bedroom without closing the door.

Chan turned off the stove and ran after you, chasing you into the bedroom while you squealed in fear and excitement.

"PULL YOUR PANTS DOWN!!!"

"NO!!!"

...

Read the full fic here!

[yoomiwritingstuff]

you knew since the moment you clumsily crashed into him on the ice rink, made eye contact with one another and held your breathe — that shouto todoroki had captured your heart to the point of no return.

you won't ever forget the patience he had when you tried to remove yourself from him yet kept on slipping back towards his body, further entangling the both of you together.

he waits until you've calmed enough to focus your attention on him again before speaking up, assuring you that it was alright and he wasn't angry or any of that sort at all. even going as far as to ask you if you got hurt and apologizes for not catching you.

gazing at his heterochromia eyes, you fought away the nervousness in yourself in favor of savoring the time you had being so close to your oh so dear friend.

you've thought him handsome and pretty on the first day you've seen him sat on his desk in yuuei. you also pondered the idea if he was secretly a prince in some country and was forced to stay here with people like you the longer you eyed his default blank face. for someone who was entering the hero industry, todoroki sure gave of the feeling of being a model or an idol instead (of course that didn't mean good-looking people like him aren't fit to become heroes. he's more than capable of being a fantastic hero).

you never had any problem interacting with the man in front of you. there's the occasional awkwardness you get from his personality that can't be avoided but you all worked it out. in the end, your friendship was something you cherished greatly.

that is until tonight when you finally admit to yourself that you may have been developing some not-so platonic feelings for the half and half for quite a while.

were you willing to lose what you have with him just so you could tell him what you felt?

“(y/n),”

his voice brings you back to the present.

not only that, his touch on your skin undeniably breaks the troubling thoughts that is swirling inside your head.

“did falling perhaps damaged your brain?”

you would have laughed your ass off because of his unexpected choice of words if it wasn't for the seriousness of his tone and the worry in his eyes. scratch that, his words aren't unexpected at all. in fact, it was very shouto-like.

you shake your head and contently sighed while touching his warm hand that was placed on your right cheek. he reacts to your actions with a suprise look crossing his face, as if he hadn't think you would do that.

he made no move to detach himself from you and you revel in the soft moment you two are sharing as of now in the nearly empty ice rink you had invited him and the others — who unfortunately couldn't come — to go to and enjoy quality time while you were on your break.

“how do you feel?”

he asks you after seconds have passed and you're still in the same position as earlier, forgetting the cold hard floor and the few people who had skate passed by where you two were laying upon.

“i feel like i need a kiss from you to make the ache on my head go away.”

you cheekily replied. you might not have the courage to confess but that won't stop you from messing around and letting him know bits of your pining here and there.

it's not like he'll notice anything with him being somewhat oblivious to your hints and cues. nothing prepared you for what transpired next though.

you really ought to choose the things you say to todoroki or else he'd take them earnestly and do exactly what you were hoping him to do.

it was nothing more than a simple graze of his lips on your forehead and yet it flustered you to no end.

he quickly escapes from your hold and stared at anything else other than you. todoroki's ears are slightly flushed and you notice him take a deep inhale as if he was anxious for what you'd do after that whole situation.

“is the pain gone now?”

it took you a moment to register his new question. grabbing the scarf that hangs loosely on your neck, you burrowed half of your face to hide the embarasssement that's creeping inside you. you didn't realize that he did the same thing.

“y-yeah. thanks, shouto.”

as you try to recollect yourself, you wondered if the man with you meant anything about that kiss he gave.

before you could come up with something plausible in your mind that didn't involve him liking you back (because you didn't think he even saw you that way) you see him reaching for your hand. you willingly give it to him and watch as he tenderly intertwines your fingers together.

“you might get a cold if we stay like this.”

todoroki says nothing else so you nod in agreement. he lifts you up and you momentarily lose your balance from how long your legs were sat on the freezing ice. one of his hand grabs your waist to steady you as you feel him hold your other one tighter while your free hand takes place on his shoulder.

you send a shy laugh his way when you realize how close your bodies are with each other again. it doesn't bother you that you feel like a damsel in front of him even when you know you're very much capable of going toe to toe with todoroki in a fight.

“this is nice.”

you say softly, brushing away a few strands of his colored hair that's blocking his eyes making sure to evenly split away the red from the white. you hear him chuckle and as you stare at his eyes that always manages to keep your attention, you see that unmistakable familiar emotion in them when he looks at you back.

it's the same expression you have for him, that expression of longing and wanting to be something more than just what you have right now.

maybe you weren't wrong about your feelings being reciprocated after all should you find yourself confessing tonight.

a/n - reupload because i couldn't decide if i should post it or not */dives back to bed

[yesimwriting]

Corridor Moments

A/n this is a request from @mariannagris for a fic with the Darkling x Sun Summoner! reader where they're having a cute moment and then Zoya walks in and sees that they're together and gets jealous.

I'm working on a longer fic that should be up this weekend!! I'm working through a bunch of requests/updates rn I promise lol

--

He's no longer guiding me, but he hasn't moved his hands away--one on my waist, one on my shoulder.

"Aleksander," I try to keep my tone casual, only hinting at a warning.

There's no way he misses it, but he still allows the hand on my shoulder to ghost across my collar before setting his palm on my cheek. "Yes, my sun?"

Before I can roll my eyes, he brushes his thumb across my cheek softly. His touch has started to become more casual, but I'm not sure the comfort it brings me will ever lose its novelty. I tilt my head slightly, leaning into his touch.

"We're not alone." The reminder is more for me than him. All of his actions are intentional, he knows the risks of his sudden bout of affection. "We may be in an empty hallway now, but we're not alone."

Aleksander leans forward slightly, forcing me to press my back into the wall to avoid melting into him. I don't miss his half-smile, a confident smirk breaking across his features. He knows what he's doing. "And what would we need to be alone for?"

The slightest hint of annoyance bubbles in my chest. For someone so determined, he enjoys playing coy more than he should. My lips part, prepared to call him out for his teasing, but Aleksander senses my hesitance like always. He leans forward again, this time pulling my chin up slightly so that our lips could brush together if I just inclined my head slightly.

The closer we get, the more I feel our distance. His eyes flicker downwards, focusing on the slight part of my lips. Aleksander angles his head downwards, allowing our lips to meet fully. Now that the barrier's been broken, I have no choice but to reciprocate with full force, my hands leaving his chest and finding their way into his hair. Aleksander's hands grab the collar of my kefta. He pulls me towards him sharply, as desperate as I am to eliminate space.

And then he pulls me away. I'm left pouting on instinct, lips slightly swollen and breathing a little uneven. "Easy," he chides, "We can't afford to get distracted."

I wrinkle my nose at him. He started this, pulling me out of the meeting under the ruse of important, private conversation. "And who's the one doing the distracting?"

Aleksander smiles fully. A real grin, the kind of grin that rivals any amount of sun I could ever produce. "You," he breathes, leaning in again and brushing his lips against my cheek, "Considering you won't leave my thoughts."

I let myself grin back, his unexpected softness an arrow that pierces through whatever's left of my composure. "You're awfully sentimental today."

He straightens slightly, expression still light. "Is that a bad thing?"

Squeezing the hand that he's placed on my waist, I beam at him. "Not bad at all--just different."

He's still looking at me with a fierceness that sometimes frightens me due to its wholeness, but something ancient and dark is settled behind his eyes. Something haunting that he won't let me help him with. I haven’t known him that long, but I’ve figured out that his affection is often a secret plea, a silent attempt to rid himself of darkness. What's the point of being able to summon the sun if you cannot banish the darkness that haunts those you care about? I raise his hand to my mouth, kissing each of his knuckles deliberately. He exhales at the contact, some sort of tension coiling in him at the chaste contact. 

I like us better when we’re alone. When he lets things like this slip from him as he tries to let my light in him. I could stay in this corridor forever with him. I could hold him by his hand to make sure he can’t slip away from me. 

Reality does not allow me to coddle my dreams. If I lose focus, he’ll be able to convince me to do anything--to forget my own name even. I drop my gaze to the hand I’m still holding, running my thumb along his knuckles. “We can’t--we can’t stay.” Not the truest sentiment--he can do whatever he wants. “I can’t stay.” The correction leaves me bitter. “Not for long.” The addition only softens the harsh edge of reality slightly. “People are already starting to think you’re extending favoritism towards me.” 

Aleksander lifts the hand I’m holding, taking my hand with him. He turns my hand over before placing a kiss on my palm. The contact is warm and fleeting and I’m powerless against the sentiment it stirs. “And this isn’t favoritism?” 

I roll my eyes, his warm breath is still against my skin. “That depends--am I your favorite?” 

His hold on my hand tightens slightly. “You already know the answer.” I let the corner of my mouth twitch upwards. Aleksander has already offered me more than I expected today, but it’d still be nice to hear him say it. “You, my darling, my sun, will always be my favorite.” 

I beam a little easier, warmth expanding in my chest. Still, the feeling isn’t enough to burn through all of my reluctance. His affection stems from the fact that he believes me to be his salvation. That’s the only thing that makes sense to me. How else could i have won his affections? 

“It’s easy to favor a Sun Summoner,” the response is soft, a bit of forced teasing edging my words. 

His eyebrows draw together as his hold on my hand tightens, turning from a gentle squeeze to a desperate grab. “Sun Summoner or not, no one else has ever held my favor the way you do.” Aleksander leans towards me again, the comforting heat of his breath on my cheek. “And no one ever will.” 

I’m reduced to nothing more than happy neediness, letting him cup my face and pulling me towards him. His lips meet mine with a desperate understanding that’s both bruising and coddling. Aleksander’s teeth graze my bottom lip, testing waters that are unfamiliar between us. I reciprocate, pushing even closer to him. He pushes us backwards, pressing me against the wall as he moves his attention away from my lips and down my jaw, leaving a trail of hot skin wherever his lips brush. 

“Aleksander,” I breathe, placing a hand on his chest, “Meeting--we need to--” 

He pulls away just enough to let me feel his grin, “That can wait.” 

“They’ll think things,” Despite my warning, Aleksander doesn’t pull away, his fingertips brushing against my collar. “They’re waiting,” he sighs against my hair, still careless, “Alina--she’s waiting...” He continues to touch me like I’m an illusion of the light. “And--” He smiles at my waning resolve, attempting to move forward to silence the last of my protests with a kiss. 

I turn my head, suppressing a reluctant laugh at his carelessness. Aleksander is not discouraged, pressing a kiss against my cheek. Shifting my gaze while placing my hand on his chest to make it easier to push him off fo me, I freeze. He must feel my new stiffness, because Aleksander pauses against me.  

Zoya. She’s standing at the entrance of the corridor, watching us--watching me--with such a sharp look of ill-defined displeasure I’m surprised I’m not physically withered by it. Awkwardness and something akin to guilt leave me blind as I try to create space between me and the unbudging General. Does he not see her? 

“Yes?” His voice leaves goosebumps against my skin--not an ounce of shame, but not a drop of that easy-going softness either. He’s General Kirigan again--sharp and incapable of shame or regret. He’s in complete control, all the power in the world is at the fingertips that are still on my skin. 

Zoya’s expression does not waver, eyes still locked on me. “Those in the meeting were beginning to worry, but I see that you’re occupied.” I was wrong. She’s not staring at me, she’s staring through me--like I’m nothing more than a thin curtain on a cloudless day during high noon. “I’ll inform the others.” 

“You’ll inform them of nothing I don’t approve of.” He’s fierce, the threat of venom apparent in each syllable. “And it’d do you well to meet the Sun Summoner’s gaze with a little more respect.” 

I’m quick to grab his forearm, desperate to articulate how much I’d rather him not pick this fight--not when most can barely stand me, not when the more I think of Zoya’s look I realize any bitterness towards me is something else. Not hatred, no--resentment. The kind of resentment that’s only ever a byproduct of something else. If I was bolder, I’d assume it a look of jealousy--maybe not over the man, but the attention and praise received for being nothing more than new and shiny. Her eyebrows knit together as Aleksander’s hold on me adjusts slightly. Okay, maybe the fact that I’m with Aleksander has something to do with it--but it has to be more than that. Her dislike of me, her constant myriad of comments and looks all points to a jealousy much more bitter than that of someone love sick. 

If something in her has been broken over time here, time around Kirigan and his pension for manipulating that I am not blind to and my presence and joy is a reminder of that, than I can bear her hatred. “She was looking at me normally.” Before he can challenge me, I move his hands off of me gently and slip away from between him and the wall. 

I guess that’s what it takes for him to understand that I mean it, Aleksander straightens and takes a step forward. His eyes linger on me as he walks forward. I stay a few steps behind him, a pathetic attempt to cling to any kind of properness I can manage. 

“If I were you, I’d at least comb your hair with your fingers before entering that room again unless you’d like to announce yourself as a form of entertainment.” 

Being a decent person is nauseating sometimes. “And take the fun out of it for you?” 

I don’t wait for her reply, moving down the hall to catch up with Aleksander. Still, when I’m no longer next to Zoya I brush my fingers through my hair in hopes of correcting any damage she’s created. Maybe I should be more worried. Maybe I should care about the opinions of others more. But every reason to stay away from Aleksander entirely feels so small. I’m not naive enough to fall blindly, but the thing about being a Sun Summoner is that you can bring light with you, no matter how dark the path you chose is. 

I watch Aleksander as he places a hand on the door to the room. He offers me one last, genuine smile. His path isn’t as dark as he wants it to seem, and even if it is, I don’t care. 

[kookiessugababy]

Another Reason To Hate You (Kim Namjoon) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings 🚨- aggressive sex// no protection//edging//teasing//slut shaming kink

-> scenario: you have never gotten along with Namjoon, despite your close relationship with his band. With the boys apartment under refurbishment, you find them staying at your own place- where things become steamy between you and your foe in the shower room.

Hope you enjoy <3

*****************************************************

The previous night was sleepless, the muggy and warm nights creeping upon your Seoul apartment. Despite the discomfort it caused, you had spent the restless night watching movies with the boys; who you could currently now hear blasting music in the next room. They were stammering along loudly to Min Yoongis rap lyrics, Hoseoks voice yelling above them in blatant confidence - the others mixing up all the words in a cacophony of mutters. The seven were crashing at your apartment for a unchartered days with theirs under refurbishment and under the decision of not seeing you for a while, they invited themselves to reside. Nothing in you had a problem with this- you thoroughly loved their lively company and after all they were your closest friends. However, it did mean spending more time with Namjoon than you could handle- the one member who you had a questionable relationship with. Something about him had always frustrated you, the pair of you never flourished in the way you had with the rest. It was different at first; both of you trying to make the effort to amend your obvious differences after Jin introduced you to the band- but now it was left to settle in disinterest. Avoidance was key for both parties; snappy unpleasantness arising every time you engaged…so to the point he was barely an acquaintance to you. With no full understanding why you loathed him with the power you did, you always found yourself paradoxically attracted to him. There was something about acknowledging a mutual abhorrence for someone that makes them more desirable- more hungry for their attention. Alongside this tearing self conflict, you had a constant profusion of work to complete for your boss, alacritous deadlines prolonging your daily shifts. Almost making the company unbearable, relentless hours meant the boys made you stay up most of the evening to reconcile with them- and with the summer months glowing, sleep was rare anyway.

Wrapping yourself in a cream towel, your damp hair fell to your shoulders as you scanned yourself in the face of the mirror. Water droplets cascaded lines on your cheeks, eyelashes catching those stray from your forehead. Your skin looked soft and touchable in the white glow of the light- accenting your expression. With the silence shattering, the door creaked under the sound of knocks from the other side- shuffling echoing from under the small gap of the hinges. “Jin? Is that you?” You assumed- the only member who had a tendency to bother you at such inconvenient time- but you were met with silence as the seconds passed. Before you could question the sound again, the door flung open; presenting a rather flustered tall figure with muscular arms and broad shoulders. His hair was pushed back and neat, a small t shirt revealing his collar bones and comfortable lounging shorts fitting his toned thighs perfectly. Despite a familiar sense of hatred wash over you, you found yourself startled at the sudden entrance of Namjoon- your slightly exposed body causing your nerves to fire.

He stared at you in the heat of the room, the steam rising between the two of you as it entangled with the strange tension. ”Namjoon… what are you doing” you asked nonchalantly. Remaining silent you huffed, slamming your hairbrush onto the bench. “Get out” you snapped- but his reply concluded unhelpful as he suddenly pushed you to the shower wall, pinning your arms roughly to the wet tiles as the towel fell from your grip. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m sick of your bratty attitude.” Under his stare, you stood naked and exposed to him- your nipples hardening as he searched your curves in such an unexpected manner. You felt the need for obedience under his power- all sense of anger towards him washed with this new sense of frustration that mirrored lust you were sure you had felt for him before. “I hate you, y/n. You make me so fucking mad” he growled, his mouth close to yours. He tugs your lips with his teeth, nipping your bottom lip to cause a slight pain. Wincing at the sensation, you felt his hands grow tighter around your wrist- pushing his hips towards you to prove his hardened state. “Then get out if you hate me that much mm?” You teased- his anger obvious in his eyes. Intertwined with this, however, you sensed a blanket of lust wash over him- his intentions almost becoming obvious to you. “How do you not expect me to ruin you when I know your pretty ass is naked in the room next door? Mmm?” humming he pecks the sides of your neck, leading you to arch your back under the tingling marks he leaves behind. Snaking his arms down yours, which remain raised against the wall, his large palms make their way down to your breasts, fondling with them in a way nobody had before. He made you feel innocent with his dirty smirks, the frustration he felt towards you obviously preparing to be channelled in a way that would leave you breathless. You moaned slightly as he pinched your nipples, twisting them slightly in his fingers as he continued to kiss along your collarbones- teasing his tongue along them as he glanced up at you. You felt your heat grow wet as you gritted your teeth, avoiding contentment of knowing he was pleasuring you- but your desperation only grew with your confinement.

Evidently picking up on your behaviour, his fingers now snakes to your clit- slapping it harshly as you bucked your hips in return. “What a little slut mmm? Getting wet for someone you can’t even bare a conversation with. You must be desperate”. Degrading you only soaked your core as his fingers ran circles around your clit- chasing the feeling of your pussy as he pushed sped up to a painful pace. Stifled groans spilled from you; still in an attempt to silence yourself. Seeing your struggling state gave him permission to dig his fingers deep inside of your hole with a sudden movement- your body jolting under his forceful fingering. Only two fingers made it into your tight hole, moving rapidly between your thighs as your breath hitched. His stare was familiar, the way he looked at you in near disgust was showing- making you feel exposed and submissive to his annoyance with you. “You deserve to have that little pussy of yours throbbing y/n. How dare you get me hard like this.” His breathe easy just as unsteady as your own as he paced his fingers in and out, your juices dripping down his digits with every pulse. You couldn’t mutter a reply as you found yourself riding his hand in desperation- feeling so small under his touch and power.

Closing your eyes you felt his fingers leave you- the warm steam hitting your hole as he edged you from your high. Whining quietly, just in earshot of him he uttered a small laugh of success as he undid his pants. “Turn around, y/n. I’ll teach you how to be good for me” he sounded strain as he spoke, his dick now spilling with precum- yup swollen and sensitive. Spinning around on your heels you faced the tiles- your chest pressing against them as he lined himself up with your pussy. Rubbing his warm cock on your heat, he separated your lips with his tip- running himself up and down where you needed him most. “Namjoon i- need you” you finally cried, pushing back your hips as he adjusted his grip to your waist- thrusting into you with one sudden movement. The pace was unimaginable- your breasts clapping against the wall as his balls hit you again and again- the harshness of each movement sending you into a moaning mess. You could barely think straight as you could only focus on the throbbing of his cock inside of your tight hole- hitting spots you didn’t know existed with his length. He filled you up so well as he pounded you, his head tilted back as your ass slapped against him. Your heat was soaked with the feelings of frustration being taken out upon your bent body- your stomach turning at the simple thought of the man behind you. As your walls clenched yet again, you let out a cry while your stomach flipped to its side. Unable to hold yourself for longer, tears streamed from your eyes as your mouth fell open at the repetition of his tip hitting your g spot.

“C-cum!” You cried- desperate for a release of some sort. Despite you feeling Namjoons dick twitch inside of you, his warmth already spilling- he parted the friction from your walls as he pulled himself out. The absence was unbearable as he came all over your back- holding his cock with one hand as your ass now dripped with his stain. Cursing to himself he inspected your arched back- your ass sticking out and coated in his mess and you whined and cried pathetically as he edged you yet again. Gently, his hands ran to your ass, cupping the cheeks as he leaned over you- kissing your cheek softly. “You poor thing. Stop pretending you hate me and I’ll let you cum next time.” His voice almost sounded sinister, chuckling in your ear as he placed a few more welcomed kisses on your cheeks. “God Namjoon you gave me another reason to hate you”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[ririchanva]

Summary: Marinette gains a new ally in a student from Japan, although he’s not what he seems. Lila makes her move, proving to Marinette that her threat is real. But what she didn’t count on, was that Marinette would have a few friends that has her back. Although they are the most unexpected people. When Lila pushes too far by getting Marinette and her friends expelled, there is a certain hero that lends a hand. But wait? BECOME STUDENTS OF U.A.?

Chapter Ten: The Battle of Miraculous (Part Two)

░❇┊Previous┊❇ ░ ❇┊Next┊❇ ░ ❇┊Masterlist┊❇ ┊AO3 ┊❇░

    ░❇ Buy Me Some Coffee~? ❇░

Chapter Warning: Blood, violence, character deaths (past) and spoilers.

A/n: Okay...I know I took a REALLY long hiatus. This is because I finished Season 5 (waiting for Season 6 which is where the real stuff begins) AND practically got to see World Heroes Mission. Which...as you can tell, I love way more than Heroes Rising (even though we all it’s because of Rody). But anyways. Part 2 is here. HOPEFULLY now that I also Finished Season 4 of Miraculous (God it was a trainwreck that ended perfectly, but as I’ve said, the story ain’t following canon but it did call out things I already sort of predicted), I can update regularly and make more content on this so I can get this FINISHED FOR ONCE. Can I actually finish a story COMPLETELY?!

 ...Anyways, on with the chapter~!

   Aizawa narrowed his eyes as he held his arm out in front of Amelie, stoping her from going to the front door.

   Someone was waiting for them on the other side.

    “What should we do?” Amelie asked, as the dark haired man was looking at the windows.

     “We run to the back. Felix?”

    “The boy could handle himself. He’s a blackbelt and all,” Amelie winked, assuring a frowning Aizawa, “Oh don’t look at me like that~! Do you actually think I would’ve left my son alone in the car if I didn’t have him fully prepared for anything~?“

    “…Sometimes you scare me, Hime.”

    “And you worry too much~ As always, Minou~”

    The two soon were rushing to the back of the house as soon as there was a sudden booming noise at the door, sounding like someone was trying to break the door down. They managed to make it to the back garden of the Agreste Manor, used the secret backdoor and exited to the back streets. Before they could take a breather, they noticed that there were blue monster like creatures coming their way.

    Aizawa narrowed his eyes, but soon was wrapping his arm around the blonde’s waist and used his capture weapon to hoist themselves onto a rooftop. The two looked down, seeing the creatures were growling and snarling, looking around for them.

    “Do we have to wait here?” Amelie asked with a frown, watching the creatures just stalking around the streets.

    Aizawa frowned deeply.

    “We just might have to…”

     Amelie blinked as she felt a vibration in her purse, opening it and reading the contents of the screen. She sighed in relief, tapping on Aizawa’s shoulder and showed him the text. Felix was apparently safe, having escaped the car to hide somewhere for now and out of sight from anyone.

    “At least he was smart enough to get out of dodge,” The erasure quirk user hummed, but then looked back to see that Mayura following behind the monsters, also looking around, “And it looks like the creatures are being led by that woman.”

    “Then we should follow her,” Amelie replied coolly, as she was pulling something else out from her purse, smirking a little, “And kick some arse.”

    Aizawa gave a look, shaking his head.

    “Ame, no.”

    “Ame, yes.”

   “We don’t know what this woman is capable of. What if she’s a quirk user?” Aizawa asked but Amelie shook her head.

    “She’s not a quirk user. She’s a Miraculous holder.”

     Aizawa’s eyes widened, “Are…are you sure? Wait, how can you tell she is one?”

     Amelie bit her lower lip as she was soon was placing on what seemed to be some sunglasses, tapping at the side of the frame as the lenses started to glow. After a few seconds, she removed them and placed them over Aizawa’s eyes.

     “There.”

     Amelie pointed forward, making Aizawa enhance on the sunglasses like binoculars, showing the woman having a strange brooch on her chest. Aizawa let out a tiny gasp in surprise, already knowing that trinket was no ordinary jewellery.

      He should know, after all.  

     “The Peacock?”

    The blonde woman nodded,  “Definitely. Meaning, I might know who that woman is.”

    This got the underground hero’s attention as he then looked troubled.

    If it’s true that Amelie knows the identity of the woman holding the Peacock Miraculous, this would mean they would be a step closer finding out who Hawkmoth was.

    He’ll have to tell Marinette about this once this was all over with.

    “What’s the plan?” Aizawa asked as he handed the specs back to Amelie, who was already placing on what seem to be thermal like gloves.

    “Now?” Amelie was grinning wildly as sparks were coming out from the palm of her gloves, winking, “We fight! And get that brooch back~!”

     Rose and Juleka sat on the couch with wide eyes, Marinette breathing out after letting out everything she needed to get out. Now, they knew. And the Ladybug holder was waiting for their reaction.

     Juleka was the first to speak, slowly grinning as she looked up to Marinette, “…Awesome.”

      Adrien snickered.

      Juleka tilted her head, pointing to him, “Chat Noir?”

      “That’s right,” Adrien nodded.

      “And then….Ladybug?”

       Marinette nodded her head as well.

     “This…this is so much to take in,” Rose breathed out, but then gasped, “So is Hito also…?”

     Marinette nodded again.

     Rose placed her hands over her mouth as her eyes widened, realising the danger that Shinso was in and choked back a worried whimper.

    “But we will get him back! Him and Nino both.” Marinette said in determination, as everyone in the room also looked ready for battle.

    “So what’s the plan?” Rose asked as she then glanced at Izuku, “Monsieur Usadori—“

    “You can just call me Izuku, Rose-san,” The green haired male chirped happily, making Rose giggled.

    “Right, um, Izuku just told me and Juleka to help him get the Turtle Miraculous…”

    Marinette looked confused, “Why just the Turtle? Why not get the Horse too?”

    Izuku tutted, “That’s a secret~”

    She was starting to hate the secret keeping from people.

    …Now she understood Adrien’s frustrations about that.

     “God, I hate secrets,” Adrien was pouting with folded arms, “I thought we’d be done and over with all the secrets.”

     Izuku gave a small smile, his eyes having a cheeky glint to them.

     Alix clicked her fingers, gaining everyone’s attention, “So, what’s the plan now? Who’s gonna use the Turtle if not Nino?”

     “Oh! That’s easy!”

      Izuku was looking to Nathaniel and walked over, holding it up to him while giving a wide grin.

      Nathaniel blinked slowly as he stared at the bracelet in surprise for a moment. Once his brain clicked, his eyes slowly widened, snapping his gaze to Izuku, then back to the bracelet.

     “…M-Me?”

    Izuku nodded, “You.”

    Nathaniel shook his head, “B-But Master Fu is giving me the Goat—“

     “Nope. You’re the Turtle Hero now~”

     “But—“

     “No take backs~! That’s final~!”

      Izuku kept pushing the bracelet back to the frantic red head every time Nathaniel was trying to give it back to the rabbit hero, shaking his head while looking nervous. There was no way that he could replace Nino!

     Master Fu smiled softly as he watched the two’s exchange, but decided to break up their childish back and forth bickering. Stepping over to them, he took the Miraculous. Nathaniel sighed in relief, thinking that maybe Fu was going to suggest himself to take the Miraculous back or even place it back in the box…until Fu was grabbing the red head’s hand and placing the bracelet onto his palm.

      “M-Master, no…” Nathaniel argued weakly, feeling his fingers curled over the bracelet.

       Fu shook his head, “I believe in Izuku’s words. Things happen for a reason. And I do believe my words from when we met ring true…”

      Nathaniel recalled on Fu’s words, looking down at the bracelet in his hand.

       Was he really worthy to take the mantle?

       Pursing his lips, the boy soon placed the bracelet onto his wrist, watching the Miraculous shine with Wyazz appearing before him andfloating in front of him.

        “Greetings, Nathaniel~! I hope we can get along, my friend!” The Turtle Kwami bowed his head to the young man, who was giving a shy smile and bowed his head in return.

      “The honour is mine.”        Alix was bouncing in her steps, jumping onto Izuku’s back and making the green haired male easily catch her legs, hooked them under his arms so she wouldn’t fall back while she hugged around his neck.

     “Me next! Me next! What’s my Miraculous?” She chirped in excitement, eyes sparkling.

     Marinette gaped at him, but soon was waving her hands around frantically. It was almost comical.

     “Hey! What made him decide who gets what Miraculous all of a sudden? Hitoshi said he wasn’t to be Guardian!” She even whirled around to the calm looking Fu, “Master Fu!”

     “Things happen for a reason, Marinette.”

      Marinette almost felt like bashing her head in at him repeating his words. Why was the old man smiling at a time like this?! Was he hearing himself?!

      Izuku looked thoughtful as Alix kept poking and asking him which Miraculous would she get, but then the green haired male walked over to the Miracle Box, Alix still latched onto him. He looked to Fu, who was nodding his head and opened the Miracle Box for him. The green haired hero was soon reaching into the box and held up the Snake Bracelet for Alix to see. The girl’s eyes shined.

    “Siiiiick. This mine?”

     Izuku nodded.

     Alix got off his back and took the bracelet easily, placing onto her wrist as Sass appeared in a blink of an eye.

     “Greetings, my new holder! I am Sass, The Kwami of Intuition~” The snake Kwami nodded his head to Alix, who grinned as she lifted a finger for him as a high-five.

     “Nice to meet you, little dude!” Alix greeted happily, then letting Sass rest on her shoulder.

      Sabrina was the next to step up, tapping onto Izuku’s shoulder and making the male looked back at her.

     “What…w-what about me?” She asked, poking her fingers together.

     Izuku softened. He glanced over at Chloe for a moment. The male gave a small smile seeing how she was nodding her head at him with a serious look.

     Humming, he pulled out the Bee Miraculous from his pocket, holding it out to Sabrina. Everyone’s eyes widened with a small gasp, looking to Chloe then back to Izuku and Sabrina. Sabrina was shaking a bit, almost snapping her neck when she whirled to Chloe with protests.

     But Chloe held her hand up.

   “I had a talk with Pollen and she agrees with me that this is for the best…”

   She gestured for Sabrina to come closer, giving a small smile as Izuku was also coming forward to hand Sabrina the Miraculous.

     “Sabrina, you…you’ve been at my side for a long time. And…I haven’t treated you fairly,”

     “Oh Chloe—“

     “It’s true though. I have been a shitty friend and I don’t think so many apologies are good enough,” The blonde continued on even with Sabrina looking teary eyed at her,  Chloe then taking her hands and squeezed them, “Shinso was right. About how being Queen Bee might be a problem. I never deserved the role in the first place. It should go to someone that’s going to be even better than I. And Sabrina, it is your time to shine as the true Bee Heroine.“

    Izuku looked approving at this.

     “She’s right. Sabrina-san, you’ve worked harder than anyone else here!” He boldly stated with a huge grin, “You should have more confidence in yourself!”

    Sabrina looked at the two for a moment before she looked down at the Bee Miraculous. Glowing in her hand, Pollen appeared before her and bowed her tiny head cutely before smiling.

   “Greetings Queen Sabrina. I am at your service~”

    “Pollen, she’s your Queen now. No need for the formalities like that.” Chloe chided before Pollen shook her head.

    “Believe what you want, my Queen. I can have many Queens in this lifetime and the next, but none of them will be you.”

    Chloe felt touched as she was turning her head away, trying not to show she was going to cry.

    Sabrina, however, was outright sobbing as she cradled the hairpin to her chest, touched. How in the world did she end up being trusted with something so powerful and precious? And the fact that Chloe finally acknowledged her as an equal…it was the best feeling in the world.

    Breathing out, she placed the hairpin onto her hair as it blended with her hair band.

     Chloe nodded in approval and turned to Izuku.

    “I suppose you’re giving me the Tiger Miraculous, right?” She said in a huff, having her hand out, “Well then, you may give it to me—“

    “Actually, I have another Miraculous that’s perfect for you, Chloe-san.”

    He was soon pulling out a familiar Miraculous and Marinette felt her stomach drop.

    “Where—“

     Chloe was smirking now, snatching it off Izuku’s hands and cackled a little, “Oh the delicious irony~”

    Marinette was reaching to grab at Izuku’s arm, looking furious.

    “Are you trying to make this into a bloodbath?!”

     Izuku smiled mysteriously as he winked, “Don’t worry~ I think this will tide the battle into our favour~”

     Lila sighed in boredom, laying onto Izuku’s bed as some time passed, arms folded and staring at the ceiling.

    It honestly sucked that she was just stuck here with nothing to do. There was only so little she could do in the room. She was so bored, that she had to go snooping around the boy’s room and entertain herself. She had found a lot of his notebooks, getting a lot of information pretty quickly, knowing stuff about school and the people he knew.

    And now? She was thirsty.

    Getting up, she made her way to the door, unlocking and then opened it slightly to peek outside. The hallway was dark and empty, no sign of life. Good. She could maybe go down to see if there was a kitchen and grab for a drink, then come back up before anyone would notice.

    Being careful, Lila was stepping out slowly and quietly, closing the door behind her. She walked down the hall to find the stairs, going down to the main living space.

     And no one on sight.

     Green eyes kept looking around in alert, just so she wouldn’t get caught by anyone. And it was going pretty well as she finally found the kitchen, thankful that she had good sight to see in the dark.

     But her luck was about to run out.

     “Who are you?”

      Almost jumping out of her skin, Lila whirled around to see an angry red eyed blond boy snarling at her, hands raised as sparks of explosions were coming out of his palms?

     Lila thought of running away, but knew that it would be foolish considering the guy looked like he was going to jump her for trying. So she was going to do what she does best.

    Bullshit her way out of this mess.

    Giving her best sweet smile, she was twirling her braid with an innocent look while she talked slowly in English the best she could.

     “Oh~! S-sorry I was just thirsty and Izuku wasn’t back yet—“

    The boy looked confused for a second, but soon his Japanese switched to English as he narrowed his eyes, “You know Deku?”

    Ah, so he can talk normally.

    Deku?

   Izuku did write about a childhood friend named Katsuki Bakugo, also known as “Kacchan”. Deku was a name that this childhood friend chose.

    Lila was nodding her head, batting her eyes, “Yes~! Izuku is my boyfriend and I had kinda sneaked into the dorms because we never seemed to have time together. I mean after all, this is my first time travelling here to Japan just to visit him. We’ve been emailing back and forth for almost a year now, you know~?”

     The blond narrowed his eyes as the girl smiled while she talked, but he could sense that there was something wrong with her.

    He didn’t believe her for a second.

     “Nice try, Wienerdog. Who are you really? A villain?”

     Maybe this was that Toga chick from the League?

    “Bakubro? You’re a bit early, aren’t ya?”

     Bakugo and Lila turned to see Kirishima standing by the door, tilting his head curiously.

     “Who’s this?” The Hardening Hero asked, jerking his thumb to Lila, “A new student?”

     “An intruder that claims she’s that nerd’s girlfriend.” Bakugo narrowed his eyes as he glanced back at Lila.

     Kirishima’s eyes widened, knowing who Bakugo was referring to.

     “What? For real?”

    Although when he saw the girl’s attire, he felt his cheeks warming for a second, looking sort of embarrassed as he averted his eyes away.

    Bakugo looked confused for a moment before the red head pointed it out.

    “The girl’s wearing Mido-bro’s clothes. Maybe she’s telling the truth.”

     “Tch,” Bakugo growled, rolling his eyes, “Fine. Let’s find out if she’s telling the truth. Call Deku down.”

     Lila felt her stomach drop but kept her cool as she hummed, “Izuku isn’t here at the moment. I kinda told him that I was craving for ice cream and being the sweetheart that he is, he just ended up sneaking out to buy some. Isn’t he like, the best boyfriend ever~?”

    Kirishima noticed how she spoke, noting the accent.

    He knew English well. It was one of the subjects he aced a lot, thanks to the lessons from Present Mic. So he switched over to talk to her in the same wavelength. It almost helped Fatgum and Amajiki were both multi-lingual so Kirishima knew a thing or two.

    “Are you from Europe?” Taking a shot in the dark, Kirishima spoke in French, making Lila’s eyes widened.

    “You speak French?”

     The red head cheered fo a moment before he chuckled, “How did Mido-bro end up with a pretty foreign girlfriend hm?“

    Bakugo just stared at them in annoyance, honestly ticked that he couldn’t understand what they were saying.

     “Are you really Midoriya’s girlfriend?“ Kirishima asked, still in French, making Lila smile sweetly once more.

    “I am~ You sound like you don’t believe me~?”

     “You have to admit, a guy like him don’t really focus on romance as much as any normal male teen. He wants to be a hero, just like the rest of us. So, sorry if it’s unmanly of us to be suspicious, a-and don’t mind Baku-bro. He’s angry cuz Mido-bro is keeping secrets from him and thought he was acting weird all week.” Kirishima explained as he nodded his head to Bakugo, then continued, “So I suppose you won’t mind that I call Mido-bro’s cellphone?”

    “What are you guys saying, Shitty Hair?” Bakugo growled in Japanese as his best friend looked over at the blond.

    Reverting back to Japanese, KIrishima was pulling out his cellphone as he explained.

     “I’m calling Midoriya to confirm her words. If she’s telling the truth, then she’ll have no problems with it…”

     Lila was praying that the phone call doesn’t go through.

   “—So are we good with the plan?”

   Ladybug was looking around at the dressed Miraculous Team, her eyes serious. She was already making a move to go about taking down Hawkmoth and the growing army that he had Sombre Swift create, not to mention how to deal with the portals that she somehow created thanks to the Horse Miraculous.

   Chat Noir was nodding his head, “Ready as always, Ladybug—“

    “A phonecall is here! A phonecall is here! A phonecall is here! A phonecall—”

     Usadori jumped at the ringtone and looked down at his communicator of an umbrella and pressed onto it, leaning into the speaker, “Er, hello?”

    “Mido-bro! It’s Kiri!”

    The bunny hero blinked as he glanced up at his teammates for a moment before looking back down at his communicator of an umbrella handle.

     “Er, h-hey Kiri-kun? What’s up?”

     “I know you must be out considering your girlfriend said that you want to get ice cream for her, really manly by the way! Very chivalrous of you. But we just wanted to make sure that you know that we found her wandering in the dorm kitchen. Bakugo almost killed her thinking she was an intruder.”

     Usadori felt himself sigh, kinda predicting that someone would’ve eventually found out about her. He just didn’t expect it to be his childhood friend and Kirishima of all people.

     “Ah, y-yeah. Sorry about that. I told her that she should’ve stayed put in my room until I got back.”

     “…So she really is your girlfriend then? Damn nerd…”

     Usadori smiled as he heard the unsure voice from Bakugo.

     “Yup~! Lila and I have been penpals for a long time. When she surprised me that day I was going meeting up with All Might, it shocked me to say the least. Especially when I found out she had no place to stay so I snuck her into U.A. and let her sleep in my room.”

     Ladybug raised a brow as Usadori spoke in Japanese, wondering what he was saying. Although she somehow knew it wasn’t good.

     “Oh wow! I guess your behaviour for the past weeks make sense now. Kinda the same way that you somehow knew some kids from another hero school aboard!”

     Usadori felt bad for lying to his friends, but it had to be done.

    “But seriously, dude? You have her wearing your clothes? That’s…kinda suggestive, isn’t it? Not that I’m saying that isn’t manly or anything but—”

     Chat Noir choked on his spit as he was the closest to Usadori and heard that (Thank god, he knew Japanese as one of the languages he was learning besides Chinese), whipping his head to look at the blushing bunny hero before Usadori stuttered in embarrassment.

     “I-it’s not what you think!”

     Kirishima’s nervous laugh echoed through the receiver along with Bakugo’s growls.

    “You better get back here soon, nerd.”

    “He’s right, surprisingly. Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone else. Especially to Present Mic.”

     Right. Usadori knew that Eraserhead was here in Paris, so Present Mic was filling in during his absence. He’ll have to look for him anyways later.

    “Thanks you, guys. Could you please get my girlfriend on the phone?”

     Chat Noir was glancing at Ladybug while mouthing “girlfriend?” to his partner, as Ladybug shrugged, not getting what was being said.

     Usadori had a calm smile as he heard Lila’s voice, then said tightly with an aura of danger in his tone, speaking in clear French.

     “You are in so much trouble when I get back. Please do not go out of the room anymore and /call/ me when you need something, okay?”

     Somehow everyone in the room sort of shuddered at Usadori’s tone.

     Not waiting for her reply, the Rabbit Hero hung up the cal and looked to Ladybug.

    “So, the plan?”

     “Oh!” Ladybug snapped out of it and nodded, “Right, so let’s go over it one more time before we go—”

    Kirishima hung up the phone and looked over to Lila, looking apologetic, “Your story checks out. Sorry about that. Sometimes as future heroes, we tend to be caution of things. Especially when strangers just appear out of nowhere in a heroes’ dorm room.”

     Lila was mentally relieved, but kept up her sweet act with a cute smile.

     “Well it’s okay. I know my Izuku can be protective thus why he’s kinda kept me a secret. You two will keep me a secret too, won’t you~?”

    “Of course. Don’t worry, we won’t tell,” The red haired hero in training glanced at a glaring Bakugo and nudged him, “Right, Baku-bro?”

    The blond stared at Lila a few more seconds before grunting, hands shoved into his jogging pants pockets and stomped out of the kitchen. Kirishima smiled and let Lila get her water before escorting her back to Midoriya’s room, telling her goodnight before going to his own room and Bakugo went to his own, glaring at Lila as he went off.

    Lila locked the door and sighed, leaning her back against the wall as she closed her eyes.

    That was a close one.

     The plan was simple.

     Wyvern, Usadori and Duchess Dormouse were to go in the frontlines and take down the army, creating a path towards Sombre Swift.

    That’s where the new Fox Heroine, Vix Filou, comes in.

     She along with the new Bee Heroine, Calliopsini, shall go up against Sombre Swift and get the Horse Miraculous back along with closing the portals.

     Both the new Snake and Turtle heroes, Leviathan and Pridwen, are the last resort.      

     Master Fu was going to be hidden safely elsewhere as the battle goes on.

     As for Ladybug and Chat Noir…

   “You shall take down Hawkmoth and Mayura using your Lucky Charm and Cataclysm….as always….” Usadori hummed as he folded his arms, tilting his head, “If I may, could I place somewhat of an input to your plan?”

   Ladybug shook her head,  “We don’t have time to change it. We shall go for this plan first. If something goes wrong, Leviathan could bring us back to the start of this moment.”

    Usadori’s ears twitched for a moment, narrowing his eyes with a frown.

    “I agree with Ladybug. This is a solid-proof plan. Not only will we save the day and not just get the Horse back, but finally get the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous too! We’ll finally stop the reign of Hawkmoth and Mayura once and for all!” Chat Noir exclaimed, looking excited for this fight, “After all this time…we’re actually going to do it this time! And find out who’s under those masks!”

    Usadori looked uncomfortable for a moment, but eventually nodded his head slowly.

   “Well…okay…”

    “Good. Now let’s get going, Levi, be ready to use second chance once we arrive at the battle field, okay?”

    “Right on, Ladybug!” The Snake user gave a thumbs up and a wink, grinning from ear to ear.

    Ladybug breathed out softly as she closed her eyes, feeling both nervous but determined to win this fight.

    She just wished that it wasn’t against her former best friend.

   A cackle escaped Sombre Swift as she appeared back in Paris, looking behind her as an evil glint shined in her eyes. A bunch of people looking and walking like zombies followed behind her, growing by the numbers.

   “This might get their attention~“

    The fox like villainess smirked as she then was looking at the dazed Nino, grabbing for his leg and dangling him from the top of the Eiffel Tower.

   “LADYBUG! CHAT NOIR! IF YOU DON’T WANT TO SEE ANYMORE PEOPLE HURT, THEN I SUGGEST YOU COME OUT AND STOP BEING COWARDS….OTHERWISE IT’S BYE BYE TO THIS IDIOT OF A CHEATER~”

   She was shaking Nino for a moment as the boy was limp in her grip.

    Hawkmoth just smirked as he watched, looking at the city now overrun with Swift’s army growing as more people were coming out from the portals.

    “Soon, the city will be under our control. And Ladybug and Chat Noir have to come and stop Sombre Swift. And once she defeats them, I’m one step closer into getting my wish~!” He then closed his eyes, having a satisfied smile, “We’re almost there Emilie…”

   He opened his eyes when he heard a whizzing sound, smirking.

    The whizzing of a yo-yo.

    They were here.

    Ladybug was leading the charge as a lot of Miraculous heroes were following her lead.

   Hawkmoth felt his smile widening in greed.

   With more Miraculous in hand, he can guarantee to take them for his mission.

    He just had to call Mayura back.

    …

    …

     …

    …

    Although when he tried to feel her, he somehow felt nothing.

    Where was Mayura?

   Aizawa smirked as he placed his goggles over his eyes after taking down some Sentimonsters, sort of thankful that his quirk could be used against them. It was surprising, but then again, he was going to take them down even if his quirk didn’t work.

    He turned his head as he spotted Amelie gracefully flipping over a monster, used her vinyl gloves and shocked the monster into submission, then was quickly taking down another one. Pride swelled in Aizawa as he watched her go, it was as if she never changed…like they were high school again.

    “Heads up, Eraser!” Amelie yelled as she was using her electro gloves to shock the monster that was sneaking behind Aizawa, watching it fall to the ground, “You gotta be careful!”

   The shaggy haired man looked over at the blonde, grinning a bit as he managed to use his capture weapon to grab the monster behind her, flipping it away from her and hitting it against a wall.

    “Speak for yourself.” He teased gruffly, but then noticed movement at the corner of his eye.

      The very same woman controlling these monsters was getting away!

     “I’ll grab her! You deal with these monsters!” Amelie yelled as she was chasing after Mayura before Aizawa could say anything, and the man felt his heart drop.

     “Amelie, no!”

     He was going to go after her when a portal suddenly opened in front of him and he was face to face with a—

    “Nomu?!”

     Said Nomu was screeching at his face angrily and made it’s attack against Eraserhead.

     Meanwhile, Amelie was trying to keep up with catching up to the Peacock Villainess, having to jump over obstacles and such when Mayura was speeding up and heading to jump rooftop to rooftop. She pressed onto her bracelet as a grappling cable shot out, Amelie hoisting herself up to the top of the buildings and following after her.

    Thank god she worked the core of her body with fun parkour and mountain climbing skills with Felix. Otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to do all these things.  

     Amelie skidded to a halt when Mayura made an inhumanly impossible jump from one building to another, and the blonde woman frowned. Taking a deep breath, she was soon backing away for a moment, then made the quick run. Bracing herself, she soon made the jump, pressing onto her bracelet as she grappled onto a building and swung herself the rest of the way there.

     She was so close to Mayura, she ended up leaping up in the air and tackled the woman down before she made another jump. Amelie struggled to pin Mayura down, but eventually got to swiping at the brooch on the woman’s chest. A bubbling mist surrounded the woman, revealing Nathalie Sancoeur.

     “I knew it.” Amelie said in finality, her eyes narrowing, “Which means Hawkmoth is—“

    “You won’t stop him.” Nathalie interrupted with a deadpan look, her own eyes staring up at Amelie knowingly, “Nothing will stop him for making his wish.”

    “…By getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.”

     Nathalie nodded as Eraserhead appeared behind Amelie, listening in.

     Amelie growled, “He won’t get his wish. Whatever it is, it will backfire.”

    “Even if the wish was bringing your sister back?”

     This caught Aizawa’s attention. But once he saw Amelie was raising a fist, the man swiftly pulled the British woman off Nathalie before she could do damage. However, this movement made Nathalie grab for the Peacock Miraculous back. Aizawa and Amelie both reached forward to grab it back from her, but their eyes widened when a small glowing portal appeared between them. A gloved hand reached out and snatched the Miraculous from the three adults, pulling back into the portal as it vanished.

    Nathalie paled as both Aizawa and Amelie looked at each other in confusion.

     Usadori stared at Peacock Miraculous in hand.

     ‘I actually have it. Good thing I looked into the future to see that Aizawa-sensei was with Mayura. But it was even more surprising he wasn’t alone.’

     Glancing at the battlefield, he could already see that Ladybug and Chat Noir were already heading to Hawkmoth. Vix Filou and Calliopsini were already going head to head with Sombre Swift while Wyvern and Duchess Dormouse were backing them up.

      That was…until Shinsou came into the battlefield.

      Usadori frowned as he looked down at the brooch once more.

      Colors of blue and white appeared in his field of vision, his instinct of the Miraculous taking over. His instinct pointed him to the brooch, then to Chat Noir…but there was something missing. But what?

       Meanwhile, down below in the battlefield, Duchess Dormouse paused in fighting a zombified Kagami when Hitoshi Shinsou appeared in her field of vision. Frozen in place, the Mouse heroine stared at the blank face of the purple haired male readying his capture weapon.

    He…

    ….He has never looked at her so…so coldly before.

    Wyvern looked up as she spotted her partner in some sort of shock, her eyes widened as Shinsou was making his way to attack. The Dragoness growled, soon leaping over the pawns and went to kick Shinso away, snapping Duchess Dormouse out of her daze.

    “Wyvern…”

     The Dragon heroine looked over at the mouse like girl, nodding her head once and went to fight some more enemies. This caused Duchess Dormouse to get her head in the game, but not before glancing at a now unconscious Shinso.

    ‘I’ll be back for you. I promise.’

    As that was happening, Calliopsini caught Nino in her arms when Sombre Swift made the drop, placing the dazed boy to the side for now. And the new Bee Heroine had to watch as the new Fox and the previous Fox were now fighting against one another.

    “I’ve waited for this day to come, Cesaire. The day that I get to hit you where it hurts!” Vix Filou laughed breathlessly as she was swinging her flute like a bo-staff, watching how the former Fox Heroine turned villainess was growling at her, “How does it feel to be replaceable~?”

    Sombre Swift’s eyes turned into daggers as she screamed out in frustration, going to attack Vix Filou.

    “My name is SOMBRE SWIFT!” The villainess yelled as she was slashing her own dark flute at the blonde fox, “And /I/ am the best and ONLY fox! You’re just a placeholder until I get my hands on Ladybug AND /MY/ MIrACULOUS!“

    “Oooh~! I’m soooo scared~“ Vix Filou mocked as she flipped back from an attack, and dodged the next one boredly, “Face it, you’ll never get to be a Miraculous wielder again. Not after this stupid stunt you pulled.”

    A strangled growl came from the former Fox user, as she was going for the attack once more.

    Calliopsini wanted to use her Venom, but knew that she was still new to this. If she used her ability, her timer on her Miraculous would start counting down. That, and she had to save it for Hawkmoth when Ladybug needs her.

    Turning her head to Nino, her eyes darkened for a moment as instinct kicked in. Pursing her lips, she soon was using her spinning top and was wrapping it around Nino securely. Soon she jumped up in the air, dragging Nino with her.

     Maybe she could bring him to Master Fu.

     As that was happening, both Chat Noir and Ladybug were jumping over enemies, making a beeline to Hawkmoth standing on top of the Eiffel Tower.

    “This is it, Bug,” Chat Noir said as he used his bo-staff to pole vault up while Ladybug used her yo-yo to swing herself up, “We’re fighting Hawkmoth and this time, we’re gonna win and take the Butterfly Miraculous back!”

    Ladybug nodded as she took a deep breath.

    “Yes. You and me, Chat.”

    Chat Noir grinned, “I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

    The two reached to the top, landing gracefully a few feet away from a confident smirking Hawkmoth.

    “Your reign is over, Hawkmoth!” Ladybug pointed her finger at him, narrowing her eyes, “Better give up now, because today we will defeat you!”

    A deep evil laugh came from the man, throwing his head back before he then gave a sinister grin.

   “You think that, wouldn’t you, Ladybug? Well, too bad for you, you’re not the only one with an army,” He stretched his arms out, “Thanks to my latest akuma, I SHALL NOT ONLY TAKE YOURS AND CHAT NOIR MIRACULOUS, BUT YOUR FRIENDS TOO!”

    “LUCKY CHARM!”

     Ladybug yelled as she was throwing her yo-yo up in the air, the magical ladybugs appearing to give the lucky charm. Ladybug blinked as she caught the object in hand…and her eyes widened.

    “…A feather?”

    Hawkmoth cackled once more, “What are you going to do with that, hm? Ladybug?”

    Ladybug looked around for a moment, biting her lower lip as she couldn’t see anything to use with the Lucky Charm.

    It was then that Usadori came in through his burrow, his eyes narrowed.

    Hawkmoth stared at the Rabbit Hero for a moment then his eyes had a shining glint.

    Usadori was soon grabbing Chat Noir and vanished once more, leading to Ladybug’s stomach dropping.

    “What…?”

    But she snapped out just in time to block Hawkmoth’s attack with his cane.

   “What do you think you’re doing?!”

    Usadori let go of Chat Noir once they were back in Master Fu’s, almost shocking the said man, Leviathan and Pridwen. The Rabbit Hero ignored the cat’s growls and demands as he then grabbed for his hand, taking the ring and let Chat Noir turn back into Adrien Agreste.

    “Wha—?”

    “There’s not time. Fluff, Counter-Clockwise,” Usadori transformed back into Izuku as Fluff appeared floating beside him, “We’re gonna have to change up the plan.”

    “But Ladybug—?”

   “Will be fine on her own for now. But I need you to take this!”

    And thus Izuku was holding up the Peacock Miraculous.

    Master Fu looked appalled.

    “How did you get that?” He asked as Izuku smiled.

    “I caught it from Mayura when she was fighting with Eraserhead and another woman. But let’s leave that for now,” Turning back to Adrien, he took the other’s hand and placed the Peacock Miraculous into his hand, “Let Master Fu fix this up and you use it. All you have to say to Duusu is Duusu, Showoff Feathers!”

   “Show—” Adrien was cut off as Usadori placed a hand over his mouth from accidentally transforming right there and then, nodding.

    “Yes, say that so you don’t turn evil, I should think? At least that’s to my knowledge a lot of transformation callout spells have different terms?” Izuku shrugged as he placed the Cat Ring onto his finger, “So catch up with us when you’re ready.”

    “B-But what about the Cat Miraculous?” Adrien asked, balking as Izuku was feeding Fluff before transforming into Usadori again, “Ladybug can’t defeat Hawkmoth without the Cat…right?”

    “That is usually the case, yes.” Usadori stretched his arms out for a moment before looking thoughtful, “…But I might know a temporary person to wield Plagg for now as you be the new Peacock Hero~”

   “M-Me?” Adrien gaped at him before looking down at the brooch in hand before looking back at Rabbit Hero, “Why me?”

   “You’ll figure it out,” Usadori said mysteriously before he was looking to Master Fu, “I know there’s a spell that fixes a broken Miraculous,”

   “Y-Yes…indeed there is,” Master Fu nodded as he was bringing his tablet out, as Usadori was opening a burrow and then was stepping in.

   “Good, now I shall return with the new Cat Holder~”

    And he soon vanished.

     Lila saw a glowing light appear near her and sat up from the bed, seeing Usadori coming in, the portal closing behind him.

   “Finally!” Lila breathed out as the boy de-transformed back into Izuku, “I thought you’d never come back.”

   “Of course I was gonna come back. But I’m afraid that things are taking longer than expected,” Izuku explained as he was pulling out his phone and started texting, “So you’re gonna have to stay for a few more hours.”

   “What?!” The Italian girl looked appalled, “What about my Mama? She’s gonna wonder where I am!”

  “You’re a good liar, just lie,” Izuku said before he then felt her stare, and blinked, “…What?”

  “You’re encouraging me to lie to my Mom? When you said I should stop lying?” Lila said deadpanned.

    Izuku looked sheepish before then giving an uncharacteristic smirk.

  “Would you rather tell her the truth~? That you’re miles away from home and in a boy’s room wearing HIS clothes~?”

   Lila opened her mouth, before closing it with a huff, “And you call me slick?”

    “I didn’t call you slick. I said you’re too clever.”

    “Same thing.”

     Izuku held up a finger before he heard a hard knock on his door before he walked over to it, opening it to reveal—

    “So you gonna tell me the truth now, nerd?”

    Izuku just smiled calmly as he let Bakugo in, while Lila was staring with utter shock.

    “Hey Kacchan. I can’t really explain everything but I do need your help~“

    “As always, Deku. Geez, what trouble did you get yourself into now?” Bakugo raised a brow before he was glancing at Lila, “So she’s not your girlfriend?”

    Izuku felt his face flush before smiling sheepishly, “No. But she is a friend and needs to stay here for safety reason. But that’s not the reason you’re here!”

   “So what is it?”

   Izuku smiled happily before he was holding out a silver ring, making Bakugo stare at him for a moment.

    “…You proposing?” Bakugo asked with a smirk before Izuku pouted at him.

   “I’m not proposing, Kacchan!” Izuku whined before he coughed, then spoke in a serious tone, “Katsuki Bakugo, this is the Miraculous of the Cat, that will grant you the power of Destruction. I am asking you to join me to fight evil that’s happening in Paris.”

   Lila stood up before she was tugging at Izuku’s ear, “You have Chat Noir’s Miraculous?! How did you manage that?!”

   “That’s kinda a secret. But as I said, there’s not much time to explain,” Izuku winced at being pinched as he made Lila release him before looking to his childhood friend, “So can you help me?”

   Bakugo snorted, turning away before he started walking to the door.

   “I don’t have time for your stupid nonsense, Deku. Whatever shit you’re going through, deal with it yourself. This was worse than finding out about One—“

   He then blinked when he heard Izuku say something, then a flash and suddenly a blue, black and white rabbit suited male stood in front of him with an umbrella to his face, glaring up at him.

    “Katsuki Nobuhiko Bakugo. You WILL take the ring, come with me, and save the fucking day. Do I make myself MOTHERFUCKING CLEAR?!”

    Bakugo won’t admit it, but somehow he was almost reminded of an angry Inko Midoriya. And it’s even more deadly than his own mother’s ire.

   Even Lila was falling onto the bed looking frightened.

   Bakugo averted his eyes down, then sighed before looking back up at the fuming bunny, “…Fine, what do I have to do?”

   Usadori smiled happily before taking Bakugo’s hand,  placing the ring onto his finger. The blond raised a brow before he had to close his eyes with a groan when a light flashed before him, then blinked slowly when a floating black cat like thing appeared before him.

   “This is my new kitten?” Plagg questioned before looking to Usadori, “Kid, you didn’t think of anyone else?”

   “Trust me on this. This one fits the bill,” The rabbit hero said with a chirp before making a portal, then looked to Lila, “You stay here, and keep out of trouble.”

   Lila rolled her eyes, “As if I have anywhere to go.”

   Smiling, Usadori soon looked to Bakugo, who was looking down at the ring as it turned into a black ring with an amber stone.

   “Now just say “Plagg, Claws Out!” and I’ll explain on the way,”

    Bakugo was grinning now, as he then raised a fist up.

    “PLAGG! CLAWS OUT!”

   “This should do it.”

    Adrien was peeking over the Master’s shoulder along with Pridwen and Leviathan, watching how the man was holding the Peacock Miraculous and using a dropper that somehow had some sort of potion inside that would fix the broken Miraculous.

  “Is this really gonna work?” The new Turtle Hero asked.

   “It has too.” Fu hummed, as he let the drop of the potion fall unto the cracks, and the four of them watched for any signs it would be fixed.

    They all gasped as golden light shimmered on the cracks, and soon the cracks were slowly closing up, hope shining on everyone’s face. Adrien breathed out softly when he saw the color looked more vibrant now than it did before, the blond watching the Miraculous glowed brightly before Duusu appeared before them, opening her eyes and looking so alive and happy.

   “Wooooo~ I’m fixed~ I feel sooOOOooo much better~” Duusu cooed happily before she then looked over to Adried and gasped, flying over to him then was peppering kisses onto his face, “Are you my new holder~? You’re soooo cute hehehe~~“

  “Er? Thank you?”

   A cough came from Fu as Duusu and Adrien looked over at him, the old man smiled a little.

   “I believe you have a fight to get back to, Adrien?”

    Adrien nodded before he was taking the brooch and placed it over his chest, smiling as he looked at Duusu, determination filled his face.

    “Duusu, Showoff Feathers!”

    The Peacock Kwami giggled before she was pulled into the Miraculous, and Adrien soon transformed into his hero attire, everyone in the room looking in awe. The new hero looked down at himself, knowing he looked super different than Mayura. More bright and a little tight, but still a better look as he saw his reflection in the mirror close by.

  “Woah…” The hero touched the Phantom Mask over half his face before looking back at Master Fu, “I-I suppose I should get going.”

   “We’re coming with,” Leviathan chirped before looking a bit puzzled, “W-what should we call you though?”

   The Peacock hero looked thoughtful for a moment before he smiled, “Call me…Prince Peafowl~”

   A groan came from everyone, as Prince Peafowl pouted.

   “I don’t see any of you coming up with a cooler name!”

   “Well no time to think on it, Ladybug looks like she needs help,” Pridwen saw the news as the trio of heroes looked to the screen of Ladybug and Hawkmoth fighting…and Ladybug was losing.

   “Right. I’ll go. Pridwen, stay with the Master. Leviathan, come with me!”

  The Snake heroine nodded before she and Prince Peafowl jumped out to head off.

    Ladybug panted as she fell to the ground, Hawkmoth standing over her with a dark chuckle.

   “It’s foolish, Ladybug. Your partner abandoned you and you’re out of luck. In a few minutes, you’ll turn back into a pitiful girl and your Miraculous will be mine!”

   Ladybug felt the beeping of her earrings and closed her eyes, shaking her head. She stood her ground, getting up and opening her eyes once more with stubbornness and determination.

   “Not gonna happen, Hawkmoth. I’ll take you down myself if I have to! You’re never going to get these earrings!”

   Before Hawkmoth could step forward to attack, a portal appeared in front of him as a boot kicked his face in, explosions happening everywhere.

   “DIE YOU MOTH MASKED FREAK!”

   “Dyna-Cat! You’re not supposed to kill him!” Usadori peeked his head out with wide eyes, already hopping out and closing the portal behind him.

   “DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU DAMN RABBIT NERD! AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO CALL ME KING EXPLOSION MURDER CAT!”

    The new Cat Hero yelled at the other, then turned as he was already throwing his hands up and grinned evilly. He soon wailed his punches down on the villain, screaming ‘Die, Die, DIE!’ over and over again.

   Ladybug stared in both horror and shook, while Usadori was rubbing at his head with a sigh.

   He was starting to regret giving the Miraculous to this guy.

   “King…Explosion Murder Cat?” Ladybug asked slowly, Usadori giving a look of nervousness and bashfulness.

   “It’s a name he really loves.”

   “…Where’s Chat Noir?”

   “He’s donning a new persona and will be here in a few minutes~” The Rabbit Hero then peeked behind her and smiled, “Ah! Here he comes now with Leviathan~”

  Ladybug looked over and gasped as she saw a Peacock Hero along with the Snake Hero, whirling around to Usadori.

   “You didn’t…”

   “I did~” Usadori yelled jovially before Ladybug then looked at her Lucky Charm, “I am sure your Lucky Charm told you about this…?”

    It all makes sense now.

   “But now what?” Ladybug looked to the now very burnt and beaten Hawkmoth, “Are…are we really winning this easily?”

   “It’s not over yet,” Usadori breathed out before he looked down seeing Sombre Swift and the portals around them, “First we get the Butterfly Miraculous away from Hawkmoth and end all this madness.”

   Leviathan was seen activating her Second Chance, landing nearby them along with Prince Peafowl.

   “We’re here!” Prince Peafowl chirped, grinning at Ladybug, “Like my new look~?”

   “Very stylish…er—?”

    “Prince Peafowl~”

   “Of course you’d use a name like that.”

   “Hey, extras!”

   Everyone looked to the new Cat who was shaking the unconscious Hawkmoth by the collar.

   A huff came from the Peacock hero, “He’s my temp?!”

   An angry look came from the new Cat Hero, “I’m no one’s replacement.”

   “Whatever. But now that we have Hawkmoth, we can take the Miraculous and see who this guy is~” Prince Peafowl smiled brightly and looked towards Ladybug, “Right?”

    The holder of the Ladybug felt her heart elate for just a moment.

     This was it. It was all gonna be over.

     Ladybug was hopeful now that they could have the Butterfly Miraculous back where it belongs and the terrible nightmares that this and the Peacock Miraculous have caused here would cease. Paris could be a peaceful city again.

   “Not so fast~”

  Before they could move and get the Miraculous off of Hawkmoth, laughter was heard and everyone jumped back in time before a blue fire blocked their way to Hawkmoth and the new Cat Hero had to jump away and land next to Usadori. Ladybug and the rest of them looked around. Suddenly, a figure landed before them, revealing to be some dark haired man with burnt scars and staples on his skin, his hands on fire.

  “Nah, ah, ah kiddies~ Can’t be taking our hard work now~”

  “D-dabi?” Both Usadori and the new Cat gasped, making everyone else confused.

    “W-who is he?” Ladybug asked, as Usadori frowned, silent.

     Not getting any answeres, Ladybug stepped forward, voice strong and demanding.

  “Are you working for Hawkmoth and Mayura??? Are you here to take our Miraculous?!” Ladybug demanded, but then blinked as Dabi cackled in amusement.

   “Working for them? You’ve got it twisted, little girl~” Dabi shook his head, then smirked darkly, “They’re working for us~“

   Suddenly Leviathan was about to slap down on her bracelet but yelped when she felt something grabbing her forearms and lifting her up in the air, while Prince Peafowl yelped when he was grabbed as well. The New Cat Hero, Usadori and Ladybug turned to see two more of Dabi seen, grinning evilly while Leviathan was kicking and trying to break free along with the Peacock Hero.

   “Sorry, little heroes~ We can’t have you take our little friend here~ He still…has his uses~”

   Ladybug sensed movement as she flipped back to see a silver masked man in all body black rubber suit that also covered his bottom half of his face, and this dude tried to attack her. The snickering villain was wiggling his fingers in a waving motion as another one of him kicked her down, while more clones of Dabi and the masked man jumped out to attack the blond cat hero and Usadori.

   While that was happening, the Real Dabi hummed and soon turned to Hawkmoth, who was slowly waking up.

   “T-The…The Miraculous…I…I need…”

   Dabi raised a brow. Sighing, he crouched down before the old man and reached to his chest. He grabbed the Miraculous, transforming Hawkmoth back to Gabriel Agreste, Dabi shaking his head.

   “I said we still have use for you…but not as Hawkmoth~”

    Gabriel looked confused but then gasped when a hand reached to grab him, screaming out in agony as Dabi cackled, Gabriel trying to pry the madman’s hand off of his now burning face.

   “Sorry. It’s orders from the Bossman. You’ll understand soon~”

   Prince Peacock managed to get himself free, using his fan to slice at the man holding him, then sliced at him once more when he pulled on his belt and transformed it into a sword, only blinking in confusion when the man…started melting like mud?

   Shaking his head, he soon looked to the one named Dabi still crouched over Hawkmoth, but it looks like that the butterfly villain had de-transformed?

   The Peacock Hero jumped over the fire gracefully and landed behind Dabi, trying to see what was going on when Dabi stood up, almost whirling around to smack at the Peacock hero, but missed when Prince Peafowl jumped out of the way. The fiery villain grinned, waving the Butterfly Miraculous at him almost mockingly. Prince Peafowl frowned before looking at the fallen Hawkmoth to see who the man was behind the mask, but looked horrified as he saw that his face was burnt almost to the point of being unrecognisable. But the clothes…it couldn’t be. Then he saw the glasses on the ground.

   “This is where we say goodbye, hero~” Dabi winked, before he hummed, “You are holding the Peacock now, huh~? Looks like Mayura failed. Too bad, she was gonna be one of our good chess pieces…”

   Prince growled before a crazed grin came over Dabi’s face.

   “We got what we came for. So consider yourselves lucky, kiddo~ The Great Hawkmoth and Scary Mayura are off your hands for now~ Until then…” Dabi was pressing something against his ear as he murmured, “Kurogiri, Twice and I are ready.”

   A black gaping hole swirled behind Dabi as he and the other masked man, now known as Twice, were backing up to escape into the swirling dark vortex along with the clones. Dabi picked the fallen Hawkmoth, hoisted him on his shoulder and turned to leave.

   “Wait, come back—“

   “NO!”

    Usadori jumped over, raising an arm up to stop Prince Peafowl from running after them as the villains escaped to the portal.

    “What are you thinking? You think you can go up against them? They’ll kill you on the spot! They aren’t like Hawkmoth and Mayura!”

  Once Dabi and Twice were gone and the portals vanished, Prince Peafowl growled, glaring at Usadori.

  “So what? We just let them get away?!”

  “At least we’re safe now. And we got one of the Miraculous back,” Ladybug spoke up softly once she was helping Leviathan up, trying to smile even though there was a lot of questions and concerns in her eyes, “We’ve won a battle at least, and without any casualties once I call my Miraculous Ladybug.”

   “And look!”

   Leviathan pointed towards the portals vanishing, and it seems that Sombre Swift and changed back into Alya Cesaire.

   “NO!” The girl screamed as her powers were gone, and soon everyone that was under her spell was waking back up and getting control back.

    Shinso blinked as he looked around for a moment, then looking down at Duchess Dormouse, who was tearing up and soon hugging the life out of him while Wyvern was smiling in victory.

   Vix Filou breathed out in relief, looking up at Ladybug and them.

   Ladybug looked to the feather in hand, then was throwing up in the air.

   “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG~!”

   Everything soon was cleaned and fixed back to normal, the monsters disappearing and all the people that were under Sombre Swift’s control were back to normal.

   Ladybug breathed out a sigh of relief, but then glanced over to an angry looking Alya being surrounded by Duchess Dormouse, Wyvern, Vix Filou and Shinso.

   “You…This isn’t over!” Alya screamed out as Ladybug and the rest of them rushed over to them, catching Alya’s attention as she stood and pointed to Ladybug once she was close, “And you! How could you replace me!?”

   Ladybug sighed before she looked to the Ladyblogger sadly, “I am truly sorry. But I am afraid you can no longer be a Miraculous Hero anymore,”

   Alya blinked, then her eyes widened, “W-what?! Why?!”

   “This isn’t any way your fault. Hawkmoth trapped you at your weakest, and I’m not sure why but…because of some circumstances that came to light today, I must renounce you as Rena Rouge permanently.”

   Vix Filou almost smirked at this but Alya was shaking her head with angry tears.

   “I didn’t do anything WRONG! If only you gave me my Miraculous instead of JUST Nino���”

   “That’s also another thing. You already know Nino is a Miraculous holder and now Hawkmoth knows it too. You also exposed Hitoshi Shinso as well as yourself, so if I don’t do this now, Hawkmoth will try and track you and your loved ones down. Don’t worry, they aren’t getting their Miraculous back either,” At least not the ones they have used now out in the open, “But this is the end, Alya. I am sorry.”

  Ladybug opened her hand out to ask for the Miraculous that Alya was still holding back.

    “Please, for the sake of our teamwork and friendship, give me back the Horse Miraculous.”

   Alya’s eyes darted left and right for a moment, stepping back for a bit while holding the glasses closer to her chest.

   “…No.”

   Ladybug looked broken in disbelief as Alya growled, anger rising even more.

   “No it cannot end like this!” She screeched, pointing an accusing finger at her, “How many times have I waited for you to call on me to have MY miraculous and fight alongside you to save the day?! How many, HUH!? I’ve been nothing but loyal to you! Helped you in everything and anything for you stupid heroes and yet I get no thanks? No recognition or even a chance to be Rena Rouge and yet you let some nobodies have Miraculouses?! What have THEY done for you?! NOTHING! WHILE I WAS ALWAYS THERE FROM THE BEGINNING! EVEN BETTER THAN STUPID, USELESS CHAT NOIR!”

    The heroes looked at Alya in shock as she was placing the glasses on, Kaalki appearing next to her, looking miffed.

   “If I can’t be Rena Rouge! Fine! I’ll be a new hero! And be TWICE AS GOOD AS YOU! OR NINO OR EVEN FUCKING CHLOE BOURGEOIS—”

   The new Fox rolled her eyes as she looked to Ladybug, “Geez, what a sore loser.”

   The Ladyblogger growled as she whipped her head to Vix Filou and pointed her finger at her, “I’ll take you down first, you fake hero!”

   Before she could do anything, she felt someone grab at her glasses and pulled them away from her face.

      Shinso stood with his capture weapon, the glasses now in hand.

   “This stops now.”

   “You—“

   Alya started but soon her eyes went blank, her jaw slacked and body almost slumping over as Shinso walked over to her, eyes dark and aura menacing.

   “You’re going home, go to sleep, and once you wake up, you will forget EVERYTHING you have seen or heard this day. You’re going to forget you EVER were the Fox Heroine, Rena Rouge. You are going to forget that Nino Lahiffe was Carapace or I was Kirin AND never try to find out any Miraculous Heroes identities or chase after Ladybug or them ever again. That clear? Now go.”

  Everyone watched as Alya soon was turning around and started walking away, almost looking like a zombie as she did so.

   Shinso held his head for a moment and almost fell if not for Usadori catching him.

   “I got you.”

   Ladybug slowly looked at the purple haired male, almost too afraid to ask.

   “What…did you do?” Prince Peafowl asked slowly as Shinso looked around him.

   Fear.

   Shinso closed his eyes, knowing that this was the outcome when using his quirk. He should’ve known…

   “…What had to be done.”

   “You do realise you used your quirk outside of school,” Usadori breathed out as he fidgeted a bit, looking troubled, “What would Eraserhead say?”

   “He’ll overlook it. It was either this or bonk her on the head hard.”

    Usadori looked disapprovingly for a moment before the new Cat Hero snorted.

   “So Eyebags is here too. That’s just great.”

   Peafowl bristled before pointing a finger at the explosive boy, “Alright, I can’t believe that the person that took the Cat Miraculous would be a really rude asshole!”

   Usadori sighed before smiling weakly, “I should be taking him back…”

   “Hito…”

    Shinso didn’t look up as someone called his name soflty, knowing that people are now afraid of what he’s capable of. So color him surprised as he felt the arms around him and someone’s face burying their face to his back. Shinso’s eyes widened as he was turned around, looking at the teary eyed Duchess Dormouse, who was soon sobbing into his chest.

   “I-I’m glad you’re okay, Hitoshi! I wa-was so SO scared w-when I saw you on TV…” She cried, making Shinso realise who this girl was behind the mouse mask.

   Looking up slowly, he saw the Dragon Heroine smiling weakly and giving a shy familiar thumbs up, Shinso’s eyes widening more.

   “You’re…not scared?”

   “I JUST SAID I was scared, silly!” The Mouse Heroine sniffled, snot now running down her nose and Shinso was quickly pulling his scarf to wipe her nose and tears, not caring about the mess.

   “No, no…I meant…you saw what I did to Cesaire…”

   Another sniffle and the girl was wiping her eyes before she looked up at him, “Yeah, a-and?”

   Shinso blinked, frowning, “I…used my quirk. I brainwashed her just like she did with her powers when she was Akumatized?”

  “B-But you did it for good. Not evil.”

   “…How would you know that?”

   Duchess pouted and reached up to pull at his cheeks, making Shinso yelp and groan in pain.

   “Ooowww—“

   “Listen to me Hitoshi Shinso! I have known you for not that long, but I know that you are a good person! You used your…quirk? Yeah, you used your quirk so that Alya couldn’t get revenge on Ladybug and us! You did us all a favour so she won’t be re-akumatized by Hawkmoth should he come back! So don’t be villainizing yourself Hitoshi or I’M GONNA GET REAL MAD!”

   Pale violet eyes stared down at the petite heroine in surprise, before he then yelped when his cheeks were slapped by her hands hard, and soon his face was smushed by said hands.

   “Say it.”

   “Shay bwat?” Shinso asked, cheeks still mushed by her hands, almost resembling a puffer fish.

   “Say you’re not a bad guy.”

   Shinso stared at her incredulously, but seeing her serious look, he sighed and closed his eyes.

   “…I’m not a bad guy.”

   Duchess looked at Shinso a few more seconds, eyes squinted before it widened brightly as she smiled. Satisfied with him, she lets go of Shinso’s face then patting it gently.

   “Good boy~”

    Shinso sighed, but had a tiny smile as he leaned into her gloved hands.

    “Okay, enough with the touchy shit, can we go now?” The Cat Hero huffed before turning to Usadori, narrowing his eyes, “And you! NEVER drag me into this shit again…“

   Ladybug frowned before stepping up now, hands on her hips and narrowing her eyes, “You know, I dunno WHAT Usadori was thinking recruiting a rude jerk like you as the Cat Hero while Chat Noir isn’t here!”

    Shinso looked to the both of them and his eyes widened, almost looking paler than he usually was. Duchess glanced over at him, wondering what got him as white as a ghost.

  “Haaa? You say something, Spots???”

   “Haa?! H-What do you mean Haaa?? YOU USED UNNECESSARY VIOLENCE AGAINST SOMEONE!”

  “SHUT THE HELL UP! I DID THE JOB I WAS SUPPOSED TO DO! STOP MOTH MOUTH FROM DESTROYING PARIS, ISn’T THAT /WHY/ I WAS CALLED?!”

   “That doesn’t mean you get to blow his face off! AND HE’S HAWKMOTH, NOT MOTH MOUTH!”

   “Whatever! A VILLAIN’S A VILLAIN! DO YOUR JOB BETTER!”    “You—YOU—“

    “Lost your words, Spots?!”

    “YOu’re SO—UGH—”

    Shinso and the rest of them watched the new Cat and Ladybug argue back and forth like a tennis match, although Shino was sweating bullets and Usadori was laughing quietly, almost knowing.

   “Ah, Ka—I-I mean, Dyna-Cat, we should get going~” The Rabbit Hero interrupted, getting in between them.

   “I TOLD YOU TO CALL ME LORD KING EXPLOSION MURDER CAT—”

   “THat’s another thing, WHAT A STUPID HERO NAME—“

   Prince Peafowl sighed as he was reaching to Ladybug and covered her mouth, holding her back as Usadori made his burrow and started dragging the protesting Cat Hero away and into the portal, the two of them disappearing.

   Beeping sounds from multiple directions were heard, and Prince yelped in worry.

   “We’ve got ten seconds until we transform back!”

    Quickly, Shinso was placing his glasses on and called ‘Kaalki, full gallop!’ out loud, transforming into Kirin before teleporting them all to Master Fu’s place. Their timers turned zero as they transformed back to their civilian selves.

    Master Fu and Pridwen smiled at the heroes returning, relieved and proud of the now tired heroes. Nino was sitting on the couch with Sabrina now, looking disoriented and apologetic.

  “Well done, everyone. You have truly worked together as a team and saved Paris from Hawkmoth and Sombre Swift,” Fu spoke up softly, nodding his head, “I am very proud of you all.”

   “As true as that is, I’m still angry about Usadori changing plans on us,” Marinette groaned, placing a hand over her eyes.

   “But we won and Paris is okay! I count that as a success!” Alix cheered before Pridwen transformed back to Nathaniel, looking grim.

   “Except Hawkmoth escaped with that fire villain. So we still didn’t get the Butterfly Miraculous back…”

  “But we did get this back,” Adrien held the Peacock brooch in hand, smiling a bit as Duusu rested on his shoulder, “Thanks to Usadori…”

   After having a small moment to breathe, everyone soon was feeding their kwamis (thanks to Marinette bringing snacks before all ths), Adrien especially giving Duusu a treat and cuddling her close in his arms.

   Nino sighed loudly as he looked up, “I’m sorry, you guys.”

   Everyone looked towards Nino, who was fiddling with the snacks that Marinette provided them.

   “Why are you saying sorry, dude?” Alix asked.

   “If…If I didn’t get caught in Sombre Swift’s trap, t-then maybe I wouldn’t have compromised myself and get exposed a-and Alya—“

   “Hey, that’s not your fault,” Sabrina was shaking her head, “Alya was out of control and did what she did. You had no control over that.”

   “Still…”

  Marinette touched Nino’s hand and smiled warmly, “I meant what I said though. You may not be able to be Wyazz’s holder anymore, but you can still be a hero.”

   “R-really?” Nino looked teary eyed for a moment, then looked to Nathaniel.

   “Oh! Um, i-if you don’t want me to use the Turtle—-“

   Nathaniel was already trying to remove his bracelet but Nino stopped him, shaking his head.

   “Nah, dude. If I had to say who’s get Wyazz, I’d gladly pick you. So I’m happy Master Fu made the call to choose you as the true Turtle Hero,” He smiled, giving a salute, “Take care of my dude there, ya here?”

    Wyazz flew to Nino, hugging his face, “You were an amazing partner to have, my dude!”

   “Same to you, little dude. Take care of Nath too, okay, buddy?” Nino said, almost crying as he hugged the kwami before letting him go, Wyazz flying back to sit on Nath’s head.

   Adrien pursed his lips as he stared down at Duusu, catching Marinette’s attention.

   “Adrien…?”

    Adrien sighed, before looking at his partner with unsure eyes.

   “If I am to have Duusu and be the Peacock Hero…do-does this mean I’m no longer Chat Noir?”

   Marinette looked unsure. Can she no longer have Chat Noir as her partner?

    Re-Destro bowed his head to the ground as Shigaraki looked at the screen, having watched everything that was happening in Paris. Including the defeat of Hawkmoth. Trumpet and Skeptic were standing by the door with nervous looks, glancing at each other then to their former leader, who was murmuring apologies.

   “I-I did not realise that Gabriel was a quirkless. If I knew, I wouldn’t have—It was just that Emilie-san a-and him being Hawkmoth I—“

   Shigaraki raised a hand, and Rikiya zipped his lips immediately, before bowing his head even further down.

   “I apologise, Great Leader. You may punish me as you wish…I-I have failed you—“

   “Failed~?” Shigaraki chuckled, his blood colored eyes looking down at the shrivelled up man that jumped out of his floating chair to basically grovel in front of him, “On the contrary, you showed me something interesting~”

   “G-Great Leader?”

    Trumpet looked confused, as he coughed, “Forgive me for asking but…are you saying that us losing to a bunch of children was a good thing?”

    Shigaraki turned his head to stare at the man, who then averted his head down as to not meet eyes with the dust quirk villain.

    A hum sounded from Shigaraki for a moment, tilting his head as he gave a wicked look.

   “Losing to some kids…actually made me realise one thing…”

   All three Lieutenants looked at each other for a moment before looking back at their Leader, who was grinning slowly.

    “Hero Society had the right idea when it came to creating their so called champions. You gotta pick the good ones while they’re still young~”

    Himiko Toga stepped out from her hiding spot from an alleyway as she saw the dazed Alya Cesaire walking on the streets. Spinner was behind the vampire like villainess, sighing with folded arms as he was pressing into a communicator and talking with someone. Grinning in glee, Toga soon made a grab for her, raising what seems to be a hammer in her hand.

   “And…what of Gabriel?” Re-Destro asked, frowning a little, but relieved that Shigaraki wasn’t too angry with him.

    Shigaraki smirked.

   “He still has his uses~”

   Dabi watched with a bored expression while Doctor Ujiko was smiling with glee, working on a new test subjects for his Nomus. Twice sort of cowered behind Dabi before giving a cheer and thumbs ups second later.

      “And…Emilie-san?”

      “...She’s been taken care of.”

   Amelie’s eyes watered with a gasp, shaking her head as she felt like the walls were closing in on her, her vision tunnelling. Aizawa caught her before she fell, looking at the now empty coffin that Emilie once laid in.

    “And what a beauty she is~”

    Mr. Compress appeared once a portal opened nearby Shigaraki,  humming a little as he held up a pretty blue marble in hand. Another portal opened as Toga was giggling happily while waving a now bloodied hammer, Spinner carrying a black body bag.

   Re-Destro, Trumpet and Skeptic looked surprised at this, as Shigaraki stood, chuckling darkly.

   “A battle is lost today. But the war is FAR from over~”

   The police van driven by Roger Raincomprix, the vehicle riding down the Parisian road on the way to the police station carrying the now known accomplice of Hawkmoth, the former Mayura: Nathalie Sancoeur. She just stared at the tiny barred window with dead eyes, until she blinked, hearing commotion at the front the truck, and soon the vehicle came to a halt.

   She then tilted her head when the doors of the police truck was ripped open, and Kurogiri stood there, yellow eyes unfeeling and patient.

    Nathalie just smirked, almost as if knowing.

    And soon the two vanished into the night.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

[achitka]

Doors (Chapter 18) El Corazón Herido de Alma Madrigal

Summary:

They do say that wounds of the heart take the longest to heal...and even then not completely.

Agustín finished preparing the araçá juice under the mostly watchful eye of his wife who was fishing the last of the chicken bones from the pot of broth she made. While he was accident prone, he was less so when in the presence of his wife. He knew what the price of fixing his damaged self cost her and did not want to add to an already stressful day. She, of course, had been up too long and it showed as she moved slowly around the worktable after she put the lid on the pot.

“Mi amor, time for a break,” he said and offered her a cup of the fresh juice. She looked about to protest, but he gently took her hand and placed the cup in it. She smiled that beautiful smile that he could never tire of seeing and nodding she went to the table, sat down and took a long sip.

“Thank you,” she said, fingertips tapping on the wooden surface. “I hope this is isolated, I don’t think I’m ready for a full-blown outbreak of anything. Thank goodness there’s another doctor in the Encanto. Mamá is a little better, but I’m worried this will take too much of her strength to fight off. I'm going to call on Dr. Gonzalez in the morning and have him come check on her.”

Julieta clearly had a better idea of what was happening with her mother and had always wanted to study these types of things. It was an unexpected blessing when that opportunity came. She was learning much from the new doctor that had arrived within months of the mountain splitting open. He, like the people he came with were refugees from Colombia's latest troubles.

Agustin listened as she recounted some of what she’d learned recently, one of which was a thing called antibiotics. Specifically, penicillin. The Doctor told her how it had saved many lives of those wounded during the war in Europe. A wonder drug, made from, of all things, fungus. But it was soon discovered that multiple doses were required to prevent relapse.

The man had come to Colombia from Spain, hoping to escape the civil war there only to have misfortune follow him here. Having already lost his wife and child in Spain, there was an air of loss that followed Dr. González and though Julieta was glad to have another to help care for the townsfolk, she did not push. Agustín thought it odd that Dr. González, who had some knowledge of traditional healing, did not put much stock in it. Though he was oddly open minded enough to teach his wife when she asked. But then, Julieta Madrigal was very good at getting what she wanted. She would politely ask and you would totally think it was your idea to do as she asked. Her mother’s daughter for sure. Having already read all the books Dr. González had brought with him it was clear Julieta was not satisfied. She wanted to learn more.

“You’re doing your-” Agustín stopped when he heard a low growl. He looked past his wife and spied Antonio in the doorway of the kitchen atop Parce. He put a hand on his wife’s arm to forestall her getting up and said as he approached him, “Ay, Antonio, why you out of bed little one.”

“Don’t feel good,” Antonio replied looking miserable, “and Parce said you weren’t in your room and he could find you.”

Agustín picked him up and felt his head, he had a fever but did not look dehydrated, “Thank you for bringing him, Parce.” The jaguar chuffed and laid down in the doorway. Julieta waived Agustín over and he came and sat next to her cradling the half-awake boy. She felt his head and and her brow crinkled, eyebrow raised. She was calculating what it would take of her strength to help her sobrino. She reached over and picked up the cup of juice that casita had poured.

“Take a sip, Antonio,” Julieta said, Agustín knew she was letting her Gift flow into the juice. Antonio perked up a little and after a few more sips, he was much more alert, this surprised Julieta. Agustín was watching, eyebrows raised as her surprise turned to some sort of realization. She’d never been able to ‘cure’ fevers in the past only ease the symptoms. Julieta felt Antonio's head again and looked astonished.

“Thanks, Tía. I’m gonna go back to bed now,” Antonio said and drank the rest of the cup. He set it down and gave her a hug then turned and gave Agustín a hug as well. He climbed atop Parce and even as the jaguar left the kitchen, Julieta was up pouring another cup. Agustín was right behind her as they hurried up to her mother’s room.

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

Isabela could see Mirabel was just short of having a full-on panic attack. However much she herself was disinterested in Abuela’s attention. Mirabel needed her. Needed her to show her how to navigate the folks in town. Isa put a hand on her sister’s shoulder but Mira seemed frozen in place staring at the door that led to the hallway. Mira must be able to see the curled leaves as well.

“Abuela’s leaving us,” Mira said this in flat tone, Isa had seen that expression on Mira’s face before. It was when Abuela was accusing her of hurting the family, the same as what she must have been feeling when Casita fell...all pain, only this time there was dose of fear mixed into it. Luisa noticed and came to stand in front of Mira blocking her view of the door to the hall. Mirabel looked up at Luisa, then at her and said as she held up a rosary Tio Bruno had given her, “I’m not ready...pray with me?”

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

Alma sat up in a field of green, the cool breeze that flowed over the grass felt nice. The sun was shining but not too brightly. She looked around, it was familiar but at the same time it was not. In the distance was a house that was not Casita. But she knew that house. Getting up she was surprised her knees did not ache. She noticed then the wrinkles on her hands were gone. She touched her face as she started toward the house. It was so peaceful here. She spun and a flurry flurry of blue butterflies flitted about her.

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

Mirabel took her sisters hands holding them close to her heart, together they recited the rosary as quickly and as fervently as they could. Praying to the Virgin for her intersession on behalf of her Abuela Alma. They had only just finished when Casita bumped the floor beneath them and all three turned when the door opened and their parents were there. Their mother went immediately into Abuela’s room, closing the door behind her. Their father stopped them following after and asked them all to sit. They arranged themselves on the sofa and he sat on the bed, alternately looking at the three of them and Abuela’s door.

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

She came to a road and Alma stopped looking at it. It troubled her, but it was just a hard packed dirt road like many she'd traveled on in her life. Still, there was a feeling that if she crossed that road, she would not…not…not be…Alarmed, she turned back the way she'd come but froze when she heard his voice.

“Alma.”

It didn’t matter that half a century had passed, she knew if she turned toward it…toward him, she would not be able to resist. She would happily pass away into his arms. But that would leave Mirabel as she had been, unprepared and overwhelmed for her role. She had to go back the way she’d come. Back to her children, back to her grandchildren, back to Mirabel.

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

“What’s happening, Pa?” Isa asked.

“Your mother is…trying out something to better help Abuela,” he said carefully and added, “It appears your mother’s Gift has changed some.”

Mirabel's face shone with the hope that Isa and Luisa now shared. Now when Isa looked at the door, she gasped as the dying, curled leaves, unfurled as she watched. What had her mother learned?

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

She stared at the field and thought, the first and hardest...one step. She did and the grass parted showing her the way.…then another, keep moving forward, no backwards steps. She closed her eyes to the tears that threatened to halt her and blindly she started to run. Her wounded heart urging her on. She was not ready to go. Not yet. Please Lady, not yet. There was the taste of araçá juice was on her tongue, but still she kept going.

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

“What are you seeing, Isa?” Luisa asked.

“She’s better?” Isa said.

“What? Who?” Luisa asked quickly. Just then Abuela’s door opened and their mother said, “Mira, I need you to come.” Mirabel stood and nodded as she ran quickly across the room.

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

“Abuela…please stay…”

Alma stopped and looked at her hands, the wrinkles worn into her skin from years of worry were back. Thank you, Lady, thank you. Alma fell to her knees and cried; partly from relief, partly because this was the second time she’d lost him. The second time that old wound in her heart, that one she’d barely let heal, was once again exposed and bleeding but at the same time there was joy.

Alma opened her teary eyes; she was back in her bed. The worried faces of Julieta and Mirabel hovering over her. This was where she needed to be. She noticed she was sitting, propped up on pillows. Julieta handed her the cup she was holding and said, “Please drink the rest, Mamá.”

Alma nodded and took an experimental sip. It was good. Moments later a sniffling Isabela and Luisa were also there standing behind their sister who was just as teary. Alma finished the drink and was surprised at how well she felt. It was not just the grandchildren that had grown with the new miracle, Alma realized, Julieta’s time studying with the new doctor in the Encanto had saved her.

“What a wondrous new thing you have learned Julieta, thank you, hija.”

“You’re welcome, Mamá, but you'll need to have at least one cup a day until I'm sure you're past the chance of relapse,” Julieta said as she gave her hand a squeeze.

Alma smiled and nodded.

“Okay you two,” she said pointing to Isa and Luisa, “Off to bed…in your own rooms, please.”

Isa was about to protest but their father came in and said, “Let’s let your sister get some rest in her own bed.”

Isa turned to their father and started, “But Pa-” she was forced to stop as Luisa casually lifted her with one arm and exited Mira’s room saying “Goodnight everyone, we'll see you in the morning.”

Mirabel smiled, she had so many questions to ask.

“You too, Mira, off to bed.” Julieta said quietly as she took the now empty cup and placed it on the window sill.

“Can I stay for a little longer? I promise I won’t keep Abuela up long. I just…”

Her mother paused and looked toward Alma who nodded and Julieta said, “Alright Corazón.” She gave Mira a hug and kissed her forehead. Her father did the same and together they said goodnight and left Alma's room. Mirabel pulled the only chair close to the edge of the bed and said, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Alma asked.

“For making you leave heaven.”

Alma took her hands and said with a tilt of her head, “Mirabel, you did no such thing,” and she said to herself more than Mirabel, “I came back because I wanted to.”

“Tio Bruno said you would but I didn’t understand why until a little bit ago.”

“Do you?”

“The doors…the new miracle…why people seem to be following me around. Is it weird that I’m terrified but so happy?

“No, but unlike last time, this miracle was born not out of grief and fear but love and hope.”

Mirabel smiled and gave her a hug and said, “I'm so happy to have you here with me, Abuela, to show me what I need to know.” Mirabel sagged, “I just hope…”

“Mirabel, you already have what’s needed inside you. Please do not doubt that. I said once that I didn’t know why you weren’t given a Gift, I believe I know now. The previous miracle knew better than I. You truly are a wonder Mirabel Madrigal. You are the heart of this family now. You're love and support has made us all stronger.”

Mirabel blushed and looked at the photo of her Abuelos on the table by the bed and smiled. “Abuelo Pedro had such kind eyes. I wish I could have met him. I used to think of Casita as Abuelo...kinda weird.”

Alma smiled and said, “Not so weird, Mirabel.” Alma picked up the photo remembering the love captured in that moment. Love that Alma dearly hoped her grandchildren would experience some day.

“I'm going to bed now, Abuela,” Mirabel said as she got up from the chair. She stopped at the door and asked, “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Alma nodded and said “Goodnight Mira,” but added when she saw Mirabel closing the door, “Can you leave it open?” She did not want a repeat of the last time she tried to open it.

Mira cocked her head a little confused but smiled and said “Of course.”

The lights dimmed and Casita clattered the tiles near the window in the other room. Alma smiled, Casita was scolding Mirabel for not getting into bed. The lights went out completely and Alma adjusted her position so she could sleep. She used to hate going to sleep, always he would come to her there and it would often leave her feeling sad and broken inside. Someday, mi vida, someday we will be together again.

Next Chapter:

Previous Chapter:

[mindofharry]

In which it’s your husbands birthday and you have the perfect gift.

SO THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR CHRIS! IM SO EXCITED FOR YOU GUYS TO READ THIS!!!! I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS SMALL BLURB. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO CHRIS, MY BELOVED! REBLOG, FEEDBACK IS WELCOME AS ALWAYS!!! HAPPY READING :D

mentions of ivf! other than that, a whole lot of fluff!! <3

You found out were pregnant a few days ago. It was unexpected, but you were thrilled. You cried and cried on the bathroom floor, taking test after test with your sister leaning against the door her eyes widening in shock every time the test came back positive. It was no shock that you and chris wanted kids. Even more meeting each other you both knew kids were for you, from a very young age you knew you wanted to be a mom. You would play the mom in every game, your siblings can vouch that you were like a second mother to them - very bossy, but they loved you for that. Chris was the exact same, and he was so unbelievably good with kids. At the family gatherings kids would just surround him, wanting to play with him and get carried everywhere he went. This role was just made for the both of you.

While you sat on the bathroom floor, looking at these tests you became so overwhelmed. You and chris hadn’t been trying, you tried very early on in your marriage and nothing seemed to happen. You really thought something was wrong with you. You tried ivf, all of those treatments, hacks you found on the internet. Nothing seemed to happen. Chris was the most supportive and kind person through it all, and he never once blamed you for this even though you very much blamed yourself. But you both got through it and decided you’d try again soon or maybe adopt in the future. You both wanted kids so badly, but maybe the time just wasn’t right.

You had found out were pregnant a week before chris’ birthday. You wanted him to know so bad, to be here with you. But he was on a trip for some work and you didn’t want to tell him this over a phone call - and hey, you hadn’t gotten him a main present yet. So this will have to do! You just know chris will be over the moon. As of right now, you, your sister and the doctor you visited after taking the test are the only people that know of your pregnancy. Of course you wanted chris to be there with you for the first ultrasound, but you were just so shocked that you needed a professional to confirm the tests.

You and your sister are definitely the worst people at keeping secrets. It was what you guys were known for in the family. You were both bursting at the seems to tell everyone and anything the news. Your sister agreed with you on keeping this a secret until chris’ birthday, she knew he would be even more surprised. And it would be so much better if you did it in person. He gets home late on the saturday, so it’s the perfect time to do it.

You had it all sorted out.

You wake up early, prepare pancakes and some coffee for chris to eat in bed. A little cuddle and kiss, before you’d sneak off to the closet to grab all of his presents. You had bought him clothes, a new watch, some of his favourite candy and a a romantic night away in a fancy hotel next month. In a small, white bag would be the positive pregnancy test and a baby grow with the words ‘Can’t wait to meet you daddy!’ plastered on the front.

The next couple of days were tough to say the least. You were throwing up non stop, and you were in bed sleeping all day for most of the week. You had told chris, that you looked after your mom when she got a stomach bug and must of passed it on to you so you were just taking it easy. He seemed to believe it and you were able to convince him to stay on his trip.

You can’t wait to see him.

You missed his kisses and cuddles a lot. That’s basically what got you through the week, knowing the chris would be home and ready to kiss and cuddle you on sunday.

By saturday, you were feeling a little better. The morning sickness was still there, but you weren’t getting sick every two seconds so that was a plus. You prayed that this wouldn’t stick, you hate getting sick.

“Baby?” Chris whispered as he walked into the bedroom. You were fast asleep panned out on the bed, your book on your stomach and glasses still over your eyes. Chris laughed to himself, taking your glasses and book away and on to your bedside table. You looked beautiful, even asleep. He hated being away from you for so long, but it was the best feeling in the world to finally snuggle with each other again. Chris was definitely a sucker for cuddles. Even when you two were still get to know each other, you knew he was a cuddler and very handsy. He just loves being around you, and mostly on top of you - he means that in more ways than one.

His birthday is always so special with you. When you were dating he didn’t really expect much, just a cake and a few gifts. But you always went all out and so did your family. He was forever grateful for you and the new family you brought with you.

Chris tucked you into the bed, kissed the side of your head and got ready for bed himself. He brushed his teeth, then stripped down and hopped into bed. You immediately rolled over and cuddled yourself into him, chris sighed in content as you buried your head into his neck. He missed you so much and he was so fucking glad to be home.

You woke up bright and early, all on your own surprisingly. You looked over and saw chris laying on his stomach sprawled out on the bed. You giggled to yourself before kissing his shoulder and getting out of bed quietly and slowly.

Making the food was probably the hardest thing to do. The scents and the fridge smell was making you want to puke and never eat anything ever again. Thankfully, you got through it not getting sick once. When you went upstairs with the food, chris was still fast asleep. You think he was messing because he jumped up about 20 seconds after you entered the room. You smiled, amused at the little performance but quickly moved over to sit on the side of the bed and give chris his food.

“Honey….” He trailed off taking a bite of the pancake. You pecked his cheek, a blush forming on his cheek. “Amazing” He said gulping down his orange juice.

“I love you, happy birthday” You said grabbing the gifts from the closet. Chris shook his head sighing.

“You got me so many things. You know i don’t need all of these” He said and you pouted kissing his lips. “No, but you deserve them” You said and chris smiled opening up his presents.

Then came the last present. Your heart was beating so quickly and you’re sure chris could hear it. You were so nervous, but so excited for his reaction. Would he cry? Laugh? just smile? So many thought ran through your mind. You’ve both wanted this for so long and now it’s finally here, you just don’t know how he’ll react and it’s making you beyond nervous. You think you might actually get sick now.

Chris puts his hand in the bag taking out the baby grow first.

“Babe, dodger will not fit in this” Chris said and you laughed turning the baby grow around and then taking out the pregnancy test. Chris looked at the writing on the baby grow and then to the positive pregnancy test. He looked up at you, tears in his eyes and he immediately placed his lips on yours. You were surprised, but kissed back immediately.

He pulled back and leaned his forehead against yours sniffling a little. You placed your hands on his cheeks.

“You’re pregnant?” He asked and you nodded.

“10 weeks. I’ve known all week, wanted to surprise you” You replied and chris shook his head looking down at the baby grow.

“I love you” He said and you grinned.

“I love you, too. Baby loves you so much already” You said placing a hand on your stomach. Chris bit back a sob putting his hand on yours.

“We’re going to be parents, baby. What the fuck” He said and you laughed sitting down on his lap.

“Yeah, but we’re gonna be pretty fucking cool parents”