#apocalypse world x reader

[lady-ashfade]

Fallout Masterlist

Requests for this fandom: closed

Angst: Red

Fluff: Pink

Both: Orange

Comfort: purple

A little bit of everything or nothing: green

Yandere: Red & Green

Fallout 4

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Fallout show

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Apocalypse world

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[celestiawritess]

Trust

Synopsis ✧ It’s the end of the world. Or better yet, it has been for the past three years. You’ve survived perfectly fine on your own, moving from place to place without much trouble. Until you meet a man who’s got an issue with sharing and an ego bigger than the sun- who happens to be travelling to the same place as you.

Warnings ✧ Rafe Cameron’s ego, lots of death, zombies, gore, violence, mentions of SA, protective Rafe, slow burn, eventual smut.

Word count ✧ 4.3k

Next chapter ➜

When the world had ended, you’d had thought that the brutality of it was awful. People who once looked at others as friends, family, acquaintances- turned on one another, unable to trust. As much of the population succumbed to an illness that the governments claimed was under control- the rest of the world focused on survival.

Eventually the governments fell silent, unable to control what they claimed they could- and the world fell with them. Until the dead began walking again.

You’d been locked in your family’s home, sat on the sofa with your sister and mother, both of them crying and in complete fear as to what to do next- your father in the other room with the illness that had claimed many. That was a day you’d never forget, as the tv began to play safety alerts for those who were still alive- and your father stumbled out of the bedroom.

Except it wasn’t your father. It was what was left of his body, but it was not your father. It was not your father when he ripped into the side of your mother’s throat, her blood spraying over her cream sofa that she loved to keep clean. It was not your father when your mother’s body slumped to the floor, your sister clambering ontop of her, screaming at your father. It was not your father- eyes wide, hands gripping the edge of the sofa as the thing reached for your sister too- and she tried to fight. It was not your father when you finally snapped out of it and reached the stairs, pounding up into your room and shutting the door.

They weren’t your family as you cried softy to yourself in your room, a soft groan and pounding against your door which kept you situated for days.

They were not your family as you climbed out of the window of your bedroom, too afraid to face what they had become.

You sigh, shaking the thoughts from your brain as you listen to the birds chirping through the night. The pistol that you’ve learned to use weighs heavy on your thigh, can of cold beans doing no justice to your empty stomach. The rooftop that you’re perched on gives you a perfect view of the walkers down below, snarling and stumbling after the nice and rats scrambling about the city below.

You wonder to yourself how you’ve made it into this situation, stuck. You hated that word, hated admitting defeat. It’s not like you could rely on anyone else to save you- phone a friend if you must. There is no one else. As far as you know. The last group of people you’d met- you’d been a naive, scared young woman and they’d given you the opportunity to change that.

That was a while ago now. The apocalypse had been here for three years, and any promises of this being over seemed less and less likely. You’d stopped believing in a cure when walkers tore your first group apart. You’d not bothered with people since then.

You’d seen the awful, inhumane ways people had resorted to. It made you feel sick, people turning on other people- fighting, killing, for space, and resources.

You’d have no part in it. You moved silently, in the shadows, keeping to yourself until you got to where you wanted to. You had a plan, one that you were sure would work. You open your bag, which is laid against the wall next to you, grabbing your notebook.

Inside it’s got your map, of which you’ve been loosely tracking where you’d traveled, a big star marking where you’re trying to get to. The outbreak had begun in Florida, almost immediately wiping the population out there and not giving those who were still alive time to get out before the dead began walking again. You were hoping to avoid Florida.

Any of the other states that bordered on the ocean would do you fine. So far, you’d travelled from Wisconsin down to Illinois, on the border of Kentucky. At this rate, you’d hoped to aim for North Carolina, or south- each of the states known for extensive sea access and boats. You’d take one and sail off onto the water, where you’d never have to worry about walkers again. Or people, rarely.

You sigh, drawing the line from where you were yesterday to where you are today. You’d come across a hoard of walkers just before sunset, and not having the arsenal to take it on- nor being stupid enough to try, you’d had to divert.

You finish your can of beans, placing it and the spoon on the wall and looking back down at the city. The walkers like to come out more at night time, you’ve found. It’s a long while until sunrise, the winter months making the nights longer and the days shorter. Nature was against you.

Somewhere in the distance of the city, gunshots ring out. They’re far enough away for you not to worry for now, but close enough to put you off from sleep. Your eyes strain to look as far down the street as possible and you’re sure you see something weaving in between the hoards of zombies- almost looking like a human.

There’s no way someone would survive that, though. It’s a death wish. You reach down for your rifle, leaning down on two knees to get the scope set up on the wall and look where you think you’ve just seen someone.

It’s mostly walkers. There’s a few gaps where they aren’t but for the most part they take up the entire width of the street, making it impossible for anyone to get through without being torn to shreds.

Until you see it again. It’s a flash, a whip which makes you readjust your scope on the wall, scraping your fingers against the rough brick as you try to find whatever is flashing inbetween the groups of walkers. Could it be the same person who fired off the gunshots?

You’re not sticking around to find out. You scoff, leaning your rifle against the wall and you roll up your sleeping bag in no time, attaching it to the clasps at the bottom of your bag. You reach up for your spoon, knocking the can of beans off the wall and listening as it clambers to the floor of the alleyway down below. The snarls tell you that the walkers are alert now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you curse, shoving your spoon in the side pocket and reaching for the strap, slinging it over your shoulder. You reach for your handgun, shoving it in the waistband of your pants and then your rifle, slinging it over your shoulder before rushing over to the wall at the other side of the building.

It’s a good eight stories to the floor below, yet you think someone must have lived here before, on this rooftop, because the fire escape had been blocked off, a plank of wood stretching across the gap to the next building. Your ears strain as you can hear someone trying the rooftop door, small growls slipping out of the gap. The lock was busted, but that didn’t stop you from propping an old wooden pallet in front of the door for occasions exactly like this. You’d watched, observed the walkers. They retained some of their skills from their past life, you thought- like being able to open door handles, or listen out for noises and eventually figure out where the noise had come from.

You click your tongue, head tilting to the side as you hop up onto the wall, wood already creaking beneath your feet. The growls intensify behind the door and you’re sure you hear the scraping of the wooden pallet, deciding it’s now or never to cross the wooden bridge.

You’re halfway across the two buildings when the pallet gives way, shuffling feet sounding out on the rooftop as you hop down the wall on the other side of the wood. You spin, seeing at least ten walkers all following each other on the rooftop as they try to sniff you out. You push the wooden bridge, letting it fall of the wall and slip in between the two buildings and clatter to the floor below.

The walkers turn and growl as the slump towards you, stopping at the obvious gap between them and their next meal. You roll your eyes. Maybe they’re not as smart afterall.

By the time the sun rises, you’re struggling to keep your eyes open, the city behind you now. It was in your best interest to not stay there anymore- cities are never a good idea anyway. The main road that you’ve been walking along to get out of the city is littered with walkers, but not too many to the point that you can’t deal.

You decide to find somewhere to sleep, somewhere quieter along the back roads that will keep you a bit safer. You couldn’t travel much today without the promise of sleep. Along the road, to the left, there’s a little diner that looks fairly looted. It’s to be expected, so close to the city.

Still, you decide to take a look, on the off chance that some looters are picky and have left you some bits. The door sways slightly in the breeze- or what’s left of it, metal bent and shards of glass all over the step. The glass crunches under your boots as you slide through the gap in the door, hand gripping your pistol in your waistband.

The inside of the diner is exactly how you expect it to look. Everything is all over the place, tables turned and windows smashed. The glass still crunches underneath your feet, remnants of salt shakers and ketchup bottles kicked to the side as you make your way around the counter.

There’s a picture on the wall that catches your eye, surprisingly untouched despite the rest of the wreckage in the little establishment. It’s a picture of an old woman and man smiling together outside what looks to be the diner- freshly opened. Back when the world was normal.

Moving past it, you swing round the corner into the kitchen, all the cupboards and fridges swung open, any signs of food here long gone. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose when you hear a noise. Crunching glass.

Someone, or something was in here with you. Your hand immediately snaps back to the gun in your waistband.

“Wouldn’t grab that gun if I were you,” the voice is rough, like it’s the first words they’ve spoken in months. Slowly, you raise your left hand, right tightening on your gun as you think of an action plan.

There’s a door in the back left corner, an island of counters blocking you. It’s not worth the risk, you think- you’ve not seen the person, and you don’t know if they’ve got a gun pointed at the back of your head right now or not.

“Put the other hand up too, now,” your teeth latch onto the inside of your cheek, contemplating the back door escape. “Are you deaf? Now, or I blow your brains out,”

Your fingers unfurl from around the gun, raising your hand slowly. You feel as they begin tugging your rifle away from your shoulder- and you spin. Your elbow flies to their gun, knocking it out of their hand as it clatters to the floor and skids under one of the fridges. Immediately, you reach for your own gun, aiming it at the person.

You’re sure he can see the look of pure disgust on your face. His hands are now the ones raised, covered in blood. To be precise, his entire outfit was covered in blood. Dirty, shiny black blood.

“You’re infected?” You surprise yourself with your own voice. Your grip tightens around your gun as you take a few steps back, gaze never faltering. He shakes his head, pretty quickly, matted hair following in clumps.

You wave your gun down his attire, eyebrow raised. “Got caught in a hoard in the city back there. Had to cover myself to get out,”

The sentence clicks in your head and you remember the night before on the rooftop when you saw something zapping through the hoards. It must have been this guy.

You laugh, breathily, still keeping the gun raised. “Makes sense, I saw you.”

He smirks, dropping his hands to his sides. “Gotta do whatever to survive,” you can practically smell the ego from here, even over the pounds of walker blood.

You scoff. “That include threatening to blow my brains out?”

He clicks his tongue, shuffling his bag on his shoulder. “You were about to find my stash. Friend or foe, it’s mine.” You glance around the picked clean kitchen, noticing finally a piece of drywall that was slightly pulled to the side.

“Well, foe, I’m good. I’ll go find stuff elsewhere.” You move backwards, keeping your gun up, towards the back door. He shuffles forward, but you wave your gun.

“Stay put until I’m gone. Don’t want anymore trouble.”

He nods, and you can tell he wants to say something else but holds his breath as you reach for the door handle. It’s stuck, probably from not being used for so long.

“Why don’t we stick together? Some pretty cool moves you’ve got there,” he says, gesturing to his gun that’s still on the floor. You shake your head, finally unsticking the door handle and swinging the door open. Despite being winter, the Illinois sun beats down on you almost immediately.

“I’m good. I like being on my own.” You don’t let him say anything else as you jump down the back step, slamming the door behind you.

You shove your gun back into the waistband of your pants as you circle wide enough around the building to join back onto that road. Of your map was right, following this road today would take you past some fields and into a smaller town. Smaller meant less, but also meant less chance of being completely picked clean.

It’s quiet, sun high in the sky already- midday. You didn’t have long left until the sun would disappear, and you’d need to find somewhere to hold up again. You can feel the exhaustion seeping through your bones, and your feet ache from the broken soles of your boots. Still, they’d not let you down yet- you couldn’t find the heart to part ways with them until they were truly gone.

It was one of your bad habits. You reach down into your thigh garter, pulling your knife out as a walker snarls and stumbles towards you. It tumbles over its own feet, falling onto you. You lodge your knife into its head, pulling the knife back and pushing the zombie to the floor.

There’s a little house to your left, seemingly picturesque and untouched. It’s in the middle of the fields, and when you glance over your shoulder, the city is like a mirage in the distance. If things would have been normal, this house would have been ideal. Close to the city but far enough away to keep from the city life.

Although the sun is lowering quicker than you would have liked, you decide not to stop. Ideally, you’d like to put as much distance between you and the guy from the diner, presuming he was following you.

Your feet are killing by the time you reach the first part of the small town. There’s a few walkers littered around but nothing to make a fuss over yet, all easily avoidable. You pick the first store you see, an old hairdressers, which looks fairly safe and secure. No smashed windows, boards covering them so no one can see inside. If it had roof access, even better.

The door groans loudly as you open it, under the pressure of being secured shut for so long. The stars are on your side, however, as a glance over your shoulder shows that none of the walkers on the street heard it. Inside is exactly how you expected it to look- dusty.

Everything is pretty intact, aside from the cash register picked clean. It makes you scoff, wondering what the person who took the money is doing now. Money had no means anymore. Not to you at least.

There’s a door at the back of the small salon which you push open, to be met with the tiny fenced in bin yard. There’s a rickety wooden chair placed in one corner, next to a ladder which leads up to the roof of the one story building. The ladder creaks under the weight of you climbing, obviously close to breaking.

You swing one leg over the edge of the roof, seeing an old sleeping bag crumpled up in one corner, remnants of a fire nearby. It’s obvious someone’s not been here for a while, and you ponder what could have happened. It doesn’t stop you from stopping your bag to the floor, groaning as your shoulders free from the extra weight.

You can see the rest of the small town from here, mostly little businesses that you’ve never heard of before and something that you’d hoped for- a mostly intact supermarket. Only the doors looked like they were smashed, the windows also boarded up.

Taking a seat next your bag, you pull out your notebook and mark off your journey from today. The sleepiness seeps through you as you’ve finally stopped moving, reaching to unclip your sleeping bag and roll it out on the roof top.

As you lie down, looking up at the stars, you think about how much you’d kill for a massage right now.

When you wake, it’s dark. There’s etchings of light creeping up on the horizon, which makes you confident that it’s morning. There’s little to no moaning out on the street below, and a look confirms that most of the walkers from yesterday have wandered away somewhere else.

You make quick work of rolling your sleeping bag back up, clipping it into place before gathering your bag and slinging it over your shoulders, along with your rifle. There’s a renewed sense of energy around you as you slide down the ladder, pushing open the bin yard gate and walking down the side of the building to join back into the Main Street.

Most of the buildings along the way to the supermarket hold little to no value to you. They’re full of little trinkets or other items that are practically useless nowadays. The supermarket is littered with walkers, of which all crowd through the smashed doors when you tap the glass. They fall over each other, making it easier for you to pick them off.

Once you’re inside, you’re not so surprised to see almost everything is gone. There’s a putrid smell, and you’re not sure if it’s the brown mush of the refrigerated products left or the pile of corpses in the corner, burned to a crisp. The black soot travels up the wall and onto the ceiling, the tiles crumbling and hanging towards the floor.

There’s a few tinned goods left dotted around, and it makes you wonder if people had been picky when scavenging. It wasn’t really a luxury to pick and choose what you are nowadays, as you shove as many tins into your bag as possible.

Once you’re satisfied, you make a circle round the store, making sure there’s nothing you might have missed. You’re sad to not be able to fit everything into your bag, but the weight, ten times heavier than the previous day, makes you grateful.

It’s raining when you clamber over the walker bodies at the front of the store. You almost do a double take when you see someone stood at the window of the store, greying to look in through the cracks on the boards.

Your hand reaches for your gun, pulling it out of your waistband. The person turns and almost immediately you scoff. It’s the guy from yesterday, albeit a lot cleaner than you had last seen him. He grins when he sees you, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Anything good?” He asks, causally, like you’ve known each other for decades. You roll your eyes, turning away and walking in the other direction. You actually needed to go the way that he was stood, but you simply just didn’t want to pass him.

You can hear his footsteps on the cracked pavement as he jogs to catch up to you.

“Look- hey, I think it’d be good for us to stick together.” His statement makes you turn, throwing him a look that you’re confident could kill.

He raises his hands in defence. “I’m serious. You’re obviously going somewhere important and I’d like to come too.”

“Like I told you yesterday, I’m good. Stop following me.” You brush past him, not walking in the right direction. The sun is now fully on the horizon, casting the town in a soft orange glow.

“Whoa. Firstly, I’m not following you. We just happen to be going in the same direction. Secondly, it’s not safe for you to be alone,” you fight the urge to roll your eyes as you cut down a side street, hoping to find the highway close by quick enough so you could make a straight beeline for the Kentucky border. You’d make it today, if you weren’t being pestered so much.

“I’ve managed perfectly fine on my own, thank you.” His hand wraps around your wrist to stop you from loving and immediately you slam the handle on your gun onto his fingers, causing him to yelp out and let go.

“Okay, there was no need to be like that.” His yelp alerts the attention of some walkers nearby, a fairly sized crown which begins stumbling towards you.

“Great,” you mumble, shoving your gun back in your waistband in favour of your knife. One zombie comes close enough to allow you to shove your knife deep into its eye socket, falling limp and to the floor. The other four come all at once, causing you to stumble backwards as one grasps at your raised hand. You manage to stab it but don’t have time to reel back for the other three- until the persistent guy lurches forward, using his own knife to swipe at two of them. The final one swerves around for you but falls to the floor, giving you the opportunity to bring your boot down onto its head.

You breath out heavily, turning to look at the guy. “Groups bring unwanted attention. I’m good on my own.” You begin walking away again, sheathing your knife back into your holder. You can hear him jogging to catch up again and you sigh.

“Cmon. I’ll do anything. I’m just trying to get home to my family.” The comment makes you stop for a second, the memories flashing through your brain briefly before you push them away.

“And I wish you the best of luck with that. I can’t help you.” It’s his turn to sigh now, and despite your best efforts to speed up, he manages to keep your pace.

“I’m not asking for help. I’m asking for companionship. Once I’m where I need to be, I’ll be out of your hair.” You falter, considering. It would be nice to not have to watch your own back all the time.

“And where do you need to be?” You ask, wiping your brow.

He cocks a grin, which you notice out of your peripheral. He must be thinking he’s got you hook line and sinker right now.

“North Carolina. It’s where my family will be.” You turn toward a field behind a house, the highway situated at the other side. Either way, you’d both be going the same way.

Except he had a family to go to. That, he seemed so sure of. He was hopeful. Hopeful he still had his family, that they were alive. You’d left yours a while ago, not that you’d say anything about that. To anyone. The thought of it gives you a headache and you reach for your water bottle, taking a tiny sip. Water was sacred now.

When you reach the fence he offers his hand to help you over but you shake your head, climbing over yourself and dropping down into the soft grass. You pan your eyes up to his face. He’s still got that soft grin plastered over his features, watching you as you readjust your rifle strap and bag. His hair is no longer matted, soft bangs falling unkept over his face. You wonder where he’s found the time or resources to wash all the blood out of his hair.

You hated to say so, but thinking about him using walker blood to get through a hoard was resourceful. The way he took down those two walkers too. He wouldn’t be dead weight. And he’d be out of your hair in a months time.

“You’re gonna follow me even if i say no, aren’t you?” You ask, and he grins wider, nodding his head. You sigh, pulling out your notebook to check your map. Right on track.

You don’t say anything else, though, walking forward with a small nod of your head.

“Lord help me.” You mumble, wading through the grass to the highway.

Something a little different for the Rafe AU scene. Let me know if you’re enjoying and want me to continue cos I’ve got some ideas🕺

[blerp-22]

Apocalypse! Yuu-

Zombie apocalypse happens then yuu is sent to twst. Is very flinchy, traumatized, and cautious. I like to think they're from the beginning stages of the apocalypse before they're sent to twst. So they aren't as hostile and distant from people because they haven't really seen the horrors other people are capable of. Do you think they would get really attached to Crowley cuz he gave them a roof over their head and a (relatively) safe place to stay. Despite the unintentional trouble they cause. I know for a FACT that grim is their emotional support monster. He doesn't have a choice. Or if they are from later in the apocalypse timeline they would be pretty jaded, hostile, and always waiting for the other shoe to drop. Grim would still be by their side 24/7 not only for emotional support but since they don't really have way to protect themselves they default to grim. I think that unlike begining stage yuu, this yuu is very handy when it comes to repairing clothes and building in general. How do you think they would deal with ace the night he gets hit with riddles UM?

How does everyone react to this dirty little food hoarding, obviously traumatized gremlin? What about world building wise, is this apocalypse au set in the idea that everyone is infected. Or do you have to get bitten or zombie flesh or fluid get on your wounds to actually turn? Do we know how that everyone is infected? Do we accedentaly infect others? Do we spread the virus? Or does it not spread because of some magic imbued immune system of Twst denizens?

[delicatebarness]

ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ғᴀʟʟs ᴅᴏᴡɴ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: In the middle of the night, your world is shattered. Chaos erupts around you and you're forced to leave your home as the terrifying reality of the apocalypse unfolds.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Apocalyptic Themes. Violence and Gore. Death. Panic and Anxiety.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 968

sᴘᴏᴛɪғʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴋᴏ-ғɪ

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

ᴀ/ɴ: Another one for Prologue Season, remember to let me know what you think if you want the story to continue, by the way, it is eventually Bucky Barnes x Reader. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

ᴀᴛᴡғᴅ: Let me know if you would like to be tagged for possible future chapters.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

Tangled in the warmth of his arms, the blanket wrapped you in the quiet safety of the night. It was almost surreal how peaceful the night felt, the distant hum of the city outside, the steady rise and fall of his chest under your head. No urgency, no fear– just the comfort of each other. 

Then suddenly, sirens split through the silence, jarring you from your haze. Flashing light of red and blue outside the window, bathing the room in an eerie, pulsating glow. Sitting up, you clutched the blanket close to your chest, as your heart hammered against it. Looking over at him, you watched the color drain from his face. He knows. 

Dread opens a pit in your stomach, dropping further as you witness something unspoken in how he moved. In that instant, he jumped out of bed, yanking open drawers and tossing clothes into a duffel bag. His frantic energy only intensified your fear. Your mind reeled at the dull sound of metal scraped as he retrieved something from his nightstand: a blank and ominous gun. 

Finally, you found your voice, it trembled barely a whisper when you managed to find the words. “What’s happening?” You questioned desperately, a fragile hope that this was just another nightmare, and any moment now, you’d wake up. But deep down, as you looked into his eyes, wide and wild, you already knew this was reality. 

“Get up,” he urged, voice straining as he shoved the bag into your hands. “We’ve got to go. Now.” 

Clutching the duffel bag, you froze, your body refusing to move. Through the window, shadows lurched through the street, and alarms wailed and mingled with distant screams. Chaos erupted as streetlights flickered, covering the scene in a sickly, unnatural glow. You couldn’t reconcile the sense of it.

He gripped your shoulders, desperately shaking you out of your temporary paralysis. “Listen to me,” he said, his voice gruff but urgent, “ you have to move. Right now.” 

He pulled a jacket over your shoulders, it was thick and worn but, it smelt like him, the home you were about to leave behind. Barely registering his rapid instructions, as he continued to talk, your mind struggled to play catch up. 

“We need to head north. We’ll find a car and stick to the highways. Don’t stop, don’t–” he paused with a crack in his voice, just for a second, but long enough to make your breath catch. There was a fear in his eyes, fear you had never seen before.

Your throat was dry, and your words were stuck, catching on the forming lump. But, you managed to choke them out, even though you weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer. “W- What about everyone else? Our families and our friends are here– what’s happening to them?” 

There was no plan for them, the hesitation in his eyes was enough of an answer: no rescue was coming. Only this, a frantic scramble to survive, thrown at you without warning.

Stumbling to your feet, the duffel bag slammed against your legs as you tried to pull the jacket around you with numb fingers. It felt like you were watching this happen to someone else, maybe a character in a horror movie you never auditioned for. 

Already at the door, the gun gripped tightly in one of his hands as he peeks through the peephole. Each jagged piece of time cut deeper than the last as seconds stretched on. Fear twisted itself into something cold and sharp as the pounding in your chest drowned out everything else. 

When he finally opened the door, the sound hit you like a physical blow– The screaming, gunshots, and guttural groans from the dead. Nothing made sense, and there was no time to make it. Dragging you down the hallway, his grip tightened as you ran toward the chaos. 

“Go!” he yelled, shoving you forward as you made your way out of the apartment building and onto the street with a stumble. The night's air was thick with acrid smoke, the scent of burning mingling with the stench of decay, of death. 

Your eyes darted from one horror to the next, the twisted bodies that used to be people, shattered windows, and overturned cars. People were running, screaming, and falling. The world was falling down around you, and there you were, trapped in the middle of it, nothing more than a bystander to the end. 

Fingers digging into your skin, he pulled you toward the edge of the street. “Just run!” he shouted, but his voice was barely audible over the discord of the apocalypse unfolding around you.

Another stumble, you turned back to look at him. You didn’t understand, he wasn’t following. His gaze met yours, eyes wide, filled with fear and something else, something dark. You didn’t want to understand, but then, you saw it. His hand clutching his side, fingers staining crimson. Seeping through his shirt, the blook spread like inkblots. That was when you saw it— the ragged and deep bite, his flesh torn where the teeth had sunk in. 

“Go!” he shouted again, but his voice had grown weaker then, and he trembled with the effort to stay on his feet. His strength ebbed away with every drop of blood that soaked his clothes, what little color was left in his face, now draining with it. You knew what that meant, what he was trying to tell you without words. He wasn’t coming with you.

Your world collapsed in on itself at that moment. Driven by his last desperate command, your body moved instinctively and ran. The duffel bag slammed against your back, tears blurring your vision. As you sprinted into the unknown, his scream was swallowed by the night as the dead closed in on him.

---

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

[espinosaurusrexex]

Acid Fog

Wolds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: You take the chance to bond with a new friend when the acid fog rolls in, inevitably trapping you with Bucky for several hours. Bucky has to learn the hard way, that he won't get rid of you that easily.

a/n: I'm not dead. I just have so much to do. But you best believe, once I finally finished my papers, I will work on all the stories that are already outlined in my drafts 💚 please bear with me until then...

not prooread - will do so soon

word count: 2.6k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death, dystopia, deadly fog, reader is lonely, Bucky is lonely - they're gonna be lonely together, worried CatDad!Bucky, strangers to friends (for now)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 13th 2039

Hey, Book.

I’ve decided that Bucky needs a friend, so I’m going to visit him today.

Finding the handsome not-so-anymore stranger was a challenge. But you loved challenges. It mixed up the day, made things less boring, and was a nice way to spend your time.

You had planned things perfectly. You had enough time until the next acid fog would roll through, grabbed one of the canned soups that were rarely found anymore - but you’d gladly sacrifice them for a new friend, and you had a backpack ready with some essentials in case you wouldn’t make it home in time. 

You first headed in the direction Bucky took off to the other day after falling into your trap. There wasn’t much to “detour around” where you lived and chances of him being fairly close - considering being too far from shelter was a certain death sentence - gave you confidence with that approach. 

You walked for about two hours until the tree line faded into blotchy scatters of green. There was a house - or rather ruins of one - sitting by the edge of the forest. You frowned. Bucky wasn’t stupid. At least he didn’t seem that way. He would never hide above ground. Every decent survivor that had lived up to this point knew ‘low was the go’. The chances of being killed were cut to 20% when you lived secluded and underground - the beach was good too apparently, but you were too far to see for yourself. 

Your eyes swayed to the ground. You had a feeling Bucky was here, you just needed to find out where exactly. So you approached the ruins and stepped through what was left of the doorway. Dust and dirt covered the surfaces, ripped cushioned sofas, and scratched hardwood floors. There wasn’t much left to use here. The place was looted and brittle with holes in the ceilings and missing steps. You wondered how you ever recognized it as a house in the first place - because, really, this was anything but. The bones barely held up the remains and made it seem like an oversized version of a carport. 

It wasn’t long until you had scouted the place and reached the other end of it. Now you were standing on the porch and looking out onto a wild yard that reached into the forest again. You walked down and towards it, searching the area and still feeling as though Bucky was close. He couldn’t have lived any further - it would have been crazy. 

The leaves rustled beneath your feet as you skipped vines and roots peaking from beneath. Your eyes swept the area until they landed on an odd-looking lot of ground. As if the branches were forcefully pulled to cover up a buried something, the vines stretched over a green-grayish ledge. 

Immediately you headed for it. This has got to be it, you thought until you reached an opening into the ground that revealed a heavy-looking bunker door. 

Heck yeah. You knew he wasn’t that stupid - even though he did fall into your trap...

As soon as you opened it and entered, it felt as though you had stepped several decades back. The whole interior seemed to be dipped in sepia. Old furniture crammed into odd places and neatly kept surfaces without dust made it look like an old photograph. 

You walked further, let your hand wander over the spines of the books aligned atop a lonely shelf on the wall. They were Cyril, you guessed, as you watched the golden letters shine when you passed them. Beneath the books and next to a booger green armchair was a record player, aligned with old records of people with excessively gelled hairstyles and tailored suits - ancient. 

But Bucky was nowhere to be found. 

A heavy sigh escaped you as your backpack landed on the ground and you went about scouting the bunker some more. The space wasn’t too big, and Bucky seemed to have accumulated a bunch of treasures there for some time now, so you had plenty of things to discover. Eventually, though, you just fell back into the ugly armchair and tried to start up the record player. 

Bucky’s music wasn’t particularly your go-to, but you wouldn’t complain in a world where music was as rare as a working outlet. After a while, you could even understand why Bucky resided here. It was kind of comforting - homey. Something not many people could call their own in this world.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You shot up, knocking over a couple books and earning a dark glare from the man in the doorway - Bucky. 

You hadn’t even heard him come in. “I... I just wanted to see you,” you explained with an excited smile on your face. "I brought soup!" Your hands pointed towards your backpack.

“You- you broke in!” His boots stomped over to you just as you turned to pick up the pile of paperbacks. 

“Well, it’s not so much breaking in when we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends.” Bucky reached forward and snatched the items from your grasp. He was slightly sweaty, grime covering his forehead, and settled in the harsh frown lines you could only see because he was so close. 

“Yes, we are! You fall into my trap, you are my friend.” You ticked off the points with your fingers just as Bucky threw his hands in the air. 

“You can’t just make up these ridiculous rules.” 

“Or can I?”

“No. We can’t be friends. I don’t even know your name.”

He did have a point there. For a moment you watched as he neatly stacked the Russian books back in their place and then told him your name. 

“What?” He grumbled. 

And you just reiterated the words that you hadn’t said in forever. 

He turned back to you with a poker face. “I don’t like it,” Bucky said so monotonely, it almost seemed like he wanted to tease you. 

“Excuse me?” You weren’t offended, it was hard to make friends nowadays - there was nothing unusual about a person being hesitant at first. 

“It doesn’t fit you. You should be called trouble.“ He still had that dead look on his face and you were starting to think he just didn't know anything else. You wouldn't blame him - seriously.

“See! We are friends you know me!” You chuckled but Bucky just shook his head. 

“I don’t know you,” he whispered with slumped shoulders as he lowered his bag close to yours. Then he took off his hat and ran a hand through his shoulder-long hair. 

Man, he was kind of cute. But that was probably just the loneliness talking, so you shook out of it. 

You opened your arms and sunk back into the chair. “Well lucky for you we have a bunch of time to get to know each other now.”

And Bucky’s eyes widened. “What why?”

“The acid fog is rolling in early this evening.” You looked past him and out the entrance, where a deep gray sky covered most of the view. “I thought you knew... and that’s why you’re so, well, tense.”

“What, no I was just outside it’s-” The brunette turned and you could see his shoulders stiffen when he realized you were right. “Shit.” It was a low mumble that was followed by another nervous swipe through his hair. 

For a man who seemed to be cool, calm, and collected so far, his feet were doing an awful lot of pacing right now. 

“Are you okay?” You were careful to ask. Something was wrong and you didn’t want to risk him exploding. You didn’t know how he would react and a small sadness washed over your chest when you realized that maybe you weren’t as good of friends as you wanted to be. 

“Shut up.” Yup, definitely not the talking type then. 

“Can I help you or is ther-“ You were interrupted by a soft meow sounding over the rumbling of the clouds. 

“Fuck, finally.” Bucky exhaled and knelt down, just to reveal a white fluffy cat tangling in his touch. 

“Uh...There's a cat in your bunker,” you pointed out and Bucky picked his stiffness back up ever so slightly. 

“Her name is Alpine. Touch her and you’re dead.” 

So this was what had this big, broody man’s panties in a twist. He was worried for his pet. That was super adorable, you had to admit. And it charmed you just that much more when you saw the way he cuddled her into his chest before setting her back on the ground. 

“I- Oh.”

As soon as he’d said it, Alpine had sauntered her way to you and rubbed her fluffy white face on your shin. You were just frozen in place - unsure what to do. You wanted to pet her so badly, but who knew what Bucky would do if you so much as moved now. 

“The cat has chosen. Don’t blame me.” You threw your hands in the air when Alpine started to purr and jumped only our lab. Now that she was so close to your face, you noticed that one of her eyes was missing, a darker patch of fur replacing the spot where it should have been, but it just made her that much more charming. 

Bucky glared at you for a good second and then moved to close the bunker in order to keep the deadly air out. And you took the opportunity to finally pet his cat. 

It had only been 20 minutes and Bucky was already regretting his decision not to send you out into the fog. 

First, you had broken into his home. Then you had declared you as friends, to which - for the record - he never agreed to. And then you had stolen Alpine’s attention. That was just the cherry on top of your pile of audacity. 

And though he had been told that he wasn’t a pleasant contemporary, he wouldn’t send people straight to their deaths like that. He was a grump, but he wasn’t cruel. So he settled on quietly sitting in a corner and hoping that you’d eventually grow tired of snooping through his belongings. 

But he still held a grudge. Because he hadn’t planned to spend so much time with anyone, really - except for Alpine, of course - and now he was stuck with you for at least three hours. You had basically forced yourself into his life with that agitating sunshine demeanor of yours and the annoying optimism in every single thing you did. 

You had to be broken, somehow. Nobody could be this happy at the end of the world. Because that’s what this was. The end. The time you had to wait out until you escaped the hell this world had become just to spend an eternity in the actual one. 

Yeah, Bucky believed in heaven and hell. Somebody had to be responsible for idiots like Hydra and he was sure there was an extra special lava pit reserved just for the god complex fogged imbeciles that were responsible for it all going to shit once and for all. 

Bucky huffed at your occasional ‘woahs’ and ‘oohs’ and shrugged off his jacket while you went through more of his things. There was nothing he could do anyway. Tying you up and gagging you until it was over would be incredibly awkward for both of you. So, as long as you didn’t break anything or talk to him, he deemed you safe. 

“Woahhh, that is so cool! Where’d you get that?” You suddenly said, and when he turned, Bucky saw you pointing at his metal arm. 

He looked down, turned it in the yellow gleam of the bunker lamp, and then focused on your face again. People had seen a lot these days, though none of them ever asked him about it. They either stayed silent or avoided him altogether - the latter of which he preferred. He didn't like talking about it. It wasn’t anything he was proud of for that matter.

“Nonya,” he grumbled and sat back in the chair he chose to reside in for the rest of the day. 

“What’s Nonya?” Your head cocked to the side and Bucky couldn’t help but crack a small smirk.

“Non ya business.”

And finally, you shut up. He exhaled, closed his eyes, and smiled complacently. However the silence didn’t last long. 

“Okay that was a good one but really, where did you get that arm - it’s amazing.”

“It’s not amazing and I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Now do me a favor and shut up before I set you outside”

“You wouldn’t dare. After all, I was the one that helped you out of that trap.”

Buck had already established that he wouldn’t. But the thought seemed ever so intriguing right this second. 

“That you built,” he deadpanned. “I’m done talking to you. Just be quiet for the next hour, so we both have a chance at surviving this thing.” Before I murder you or myself.  That last part only echoed in his mind before he grabbed a book and hoped deeply that you’d comply. 

You huffed and slumped in the chair next to him. Bucky only dared to glance at you once. Then he began reading, enjoying the silence you finally granted him. 

You watched Bucky read his book. Fascinated by the shapes on the page that didn't look like letters to you, you leaned over to him. Bucky was skimming the pages swiftly, turning pages before you could even look at all the lines and then starting all over again. 

When you leaned in a little too closely, he scooted back and hid the page from you with a glare. So, you stood up and sauntered over to the shelf again, tracing the printed covers with your finger. 

“They’re all in Russian,” you pointed out after you had grazed the last spine. Most of the books were bound in brown, grey, or red. 

“So?” He just shrugged, not even bothering to look at you.

“Do you know Russian?”

“The guy that lived here first was Russian.” He shut the book finally, tracing the cover with his own fingers. “So, I taught myself.”

“You know, I can get you some normal books. I can’t imagine there’s anything interesting in there.” You stared at the Russian flag on most of the books. They looked like government-issued prints. Nothing like a fun novel or romance book.

“I don’t mind them, really...” Bucky set the book down and stood next to you. Then he scratched his stubble with his flesh hand. “Though, they all have a communistic touch.”

“See!” You pointed at him. “What do you like to read? I’ve got it all. Romance, fantasy, sci-fi.”

“No sci-fi please.” Bucky rolled his eyes and you could only imagine why. You’d had enough of it in the real world, so the sci-fi book you had once acquired during one of your town walks hat sat in the corner of your little home untouched.

“So, you’re not opposed to romance?” Your eyebrows raised suggestively only for Bucky to glare at you again.

Bucky huffed and sat back down. “Forget it. I'll read my Russian books.”

You chuckled and threw your hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Fantasy it is.” And then you settled in next to him staring at the ceiling with a small smile and a giddy feeling in your chest. 

“See..,” you whispered, “I knew we would get along eventually.”

**Bonus

“Buckstar… Starbucks… Buck-”

“What are you doing?”

“I think it's only fair that if you give me a nickname, I can have one for you, too. How does Bucky-Buck sound?”

“No”

“Buckaroo.”

“Do I need to throw you out? Cause I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I thought I already had.”

"Good point… get out.”

“I can’t, the Fogg’s about to come!”

“Well, then I suggest you hurry your ass up, so it can’t kill you before I do.”

„I know you might not try to be, but you are very funny.“

*huffs in frustration*

Hey, Book,

Bucky's not that lonely anymore.

more…

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[dietcokeangel2004]

Michael Langdon x reader

I know (I know) you belong to somebody new, but tonight you belong to me.

Although (although) we're apart, you're a part of my heart and tonight you belong to me

~ Tonight you belong to me by Patience & Prudence

[itllbeoneofthese]

If you guys have been wanting a: post apocalypse zombie au with a large amount of world building, angsty they/them reader, Ghoap x reader, slow burn… yall should read the fic im working on.

[writeshite]

Getting a shooting lesson from Rick Grimes and Shane Walsh and taking the opportunity to just absolutely devour all that eye candy 👀

"You're supposed to be learning," Rick mutters by your ear, and you chuckle, "I'm serious, you better get these lessons down."

"Or what? You'll spank me?"

"If you're a good boy," Shane mutters from the other side of you, having snuck up on you easily; his hand goes to your lower back, tugging at a belt loop as his thumb grazes the top of your ass. You fumble with the gun, and Rick settles his arm around your shoulders, steadying your hold. Shane laughs, hand pushing further down, before Rick smacks him away.

"We came here to teach him, not fuck him," Rick reminds him, and Shane rolls his eyes.

"You heard him sweetheart, start shooting."

[starlightdelrey]

quick q !!!

if i were to write an apocalyptic au w the f1 grid + some partners, would u guys want it to be reader insert??

if so, do u want it to be reader paired with someone on the grid

hypothetically hehe

[thelastidiot29]

A Couple a' Blockheads

Katsuki Bakugou

Zombie Apocalypse AU

TW!! Slight singular use of the word "cripple." Might be offensive to some.

☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠◉☠

Fire ran through his biceps, climbed down to his wrists as he pulled, further, until he was high enough to grab the wood of the chipping fence. He climbed, grimacing at the moans and grumbles of the beasts below him. They roared and jeered. Their reaping stentch enough to make a stable cow gag. Even so, he hauled himself over the fence and his spine hit the balcony. He was left a gasping mess.

"Fuck!" Katsuki blew.

A breath later, or maybe two, and he was sprawling on his side, grabbing the nearest wall and climbing to his feet. He limped closer to it on his bleeding leg, grunting and seething.

Katsuki couldn't help but snort. How the hell did he get here? Pressed against a wall, bleeding, with a hoard of no-brained, undead lurking below, waiting to claw his guts out and feast. Like hell that was happening.

Gripping the wall and feeling the roughness of the rocks that bricked the building run across his palm, he limped over to the nearest window. Then, without a second of thinking, he slammed his elbow against the pane and watched it shatter. He swung an arm around to his back and returned with a handgun and aimed the small sized pistol around the room before declaring it safe to climb through.

Avoiding glass shards, he grabbed the end of the window and pulled himself inside. He gave a second to scan the small little bedroom then bolted to loot the place. Well, as fast as he could on an injured leg. He rummaged through dressers, desks, and wardrobes. All empty. He ducked under the bed and saw nothing.

Not nothing.

The small outline of something, hidden in the darkness. He kneeled and hissed at the ass kicking his injury provided. Katsuki fell on his chest, pressing his face against the floor and stretching his arm far beneath the mattress. It was a box, he could tell when he knocked it further back with the tip of his finger.

Katsuki groaned, "Come on.."

He flexed his shoulder, his hand, his forearm, stretched as far as he could and gasped when he felt the curvature of a small plastic handle.

"Oh, hell yeah." He grinned, pulling the box towards him, moving to pull it into his lap. Holding the grin, he pulled off the lid. Then, his grin fell. The cold barrel of a gun pressed against his skull, and a few short uneven breaths came from the person behind him.

The person cocked the gun, it clicked. A soft, yet stern voice of a woman said, "Put it back."

Katsuki didn't. "Go to hell."

"I will shoot."

"Oh yeah?"

His head was pushed forward with the gun and he grunted. With a sigh, Katsuki dropped the box, used his good foot to kick it back under the bed, and raise his hands above his head.

"Can you stop waving that thing around now?" He snarked, but was mentally running through his options. He decided the only one that would end with him alive was doing what they said. So he held his hands there, and didn't press back against the pistol's barrel.

"Who are you? Why- why are you here?"

"Put the damn gun down!"

"I want a name."

Katsuki blew a breath. "Bakugou. Happy?"

"A full name."

He blew another, through gritted teeth. "Katsuki Bakugou, want a middle name too?"

The girl pulled the gun back, only a little, "Why are you here?"

"Why the hell else?!" Katsuki snapped, his patience running thin, "I got chased by a bunch a' Blockheads. I saw a house. I went inside the house. Are you stupid?"

"Blockheads?"

"So that's a yes? Great. A trigger happy fool. The dead people! The hell do you call them?! The-"

"The dead."

Katsuki pressed his lips closed. And after a second that dragged on for ten, the gun left his head, and the girl stepped away from him. He grabbed the bed, used it to climb up and stand, cursing and seething every chance he got. Slowly, cautiously, he wheeled around to face his perpetrator, and found the pastel green eyes of a girl who looked nothing like what he expected to find.

Her face was soft, clear of scars or cuts, clean. Her eyes were green and bright, full of something. Something he thought was lost a while ago;

Humanity.

He knitted his brows together, finding a second to scan over her. Her small frame, the pink strands of hair that bled through the mass of brown.

She looked down, her eyes going wide. She gasped and jumped away from him, tugging the bag at her flank backwards when it swung. Before Katsuki could blink, the gun was pointed at him again.

"The hell?!–"

"You're bitten?!"

Katsuki looked down at himself. He expected to find just that. The bite of one of those heinous blockheads, the thought managing to spark the smallest amount of fear through his chest. But, all he found was the injury on his legs, the bloody mess now poking out from his pants leg. Damn, he really needed to cover that.

He looked back up, hiding the relief that spread over his face. "No. I was caught in a bear trap."

"A bear trap?! You can't expect me to believe that, you're standing right now!

He snarled, "Trust me, hurts like hell."

"Prove it!" She stepped backwards, stumbling over the leg of the nightstand. Her eyes were wide, and she trained the gun on him, steadily.

He raised his hands back over his head. He was frankly tired of her, and debated taking his gun out and shooting her in the shoulder. He didn't. Instead, he sighed, snarled, and calmly said, "If I was bitten then I'd have a fever. I'd have a fever and dizzy spells."

Her face softened only a bit, and only for a moment.

"I'm standing perfectly fine, ain't I? But, unfortunately you aren't coming near me to check my temperature."

"So, you expect me to trust you?"

He ignored her, "You're holding the gun wrong."

"What?! I know how to hold a gun!"

"Then unlock your elbows." Katsuki snarled.

Her eyes shifted down to her own arms, and with a deep breath, she loosened her elbows.

"Great. Now put it down." Katsuki nodded to the bed.

She looked at it, then back at him. "You don't get to bark orders. If you couldn't tell, I'm holding the gun at you."

"You're shaking, and tense." He snarked back, his eyes almost daring her to prove him wrong. Daring, with utmost confidence. "You aren't gonna shoot me."

"I could."

"You won't."

"I could. That should be enough for you to stop talking."

"Save us both some time, dumbass." Katsuki dropped his hands, and growled at the sudden pain shooting through his leg. He waved her off and sat on the bed, ignoring the gun aimed at his head. "Drop it."

He paid her no mind, grabbing a fist full of the end of his pants and pulling it on the bed. The loose blue jeans were repainted to brown and red, mixture of dirt and the blood spilling from his leg. He sucked his teeth, pressed a hand around the injury and stopped himself from biting his tongue.

"You have to clean that before–"

A crash, loud and obnoxious, a roaring crash came from the door and was followed by groans.

Katsuki whipped his head around to the threshold. The door was forced open with the mangled face of a monster and it made him stiffen and reach for the gun stuffed in his pants against his back. The moment his hand wrapped around the pistol, the firing sound of lead sliced through the air and it didn't come from his gun. The Blockhead fell against the wall, and slid to the floor without a sound.

The girl held the gun out, aimed in front of her when Katsuki turned back to her. Her chest was heaving, and it took a moment before she was pushing the gun into her belt.

She scoffed, "See? I know how to use a gun."

"How the hell did that get in here?!" Katsuki demanded, now glaring, glaring daggers full of accusations.

She must've done something wrong, left a door unlocked, didn't barricade the windows on the bottom floor. Wasn't this where she was staying? How could she be that careless?

"I don't know." She said, and she was a little too calm and Katsuki was inclined to start throwing things. She kneeled down, reached under the bed. "This isn't my place."

"The hell it isn't!"

She re-emerged, the unlidded box in hand, "I came here for loot."

"I came here for loot, and you pulled a goddamn gun on me!"

"You were gonna steal my loot."

"Well that's a load of–"

She looked up, those green eyes were soft. She looked sorry, apologetic. It almost pissed him off more, "Catch."

She tossed a small bottle, and Katsuki caught it in his hand. In printed text it read an unfamiliar name and; Oxycodone. Yeah. Now he was pissed.

"There's medicine in there?!" Katsuki tried to jump up, and the moment he tried he yelled out in overwhelming pain. "Oh you son of a-!"

"Sorry." She said, and it sounded sincere. "You've survived this long at the end of the world, so you have to be smart enough to take care of yourself. There is ammunition downstairs if you're low, I didn't get to grab it. Maybe we'll meet again."

"Yeah, in hell. I will put a bullet in your head, come back here!" He pulled himself off the bed with his gun, red with hot, hot rage. He limped closer to her as she moved further to the window.

She put a leg through, "Goodbye, Katsuki Bakugou."

She cradled the box closer to her chest and ducked through the shattered window.

Katsuki kept moving on his burning leg, kept moving until he could grab the wall for support. "You can't leave without splitting those supplies. Your bullet is going to bring every Blockhead for three miles to this house."

"I need this stuff more than you."

"You are perfectly fine!"

"Well, someone I love isn't."

Katsuki turned his head back. More groans echoed outside the door. More, lots. He could hardly stand, and he only had nine bullets left. Katsuki straightened his back against the wall, aimed his gun at the door and waited for the first face to appear.

It did, he shot is, straight through the eye. It collapsed on the ground and he waited for the next, "Give me the medicine, or I swear to God–"

"Come on."

He faltered, "What?"

"You aren't gonna live if you stay here. You shouldn't be worrying about the medicine."

"How touching. Three seconds ago you were prepared to leave my ass!"

"Come on."

"I don't need your help!" Katsuki shouted, firing his gun at the next sonofabitch, then the next. "I need what I came here for."

"Are you stupid?"

"The hell did you just say to me?!"

"Fine. Stay here and die then."

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder for a moment, and the girl shuffled away from the window. The box was now on the floor empty, and she pulled the strap of her bag over her head and started walking.

He looked back, firing one more bullet at one of the moaning Blockheads then shot for the window. He cursed himself, cursed and scolded himself for even thinking about accepting help.

He ducked through the shattered gap, "Wait! Fine, I'm coming."

Maybe she was gone, already fled the place. That's what he thought until he felt an arm grab his and haul him through the window. Katsuki grunted, pulled his injured leg through, seething when his wound hit the outline of the gap. Then, when both of his feet were on the ground, the girl hoisted his arm over her shoulder.

"I don't need your help." He said, but made no effort to pull away. Instead, he let himself put his weight on her. The pressure released from his leg and immediately the pain shrunk down to almost nothing. He drew in a deep breath, "I don't need your help, or pity."

"You know, most people say thank you." She replied and started pulling them both forwards.

Katsuki staggered on his feet, resisting the need to gasp every time he took a step. The monstrous groans and grumbles of the Blockheads below him managed to pump his heart a little faster than he would like.

"Okay, so what's your plan? We are on a balcony, seven feet above a sea of idiots." Katsuki said. Then, he glanced over the fence at the horde.

The girl was silent for a moment. He almost repeated the question, opened his mouth to snark out some sarcastic witless comment. But, then she drew a breath and he snapped his mouth shut.

"That's the complicated part. The plan is complicated now that I'm carrying a cripple."

He whipped a glare at her, surprised to find a playful grin staring back. Still he scoffed, loud, to make sure to catch her attention so she could linger on his next words. "You are hardly carrying me."

"If I moved right now, you'd collapse over that fence." She nodded towards the red wood lining of the fence. Then, she shrugged her shoulders, pulled Katsuki's arm a bit. "My plan was to just maneuver over rooftops. But, like I said, you complicate things."

"Let's do it."

"What?" She stopped at the end of the balcony.

Katsuki pulled away from her. He forced himself on both his feet, and immediately regretted it. A sharp sting shot up his leg and he had to chomp down on his tongue to prevent himself from yelling.

He stood, and ignored the fact that his legs were trembling, "I can make it."

"Hah… haha." The girl laughed sarcastically. "...No."

"I can. I've done more with worse." He deadpanned.

"You're insane."

"Maybe it's why I'm still alive."

"No, it's why you won't be alive in about ten minutes."

"Bite me." Katsuki snarled.

"I won't be the reason you're dead. You are bleeding! You- you can't be serious." Her mouth fell open a little.

Katsuki gritted his teeth. With determination, he took a step forward, then another. He grabbed the rail of the fence, pulled himself on top of it.

The girl's footsteps shuffled slowly behind him, "Oh my God, he's serious…"

Katsuki looked up at the roof shingles nearly in reach. He ignored the burning in his leg, ignored it like it didn't exist. He didn't attempt to put more weight on his other leg, he completely ignored it.

He gritted his teeth, "Give me a boost."

"Me? You are two times bigger than me, and my weight will be divided on the skinny surface of a fence."

"It will be easier for you to lift me up from down here than you pulling me from up top."

"How do I know you won't leave me?"

Katsuki looked down at the girl, "Because I need that medicine. More than just some painkillers."

"I never told you I'd give you any." She shuffled. Katsuki narrowed his eyes at the discomfort in her face, at the way a frown dug into her features. Her green eyes avoided his, "I told you, I need it more."

Katsuki scanned over her, spotting the strands of hair dyed in her bangs. "I won't leave you, Pinkstreak."

Her face twisted, but she climbed onto the balcony fence next to him. Katsuki moved over, and she evened her feet on the wooden plank. Their conversation turned to silence, the Brunette folding her fingers around each other, and Katsuki waited until she was ready and he lifted his good leg and stepped into her hand. All of his weight was left pushing into the torn skin of his wound and he resisted a reaction.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

He almost scoffed at the concern painted on her. With a roll of his shoulders, and a deep breath, he nodded. He felt her hand start to lift upwards, and that's when he stepped up against her tied palms. The shingles of the roof were inches from reach, and the moment he grabbed the roof the girl's hands pushed him up higher and made his climb easier. Katsuki grabbed at it. He positioned his elbows on the surface and pulled himself with his shoulders. Soon, he was able to swing one arm up, and then the other. Breathing heavily, with intense gasps, he fell back flat on the roof's surface and seethed at his pestering leg.

"Are you alright?"

Katsuki combed his hand through the tangled blonde on his head. His chest heaving, his heart racing, and he realized the chills spreading down his arms and the exhaustion blowing on his neck. He probably was running a fever by now Shit.

He rolled himself over, gathered himself back on two knees. "I'm fine."

When Katsuki peered over the roof's ledge he saw the girl, her feet planted on the fence, and her eyes staring up. Then, her eyes met his, and he could swear he saw a look of relief pass over her face.

She pulled the satchel bag closer to her hip, "Alright, then help me up."

With an eye roll and a snort, he leaned down and stretched out his hand, "Come on up, Pinkstreak."

"My name is Amai." She spoke softly, he almost didn't hear her. "Amai Tsuyuki."

"I think I'll stick with Pinkstreak."

I know you kids prefer the x readers. You load of simps. But, Amai has been an OC close to my heart for years now and I'd like the opportunity to share her. So yes, I am telling you that thus is an x Oc story at the end, with the hope that you gave it a chance first.

I plan on making a part two if people like this, and definitely some CU content with her. She's a darling, you'll love her. I swear.

[little-lily-w]

Breaking Purity II, ch. 22

Words: 2.5 k

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence

You can read it here: Ch. 22: Mecum omnes plangite

[newtthetranswriter]

Who I write for

requests open

(anything that looks like This I will not be accepting right now)

Jujutsu Kaisen (anime and manga)

Gojo

Yuta

Toge

Yuji

Maki

Choso

Nanami

My Hero Academia (anime and manga and movies)

Hawks

Fatgum

Denki

Tokoyami

Dabi

Bakugo

Amajiki

Kirishima

Mina

Shoto

Rody Soul

Giulio Gandini

Tokyo Revengers (anime and manga)

Chifuyu

Mikey

Draken

Mitsuya

Baji

Kokonoi

Akkun

Yamagishi

Yamamoto

Inupi

Kazutora

Haikyuu (anime and manga)

Sugawara

Daichi

Kurro

Kenma

Oikawa

Bokuto

Akashi

Osumu

Atsumu

Demon Slayer (anime and manga)

Kyojiro

Muichiro

Inosuke

Tanjiro

Haganezuka

Mitsuri

Shinobu

Giyuu

Fairy Tail

Gray

Natsu

Sting

Rouge

Gajeel

Freed

Bickslow

Loke/ Leo

Hibiki

Eve

Mest

Laxus

Honestly probably anyone from Fairy Tail

Black Clover (anime and manga)

Finral

Fuegoleon

Nozel

Magna

Luck

Zora

Rill

Nacht

Klaus

Vanessa

Fullmetal alchemist brotherhood

Edward

Alphonse

Hawkeye

Roy mustang

The Legend Of Zelda (Breath of the wild and Tears of The Kingdom)

Link

Final fantasy 7 Remake and Crisis core reunion

Cloud

Zack

Avatar The Last Air Bender and the legend of Korra

Sokka

Zuko

Mako

Bolin

The dragon prince

Soren

Callum

Ibis

Amya

Buddy Daddies

Kazuki

Rei

Blue exorcist

Shima

Yukio

Rin

Bon

How to train your dragon

Hiccup

Fire force (anime only)

Captain Obi

Vulcan

Viktor

Shinmon Benimaru

Seven Deadly Sins / Four Knights of the Apocalypse (anime and manga for both)

Meliodas

Ban

King

Gloxinia

Gilthunder

Gowther

Arthur

Howzer

Lancelot

Tristan

Nasiens

Donny

Palia

Reth

Jel

Nai'o

Hassian

Lord Of The Rings / The Hobbit / The Rings Of Power

Legolas

Kili

Fili

Thorin

Elrond (only RoP)

will consider others based on request

More to come as I get new hyper fixations.

[robinette-green]

I just went to wind my grandmother clock and the words I said to it gave me caused inspiration to slam into me and now I’m working on a new fic…

Maybe one day I’ll actually finish a fic one day.

[of-many-aus]

Chapter 1

You and Bucky stumbled across some people in the middle of the woods that offered you sanctuary. It’s safe to say that the two of you are hesitant

Warnings: mentions of death and dying, weapons, creepy men, slight cursing

Us Against the World Masterlist

･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

The sound of leaves crunching beneath your boots was the only noise to fill your ears. A sound that had once been satisfying- calming, even. Now, deadly.

At any moment, you could step on the wrong twig, and it could alert the wrong ears. The infected could pick up on your sound first, then your scent. And once that happened, you were screwed.

From beside you, Bucky swept his narrowed eyes back and forth along the forest landscape. His hand rested purposefully right by where his hunting knife was swinging back and forth from where it was placed on his belt.

“We should make camp soon,” It was the first time you had spoken in hours. After so many years, the two of you had learned how to effortlessly communicate without actually talking. Because talking too loudly could always alert certain unwanted presences to your location.

The man beside you glanced up, squinting his eyes against the sudden harshness of the sun beating down on him and a small frown pulled on his lips, “We still have a good three hours before we even need to think about finding camp.”

You knew that, of course you knew that, and that was the reason you knew he was beginning to grow worried. Because neither of you ever requested to stop early unless something was wrong, and Bucky tended to worry when you were the one requesting it.

“I’m fine, Buck,” You automatically assured him, “Just tired s’all.”

His bright blue eyes scanned your features for another moment before he nodded, backing off, “Alright,” He agreed quietly, “We’ll get a couple more miles in and then we’ll see if we can find a cave. And if not,” He grimaced, “We’ll be sleeping in a tree.”

You cringed at the mere thought, but fell into a silence nonetheless and continued trudging on.

Not even five minutes could have passed before the rustling of leaves to the left of you two made your ears perk up and steps come to a sudden halt.

Despite the vast number of times you had gone through this process, your heart didn’t beat any slower than it did the first time you had to go through this. The same amount of panic flooded into your brain. You just knew how to better control and handle it now.

You and Bucky immediately went to stand back to back, drawing out your knives and standing in a defensive position.

It wasn’t hard to feel how tense the man’s muscular back was against your own, and the only way you didn’t mistake it for a wall was the way it rose and fell slightly with his calculatingly slow breaths.

Both of your pairs of eyes whipped around the trees and dead leaves, looking for any sign of what had made that noise. Even as the moments dragged on, you didn’t allow yourself to relax. There was no such thing as a false alarm. Not anymore.

The only thing that kept you from holding your breath the entire time was the knowledge that doing so would cut off circulation to your brain, making it harder to react within a split second like you knew you would need to when whatever was nearby showed itself.

Suddenly, four figures emerged from seemingly thin air and approached the two of you cautiously.

Though some relief flowed through your veins when you realized that they didn’t have the gray, decaying skin of the infected- instead having healthy enough looking bodies- you still didn’t allow yourself to drop your knife.

You and Bucky had run into enough other survivors in your time to know that they could oftentimes be crazier than the infected themselves. The fact that the people were carrying guns that were strapped over their necks and pointed directly at the two of you also didn’t help.

Immediately, Bucky shifted his weight so that he was standing in front of you, one hand still holding his knife in a death grip, while his other arm flew up in front of you protectively. As if that alone would stop a round of bullets from penetrating your skin.

A black man in the front of the group sighed in relief though, and dropped his weapon to his side, “Stand down, it’s not them.” He ordered the others, who did as he said without hesitation.

“We’re just passing through,” Bucky said monotonously, “We don’t want any trouble.”

The man grinned, “Yeah, I bet you don’t.” He was joking around as if the two of them had known each other for years.

Another man scowled, dropping his gun to his side, “I can’t believe we came all this way just to pick up a couple of strays.” His eyes moved from Bucky to you, and a disgusting smirk made its way onto his face as he looked your body up and down, “Although…”

A low growl left the back of Bucky's throat, something only you- who was standing close enough- could hear, but you doubted the group missed the way his fists clenched tighter and his glare became more prominent.

A blond man came over and whacked the creep on the back of the head with a gloved palm, “Don’t mind him,” He glared slightly at the man, “He doesn’t know when to shut the hell up.”

Just as the man was about to open his mouth, no doubt to let out a snarky retort, the only woman in the group- a redhead- spoke up, “We need to get going.” She said urgently, speaking to the man who seemed to be in charge, “The heard had to have grown by now.”

The black man nodded before turning back to face the two of you, “You’re welcome to join us,” He offered, “It can get pretty ugly out here when the sun goes down. The infected tend to get really riled up and rowdy around here.”

Despite the fact that Bucky stayed silent- no doubt praying that you would as well- your curiosity got the better of you, and you just had to speak up, “Welcome to join you where?” You questioned.

“We have a camp set up a few miles out,” He explained calmly, “It’s protected by tall gates and patrolled twenty four hours a day. We have at least a couple hundred people safely living inside.”

Silence fell over the group of you like an uncomfortable blanket, causing even Bucky sucked in a sharp breath at his words, and you knew it was because he was thinking the same thing as you.

It was impossible, not only to have so many people in one place, but that they were also all safe. It had to be a lie.

“I suggest you decide fast,” The blond man from before piped up, “I think the herd’s coming this way.”

Surly enough, you strained your ears and were able to hear the faint sound of groaning, growling, and heavy footsteps that always accompanied the infected. And by the sound of it, there were a lot of them heading your way.

For the first time, Bucky met your eyes, and you could tell that he was as torn as you were between your two options. Going with them and risking handing over blind trust to a bunch of strangers whom you didn’t even know the names of, or sticking around for the herd to find you.

Silently, you came to a decision, and you turned back to the four people, “We’re in.”

[delicatebarness]

ᴀs ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ғᴀʟʟs ᴅᴏᴡɴ | s𝟷ᴇ𝟷

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Your search for the truth finds you in an encounter with a hardened stranger and throws you into a dangerous journey through the fallen world.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Post-Apocalypic World. Violence and Gore. Encounters with the Undead. Reference to past trauma and loss. Panic and Anxiety. Implied Sexual Tension.

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3548

sᴘᴏᴛɪғʏ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪsᴛ | sᴜᴘᴘᴏʀᴛ: ᴋᴏ-ғɪ

sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

ᴀ/ɴ: I'm very excited for this one, I won't lie. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

ᴀᴛᴡғᴅ: @winterslove1917 | @ell0ra-br3kk3r

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment | @lanabuckybarnes

The years passed by, but the memory of that first night burned into your soul. One scar that time would never heal. Somehow, you survived. Letting the world forget you existed you learned to hide and to stay quiet. 

The world tried to move on, focus on ending the nightmare, and find a cure or a way out. You felt differently. You didn’t want to stop it, but more to understand it. Why did it start? Why everything you loved had been torn away from you within an instant? Somewhere in the ruined world the truth was buried and you were determined to find it. 

That’s what brought you to where you are now, inside the ruins of an old library. A place where knowledge may still be hidden beneath the dust and decay. It was silent, undisturbed, the only sounds from the building being that of age and neglected groans. Moving quickly, you traced your fingers along the spines of forgotten books, searching for hope and answers. 

The scent of old paper and mildew filled the air as you moved through the dim aisles. The titles were barely visible beneath layers of grime. As you scan the shelves, you pull at a few books; covers worn and faded. You scanned for any mention of events that could have possibly led to the world’s collapse. Flipping through the pages, your mind raced. The silence was almost comforting as it contrasted against the constant danger outside. It felt like you had found a sanctuary, somewhere you could piece together the fragments of the past.

Groans began to echo through the library, shattering the silence as the undead emerged from the shadows. Their eyes locked onto you, and your heart leaped into your throat. Panic surged through you, grabbing whatever books you could reach, you shoved them into your bag as you began to move. Tugging at your shoulder, the weight of the bag slows you down, but you don’t stop and don’t look back. Narrow aisles and towering shelves became a labyrinth, but with desperate speed and ragged gasps, you navigated your way toward the exit. 

As you brushed past them, the noise of tumbling books only spurred the undead closer. Your heavy footsteps thudded on the worn floor echoed. The scent of decay grew closer, and you could feel their presence gaining on you. 

A sliver of light in the darkness was in sight– the exit, and you pushed yourself harder, willing your legs to go faster. And, just as you burst through the door, the harsh light warming your skin, the undead reached the spot where you stood moments before. Your mind was fixated on one thing at that moment– survival. 

The streets were a blur as you ran, fear clawing at your throat. You didn’t see him at first, but a man sat in a car across the street, watching the chaos with annoyance and amusement. “What the fuck–” he muttered to himself, his hand reaching a gun that sat beside him. That was when he saw you– The terror in your eyes, and the desperation in your stride.

“Great…” he sighed with a roll of his eyes, stepping out of the car and raising his gun. “It’s always the pretty ones…” 

With deadly precision, each shot hit its mark as if it were second nature to him, he effortlessly cleared a path through the horde. Breathless, you stumbled as the last of the undead fell to the ground. You struggled to process what had happened as your chest heaved. 

Moving toward you, the man carried an air of calm that seemed unnatural in the fallen world– imposing, with broad shoulders and a muscular frame, easily over six foot, you thought. Each of his movements were controlled, and purposeful as his dark hair fell in messy waves framing his faintly stubbled face. 

The sharpness of his gaze, a piercing shade of blue, cold, and assessing, contrasted with the weary lines etching into his face as he scanned the area. There was something you couldn’t place in his expression, irritation? A reluctant duty? It was as if saving strangers was not how he wanted to spend his time, but he’d do it anyway. 

Dangling loosely at his side, the gun still smoked from the shot that had been fired. His red henley shirt, scuffed and worn, clung to his frame. As he glanced at you, his eyes narrowed as if he were assessing whether you were a threat or just another helpless survivor. Then, without a word, he holstered the gun and reached out his hand. 

The gesture caught you off guard causing you to hesitate for a second before you reached out, your fingers wrapped around his large, calloused hand. Pulling you to your feet, with a surprising gentleness, he kept a firm grip on your hand as you steadied yourself. Up close, you could see the lines around his eyes and a faint scar along his jawline. 

“Get in,” he commanded, his voice low and gravelly, no room left for argument. His order jolted you out of your daze, but he refused to wait for a response as he turned to open the car door for you. You hurriedly obeyed, scrambling into the passenger seat of his car. When you were inside, he released your hand and slammed the door shut, circling to the driver’s side. 

He wasted no time, flooring the gas pedal the second the engine roared to life and sped away from the scene. Swerving around abandoned vehicles and debris, he navigated the town’s maze with unnerving skill. 

Neither of you spoke, sitting in silence as the adrenaline coursed through your veins, and your heart raced. You watched the ruins of the town blur by as you stared out the window. 

And then, when he finally spoke, his voice was more contemplative, softer. “What were you doing in there?” 

Unsure of how much to reveal, you hesitated before taking a breath. “I’m looking for answers,” you admitted, keeping your voice small, barely audible. “I, um, I want to understand why this all started… why the world fell.” 

Letting out a low, almost resigned sigh as he repeated, “Why this all started–” The words hung heavy in the air. “Not many people left who care about that.” 

“I care,” you murmured. He glanced toward you, his knuckles turned white as his grip tightened on the steering wheel. There was a flicker of understanding that passed through his icy blue eyes. And, for a moment, it seemed like he was about to say something, but instead, he pressed his lips into a tight line and focused back on the road. 

“You’re chasing ghosts,” he muttered after a while, almost to himself. “Whatever answers you’re looking for, they won’t bring back what you lost.” 

You snapped your gaze toward him, surprised by the bitterness in his tone. “Maybe not,” you retorted, “but it’s the only thing that keeps me going.” 

There was a long silence settling between you, only broken by the sound of the car’s engine and the occasional groan of the undead lurking by the side of the streets. Outside of the car, you watched as remnants of the world passed by– abandoned vehicles, shattered windows, and overgrown greenery reclaimed what was once civilization.

The man sighed heavily with a weariness that ran deeper than just the physical toll of survival. “I know some people,” he said, he kept his voice low, almost reluctant. “My group might be able to help you, or at least give you somewhere to rest.” 

“Your group?” you echoed, unsure if you should feel weary or relieved. 

“Yeah,” he replied in a stern tone. “They’re not exactly the most friendly to strangers, but they’re good at staying alive.” 

Glancing at his side profile, you weighed his words carefully. He had an edge, a darkness, there was something about him that made you uneasy, but yet, at the same time, you could not deny the gravitational pull toward him. You had isolated yourself for so long in your search for answers, and the idea of finding others who may be able to help was almost too tempting to resist. 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked in need to understand his motivations. 

The silence stretched out, he didn’t answer as the car sped down a deserted road. Glancing over at you again, his expression was unreadable as he finally spoke. “Maybe I don’t want to be the kind of person who looks the other way anymore,” he said, his voice guarded.

As you searched for something– anything– that would give you a clue about who this man was, you stared at him. You wonder why he’d chosen to save you as his answer hung in the air, but his eyes, cold and piercing, gave nothing away. 

An endless ribbon of cracked asphalt and faded yellow lines stretched over the road ahead of you. The car’s tires hummed a steady rhythm, calming the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind as the remnants of the world you once knew lay in ruins. 

As the time ticked by, you were unable to stay silent for any longer. “What’s your name?” you asked.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features as he glanced at you again before he turned his attention back to the road. “James,” he simply said. 

You repeated his name, testing the word on your tongue. Strange, you thought, almost too normal for someone who brutally saved your life. But then, maybe this was the type of normalcy you craved.

~

The sun began to set as you drove further, the landscape growing more barren. The trees were sparse, and their branches gnarled, twisting like something out of a horror movie. A chill crept into the air as the sky above turned a bruised shade of purple. 

Just then, as you were about to ask James if you were close to your destination, the car suddenly jerked to the side. A violent shudder came from the vehicle, and a loud thumping echoed from the rear. 

“God damn it!” James cursed, his knuckles turning white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened, fighting to keep the car under control. Easing his foot off the gas, the car slowly came to a halt on the side of the road. 

“What happened?” you asked, your heart racing from adrenaline. 

“Flat tire,” James sighed, a lace of frustration in his voice. Killing the engine, he stepped out of the car. “Stay here,” he ordered, not waiting for a response before slamming the door shut behind him. 

You watched as James circled to the back of the car before kneeling beside the rear tire. He mumbled curses under his breath as he inspected the damage. You suspected he drove over some hidden debris on the road, causing the tire to shred. He glanced around the deserted landscape as he stood, his hand instinctively resting on the gun tucked into his jeans. 

Staying in the car, you nervously tapped your fingers on the armrest. The sun sank lower, and the shadows began to grow longer. The sense of was back and stronger than ever.

James rummaged through the trunk before pulling out a spare tire and jack. He worked quickly, with a sense of urgency in his movements. Glancing around now and then, scanning the horizon as if expecting someone, or something to emerge from the shadows. 

You watched him work through the wind mirror, noticing something in the distance. It seemed like just a flicker of movement, barely noticeable in the fading like, until your eyes adjusted and you saw them– moving slowly but steadily towards the car, multiple undead. 

“James,” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady and low. “We’ve got company.” 

He looked around sharply before his gaze met theirs. His expression darkened as he recognized the approaching figures– At least a dozen of them stumbled toward the car. 

“Get in the driver’s seat,” he ordered, his voice tense. “When I say go, floor it.” 

Your heart sank as your eyes met his through the back window. “I-I don’t know how to drive.” 

James froze for a second, disbelief flashed across his face. “What?” 

“I never learned!” you confessed, a slight tremble in your voice. 

“Fuck my life,” he muttered under his breath, narrowing his eyes as he glanced back at the nearing horde. “No time for this, just, get in the seat anyway.” 

You hesitated before scrambling over the center console, and sliding into the driver’s seat. Your hands trembled as you gripped the steering wheel. Your mind raced as the undead drew closer, their groans growing louder. A smell of decay filled the air, a scent you’d have thought you’d grown accustomed to by now, but still made your stomach turn. 

Tightening the last lug nut on the new tire, James’ movements became frantic, tossing the jack into the trunk and slamming it shut. He sprinted to the passenger side and yanked open the door. 

“Okay, listen to me, Princess,” he said, his voice low and urgent, the nickname dripping from his lips with endearment as he slid into the seat beside you. “Put your foot on the brake– the left pedal.” 

Your heart hammered in your chest as you listened to him, following his instructions. They were almost at the car now, rotting hands reached out as they closed in. 

“Now, take the gearshift,” he instructed, nodding toward the lever between the seats as he rolled the passenger side window down. “Move it down to ‘D’ for drive.” 

Your hands shook so much, you were barely able to grip the gearshift, but with a deep sigh, you managed to push it into position, just as James set his gun up out the window.

“Nice, now–”

James was interrupted by one of the undead slamming against the window, a grotesque mask of decay moaning into the glass. Screaming, your foot slipped off the brake, lurching the card forward. Instinctively, you slammed your foot on the gas pedal. 

Tires screeched as the car shot forward, and you clung to the steering wheel. You could barely see as the vehicle swerved wildly. 

“Ease up on the gas!” James shouted, his hand darting toward you, trying to steady the wheel. “You’re going too fast, princess!” 

The fear had already taken over, keeping your foot pressed to the floor. Down the narrow highway, the car rocketed dangerously close to the edge.

“Let go of the gas! Now!” he barked, his voice managed to cut through your panic. 

The car immediately began to slow down to a more manageable speed as you forced your foot to lift. The moment of relief was short-lived, as when you looked up ahead, the road began to narrow, flanked by thick forest on either side. Between the trees, there seemed to be more movement, and as you got closer, the car’s headlights revealed why– more undead, dozens of them, staggering toward the road. 

“Oh my god, I-I can’t,” you whispered, gripping tighter on the wheel, your nails starting to dig into the leather. 

“Just keep driving,” he ordered, his voice low but calm. “Don’t stop. Just go right through them.” 

You looked at him, surprise and horror etched in your features. “You can’t be– what? We’ll crash!”

“We won’t if you hold steady,” he firmly said. “Trust me. Aim straight, and don't swerve. Just… trust me.” 

The undead were closing in, their eyes hollow as they fixed on the car. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to look straight ahead. 

“Gas, now!” James shouted.

Slamming your foot back on the gas pedal, the car surged forward once again. The undead were everywhere, their bodies thudding against metal as you plowed through the horse. Cracking bones, groans, and the screech of metal filled your ears. You tried not to look at the blood smeared across the windshield, tried to think of anything other than what was happening, to not cringe at the sound of gunshots beside you. 

Eventually, you made it through, somehow. The road cleared ahead, forest fading into the distance as you sped away from the chaos. Adrenaline and terror coursed through your veins, shaking you uncontrollably. 

James reached over, gently loosening your hands from the steering wheel. “Ease up, princess,” he softly said. “You did it. You’re okay,” he continued reassuring you as you lifted off the gas again. His hands guided the car as its pace smoothed. 

Your mind was numb with shock, and you barely registered his words. The only sounds now were the engine’s soft hum and your heart pounding in your ears. After another rough mile, and as the last remnants of daylight vanished, the tension in the car was palpable. James must have sensed it when he glanced over at you. Your nerves were frayed, hands trembling on the steering wheel. 

His expression softened as he noticed the hardened lines begin to etch in your features. “Pull over, princess,” he quietly said. “I’ll take it from here.” 

Too exhausted to protest, you nodded. You eased the car to the side of the road with shaky hands and switched off the engine. James shuffled in the passenger seat and leaned toward you, his movements were deliberate but gentle. 

It was cramped inside the car, forcing you both to maneuver carefully. Sliding closer to you, his arm brushed against yours, a small shiver shooting down your spine. His scent caused your breath to hitch– earthy and warm– it filled the small space between you. You were acutely aware of the heat that radiated from his body.

You carefully lifted yourself from the driver’s seat and tried to give him room. Your leg brushed against his as you shifted, and your arm grazed his chest. The contact between you was brief but it was electric. Stilling for a moment, James’ eyes met yours and something unspoken passed between you before he moved under you, settling into the driver’s seat. 

You climbed over the center console, slowly to avoid bumping into him again, yet it was almost impossible not to. Your bodies were too close, the space too tight and his hand lightly touched your waist as you slid into the passenger seat in a small gesture to help steady you. You tried to ignore the heat rising to your cheek as you settled into the passenger seat. 

Adjusting himself in the driver’s seat, James’ demeanor changed. He was refocused, his gaze sharp as he pulled back onto the road. Now in his control, the car felt steadier and the tension in the air eased slightly. 

The car’s headlights cut through the night, the road ahead and its surroundings were barely visible. Yet, somehow James navigated it all with ease, it was evident he was familiar with the area. 

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for being such a liability, twice in less than twelve hours this man had saved your life. Shaking the thought out of your head, you knew there was no time to dwell on that now, the only thing that mattered was getting to safety.

“Where exactly is it we’re going?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“It’s not far now,” James replied, his eyes never left the road. “It’s a base camp– it’s secure and well fortified. There are people there, good people. You’ll be safe.” 

He was so certain and reassuring in his tone, it made you want to believe him. But you hadn’t felt safe or secure since before that night. Too much had changed in the world, and even the thought of somewhere being ‘safe’ seemed almost impossible. 

After what felt like hours, you fought to stay awake as your eyes grew heavy with fatigue. Just as it was about to take over, James slowed the car and a faint glow appeared ahead. A high chain-linked fence topped with barbed wire revealed itself as the road leveled out. You could make out the dim outlines of buildings beyond the fencing, and makeshift structures that looked like military barracks rather than homes. Illuminating the area, floodlights cast oppressive shadows on the ground. 

“Here it is,” James murmured, caution laced in his tone. A lone figure stood waiting by the large gate at the camp’s entrance. His silhouette was stark against the floodlights, broad-shoulders, imposing and tall. It wasn’t until the car approached that he stepped forward, his features revealing in the light. 

The man’s face was rugged and weathered, it spoke of years of hard living. Dark hair cropped short, and his strong jawline covered in a shadow of stubble. His eyes were cold and calculating as they locked on the car. There was command in his presence, a quiet authority that made it clear he wasn’t to be trifled with. He seemed the kind of man who would be ready for anything with a solid build, muscular concealed under a dark, well-worn jacket. 

James slowed the car to a stop, rolling down the window. “Bucky,” the man called out toward James before landing his gaze on you. He looked irritated, setting his jaw tight as he assessed you. “Who’s this?” he asked, without any warmth in his tone, just a cold, scrutinizing edge.

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sᴇʀɪᴇs ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ | ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪʟᴇʀ | ɴᴇxᴛ ᴇᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ

[espinosaurusrexex]

WORLDS COLLIDE Bucky when the apocalypse started “Survivor”

P.S. you will see many more AI images here. I am obsessed okay? Credit to owner - Animarvelita is really fueling my obsessions over on TikTok 💓☠️