#because I don’t know if I’m over reacting

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

My dearest Yve,

I actually teared up reading this—no joke. The fact that you took the time to write such an in-depth analysis and appreciation for the little details means the world to me. It genuinely overwhelmed me (in the best way possible). So, in return, I’m going to take my time to respond to each and every one of your comments. But first, I owe you an apology for taking so long to reply... ms girl had a little detour to A&E over the weekend LMFAO (I’m fine now!).

You raised such a great point about how loud MC was when she threw the can. I actually debated whether I should keep that in, but ultimately, I left it because I felt it reflected the impulsive nature of humans. At that moment, she was starving and had risked her life to find food only to discover that it was rotten. I wanted to capture that raw frustration. The fact that this was the very first paragraph and you already caught onto such a small detail blows my mind.

YES! In every zombie film or show I’ve seen, the biggest threat is almost never the zombies. And that’s the irony, isn’t it? Because zombies were humans once. It really highlights how, dead or undead, human beings are always the ultimate apex predators.

Thank you for appreciating the comparative parallel in the nightmare line EHEHEHE

When I was planning her character, the only thing I knew for certain was that she needed to be independent. By extension, that meant making her a complete badass who doesn’t rely on others to survive. I think this also stems from her past experiences with survival groups and after being on her own for so long, she’s developed an instinct to act rather than wait for problems to resolve themselves. She’s practical and hardened by her reality, but at the core of it all, she’s still human, with fragile emotions beneath the surface.

OMG, THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for noticing that none of the boys stepped in to help her! Having them swoop in to save her would have completely undermined her character. She survived almost a year alone in a zombie apocalypse—she’s not about to need a man to rescue her from one zombie. Also, “In your bed” is crazy, by the way!

THANK YOU AGAIN for noticing the fact that both the reader and MC don’t immediately know who’s speaking? That was so difficult to write during the motel sequence, but I’m so glad it paid off. And Ni-ki being that obvious? LMAO.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that you actually take notes while reading. You are truly one of a kind, and honestly, every writer deserves a reader like you.

Even though you told me not to answer, I'm going to do it anyway. Yes, you are a freak for enjoying the scenes where she's running for her life. BUT, I am also a freak for writing them. So really, we’re just in this together.

I knew Jay was the perfect fit for the cautious character because, in my mind, he’s someone who is wise and learns from experience. I actually debated between him and Sunghoon for this role but ultimately went with Jay. Also, JAYWON.

You are so valid for saying you would’ve up and left too. Honestly, same. The only reason MC didn’t was because she didn’t want to be like the people from her last group. As pragmatic as she is, she hates being proven wrong.

So, we’re both SE Asian, Libras, AND Jungwon-biased? Shayla, tell me this isn’t fate.

AGREED ABOUT THAT TRAIN TO BUSAN CHARACTER. Had me pulling out my hair watching. The selfish, stubborn characters always survive too long for my liking. And it makes sense because If you put yourself first, you stand a better chance of making it out alive.

To clear up any confusion about how the zombies in this AU function, they rely on whatever senses are still available to them. I assume you were referring to the line “empty eye sockets seem to bore into you.” In that case, the zombie had no eyes and was relying on sound cues. Later on, I used “milky eyes” to describe those that do still have their vision. Basically, they react to whatever they can—sound, the smell of blood, movement—if something grabs their attention, they go for it!

That’s it. That’s the message. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

XOXO, Nat <3

SAFE & SOUND — part 1

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 14k

MASTERLIST

Rotten.

The can of tuna you’ve risked your life to retrieve from the mart in the next neighbourhood is rotten. Just like everything else roaming the streets.

The smell hits you first, sharp and metallic, curling through the air like a mocking laugh. It’s only when you peer into the greyish sludge that you know for sure. Gagging, you launch the can across the dimly lit room. The clang as it hits the wall feels louder than it should, echoing against the hollow silence. A greasy smear marks its path before it rolls to a stop.

Your stomach tightens, but not from hunger—not entirely. It’s exhaustion, or frustration, or both, a familiar cocktail of feelings that churns in your gut. You press a hand to your stomach, willing it to stay quiet. The small victories matter now, even if they’re as simple as keeping quiet.

“Figures,” you mutter, wiping your hands on the knees of your tattered jeans. The word feels heavy in the thick silence of the abandoned community building you’ve been calling home—a makeshift fortress that’s only just kept you alive for the past year.

The windows are boarded up with planks you scavenged from nearby wreckage, letting in only the faintest cracks of moonlight, casting fractured shadows on the walls. The small corner where you sleep is enclosed by a barricade of furniture you've managed to tie together with ropes and scraps of cloth you’ve gathered. It’s not perfect, but it’s held so far.

Outside, the telltale groans of the undead float through the night air, mingling with the distant sound of screams and breaking glass. You’ve learned to tune it out, to pretend that the world hasn’t fallen apart.

But every so often, when the noises grow too close or too many, the illusion shatters, leaving behind a pit of fear in your stomach that no amount of fortification can fill.

You lean back, letting your head hit the wall. The cracks in the paint catch against the rough weave of your jacket, the sound gritty and small. Your mind drifts back to that fateful day, the day everything went to shit.

You’d only been living in Seoul for a month, you were barely unpacked, just starting to memorise the labyrinth of subway lines, the shortcuts to your university. University acceptance had felt like the first step towards something bigger, something brighter. You can still see your parents’ faces, lit with pride, when you shared the news. Getting into a university in Seoul—it’s like gaining instant bragging rights for life.

Except now, none of it matters. Those things out there couldn’t care less about your alma mater, whether you’re earning a six-figure salary or pulled from the gutter. To them, you’re just another meal on legs—flesh, blood, and bone all blending into the same, mindless craving.

You’d always thought you’d know what to do in a zombie apocalypse. Every movie and survival guide said the same thing:

Avoid the cities. Get out fast.

So when the news started to break, you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed a bag—essentials only—and set out, determined to make it back to your parents in the province. You didn’t even pause to think about how impossible it might be.

But the city had other plans. You hadn’t even made it ten blocks before the streets were overrun. A tide of chaos, of screams and shoving bodies—alive and not—forced you off course.

The community building was a last-ditch refuge, its doors flung open to anyone desperate enough to run for them. You’d barely made it inside before the barricades went up. It wasn’t the plan, but then again, nothing about survival ever is.

At first, it felt like a haven. There were enough supplies to keep everyone fed—if barely. Dozens of survivors shared the space, most of them too old or too scared to leave. The rations were thin, one meal a day if you were lucky, but it was enough.

You and a handful of the younger survivors took turns venturing out, gathering what you could from nearby shops and houses. It wasn’t much, but it worked.

For a time.

When the convenience store was stripped bare, you moved to the supermarket. When that was picked clean, you ventured further. Each trip took you deeper into danger, the risk growing with every step. Supplies dwindled. The fear grew sharper, harder to ignore.

People started to die—some to the undead, others to hunger, and still others to the kind of cruelty that only surfaces when survival is on the line.

You learned quickly that it wasn’t just the zombies you had to fear. You’ve seen it firsthand: the way desperation changes people.

At first, it was small things—arguments over ration sizes, whispers of distrust. But then the small petty arguments turned into fights, and fights turned into bloodshed.

One by one, people either left to take their chances elsewhere or fell victim to the chaos within. A high school student, he had barely turned eighteen, stabbed a man over a tin of peaches. A woman abandoned her own mother to save herself when the barricade was breached.

Survival strips away more than flesh—it strips away the pretence of civility, leaving only the raw, animalistic instinct to endure at any cost. It’s not just the undead that keep you awake at night—it’s the memory of what people are capable of becoming.

So when the barricade failed during a particularly viscous storm and you’d barely escaped with your life, you dragged what little you could salvage to this corner of the building, patching up the holes as best as possible. Alone, because it was safer that way.

Now, alone in the faint light of your makeshift fortress, the weight of it all presses down on you. The loneliness, the hunger, the constant, gnawing terror—it’s all too much. But you shove it aside, because there’s no room for weakness here.

Weakness gets you killed.

Your stomach growls again, insistent, and you grit your teeth. You’ll have to go out again soon. The thought sends a chill through you, but there’s no other choice. Survival doesn’t wait for fear to subside.

Taking a deep breath, you stand and reach for your weapon—a rusted crowbar that’s seen more use than you’d like to admit. Tomorrow, you’ll go out again, search for food, risk what’s left of your life to keep it from ending.

For now, you sit in the dark and listen. To the groans. To the screams. To the sound of your own ragged breathing. And try not to dream.

A loud thunk from below jolts you awake, not that you were fully unconscious in the first place. Your entire body goes rigid as you strain to listen. Another thunk. Then a scrape, like something heavy being dragged across the ground floor. Your mind races—it could be the wind, or maybe another scavenger. Or it could be them.

Your grip on the crowbar tightens as you slowly push yourself off the floor. You tiptoe toward the staircase leading down to the lobby. The wooden stairs creak under your weight as you inch down them, and you wince at each sound. They might as well be gunshots in the stillness.

Sweat beads on your forehead as you reach the landing and peer into the dark hallway beyond. Shadows shift and flicker in the faint moonlight filtering through cracks in the boarded-up windows.

The dragging sound comes again, closer this time, and your grip tightens until the ridged metal of the crowbar bites into your skin. Then, a growl echoes from the darkness. Low. Guttural. Not human.

You back up instinctively, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. Your foot catches on a loose piece of debris, and you stumble, barely catching yourself on the railing. The noise you make is small but loud enough to stir the growling into a frenzy. The shuffling grows faster, more erratic.

They’re coming.

“Shit,” you hiss under your breath, scrambling back up the stairs. You’ve rehearsed this scenario a hundred times in your head. Go to the second floor. Block the stairwell. Wait it out. It’s worked before, but something tells you this time is different. There’s too much noise, too many of them. And you’re already running low on supplies.

By the time you reach the top of the stairs, the first figure emerges into the faint light below. Its flesh hangs from its bones in sickly, yellowed strips. Empty eye sockets seem to bore into you as it lets out a chilling moan. Behind it, more shadows lurch into view, a grotesque parade of decay and hunger.

You’re out of time.

Slamming the door to the stairwell shut, you shove a heavy desk against it and wedge the crowbar beneath the handle for good measure. The door shudders almost immediately under the weight of their assault, the moans and growls growing louder with each passing second. You back away, your mind racing for an escape route.

Your eyes dart to the boarded-up windows. It’s a long drop, but there’s a fire escape just a few feet out of reach. If you can break through the boards and make the jump, you might stand a chance. It’s a gamble, but so is staying here

And if you’re being honest, you’d rather plunge to your death than be torn apart limb by limb.

Grabbing a chair, you smash it against the nearest window. The wood splinters and cracks, but it holds firm. Behind you, the door creaks ominously as the barricade begins to give way. Desperation fuels your next swing, and the boards finally snap, leaving a jagged hole just big enough to climb through.

You don’t think—you just act, hauling yourself up and out onto the narrow ledge outside. The cold night air hits your face, a stark contrast to the suffocating atmosphere inside. Below, the fire escape beckons. You take a deep breath, brace yourself, and leap.

For a moment, you’re weightless. Then your hands slam into the metal railing, and you scramble to pull yourself up. Your palms sting, and your muscles scream in protest, but you don’t let go. Not when survival is so close.

Behind you, the door finally gives way. The sound of splintering wood and the enraged cries of the undead spur you into action. You don’t look back as you climb down the fire escape, each step taking you further from the nightmare above, and closer to the nightmare below.

When your feet finally hit the ground, you allow yourself a moment to breathe. But it’s short-lived. The streets are no safer than the building you just escaped. Shadows move in the distance, and the faint echo of shuffling feet reminds you that you’re never truly alone.

With nothing but the clothes on your back, you start to run. You don’t know where you’re going—only that you can’t stop. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you keep moving, fuelled by a singular, desperate thought: keep going. Always keep going. Because if you stop, even for a moment, it’ll all be over.

The groans follow you, relentless and hungry. You don’t dare look back. Instead, you focus on the narrow alleyways and shadowed streets ahead, praying you don’t make a wrong turn.

You finally spot a building—an auto store with its doors hanging slightly ajar. Without thinking, you rush inside, slamming the door shut behind you. Your hands fumble for something—anything—to block it, and you grab a rusted toolbox, wedging it against the frame. It feels pathetic, barely a barrier, but you convince yourself it’s better than nothing.

Your breaths come fast and shallow as you scan the room. Rows of dusty shelves cluttered with tools and car parts stretch before you, their contents untouched for what feels like decades. The air is stale and heavy, carrying the faint tang of motor oil. For a fleeting moment, the oppressive noise of the streets is muffled, and you almost feel safe.

But the reprieve is short-lived.

Voices. Human voices. Low, urgent, and drawing closer.

Your stomach twists as panic sets in, sharp and paralysing. You reach for a loose screwdriver on the floor and dart behind a shelf, crouching low. Dust clings to your clothes as you press yourself against the cold metal, willing yourself to disappear.

The door creaks open, and the toolbox scrapes uselessly across the floor. You curse silently under your breath. What a waste of effort.

Boots scuff against the ground as they enter. Voices—male voices—filter through the stale air, rough and laced with tension. “That was close, fuck.” one mutters, his voice shaking. You can hear him catching his breath, the fear in his tone unmistakable.

Looks like you weren’t the only one running from the horde that came out of nowhere.

“What the hell is The Future doing in the city?” another snaps, frustration cutting through the hushed atmosphere.

The Future...?

"They're looking for us, what else?" a third man grunts, his voice deep and gravelly.

"Talk about obsessive,” a fourth says, anger simmering beneath. “We escaped more than six months ago. How are they still trying to track us down?"

“That community… they’re worse than the dead. I’d rather take my chances out here than go back there.” Five.

“You don’t get it. They’ll hunt us down. They always do,” Six.

"I mean… We stole almost six months’ worth of supplies. And a van. I'd hunt us too." This one is a little cheeky. Seven.

"Shut the fuck up,” the gravelly voice growls. “You think this is funny?”

Your mind races. A community hunting them? You’ve heard of survivors forming groups. Hell, you were part of one. But this… this sounds different. Darker.

You press yourself closer to the shelf, your gip on the screwdriver so tight your fingers cramp. Seven men, at least—that’s how many voices you can count. Could you take them? Absolutely not.

For now, the only option is to stay hidden. You force yourself to breathe slowly, silently, and focus on their words, desperate for answers. Whatever these men are running from, you need to know if it’s worse than what’s already out there—or if it’s heading straight for you.

Just then, a faint groan slices through the oppressive silence, this one agonisingly close. Your head snaps around, heart thundering against your ribs like a trapped bird.

Right there, not more than a foot away and obscured beneath a grimy sheet of cardboard, something stirs. The groan rises in pitch, raw and guttural, as the cardboard shifts, revealing a face ravaged by decay. Skin, or what’s left of it, clings to its skull in uneven patches, and its milky, dead eyes lock onto yours with an almost sentient hunger.

You freeze, the breath hitching in your chest as time seems to slow. The stench of rot floods your senses, almost choking you, and a cold sweat slicks your skin.

Before you can react, the creature lurches, its skeletal hand shooting out with horrifying speed. Filthy, jagged nails scrape against your leg, finding purchase in the fabric of your jeans and digging into the flesh beneath.

A piercing shriek tears from your throat—raw, primal, and louder than you intend. The sound ricochets off the walls, each echo feeding the panic clawing at your mind.

Desperation surges like a tidal wave, drowning out coherent thought. You kick wildly, your boot connecting with the thing’s chest, but its grip is unyielding. The screwdriver slips in your sweat-slicked palm as you fumble to raise it, your muscles trembling with adrenaline-fuelled terror. Its grip tightens, nails biting deeper, and for a moment, the sickening thought flashes through your mind: You’re not getting out of this.

But then instinct takes over. With a desperate cry, you swing the screwdriver down, the metal driving into its skull in a sickening crunch. the sound reverberating through the stillness like a death knell.

The zombie spasms, its hand loosening slightly, but not enough.

Your vision narrows, fury and survival instinct blending into a single, overpowering force. You strike again, and again, each impact a visceral symphony of shattering bone and yielding flesh. The stench grows worse, cloying and metallic, as blood splatters your hands and face.

Finally, the creature goes still, collapsing into a lifeless heap at your feet. Your chest heaves as you stagger back, the screwdriver slipping from your trembling fingers to clatter against the floor. The silence that follows is deafening, broken only by the rasp of your own ragged breaths.

"Fuck," you whisper, the word barely audible over the pounding of your heart. Your gaze drifts down to the bloodied mess staining the floor, bile rising in your throat. You swallow hard, forcing it down. There’s no time for weakness—not now, not ever.

When you finally look up, your stomach twists into knots. Seven figures stand over you, their faces obscured by shadow but their postures unmistakably tense.

One of them steps closer, the metallic glint of a pistol catching the dim light. Your breath hitches as the cold barrel presses against your temple, its unforgiving weight a reminder of how precarious your situation has just become.

"Who the hell are you?" One of them growls, his voice low and dangerous. The question hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken threats, as you stare back at him, your mind scrambling for a response that might just keep you alive.

You swallow hard, your mouth dry as sandpaper. “Just… just a survivor,” you stammer, your voice barely a whisper. The cold barrel against your temple makes your skin crawl, but you force yourself to meet his gaze. Your heart pounds so loudly, you’re sure they can all hear it. “I didn’t know you’d be here. I’ll leave. Please.”

"Drop the act," another voice cuts in, this one sharp and impatient. "The speaker steps closer, his silhouette lean and wiry, eyes narrowed. “You think we’re stupid? You’ve been listening in.”

“What should we do with her?” someone else pipes up from the shadows. His tone is casual, but the words make your stomach drop. “She could be one of them.”

“I’m not!” you blurt, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I swear, I don’t even know who you’re talking about! I just ran in here to hide!”

The gunman doesn’t lower his weapon, his piercing gaze locked onto yours. The air is thick, suffocating, as he scans your face, searching for any hint of deceit. The silence stretches unbearably until someone else breaks it.

“There’s seven of us, and she’s a girl.” one points out, this one almost amused. His tone is light, but his eyes glint with curiosity. “Not exactly the kind The Future kept around. Didn’t they kill most of their women? Called them weak or some shit.”

"Doesn’t mean she’s not a threat," the gunman mutters, but the tension in his stance eases slightly. The barrel wavers, though it remains trained on you. "Start talking. What are you doing here?"

You take a shuddering breath, trying to steady your racing thoughts. "I was running from a horde," you say, jerking your head vaguely toward the door. Your voice is steadier now, but your trembling hands betray your fear.

“Where’s the rest of your group?” he asks, his tone laced with suspicion. “How many of you are there?”

“There’s no group,” you reply quickly, shaking your head. “It’s just me. I’ve been on my own for months.”

"On your own?" A man near the back crosses his arms, his posture sceptical. "That’s a load of bullshit. Nobody lasts this long alone." His blonde hair gleams faintly in the dim light, a beacon that would make him laughably easy to track in broad daylight. You wonder how someone so conspicuous has managed to survive this long, especially when they’re clearly being hunted.

"I’m telling the truth," you insist, your voice firm despite the quiver in your hands. “I’ve got nothing to hide. My place got overrun. I just needed somewhere to hide.”

“What place?” the blonde man carefully makes his way in front, crouching slightly, levelling his gaze with yours. The question hangs heavy, and you know your answer could mean the difference between life and death.

“A community building,” you answer, your voice quieter now. “It’s just down the street. I can show you if you don’t believe me.”

“Show us?” Another man scoffs. “You said it was overrun? Why the hell would we follow you to a place that’s crawling with them? Are you stupid?”

You bite back a retort, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. “I’m not lying,” you say, your voice sharper than before. “Look, I didn’t survive this long just to let a bunch of men decide whether to shoot me in my fucking head for being in the wrong place at the wrong bloody time.”

The man with the blonde hair tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he can’t quite solve. Then he speaks again, his tone quiet but firm. “Can we trust you?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you hold his gaze, unflinching, and nod once. Slowly, deliberately. For a moment, no one speaks. You can feel the weight of their stares, assessing, calculating.

Finally, a simple, subtle raise of the blonde’s hand is all it takes for the gunman to lower his pistol. The others, though still wary, seem to follow his lead. Relief washes over you, but you keep your face neutral, refusing to show weakness.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, Jungwon.”

His name is Jungwon. It strikes you as a strangely gentle name—garden—yet nothing about him feels soft.

"If you’re lying," Jungwon warns, his tone like steel, "you won’t get a second chance." It doesn’t take long for you to realise—he’s the leader.

“I understand,” you reply, your throat tight. The words feel hollow, but they’re all you can offer.

"What’s your name?" one of them asks, his voice brighter but no less wary.

"Y/N," you reply. "And you?"

He hesitates before giving you a small, guarded smile. “Sunoo. And don’t get any funny ideas. We’re a small group, but we bite.”

The faint attempt at levity doesn’t go unnoticed, but it does little to ease the knot in your stomach. You nod again, glancing at the others. Their eyes still linger on you, like predators sizing up prey.

“You said there’s a horde,” Jungwon says, cutting through the moment. His tone is all business now. “Where’s it coming from?”

“South,” you say, your voice steady but curious. “Wait, weren’t you lot running from it too?” Your eyebrow arches as you ask, testing the waters.

“Don’t ask too many questions, or I might just kill you,” the same man who held the pistol to your head snaps, his tone as sharp as the glare he fixes on you. Tough one, you think grimly. Definitely not the friendly type.

“How big is it—the horde?” he demands, his words clipped and impatient. His posture is rigid, his eyes narrowing as though he’s daring you to lie.

“Big enough,” you answer grimly, your voice heavy with the weight of what’s chasing you. The memory of the mass of undead flashes in your mind—their grotesque forms, the relentless moans. You push it aside, forcing yourself to focus. “They’re close. If we stay here much longer, they’ll find us.”

Jungwon doesn’t hesitate. “Then we move,” he declares, his voice calm but firm, leaving no room for debate. It’s a tone you’ve heard before in those who’ve seen too much, those who lead because no one else will. “Grab your things. We leave in five.”

You swallow hard, scanning their faces. They’re already moving, collecting bags and makeshift weapons, their movements practised and efficient. You take a breath, forcing your hands to stop shaking.

“There’s a motel north-east from here, just off the horde’s course.” you say, stepping forward slightly, trying to sound confident. “I cleared it out once when I couldn’t get back to the community building. I can take you there, wait for the horde to pass, and then I’ll be on my way.”

The moment the words leave your mouth, you feel the tension in the room shift. The air grows heavier, colder.

Jungwon’s sharp gaze locks onto yours, his expression unreadable, but it’s not him who speaks. The man with the sharp tongue—the one who held a pistol to your head earlier—lets out a humourless laugh. “Who said anything about letting you go?” he says, his voice dripping with malice, as though your suggestion was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard.

The silence that follows his words feels suffocating, heavier than the looming threat of the undead outside. You try to keep your expression neutral, but the knot in your stomach tightens with each passing second. Your eyes flick to Jungwon, hoping for some sort of reprieve, but his face remains impassive, impossible to read.

“I’m not looking for trouble,” you say carefully, your voice steady despite the tremor in your hands. “I’ve survived this long on my own. I don’t need your help, and I don’t want to be in your way.”

The gunman scoffs, the corner of his mouth curling in disdain. “Bold words for someone who had a gun to their head five minutes ago.”

“Enough,” Jungwon cuts in, his voice slicing through the tension like a knife. The others fall silent, though their postures remain taut, their eyes still fixed on you. He steps forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as if gauging your reaction with every step.

“We don’t know you,” he says, his voice measured but carrying an edge of steel. “You could be useful, or you could be a liability. Either way, we’re not taking risks.”

Your throat tightens, but you force yourself to stand your ground. “I’ve already told you—I’m not with anyone. No group, no weapons, no agenda. Just me. If you think I’m lying, you’re wasting your time.”

He watches you for a moment longer, his dark eyes scanning your face for cracks in your resolve. Finally, he speaks. “You’ll come with us,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll see what you’re worth.”

Your stomach twists, the flicker of hope you’d allowed yourself extinguished in an instant. Your jaw clenches, but you nod. There’s no point in arguing—not when they hold all the cards.

“What if she’s dead weight?” the pistol-wielding man mutters, his arms crossed as he glares at you.

“Then she’ll stay behind,” Jungwon replies coldly, his eyes still locked on yours. The words send a shiver down your spine, but you refuse to flinch.

The group moves quickly, their actions smooth and practised as they gather their supplies. You take a moment to glance at their makeshift arsenal—rusted blades, a machete, a pistol with a half-empty box of ammo. It’s not much, but it’s enough to survive. Barely.

Jungwon’s voice cuts through the room again. “Time’s up. Let’s go.”

The group falls into formation, their movements synchronised, like they’ve done this a hundred times before. You find yourself in the middle, flanked on all sides, nothing to defend yourself with. Even the mere rusty screwdriver taken away from you.

Their message is clear: you’re not one of them. They don’t trust you.

As you step out into the night, the cool air hits your face, a sharp contrast to the oppressive heat of the room. The streets are eerily quiet, the faint groans of the undead carried on the wind. Your heart pounds in your chest as you scan the shadows, every instinct screaming at you to run. But there’s nowhere to go—not empty-handed, and certainly not without them gunning you down before you even make five feet.

Jungwon takes the lead, his blonde hair catching the faint glow of the moon as he moves with purpose. You follow closely, your senses on high alert. Every shuffle of movement, every distant sound sets your nerves on edge.

Sunoo sidles up next to you, his steps light and almost casual, though the wariness in his eyes lingers. “Don’t let Jay get to you,” he says in a low voice, his lips curving into a faint smile. “That grump always tries to come off scarier than he is. He’s actually a bit of a softie.”

Jay. The name sticks in your mind, sharp and blunt at the same time, just like the man it belongs to. You glance over at him—his posture rigid, eyes scanning the shadows like a hawk. There’s nothing soft about him now, not the way he grips the pistol or the sharp edge to his jaw as he walks a few paces ahead.

“A softie?” you murmur back, your voice sceptical. “He doesn’t look the type.”

Sunoo chuckles quietly, his expression lightening. “Oh, he’s a pain in the ass, no doubt about that. But trust me, when it comes down to it, Jay always looks after the group. Even if he’s a bit dramatic about it.”

You don’t know whether to take that as reassurance or a warning.

“Does he look after the strays too?” you ask, your tone laced with cautious humour.

Sunoo raises an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a playful smile. “That depends,” he says, his tone light yet probing. “Are you planning to stay a stray?”

You don’t reply, and the silence stretches just long enough for it to become uncomfortable. Sunoo seems to take the hint, letting the question hang unanswered. His smile fades slightly, but he doesn’t press further.

Instead, he shifts gears, his voice dropping low enough to avoid drawing the attention of the others. “So, this motel of yours,” he begins, tilting his head. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” you reply, keeping your voice steady, though the scepticism in his tone pricks at you. “It’s just a place I found. Empty, at least the last time I checked.”

“And if it’s not?” he presses, his brow furrowing as his sharp eyes flick to your face. There’s no malice there, just careful calculation, as if he’s trying to figure out if you’re bluffing.

“Then we’ll deal with it,” you say firmly. “Like I’ve dealt with everything else.”

He studies you for a moment longer before nodding, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “Fair enough.”

You nod back, though your attention is already shifting, your gaze flicking from Sunoo to Jungwon, before landing on Jay. He hasn’t so much as glanced in your direction since leaving the shop, but you can feel the weight of his presence, like a storm cloud hanging overhead. Softie or not, there’s no denying he’s dangerous.

This whole group is dangerous. Not just in the way they pointed a gun at your head. You’d have done the same if the roles were reversed.

No, it’s something deeper than that. It’s in the way they move together, a silent understanding passing between them. It’s in the way they trust each other without needing to speak. That trust feels foreign to you.

Distrust is second nature now, woven into every fibre of your being. It has kept you alive, but here, it feels like a barrier, separating you from the unspoken bond that holds them together. They don’t trust you, and you can’t blame them. You’re the outsider, the unknown element, and trust is a commodity none of you can afford to give freely—not for you, and certainly not for them.

The group moves swiftly through the shadowed streets, their footsteps light but purposeful. You walk in the middle of their formation, acutely aware of how exposed you all are. Every darkened alley, every overturned car feels like a trap waiting to spring.

Suddenly, Jungwon raises a hand, his entire body going still. The shift is immediate—the group halts in unison, their movements instinctive, like a well-oiled machine. Your breath catches, your heart pounding like a drum as you strain your ears. At first, there’s nothing but the faint rustling of the wind. Then you hear it—shuffling, faint but unmistakable, just ahead.

“Eyes up,” Jay mutters, his voice barely above a whisper as he tightens his grip on the pistol.

The group edges closer to the corner of a crumbling building, each step measured and deliberate. Jungwon moves first, peering around the edge with slow precision. His posture stiffens, and when he pulls back, his expression is grim.

“A group of them, about thirty, maybe more.” You feel a chill run down your spine.

“South?” Jay hisses, his sharp glare cutting through the dim light as he looks over his shoulder at you. “You said they were coming from the south.”

“They are,” you snap back defensively, lowering your voice but unable to hide the edge in your tone. “How was I supposed to know they’re crawling here too?”

Jay lets out a low, humourless laugh, his head shaking lightly. “This is exactly why we didn’t believe you when you said you survived the city all alone.”

Before you can respond, a voice cuts through the rising tension. “Now’s not the time for this,” someone says—the voice calm but clipped, firm enough to settle the brewing argument. You glance towards the speaker, realising you still haven’t put a name to his face. “Why are there so many of them tonight?”

You shake your head, the unease in your chest growing heavier. “Tonight is… different,” you admit, your voice wavering slightly. “There seem to be more of them roaming the streets. It’s like something’s drawn them here.”

“Yeah, like a scream of some sort.” The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Slowly, one by one, the group turns their heads toward you.

Your stomach drops, and you open your mouth to protest, but the conversation is cut short by a sudden, guttural growl. One of the zombies has noticed you. Its milky, lifeless eyes locking onto the group as it lets out a low, haunting moan.

“Shit,” Jungwon mutters under his breath, his grip tightening on the hilt of his blade.

The moan spreads like a signal, the rest of the horde turning their decayed heads in unison. Their shuffling quickens, their jerky movements laced with unnatural determination.

“Here they come,” Jay snaps, his voice sharp as he raises his pistol.

“Sunghoon, they’re coming from the back too!” Sunoo’s voice rises in alarm, his gaze darting to the rear of the group. You whip your head around, your blood running cold as more figures stumble into view behind you.

“We can’t fight them all,” Sunghoon says, panic bleeding into his usually calm tone.

For a moment, everything feels suspended—the groans of the undead growing louder, the sharp intakes of breath from the group, the suffocating realisation that escape is narrowing with every passing second. Then, with a voice like tempered steel, Jungwon breaks the paralysis.

“Move!” he commands, his voice slicing through the chaos.

The group breaks into a run, weaving through the narrow streets and abandoned cars. The sound of shuffling feet and guttural growls follows close behind, a relentless reminder of what’s chasing you.

Your lungs burn, and your legs ache, but you keep moving, driven by pure adrenaline. As you round a corner, the motel comes into view—a squat, two-storey building with boarded-up windows. Relief surges through you, but it’s fleeting. The dead are still on your heels.

“There!” you shout, pointing toward the motel. “We can barricade ourselves inside!”

Jungwon nods, taking the lead as the group sprints toward the building. Jay fires a few shots over his shoulder, each one finding its mark, but it only slows the horde momentarily.

“Go, go, go!” Sunoo yells, holding the door open as the group piles inside.

The moment you’re inside, you move instinctively, grabbing a nearby desk and shoving it against the door with Sunghoon’s help. The others pile on whatever they can find—chairs, shelves, anything to hold the door shut. The pounding starts almost immediately, a grim reminder of how little time you have.

“We can’t stay here,” says someone whose name you haven’t learned, his voice trembling as he steps back, his wide eyes darting between the barricade and the rest of the group. “They’ll break through eventually.”

Jungwon turns to you, his dark, calculating eyes pinning you in place. “You said you cleared this place before,” he says, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Is there another way out?”

“There’s a back exit,” you say, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. “But it’s narrow. If they cut us off—”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jungwon interrupts. “We’ll make it work.”

The pounding intensifies, the barricade creaking under the strain. The group exchanges tense glances, their exhaustion mirrored in each other’s faces. Your palms are slick with sweat as you clench your fists, the urge to act warring with the mounting dread in your gut.

“Let’s go,” Jungwon says sharply, gesturing for the group to fall into formation. He starts toward the back, his movements quick and precise, but you grab the edge of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

“Give me a weapon to defend myself with,” you say, your voice low but firm.

“No,” he replies instantly, not even breaking his stride.

Your grip tightens, forcing him to pause. “Jungwon,” you say, your tone urgent but measured, “I can see you care a lot about your group. I also know that when push comes to shove, I won’t be your priority. If you can’t guarantee my safety, then I need something to defend myself with.”

He hesitates, his brow furrowing deeply. The pounding against the barricade grows louder, each crash like a warning bell, and you can feel the impatience bubbling beneath your skin.

“Please,” you press, your voice softening but losing none of its intensity.

For a moment, he stares at you, the tension in his jaw betraying his internal debate. Finally, with a resigned sigh, he reaches into his belt and pulls out a small, serrated knife. “Fine,” he says, his tone clipped, handing it to you. “But you stay close to me. No exceptions.”

Relief floods through you as you take the weapon, the cool metal solid and reassuring in your hand. “Understood,” you say, nodding quickly.

“Move!” Jungwon orders, his voice cutting through the noise. The group springs into action, heading toward the narrow corridor that leads to the back exit. Your heart pounds as you grip the knife tightly, your eyes darting to the barricade one last time.

The group moves quickly, the narrow corridor pressing in on all sides. Every creak of the floorboards beneath your feet feels deafening, every shadow a potential ambush. Jungwon leads the way, his blade gleaming faintly in the dim light as he keeps his focus locked on the path ahead.

“Stay close,” he mutters, glancing back at you for a fraction of a second before returning his attention forward.

The pounding on the barricade grows faint behind you, but a new sound takes its place—the unmistakable shuffle and groans of the undead echoing off the walls. The noise comes from ahead and behind, a cruel symphony that makes your stomach churn.

You’re surrounded.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you don’t even know who is speaking, all you can tell is—he’s panicking.

The group halts, frozen as the reality of your situation sinks in. Jay takes a sharp breath, glancing over his shoulder. “They’ve cut us off,” he says grimly. “We’re trapped.”

“Keep moving,” Jungwon orders, though his voice is taut with tension. “We fight through. There’s no other choice.”

As if on cue, a wave of zombies emerges from the shadows ahead. Their decayed faces twist into grotesque mockeries of hunger, their milky eyes locking onto the group. The moans grow louder, their jerky movements speeding up as they close the distance.

Raising his pistol, Jay fires a clean shot, dropping the lead zombie, but the rest surge forward undeterred.

You tighten your grip on the knife Jungwon gave you, your palms sweaty. The first zombie lunges, and Jungwon meets it head-on, his blade diving into its skull with practiced precision. Another takes its place immediately, forcing him back.

“Behind you!” you yell, spotting movement in the shadows. A zombie stumbles toward Jungwon, its bony hands reaching for him.

Without thinking, you surge forward, driving your knife into its temple before it can lay a hand on him. The impact sends a jolt through your arm, but the creature collapses instantly, its lifeless body hitting the ground at Jungwon’s feet.

He spins around, his eyes widening for a split second before narrowing in acknowledgment. “Thanks,” he mutters, before plunging his blade into another.

You barely have time to catch your breath before you spot it—a narrow opening in the wall ahead, barely visible in the chaos. It’s just large enough to squeeze through, and beyond it, you can see an open street.

Your heart pounds as the thought crystallises in your mind: freedom. You could run. You could escape. You could leave all of this behind and save yourself.

The idea is tempting. The promise of survival so close you can almost taste it. But as quickly as it takes root, something stronger rises to smother it. Something within you that won’t allow you to abandon them. These people—dangerous and distrustful as they are—are fighting to survive, just like you.

Your gaze flickers back to the group. Jungwon, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision, glances back to check on Jay before taking on another zombie. Jay’s pistol rings out, his shots deliberate and controlled, his sharp eyes scanning for threats to the others. Sunghoon swings a crowbar with brute force, stepping in to shield Sunoo when he falters.

They’re… looking out for each other…?

You hesitate, the knife in your hand growing heavier with every passing second. It’s not just survival fueling them—it’s something more. Something you haven’t seen in a long time.

After everything—the chaos, the selfishness, the betrayal—you didn’t think there was any humanity left in people. Not after what went down at the community building.

You’ve seen what desperation does to people, how it strips them bare, leaving nothing but fear and greed in its wake. You can still see the faces of the ones who abandoned their own blood. The ones who took more than their share, who fought over scraps while others starved, who left others behind to die just to save themselves.

And yet, here you are, watching this ragtag group fight not just for themselves, but for each other.

There’s something different about the way they move. It’s primal, yes, but not animalistic. They swing their weapons with purpose, shouting warnings to each other, putting themselves in danger to keep one another alive—not because they have to, but because they choose to.

They’re holding on to something—civility, camaraderie, maybe hope. Or maybe it’s the uncanny refusal to let go of what makes them human, even when the world around them is anything but. It makes your chest ache, this flicker of humanity you thought was long dead.

You aren’t sure why—not entirely. Maybe it’s the look of determination on their faces. Maybe it’s that fleeting look of surprise in Jungwon’s eyes when you saved him that stays with you. The unspoken gratitude, the trust he gave you in return. Maybe it’s the fire in your chest that refuses to let you be like the others, the ones who ran when things got hard. To hold on to what little humanity you have left. Or maybe it’s something simpler: you just don’t want to survive alone anymore.

Your gaze shifts back to the horde. More are flooding into the corridor from both sides, their moans growing louder. The group is outnumbered, overwhelmed. If you leave now, they won’t make it.

Your grip on the knife tightens as the choice solidifies in your mind. The opening in the wall calls to you, but you can’t move toward it. Not when they’re still fighting. Not when leaving would mean becoming one of them.

You take a step forward instead, slashing at the nearest zombie before it can reach Jay. The creature collapses, and Jay’s head snaps toward you, confusion flickering across his face. He doesn’t say anything, just nods once, almost imperceptibly, before firing at the next target.

The path forward is a blur of movement and noise. You don’t think, don’t question. You just fight.

“Over there!” you shout, pointing to the opening. “There’s a way out!”

Jungwon’s head snaps up at your words, his dark eyes meeting yours. Something flickers across his face—something unreadable, a mix of surprise and something else you can’t quite place. He nods sharply, his voice steady even as chaos erupts around him. “Stay with me,” he orders. “We’ll make it out together.”

The group presses forward, fighting with renewed determination. You stand your ground, slashing at anything that comes too close, your heart pounding as adrenaline fuels every movement. The horde presses in, relentless, but inch by inch, you force your way toward the opening. For reasons you can’t fully explain, you stay close to them.

Jungwon moves ahead, his blade a blur as he carves through the oncoming zombies. You’re at the rear now, turning back occasionally to strike at anything that gets too close.

A zombie lunges from the side, its grotesque face inches from you before you drive your knife into its eye socket. The creature crumples, but the force of it pulls you off balance, and you stumble, landing hard on one knee.

“Get up!” Jay barks, his voice sharp but charged with urgency. He fires a shot over your shoulder, the bullet whizzing past to take down another zombie that had been closing in on you.

You scramble to your feet, gripping your knife with renewed determination. The narrow opening is only a few feet away now, and the others are already pushing through. Sunoo slips through first, then Sunghoon, the two of them pulling at debris on the other side to clear the way for the rest of you.

“Move, move!” Jungwon shouts, his voice cutting through the cacophony. He’s still holding the line, his blade flashing in the dim light as he keeps the horde at bay.

You shove Jay forward toward the opening, your pulse racing. “Go!”

With a grim nod, Jay ducks through the opening, leaving you and Jungwon alone with the horde. The zombies are almost upon you now, their grotesque moans filling the narrow space. Jungwon glances at you, his face slick with sweat and streaked with blood.

“You first,” he says, his tone brooking no argument.

“Not a chance,” you shoot back, slashing at a zombie that gets too close. The blade slices through its rotted neck, sending its head lolling to the side as its body collapses. “They need you. I’ll be right behind.”

For a moment, he stares at you, something flickering in his dark eyes—frustration, maybe, or something closer to understanding. Then he nods once, a sharp, decisive motion, and the two of you fall into a rhythm. His blade swings high while your knife strikes low, each movement synchronised as if you’ve been fighting together for years.

The opening is right there, but the horde is closing in fast. A zombie lunges at Jungwon from his blind spot, and before you can think, you shove him aside, your knife plunging into the creature’s chest. The impact sends both you and the zombie crashing to the ground, the stench of rot filling your nose as you wrestle against its weight.

“Y/N!” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the haze, sharp and commanding. He pulls the zombie off you in one fluid motion, driving his blade into its skull. “Get up, now!”

He hauls you to your feet, his grip firm but not unkind, and together you bolt for the opening. The others are waiting on the other side, their faces pale and drawn but alive. Sunghoon reaches out, grabbing your arm to pull you through just as the horde slams into the debris you’d hastily piled to block the passage.

The group collapses onto the open street, panting and bloodied but alive. The sound of the horde pounding against the barricade is deafening, but it holds—at least for now.

“Everyone okay?” Jungwon asks, his voice steadier than it has any right to be. His eyes scan the group, lingering on you for a fraction of a second longer than the others.

“Barely,” Sunoo mutters, leaning heavily on Sunghoon. “That was too close.”

Jay stands a few feet away, reloading his pistol with practised efficiency. He glances at you, his expression unreadable. “You could’ve run,” he says flatly, though there’s something in his tone that isn’t quite accusatory.

You meet his gaze, your grip tightening on the bloodied knife in your hand. “So could you.”

Jay snorts, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fair enough.”

Jungwon steps forward, his blade still clutched tightly in his hand. “We need to keep moving,” he says, his tone brisk but quieter now. “The noise will draw more of them.”

You nod, your heart still racing as you fall into step with the group. The streets ahead stretch out in shadowed uncertainty, but for the first time, you feel a flicker of something you haven’t felt in a long time. In the presence of people—people who aren’t trying to eat or kill you.

When the group reaches the edge of Seoul, where cracked asphalt gives way to gravel and the looming forest stretches into the horizon, everyone stops. The air is thick with tension, the only sounds the distant rustle of leaves and the crunch of boots on dirt. The group exchanges wary glances, but it’s Jay who breaks the silence.

“Surely she’s not coming with us back to camp,” he says bluntly, his voice cutting through the stillness like a knife. His pistol hangs loose in his hand, though his sharp gaze flicks to you with suspicion. Then, he turns to Jungwon. “We still don’t know anything about her.”

“She helped us escape,” one of them counters, his voice steady but calm. He’s tall, with an easy confidence, though his tone carries just enough weight to make Jay glance at him. “That’s got to count for something, doesn’t it?”

Jay doesn’t look convinced. “It doesn’t mean she’s not a liability, Heeseung.” he counters, his voice clipped. “We’ve all seen how that ends.”

“I’m standing right here, you know,” you say, your tone flat but laced with frustration. You’re too tired to hide the edge in your voice. “If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t have stuck around to help.”

“Helping doesn’t mean you’re trustworthy,” Jay shoots back, narrowing his eyes. “Plenty of people are helpful—until they aren’t. Jake, why don’t you remind Jungwon what happened the last time we trusted someone?”

Jake—leaning against a nearby tree with his arms crossed—glances at Jay before speaking. His voice is lighter, more measured, but no less pointed. “She was armed,” he says, nodding toward the knife still clutched in your hand. “If she wanted to hurt us, she’d have done it by now.”

“She practically did,” Jay fires back, his glare intensifying. “With the way she brought that horde down on us.”

You stiffen, your exhaustion bubbling over into anger. “If you think my pathetic little scream brought in a horde that big, then you must be denser than I thought." you bite out, your tone dripping with incredulity,

Jay takes a step closer, his expression darkening. “Then why don’t you care to explain why there were so many of them tonight? You said so yourself—it’s different. Something’s drawn them here.”

The accusation hangs heavy in the air, each word sharp and biting. Your chest tightens, frustration mingling with the lingering fear from earlier. “How the hell would I know?” you snap, your voice rising slightly before you force it down. “You think I have all the answers? I’ve been on my own for months. I don’t know what’s out there any more than you do.”

“Exactly,” Jay counters, his voice cold. “You’ve been on your own. No one to vouch for you. No one to trust you. Why should we be the ones to take that risk?”

You open your mouth to argue, but Jungwon raises a hand, silencing the brewing argument. “Enough,” he says, his voice calm but commanding.

“You said you’ve been on your own." Jungwon turns to you, his dark eyes meeting yours, unblinking.

You nod slowly, meeting his gaze with as much calm as you can muster. “That’s right.”

“Then why didn’t you run?” Jungwon asks, his voice softer now, though no less searching. “You could’ve left when you saw that opening.”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and weighted with meaning. For a moment, you hesitate, your chest tightening. The truth feels raw, vulnerable, but you know it’s the only chance you have. “Because I’ve seen what happens when people leave others behind,” you say quietly, your voice steady but laced with emotion. “I… was left behind. It’s not who I want to be.”

The group falls into an uneasy silence. Even Jay says nothing, though his expression remains guarded. Sunoo glances between you and Jungwon, his face unreadable. Heeseung exhales slowly, lowering his machete just slightly, his knuckles no longer white from gripping the handle.

“She doesn’t seem like a threat to me,” Sunoo finally says, his tone softer now. “Besides, what’s one more person? It’s not like we’re overflowing with allies.”

“She could slow us down,” Jay argues, though his earlier venom seems to have dulled. “What if she can’t keep up?”

“I kept up with you just fine back there,” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop.

“And she saved Jungwon. Knife to the skull. Pretty impressive, actually.” says the cheeky one you remember from the auto shop. His tone is casual, but it carries just enough humour to make Jungwon roll his eyes.

“Very funny, Ni-ki,” Jungwon says, exhaling through his nose. His expression remains unreadable as his gaze sweeps over the group.

He’s quiet for a moment, clearly weighing the risks, before finally speaking. “She comes with us, we'll figure the rest out at camp." he states firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Jay mutters something under his breath, but he doesn’t protest further. Sunoo gives you a quick smile, while Heeseung offers a small nod. Ni-ki shrugs, already turning back toward the forest path.

The journey to the camp is long and fraught with silence. The group moves with practised precision, their formation tight as they navigate the dark, twisting paths that grow denser with every step. You trail close behind, clutching your knife tightly. The blood and sweat drying on your skin makes you feel grimy, but the real discomfort comes from the sharp looks Jay still throws your way whenever he glances back.

Eventually, the dense trees give way to a clearing, revealing the camp nestled among towering pines. A cluster of tents, a single battered van, and a manmade lean-to are scattered around the space, surrounded by a crude barricade of fallen logs and scavenged metal.

“Home sweet home,” Sunoo mutters, his voice tinged with fatigue as he pulls the barricade open just wide enough for the group to slip through. The camp is eerily quiet, save for the distant rustling of the forest.

You glance around, scanning the area for signs of other people, but it becomes clear that the group before you is all there is.

Weird. They don’t have much, but leaving an entire camp unattended like that is reckless, bordering on suicidal. It’s the kind of decision that makes you question their judgment.

Now you’re even more confused about your perception of these people. Are they confident? Brave? Or are they simply stupid?

It’s hard to tell.

But whatever the reason, it leaves you uneasy. Because in a world like this, confidence and bravery can look an awful lot like arrogance—and arrogance gets people killed.

“Who’s on first watch tonight?” Jungwon asks, his tone brisk and businesslike as his eyes sweep the camp.

“Jake and Ni-ki,” Heeseung replies, dropping his machete with a heavy sigh.

“Erm... both of them are already passed out over there.” Sunghoon’s voice is dry, almost amused, as he points toward the lean-to.

Your gaze follows his finger, and sure enough, you spot two figures sprawled out on the uneven ground, tangled in what looks like a half-hearted attempt at bedding. One of them is snoring softly, an arm flung carelessly over his face, while the other lies curled into himself, his back rising and falling with slow, steady breaths. They’ve managed to find the least uncomfortable positions possible in a place like this, but it’s clear they’re out cold.

Jungwon pinches the bridge of his nose, a gesture that speaks to his weariness more than any words could. “Brilliant,” he mutters under his breath, the exasperation in his tone cutting through the quiet. He looks like a man who carries the weight of everyone around him, even when he doesn’t want to.

The group shifts awkwardly, the tension thick enough to press against your chest. Your fingers twitch around the handle of your knife, an unconscious reflex as you weigh your options. You don’t owe these people anything. And yet, when the words leave your mouth, they surprise even you.

“I can take first watch, and one of you can cover me after.” Your voice is steady, but the exhaustion leaks through at the edges. You don’t offer because you feel like you owe them. No, the truth is simpler: you know you won’t sleep. Even with your body screaming for rest, every muscle and bone aching from the day’s events, your mind is wide awake. Very, very awake.

Jay scoffs immediately, the sound sharp and derisive. “Like hell we would leave you on watch alone, what if you run?”

The comment makes your blood simmer, but you clamp down on the flare of frustration. Instead, you meet his glare with a level stare. “Jay, I’m really not in the mood to argue with you,” you say, your tone firm but not aggressive. “If you don’t trust me, then you can take first watch with me.”

The challenge in your voice is unmistakable, and it hangs in the air between you like a taut string. Jay’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze hardening as though he’s deciding whether to call your bluff. You hold his stare, refusing to back down, even as the silence stretches.

Your heartbeat drums in your ears, but you keep your expression steady, determined not to show weakness. You don’t know if they’ll ever trust you, but you’ve survived too long to let someone like Jay intimidate you now.

Jungwon sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose again, as though trying to contain the growing tension in the camp. Finally, he lowers his hand and looks at Jay, his expression firm but calm. “I’ll take the first watch with her,” he says, his tone leaving no room for debate.

Jay’s mouth opens, likely to argue, but Jungwon cuts him off with a sharp look. “Get some rest. We’ll need everyone at least awake tomorrow.”

Jay clicks his tongue but doesn’t push further. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and stalks off toward the fire, dropping onto a log with a pointed lack of grace. The others disperse as well, settling into their makeshift bedding or sitting quietly by the fire. Jungwon turns to you.

“Come on,” he says, motioning toward a ladder tied to the side of what looks like a precariously constructed watchtower. “The view’s better up there.”

You follow him, gripping the ladder tightly as you climb. The watchtower, built from scavenged wood and tied together with ropes and wire, creaks slightly under your combined weight but holds firm. When you reach the top, you find a narrow platform with a rough wooden railing. From this vantage point, the camp feels small, a fragile sanctuary surrounded by endless darkness.

Jungwon settles near the edge, resting his blade across his lap as he scans the treeline. His posture is relaxed, but his eyes are sharp, constantly moving as though anticipating the worst.

You sit a few feet away, your knife still in hand, though you’re not entirely sure what good it will do against the night. For a while, neither of you speaks, the silence broken only by the distant rustling of leaves and the faint crackle of the fire below.

“Do you always volunteer for shit the rest doesn’t want to do?” you ask, breaking the quiet.

Jungwon glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not always. But someone has to do it. Might as well be me.”

You nod, your gaze drifting to the dark forest beyond the barricade. “You don’t trust me either,” you say, your voice quiet but not accusatory. It’s a statement, not a question.

He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the horizon. When he does speak, his tone is measured. “It’s not about trust. Not entirely. It’s about knowing what people are capable of when things go bad.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips. “Yeah. I’ve seen what people are capable of.”

Jungwon glances at you again, his expression softening just slightly. “What… happened?” he asks, his voice low, as though he knows it’s a loaded question but is willing to bear the weight of it.

You hesitate, the memories clawing at the edges of your mind, threatening to drag you back into a place you’d give anything to forget. Frankly, you don’t want to answer. You don’t even want to think about it. But the past has a cruel way of lingering, forcing you to confront it over and over again, like an open wound that refuses to heal.

“The community building,” you begin slowly, the words bitter on your tongue. “It was supposed to be safe. A place where people worked together. Where we helped each other survive.”

“At least, that’s what we told ourselves. But things changed when the supplies started running low. Suddenly, it wasn’t about helping each other anymore. It was about who could take the most, who could get out alive.” You pause, your fingers tightening around the knife in your hand as the images flood your mind. The arguments over food, the mistrust that spread like rot, the way desperation revealed the ugliest parts of human nature.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but the words spill out, raw and jagged. “I watched people turn on each other. Families. Friends. People who’d shared meals, shared stories, who’d promised to have each other’s backs. They fought over scraps. They left others behind without a second thought. And when the barricade fell… when the dead came through…” Your voice wavers, and you clench your jaw to steady it. “They didn’t just leave the weak behind. They trampled them. Used them as bait. Anything to save themselves.”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything, but his gaze remains fixed on you, his expression unreadable. You can’t tell if he’s judging you, pitying you, or just listening. Maybe it’s all three.

“I’d like to think the ones who made it out remember that place the way I do,” you say finally, your voice quieter now. “But I don’t think they do. I think they tell themselves it wasn’t their fault. That they had no choice. Maybe they’re right. But I had to see it, and I have to live with it.”

Jungwon watches you carefully, his expression unreadable but not unkind. After a moment, he asks, his voice low and steady, “Is that why you choose to survive alone?”

The question cuts through the quiet night, striking a nerve you hadn’t realised was exposed. You hesitate, your gaze falling to the dark ground below. “Maybe,” you admit softly. “It’s easier, I guess. No one to rely on. No one to disappoint you. No one to leave you behind.”

Jungwon doesn’t say anything immediately, but his silence feels deliberate, as though he’s giving you space to continue. You exhale slowly, the memories pressing against your chest like a weight you can’t shrug off.

“When you’re on your own, the only person you have to worry about is yourself,” you say, your voice hardening slightly. “If you make a mistake, you pay for it. If you survive, it’s because you earned it. There’s no one else to blame, and no one else to lose.”

Jungwon’s gaze doesn’t waver, and there’s a gravity in his eyes that makes you feel exposed. “But it’s also lonely,” he says quietly, as though he’s not asking but stating a fact.

You swallow hard, the truth of his words settling uncomfortably in your chest. You don’t answer, but the silence between you speaks volumes. Jungwon shifts slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he speaks. “Not everyone would’ve made it out of that and kept going,” he says quietly. “Most people would’ve given up. You didn’t.”

You blink, his words catching you off guard. They’re not exactly comforting, but there’s a sincerity in them that makes your chest tighten, like a wound you’d forgotten you were nursing.

“I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of,” you admit, your gaze fixed on the dark forest beyond the camp.

“It is,” Jungwon says firmly, and there’s an edge of conviction in his tone that makes you glance at him. “It means you didn’t let it break you. And that’s harder than most people realise—keeping yourself from going insane. Stopping yourself from letting this fucked-up excuse of a world swallow you whole. You didn’t give in, and that counts for something.”

You study him for a moment, his face lit faintly by the moonlight, his blonde hair swaying lightly in the night breeze. His expression is calm but resolute, as though he’s been through his own version of hell and come out with his soul intact.

You’re not sure how to respond, so you don’t. Instead, you let his words sit with you, their weight lighter than the memories they’ve momentarily displaced.

“You’re not as rough around the edges as Jay seems to think,” he says after a while, his tone lighter now. “But you’re not like the others either. You’ve got... fight in you.”

You glance at him, arching an eyebrow. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He smirks. “Take it however you want.”

“But that’s not what we do here,” he continues. “If someone falls behind, we don’t leave them.”

You turn to him, searching his face for any hint of deception, any sign that this is just a comforting lie. But his expression is earnest, his eyes unwavering.

You’ve been on your own for almost six months. You don’t even remember the last time you had a conversation this long with anyone. Words, when they did come, were usually short, functional—commands barked at yourself to keep moving, or fleeting exchanges shouted during desperate encounters.

This, sitting and talking, feels foreign. Unnatural.

It’s not that you haven’t come across other survivors. You’ve met people. Survivors who had extended a hand, offered you a place in their groups. Some seemed kind, others desperate. But you rejected them all. Trust is a luxury you can’t afford, and joining a group means opening yourself to betrayal, to risk. You’ve seen what people are capable of when the stakes are life and death. Better to keep moving on your own than rely on someone who could turn on you at any moment.

Still, sitting here with Jungwon, his calm voice cutting through the quiet night, you find yourself oddly enjoying it.

“Must be exhausting, caring about people.” you say, a faint, almost reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

Jungwon chuckles softly, the sound low and almost foreign in the stillness of the night. “It is,” he admits, his gaze flicking briefly to the camp below. The firelight dances across the faces of the others, who are finally beginning to settle down for the night. “But it’s worth it. At least, I like to think it is.”

You watch him for a moment, the corners of your mouth quirking slightly upward. “Did you know each other? Before?”

“Yup,” he says, leaning back against the rough railing of the makeshift watchtower. The faint moonlight softens the hard edges of his face as he speaks, his tone lighter now, touched with nostalgia. “Childhood friends. I’d just started university, and they wanted to come check out the campus. It was supposed to be a quick visit.”

He pauses, his gaze drifting toward the dark expanse of trees surrounding the camp. “We just so happened to be together when everything went to shit.”

The simplicity of his words doesn’t mask the weight they carry. You imagine the scene—an ordinary day, plans for the future barely set in motion, torn apart by chaos. You wonder if he thinks about how different things might’ve been if the timing had been just slightly off. If he’d been alone, or if they hadn’t been there together.

“Lucky, I guess,” you say quietly, though the word feels wrong in your mouth. Luck doesn’t feel like it belongs in this world anymore, not when it comes with such brutal cost.

“Yeah,” Jungwon replies, his voice softer now, almost like he’s agreeing and disagreeing at the same time. “Lucky.”

“What happened?” you ask cautiously, sensing the weight of his memories but curious nonetheless.

He exhales slowly, the breath heavy with remembrance. “We started out as a big group—most of the faculty ended up holed up in the auditorium. We thought we’d escape the initial chaos for the time. But someone got bit early on and hid it from the rest of us. They turned in the middle of the night. It took out half of us before we even knew what was happening.”

You swallow hard, the familiar pang of loss and horror creeping into your chest. “And the rest of you?”

“The seven of us, plus a few others, managed to get out alive,” he says, his voice tinged with a faint bitterness. “We thought our luck had turned when we ran into a group of people in military uniforms. They had tanks, rifles, the works. We thought we were safe.”

“That was The Future, wasn’t it?” you ask, recalling the name you’d overheard the others mention earlier.

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens, his expression darkening. “Do you really not know anything about The Future?”

You shake your head slowly, a knot of unease forming in your stomach. “No. I’ve been on my own for months. I’ve seen groups, but nothing that sounds like what you’re describing.”

Jungwon leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His voice lowers, taking on a colder edge. “They’re not a group. They’re an organisation. Big. Made up of military personnels who went rogue when they realised the government couldn’t control the outbreak, and high profile politicians started to abandon the people to save themselves.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, the weight of his words sinking in. The idea of a well-organised, militarised group with no one to answer to makes your skin crawl. “And you escaped from them?” you ask, your voice quieter now.

He nods, his jaw tightening. “Barely.”

“If they’re so strong,” you press cautiously, “why did you leave?”

Jungwon’s lips press into a thin line, his gaze dropping briefly to the dark ground below before lifting to meet yours again. “Their way of surviving… it’s messed up,” he says, his tone grim. “It isn’t about helping anyone—it’s about control. They take what they want. Supplies, people, anything they think they can use. If they decide you’re deadweight, just another mouth to feed, they won’t hesitate to…” He trails off, the unspoken words hanging heavy between you.

Your throat feels tight. “Is that why Jake said they’d gotten rid off all their women?” you ask tentatively, the memory of Jake’s earlier comment sharp in your mind.

Jungwon’s expression darkens further. “Not all,” he corrects, though the words do little to ease the growing unease in your chest. “Just those who, to them, served no purpose. And not just women. Children. The elderly. Anyone with a disability, or even someone who was sick—whether it was visible or not. If you couldn’t pull your weight or be useful to their ‘mission,’ you were as good as dead.”

Your stomach churns, bile rising in your throat. “That’s not survival,” you say quietly, your voice shaking slightly. “That’s—”

“Evil?” Jungwon finishes for you, his tone bitter. “Yeah. It is. They hide it under words like ‘efficiency’ and ‘necessity,’ but it’s just cruelty. That’s why we left.”

You can see the weight of the memories in his eyes, the lingering shadows of everything he’s seen and done to survive. For a moment, the silence between you feels suffocating, the distant rustle of the forest doing little to break the tension.

“How many of you escaped?” you ask, though you’re not sure you want to know the answer.

“Doesn’t matter, we’re all that’s left.” he says simply, his voice carrying the weight of names and faces you’ll likely never know.

He leans back against the watchtower railing, his shoulders sagging slightly as if the weight of the past has settled there. “We’ve been running ever since. Trying to stay ahead of them. Trying to survive without becoming like them.”

The knot in your stomach tightens further. The apocalypse had already stripped the world of so much—life, hope, humanity—and now it seemed to have given rise to something even worse.

You glance down at the camp below, at the group who had been wary of you, who still didn’t fully trust you. Yet despite everything, they’d chosen to leave a place like that behind, to hold onto something resembling morality.

“Must’ve taken a lot,” you say quietly. “To leave. To fight back.”

“It did,” Jungwon replies, his voice steady but tired. “But if surviving means losing everything that makes us human, then what’s the point?”

His words linger in the cool night air, settling deep into your bones. For the first time, you realise that you and the group aren’t so different after all. Just ordinary people, barely on the cusp of adulthood, thrust into a world that demands you play the role of protectors. Not because you’re ready, but because the ones who should have been there to protect you failed. Now, all you have is each other, forced to fill the gaps left behind by the people who should have kept you safe.

"But why are they still trying to hunt you down?" you ask, the question slipping out before you can think twice. It lingers in the air between you, heavy with curiosity and unease.

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze shifting to the dark treeline beyond the camp. For a moment, it seems like he might not answer. Then, with a quiet sigh, he leans forward again, his elbows resting on his knees.

“Because we didn’t just leave,” he says, his voice low and edged with something darker—regret, perhaps, or anger. “We took supplies. Food, medicine, weapons. Enough to give us a fighting chance out here. To them, that’s unforgivable. They don’t see people. They see assets. Resources they think they own.”

You feel a chill crawl down your spine as you process his words. “You think they’re after the supplies you took?”

“It’s not just about the supplies,” Jungwon replies, his tone grim. “It’s about control. We embarrassed them. Made them look weak. To The Future, that’s worse than losing anything physical. If they let us go, it sets a precedent. It shows people that they’re not invincible, and then what is to stop others from doing the same?”

Your stomach churns. “So they’re chasing you to make an example of you.”

“Exactly,” he says, his voice colder now. “They want everyone to know what happens when you cross them. And they won’t stop until they get what they want.”

The weight of his words settles heavily in your chest, the reality of their situation sinking in. It’s not just survival they’re fighting for—it’s freedom from a force that refuses to let them go. You glance back at Jungwon, his expression calm but laced with something harder, something forged by experience.

“How long have you been running?” you ask softly.

Jungwon exhales, the sound low and tired. “Almost six months,” he admits, his gaze fixed on the treeline.

There’s a pause before he continues, quieter this time, as though saying it aloud makes it more real. “Although… we think we might have lost them. For now. But we’re always ready to keep moving. Always looking over our shoulders.”

“Every time we think we’re safe enough to settle down, they find us,” he murmurs. “Like an obsessive ex-girlfriend, you know?”

The analogy catches you off guard, and you chuckle despite the seriousness of the conversation. It’s a strained laugh, but genuine—a brief flicker of something human in the midst of everything bleak. “The kind that won’t take a hint?”

Jungwon huffs a small laugh of his own, though there’s no real humour behind it. “Exactly.” He glances at you, a shadow of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Except this one’s got a lot more firepower.”

That explains it. Why they were so willing to leave the camp unattended, why they carried more supplies on their backs than they could possibly need. It wasn’t out of carelessness or greed—it was strategy. They packed light enough to keep moving, but just heavy enough to make sure they wouldn’t have to stop.

Everything they did was calculated, preparing for the worst. Ready to run at a moment’s notice if the situation demanded it.

Ready to disappear without a trace.

The fire below flickers, its faint glow casting long shadows across his face. For a moment, you see the weariness behind his sharp exterior, the cracks in the armour he’s built to protect himself and the people he cares about.

“You said tonight was different—you said there were a lot more of them than usual. Why did you think that way?” Jungwon asks, his tone low and measured, though his eyes flicker with unease.

You hesitate, chewing on your thoughts. The question pulls at loose threads in your mind, unravelling memories of the streets you’ve come to know too well. Images flash behind your eyes—the empty alleys, the shifting shadows, the silence that stretches too long before it breaks. You’ve always trusted your gut, and tonight, it screamed louder than ever.

Something is wrong.

“The city is… unpredictable,” you reply carefully, the words slow as you try to make sense of the thoughts swirling in your head. “Some days, the streets are empty. You might see the occasional horde passing through. They linger for a bit before something else catches their attention—a noise, a movement, anything that draws them away.”

“But hordes… they’re creatures of habit,” Jungwon listens intently as you continue, his brow furrowed, tension tightening his posture. “The noise they make keeps them together, pulling in the surrounding stragglers to join their little marching band. It’s a cycle. And that’s what makes them manageable. You can figure out their patterns, track the way they move, and avoid them if you’re careful.”

“But tonight, though…” You pause, the words lingering on your tongue like a bad taste you can’t quite spit out. “It wasn’t just one or two. It felt like they were coming from everywhere. Every direction.”

Jungwon’s gaze flickers to meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. His expression hardens, the flicker of dread in his eyes matching your own.

“Like someone put them there.”

The words hang in the air, thick and heavy. As soon as you finish, the thought sends a chill down your spine, settling deep in your chest. The silence stretches between you both, tense and oppressive, as the weight of the implication sinks in.

The idea that someone—anyone—might be capable of coordinating something so horrifying is almost impossible to comprehend. Almost.

“Do you think it was deliberate?” you ask, your voice quieter now, as if afraid to hear the answer.

Jungwon exhales slowly, his expression hardening. “Truth is, we don’t know for sure. We were in the city earlier, scouting for car parts to fix up the van. That’s when we thought we ran into members of The Future. But one thing about them—they don’t fuck with the cities. They stick to the communities near their base, taking whatever they need—supplies, weapons, fuel. They think the cities are too dangerous, too unpredictable.” His words hang in the air for a moment before he continues, his voice darker now. “But the way the hordes moved tonight... it felt like someone wanted them to sweep the area.”

The thought settles over you like a heavy fog. “But you don’t think it’s them? The Future?”

Jungwon shakes his head, though the hesitation in his expression is hard to miss. “It’s not their style. They don’t deal in chaos—they deal in control. And releasing hordes into the city? That’s reckless. Dangerous, even for them.”

“If it wasn’t them...” you start, but your voice falters.

Jungwon’s gaze sharpens as it meets yours, steady but grim.

“Then it’s someone else."

You sense that the weight of the conversation is more than you can handle for the rest of the night, and you know Jungwon senses it too. The quiet lingers between you, heavy but not unpleasant, the kind that almost invites you to leave the darkness of your thoughts behind.

“Should I go wake Jake and Ni-ki up for their shift?” you suggest, breaking the silence. You’re not sure whether the talk with Jungwon has helped ease some of your inner turmoil or if the sheer exhaustion from the day’s events is finally catching up to you, but your eyelids are growing heavier with every passing second.

Jungwon shakes his head slightly, his voice calm and even. “I’m actually just going to keep watch for the night. You can turn in if you’re tired.”

You blink at him, his words jolting you back to focus. “What?” you ask, disbelief lacing your tone. “In that case, we’ll take turns. There’s no way I’m leaving you up here alone the entire night. I can only imagine what Jay’s got to say when he wakes up tomorrow and finds out.”

Jungwon’s lips twitch, and then, to your surprise, he laughs—a genuine, unguarded laugh. The sound is startlingly warm, almost foreign in the bleakness of the night. For a moment, it feels like the world around you isn’t as broken as it really is.

“Fine,” he says, shaking his head in mild amusement. “You can rest first. I’ll wake you in an hour.”

His words carry a gentleness you hadn’t expected, and it throws you off balance more than you’d like to admit. You study his face—the slight crinkle at the corner of his eyes, the faint trace of a smile still lingering.

You hesitate, your exhaustion pulling at you, but the lingering sense of distrust—of everything, not just him—roots you in place. “You sure?” you mumble, your voice heavy with fatigue.

“Yeah,” he says with a faint nod, his eyes scanning the dark forest beyond the camp. “I’ve got it.”

“Alright,” you finally agree, leaning back against the railing and letting yourself relax just a fraction. “But don’t forget to wake me.”

“I won’t,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost reassuring.

The weight of the day presses down on you like a blanket, and despite your reluctance, you feel your body begin to give in.

Leaning back against the rough planks of the watchtower, you close your eyes, telling yourself you’re just resting them for a moment. But the distant rustling of the trees, the faint crackle of the campfire below, and the steady presence of Jungwon beside you lull you into a state of half-awareness.

At some point, you shift unconsciously, your head tilting until it finds something solid—warm. You’re too far gone to realise what’s happened, the exhaustion dragging you under.

masterlist | part 2 - warmth

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: i'm adapting a new form of writing specifically for this setting. i think i mentioned before how i struggle describing present moments over writing thoughts and monologues. lo and behold, turns out an apocalypse au is all about the present moment... i'm taking this as a challenge and honestly don't have high hopes. but i sincerely appreciate the read from all of you! things will start picking up in the next part~

perm taglist. @hajimelvr @s00buwu @urmomssneakylink @grayscorner @catlicense @bubblytaetae @mrchweeee @artstaeh @sleeping-demons @yuviqik @junsflow @blurryriki @bobabunhee @hueningcry @fakeuwus @enhaslxt @neocockthotology @Starryhani @aishisgrey @katarinamae @mitmit01 @youcancometome @cupiddolle @classicroyalty @dearsjaeyun @ikeucakeu @sammie217 @tinycatharsis @M1kkso

taglist open. @sungbyhoon @theothernads @kyshhhhhh @jiryunn @strxwbloody @jaklvbub @rikikiynikilcykiki @jakesimfromstatefarm @rikiiisoob @doublebunv @thinkinboutbin @eunandonly @wilonevys @sugarikiz @jellymiki @adoredbyjay @rebeccaaaaaaaa @baedreamverse @bamguetismee @flwwon @l1s0ro @st4rgirl1235

[come-as-you-are-111]

𝓒𝓵𝓸𝓼𝓮 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵..

Warnings: fluff, angst, cussing, squid game does exist but that ain’t the main focus here, friends to lovers? (Maybe a part two coming?…)

Is it clear I didn’t know what to put as the photos? 😭😭

Jun-Ho has always been reckless—too reckless. You knew that when you fell for him. But it’s different when you’re the one watching him bleed.

He stumbles into your apartment at nearly 2 AM, his jacket torn, knuckles split, and a deep gash running along his arm. He barely gets the door shut before you’re on him, eyes scanning every inch of him with a mix of panic and fury.

“What the hell happened?” you demand, already reaching for the first-aid kit.

Jun-Ho exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his damp hair. “It’s nothing.”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Oh, yeah? You look like you got run over.”

“I didn’t.” He shrugs. “Just a bad night.”

A bad night. That’s what he calls showing up at your door looking like this. Like he didn’t just shake hands with death and somehow slip away again.

You drop down in front of him on the couch, yanking his arm toward you with more force than necessary. He barely reacts.

“Stay still,” you mutter, pressing a damp cloth against the wound.

He hisses at the sting, but you ignore it.

“You’re mad,” he says after a moment.

“No shit, I’m mad.” Your hands shake as you press gauze to his skin. “One day, you’re not gonna walk through that door at all.”

He goes quiet.

And that silence? It terrifies you more than anything. Because it means he knows you’re right.

The room feels smaller. The dim glow of the lamp casts long shadows, the only sound between you the soft scrape of gauze and his uneven breaths. When you glance up, Jun-Ho’s eyes are already on you. Always on you.

“I always come back,” he murmurs.

You swallow hard. “That’s not the point.”

His fingers ghost over your wrist, hesitant at first, then firmer, grounding. His grip is warm, steady despite the bruises on his knuckles. “Then tell me what is.”

You don’t answer.

Because you know what he’s asking. What he’s really asking. And if you say it out loud, if you admit what he means to you, then you won’t be able to let go.

“I—” The words catch in your throat.

Then Jun-Ho does something dangerous.

He leans in.

Not enough to kiss you—just enough that his breath brushes your lips, enough that you feel the heat radiating off him.

Your heart slams against your ribs.

“Tell me to leave,” he murmurs. “And I will.”

You should.

You should tell him to leave, should push him away, should protect yourself before he becomes another ghost haunting you.

But when his hand slides up to cup your jaw, when his thumb brushes over your cheek, when his lips hover just close enough to steal your breath—

You don’t.

Instead, your fingers tighten around his wrist, keeping him there.

His throat bobs. His breathing is uneven now, like you’re the one unraveling him.

“You make this hard,” you whisper.

Jun-Ho exhales a quiet, shaky laugh. “And yet, you never let me go.”

It’s not a question. It’s the truth.

And when his lips finally brush against yours, it’s slow, careful—like he’s waiting for you to pull away. But you don’t. You can’t. Because even if this is reckless, even if this hurts, Jun-Ho is here. Alive.

And right now, that’s all that matters.

A/n: Hi my lil monsters! How we likey? First Jun-Ho fic so I’m excited!! Might make a part two if yall want it 😼

Love ya, Twilight

Taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun

Squid game taglist:

@amoristt @lousypotatoes @infinetlyforgotten @mirahyun @takuma-talkz

[whiskis]

A/N: Hi there! For those who don’t know, first part is here. (If that link doesn't work, try suscribing for free to Patreon and check this one) Enjoy!

Orc professor (part 2): late for class

Orc x chubby fem!reader || power dynamics, dom/sub undertones, exhibitionism (kinda), oral sex, size kink, age gap, degradation, praise kink

“If you want to show me your pussy, my cum better be leaking out of it. Do you understand?”

His words still echoed in your brain when you were getting dressed the next morning. You were already wet, and you fingered yourself to the memory of his dick in your pussy last evening. You were a bit sore, but the fact that you could still feel him made everything more intense, hotter… sexier. And it made everything so much better.

You decided to wear your pencil skirt this time, and blame it on your bad luck, but you spilled your coffee all over it. Cursing yourself, you changed as fast as possible, but not fast enough that you could get to class early as you knew you should.

By the time you arrived, he was writing something on the board. “Good morning, sir,” you enunciated very slowly, looking at him for directions as you saw the other few students entering behind you.

He turned around and stared at you with such intensity you felt your whole body react. You were almost panting, biting your lip not to groan out loud. “Good morning. You can sit down while I go to my office for a second.”

The other two students nodded and he passed you on his way to the door. He looked at you in such a way that you knew what you had to do without him having to say anything. You let your stuff on your usual seat and smiled at the girl who sat next to you, mumbling about going to get some coffee before class. She nodded with a smile and you had to stop yourself from running to his office.

You arrived just in time for him to pull you inside by the waist, pressing you against the door and kissing you senseless just like he did yesterday, his tusks feeling incredible against your jaw. His hands were traveling up and down your body, groping your ass and your thighs as he grunted against your lips.

“Fuck,” he whispered against your lips, pulling back and passing his hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture. “You were late. And I thought you regretted what happened yesterday. I was freaking out, little human. And then you walked out like nothing happened looking hot enough to eat and smelling like me… Good goddess. Do you know what you do to me?” He pressed his hips against your middle and you moaned at the feel of his huge hard on.

“I- I can feel it,” you stuttered, your voice quivering when his hands squeezed your ass, parting your cheeks and letting one of his fingers rub over your lace covered asshole.

“You have no idea. And now I can’t even fuck you properly. I can’t ruin you the way I want because you were late.” He punctuated each word with a squeeze and a roll of his hips. You panted, so horny you were about to burst and he didn’t even touch you. “Goddess, you smell so fucking good…” He whispered, burying his face on your neck and inhaling deeply.

“I’m sorry… I- I spilled coffee on my skirt and had to change and then I forgot a book and have to open the door again and…” Your rambling was interrupted by his lip covering yours again, swallowing your explanation as he grunted, his hands massaging your ass-cheeks once again.

“What do you have after my class?” He asked, his breathing labored, almost desperate.

“A couple more classes,” you told him, mentally checking if you could skip any of them. But you knew you couldn’t. You knew you shouldn’t. You were a damn good student… Even if you were fucking your way through one of your subjects.

“Shit.” He passed his hand through his hair again, messing it up and making you want to whimper. “Okay, okay. I have classes after lunch, but I’ll be here around four-ish. Does that work for you?” You nodded fervently. “Okay, I expect you to show me how sorry you really are for being late and depriving me from what I was promised.”

“I can… I can give you my panties now,” you offered, feeling the lace sticking to your pussy lips like a second skin because you were that wet.

“I don’t want them. I want you to be feeling how wet I made you all day. I want you to be uncomfortable and thinking about my cock deep inside your pussy until you are so horny you are desperate to come. Until you know how slutty you really are…” You moaned, his words igniting a fire inside of you that made your brain short-circuit. “Now, compose yourself, we have a very interesting class ahead. I’m sure you are dying to know about the survival strategies of cacti,” he said with a laugh, making you let out a choked giggle. You weren’t expecting him to joke. Shit, why did that make him hotter?

The class was boring, but you didn’t even care about it. You didn’t care about anything but the feel of your wet panties against your pussy and his words resonating inside your brain. He made a point of looking directly at you a couple times, going as far as to ask you something about what he was saying, just to huff in annoyance when you didn’t answer correctly. But he smirked in your direction and that was enough to send you spiraling into a thousand of new horny thoughts.

You left his class as fast as you could, trying very hard to look normal when you passed him, but his knowing smile only made your clit pulsate harder, your core clenching around nothing and making you want to beg him to take pity on you and fuck you right then and there. But you were stronger than that, so you left his class on your way to the next one.

You didn’t take a single note the rest of the day, your brain filled with possibilities and images of his hard dick. The feel of his lips against yours, and the ideas of how would feel against your lower lips… Your brain was running a mile per minute, and you couldn’t focus on anything that wasn’t the rub of the lace against your clit. It was exhilarating and maddening at the same time, and by the time four rolled around, you were on the edge and you had to run to his office in need of release.

You knocked rapidly, and when you opened and saw him there, shirt rolled over his big green forearms and glasses pushed down on his nose you almost came right there. Fuck, he was so fucking sexy it wasn’t fair at all.

“Come on in,” he said as soon as you closed the door behind yourself.

You tried to lock it, but he shook his head… Oh shit, that made you even wetter. The idea that you could get caught. That somebody could just walk in and know how much of a slut you were, that you were fucking your professor for a good grade…

You moaned and he chuckled. “Come here, little human, I almost hear your brain short-circuiting.” You walked to him, your steps measured so you wouldn’t fall. Your knees feel like jelly, and your pussy is so wet you are sure he can hear it from the desk. “So… Did you think about what you are going to do to redeem yourself from not meeting your end of our deal this morning?” You nod. “Go ahead, tell me.”

You’d been thinking about it all day. Your whole brain occupied by thoughts of his cock inside of you, against you, spilling in and over you… But there was one thought that surpassed all others. “I- I want to suck you off, sir.”

He smirked, his tusks framing his plush lips in a way that made your clit tingle. “Is that so? But you have such a tiny human mouth, I don’t know if you’d be able to fit me…” He teased, making you blush. You gave him your panties everyday, and that’s what got you to blush, him teasing you… Incredible.

“I will. It will. It will fit, sir,” you stuttered. This orc made your brain so fuzzy you could barely process words correctly anymore. You could barely talk when he was close, especially now that you were moments away from sucking his dick down your throat.

“Prove it then, little slut.”

You dropped to your knees so fast you moaned when you hit the floor, the spark of pain focusing your brain for a second. But the second you touched his big-as-tree-trunks thighs, your brain disconnected again. Only heat and lust left behind. You pulled down his fly in a slow movement, staring up at him as he looked back at you with an indescribable look.

You took his dick out and gasped again. You already saw it, you had it inside of you, but it was nothing compared with the realization that you were about to fit that inside your mouth. Maybe he was right, and it wouldn’t fit.

His eyes were tender when he looked down at you. “Relax, you don’t have to take all of it, just whatever you are comfortable with. I like you submitting to me, but I don’t want to hurt you in any way. Do you understand?” You nodded, relief running down your body and making you even hornier.

“Okay,” you whispered.

And then you launched.

You pulled out your tongue and started mapping the veins of his huge shaft one after the other. His hands were gripping the arms of the chair with such force you could hear the leather breaking. You smiled against his dick and he grunted, one of his hands fisting your hair and urging you where he wanted you more. You complied, you wanted nothing more but to be a good girl for him, a good slutty human for him.

You took his head into your mouth, your lips so stretched it was almost uncomfortable, but you liked it. You loved the feel of his cock inside your mouth, it was exhilarating in a way you weren’t expecting. You weren’t one to like giving head in general, you preferred to go down on girls than guys, but definitely wasn’t your go to activity, but right there… You fucking loved it.

You rolled your tongue around the tip, teasing the underside where you knew he was especially sensitive. He moaned over you, his fist pulling at your hair and making you moan around him, which made him almost whimper and let out a series of curses that would make a pirate blush.

You kept going at it, you couldn’t get past a few centimeters, he was too wide for you to get him to the back of your throat, but by the glassy look in his eyes you understood it was enough. You were messy, your saliva getting everywhere as you bobbed your head up and down.

He was looking down at you reverently, and you couldn’t hold back a few more moans, who made him thrust up accidentally. You pulled back coughing, eyes teary and a few tears rolling down. He groaned at the sigh, and you felt your clit pulsating with your heartbeat. You were so close to coming, you wanted nothing more but to touch yourself. You threw your body to him again, but he stopped you with the hand tangled in your curls.

“I want to fuck your pretty face, would you let me, little slut? Would you let me use you like my personal fuck toy?” You whimpered, nodding against his thigh as he pulled your head back by the hair. “Such a good girl for me, already so needy and desperate. Look at you… You look so dirty like that. Remind me to take a pic so I can enjoy you later,” his words made you emit a guttural moan.

The idea of him taking pics of you like that, make up running and lips swollen… it made you feel hot. It made you feel so horny you could feel your juices dripping down to the floor under you, your panties so wet they couldn’t hold your gushing pussy anymore.

“You like that? You like me having pictures of how pretty you look all fucked up? Why do I even ask, of course you do, you are such a little slut for me. Now open up.” You obeyed and he directed his dick back against your welcoming mouth. “Tap my leg three times if it’s too much, okay?” You nodded again. “Words. How many times?”

“Three. I tap three times if it’s too much,” you repeat, breathless already.

“Good girl.”

And then he started a brutal pace. He used his hold on your hair to direct your movements, moving your head forward until you couldn’t take it further and then retreating. Repeating that process until something inside of you gave out and you felt him slip inside your throat. It was almost too much, you couldn’t breathe, but your eyes rolled back into your head at the sight of him in pleasure.

He pulled back to let you breathe, looking down at you with reverence. “You look so fucked out I want to ruin you. Would you let me ruin you, little human?” You nodded, unable to form words. “Such a good girl for me.” He pulled your head forward and started to fuck your mouth in earnest.

Your brain was fuzzy, your pussy so wet you could feel it dripping down, and your clit asking for attention. The weight of his cock against your tongue, his hand on your hair and his curses over you were driving you insane.

“Touch yourself for me, little human. Come around your tiny fingers. Show me how much you like sucking my orc cock,” his permission was enough, your hand traveling down your body and rubbing frantically against your clit, over the lace.

His pace became erratic, and your fingers rubbed so hard you were almost afraid to set your clit on fire. But it was so good, the combination of sensations so intense you were about to come.

“I’m about to come. Do you want it? Do you want to swallow my come or do you want it in your face, little slut?” You sucked harder, pushing your head further down, swallowing around him to indicate you wanted it. You wanted to swallow him whole.

That was all it took. He growled over you and pushed his dick as far as he could before you felt the first shot of his come in the back of your throat. He pulled back a little to avoid chocking you, the final spurs of his release filling your mouth to the brim, some of it dripping down your chin.

The second he opened his eyes and looked down at you, his dick still in your mouth, you were done. You flicked your clit one last time before you melted, pulling back and spilling the rest of his come over your boobs as you cried out your own release.

Your vision whited out, your ears ringing as you felt your body moving as he pulled you up onto his lap, his hands caressing your back as he whispered sweet nothings that your brain couldn’t process.

He took some tissues from the box on his desk and carefully cleaned your messy face. “You didn’t take the pic,” you told him.

“We didn’t talk about it beforehand. I wouldn’t risk stepping over your possible boundaries like that.” Your heart skipped a beat. “But don’t worry, we’ll have more opportunities if that’s something you’d enjoy…”

“We will?” You asked, a bit confused but a spark of hope blooming inside your chest.

“I’m not letting go of your sweet, sweet slutty pussy anytime soon,” he told you, kissing your forehead as his hand traveled down until it met your dripping panties. “I would like this panties now, thank you,” he whispered against your ear, you could sense his smirk on his tone, making you laugh so hard you snorted.

Reminder that you can find all my other stories over @monstersflashlight

[ann-non]

SVT reactions on finding out their partner reading smut

Author’s note : it truly has been a while since I posted anything at all.. I honestly have been passively using tumblr. I hadn't been motivated much to write even though I have ideas in my head. I wish I can write more, but for now I'm just gonna focus on my life and post on rare occasions like this when I feel like it. This one is just a sudden thought because some ppl at work are making this book club but they’re sharing all these high literature books. Like no hate, it just requires more brain power for me to read, so I don’t read them as often and I gravitate more to those easy to read spicy romantasies if you catch my drift. But anyway, they don’t need to know what I read in my free time so I just pretend I didn’t see anything lol But yea, it got me thinking about how SVT members would react when they found out the kind of literary corn their partner is reading hihihihihi Obviously, this is just a work of fiction, in no way I know how they would actually react and I wrote this solely for entertainment purposes. Please enjoy and lemme know what you think!

Rating : not sure how to rate this. I guess, there are some innuendos, but nothing explicit.

S.Coups

He walks into the room, sees you quickly shut your book, and immediately gets suspicious. "What are you reading?" He reaches for it, but you hold it tight. Now he has to know. When he finally peeks at a passage, his whole face goes red. He stammers, "I—uh—I didn’t see anything!" and power walks out like he’s on a mission. Later that night, he awkwardly asks, "So… Can I borrow it when you’re done?”

He immediately notices the playful glint in your eyes and before you could say anything, he quickly added, “It’s nothing, I’m just curious!”

Jeonghan

This man is a menace, he’ll have a field day. He would say things so casually just to watch you implode and be like “Aha~ so that’s what you like~” Before you can react, he snatches the book and starts reading out loud in the most dramatic voice possible. "‘His hands traced down her—’ Oh? Interesting." If you try to take it back, he holds it above your head and laughs. Later, he leans in, whispers with that shit eating smirk of his, "I should start using your books as references, huh?" and leaves you completely speechless. And the worst (best) part? He’d bring it up at random times too, like when you're least expecting it. "Hey, which chapter was your favorite? Asking for research purposes." 💀

Joshua

Bro is blushing when he reads what you were reading. He doesn’t expect that kind of scene when he joins you in bed and then reads along with you out of boredom. "My goodness… Is this what you love to read?" You, unaware that he was reading behind your shoulders all along, quickly closed your book as blush crept all over your face. "I—uh—I didn’t mean to intrude!" He hugged you and encouraged you to keep reading as he pulled you closer. But later, as he was on his phone with one hand while the other wrapped around you, he suddenly muttered, "So… do you, um, read those often?" and instantly regrets asking. He’s too polite to tease, but his brain is racing trying to process it.

Jun

Your book was laying on the table unattended as you were busy with your phone. Jun slowly picks it up, reads a line, and gives you a knowing smirk. "Ah… so this is what you like?" He savors your embarrassment. "You should’ve just told me~" Then, for the rest of the day, he randomly brings it up— "Would you like me to act out a scene for you?" Like he would say it completely seriously with that innocent but dangerous glint in his eyes. He’d lean in, smirk, and be like, "You know… I’m pretty flexible. We could test it out, purely for science." And then just grin knowingly when you start blushing.

Hoshi

He gasps so loudly you think something is wrong. "BABY. WHAT IS THIS?!" He dramatically grabs his chest like he’s about to faint. But then he gets curious. "Wait… lemme see that." Next thing you know, he makes it a whole event. He’d flop down next to you, stretch dramatically, and be like, "Okay, hear me out—I could definitely do this." Then he’d actually start attempting the position in the middle of the room, while you’re just sitting there face palming at his antics, "Babe… please—" 

Wonwoo

Wonwoo would glance at your book, read a few lines, and then give you that poker face of his. Then, with the straightest face, he’d say, "Is the writing good, or do you just read it for the plot?" You stammer, and he smirks, "I should borrow it next. Expand my literary horizons." He won’t tease you outright, but you’ll catch him randomly quoting suggestive lines just to see your reaction. "Ah, so this is what you meant by 'intense character development'? 😏" 

Woozi

He catches a glimpse of your book and immediately looks away. Ears red. He pretends he didn’t see anything, but later, he can’t help but ask, "So, uh… that book. What is it about?" If you try to explain, he’ll awkwardly nod and mumble, "Yeah. Okay. Got it." But if you tease him, "Do you want to read it with me?" he will malfunction on the spot. "Wh—NO. I mean—why would I—" and then he’ll be avoiding eye contact for the rest of the week. Dude is traumatized lmao

DK

He sees the book, skims a sentence, and literally jumps back like he got electrocuted. "WAIT—IS THIS—?!?!" His face is pure shock. "BABE, I THOUGHT YOU WERE INNOCENT!" He covers his eyes like he just walked in on something scandalous. But later, when you’re reading again, he peeks over your shoulder and whispers, "…What’s happening now?" He’d stare at the page, tilt his head, then look at you like, "Wait… is that physically possible? Are human spines supposed to bend that way?" Then he’d probably try to reenact the pose just to prove his point, and now you’re sitting there watching your boyfriend nearly sprain his back because of a book. He’d pause, look at you with wide eyes, and say, "Okay but… HOW?! Like, WHERE are their legs at this point??" Then he’d proceed to read the entire passage out loud just to make it sound even more ridiculous, laughing so hard he can’t breathe, but then he keeps reading because "Now I need to know how it ends." 

Mingyu

He’d walk in, glance over your shoulder, and freeze. Then, after a solid three seconds of silence, he’d gasp so loud and grab his chest dramatically like he’s in a K-drama. "WAIT. HOLD ON. A REVERSE HAREM?? AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU??"

He’d literally act heartbroken, pacing around the room, muttering things like:

"I give you all my love, all my attention, and THIS is how you repay me?!"

"So what, you want four more guys? Is this why you’ve been reading so much lately?"

"IS IT BECAUSE I CAN’T MULTIPLY?!" 

And if you try to explain, he’s not hearing it. He’s already on his phone googling “how to kagebunshin no jutsu” while fake-sniffling in the corner. Bro is dramatic AF, but then he’s also the type to proceed to borrow the book (for research purposes he said), and end up getting way too into it. He’d come back blushing and stuttering like, "Sooooo I read it… and uh… I have some thoughts?? 😳"

The8

He’d glance at the book, shrug, and say, "Cool, do you like it?" before going back to whatever he was doing. But if you explain the plot, he might actually get curious and ask more questions in a totally nonchalant way. And when you least expected he would be like, "Hmm, it actually sounds kinda interesting… Can I read it after you?" but completely unbothered, like he’s asking for a normal book. He'd probably even come back after reading the book like, "Honestly, the plot wasn’t bad. The world building was solid. 4,3 stars out of 5"

He would even be willing to have an open discussion about the book and dissect it if you wish to. BUT!! He'd still take his chance to tease you by randomly dropping spicy one-liners just to fluster you. "I see why you liked chapter 12. 😏" 

Seungkwan

The moment Seungkwan catches you reading a spicy book, he already knows something is up. You’re too focused, flipping pages way too fast, and your expressions keep shifting between wide eyes and bitten lips. His senses are tingling. So, of course, he just has to know.

"EXCUSE ME—WHAT ARE YOU READING?!" He snatches the book, skims a paragraph, and squeals. "OH MY— SWEETIE, THIS IS FILTHY!"

But then, it happens, the performance of his life aka reading it out loud dramatically while also reacting in real time.

“He traced his fingers down her—OH MY GOD, WHY IS IT STARTING LIKE THIS?!” 

"His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered—" he pauses to look at you, scandalized. Cue his signature BOMBASTIC side eyes. "WHAT KIND OF LITERATURE IS THIS?!"

"She gasped as she felt his— NOPE. NOPE. NOT IN MY HOUSE."

But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no—he’s acting out the dialogue like he’s in a full-blown historical drama.

One moment, he’s dramatically dropping his voice to play the male lead, "You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you, my love." 

Then, without missing a beat, he switches to a high-pitched, breathless tone to play the female lead. "B-but what if someone hears us?!" 

He keeps reading, while still adding his own commentaries.

"Excuse me, WHERE are their hands right now???"

"Are they in a library? A CHURCH?! Oh, these people are going straight to JAIL."

"How is she still standing after that? I would’ve collapsed three pages ago."

He gasps, clutches his chest, and falls to the floor like he’s been fatally wounded by the sheer audacity of the scene. Meanwhile, you are absolutely DONE. You’re trying to snatch the book away, but he’s holding it above his head like he’s holding the last piece of food at a buffet.

 "OH NO, I NEED TO KNOW HOW THIS ENDS."

And yes, he will never let you live this down. He will bring it up at the worst possible moment. "Hey guys, did I tell you about the time I caught y/n reading a BOOK OF SIN?"

Vernon

He walks in, glances at the book, and just goes, "Oh, cool." That’s it. No reaction. No judgment. Just vibes. Later, when you're talking about books, he casually asks, "So is that one of your favorites?" You choke on your drink, and he just nods, "Nice." The next time you’re reading, he randomly goes, "Oh, this one is a classic  slow burn enemies to lovers trope. Good tension." You looked at him in shock at the realization that your boyfriend had read the book before and he just looked back at you with his usual laid back expression. “What? Did I say anything weird?”

Dino

He stares at the book, then at you, then back at the book. "Oh. Um. Cool." But five minutes later, he suddenly blurts, "But WHY do you read that?!" He’s so confused, but he tries to act mature about it. However, if you tease him, "Do you want to read it with me?" he IMMEDIATELY runs away, only to come back literally a minute later. He’s a little hesitant, but curiosity wins. He’d be like, "Wait… is that what people are reading these days?" and next thing you know, he’s HOOKED.

End note : obviously, I got carried away with Seungkwan’s. 🤣

[senseandaccountability]

What's your verdict of Dragon Age the Veilguard now two months down the road? How do you think fandom has reacted to it, compared to the other new titles that you can remember (I know you're a long-time fan)?

(Two months + a fair amount of weeks at this point, sorry for the delay, anon.) This is going to be salty, I’m afraid and a bit like beating on a dead horse but you did ask, thank you for that and sorry about being whiny.

My first impression was that it’s a 6/10 game. I think now upon replaying it two times, the score is even lower. It’s a very mid game that’s also clearly a salvaged product from a long and erratic production cycle. It has some good lore, some good writing, but it’s hidden almost entirely in optional side quests, subtext and the tiny margins of the text. 

Overall its way too much of a high stakes/low tension kind of game for me. It’s fun and it never truly grabs me except for the bits that are about previous characters. I don’t care about Rook. I like them well enough for a protag, I can fill them with headcanon to make them real but I would easily sacrifice them at the end without a second thought. There’s no pull, no tension, nothing to hold on to. I've tried to write fic about Rook but I just don't know anything about this person apart from the fact that they're very young and likes to say the word team a lot. Maybe Rook works in HR.

For all its high stakes, the game also repeatedly fails to show me these stakes. It keeps telling me how important it is, how busy we are and during the Siege of Weisshaupt and Blood of Arlathan, I really do feel it, momentarily. Those quests have weight to them, and they are tied in with the overall narrative of the series. We know the wardens, we know the Dalish. They matter. 

“Sometimes it takes the wrong sort to put it right,” the game says and doesn’t even dare to show me a single shred of moral ambiguity in Rook. Call me annoying but I don’t necessarily want to feel like a hero. I don’t need to feel morally righteous about my player character. I want the narrative to be complex and challenge me and hold compassion for the world it’s telling me about, dare me to change my mind about its characters and their various plights. What if the hero is wrong? What if the world is too complex to be reduced to simple choices? What if the trusted mentor lies and the liar tells the truth? What then? Somewhere in the far distance DAV wants to offer some complexity but hey we have EVIL ANCIENT GODS TO FIGHT YO! I actually hate the tone. I said early on that it’s one of my main gripes and I stand by it.  It’s chipper and full of HR-department tidiness and in general it just doesn’t move me because it’s just telling, not showing me the emotions. THIS IS THE EMOTION CALLED DOUBT, the game screams in my face. LET'S HAVE A TALK WITH THE TEAM TO PUT IT RIGHT. Immediately after finishing DAV, I went and played Disco Elysium and the contrast was quite honestly heartbreaking. Because the tone in that funny, sarcastic and over the top writing? It’s compassionate. It wants to be truthful about what it’s like to be a human living in a broken, inhuman world. It cares. Veilguard more often feels like an action movie revenge plot where you get to punch some EVIL ANCIENT GODS in the face because they want to drown the world in demons, man, let’s just leave it at that lol omg you can even PUNCH Solas lol whatever thanks bye.  

I also just find the text flat. It doesn’t have the transtextuality I’ve come to appreciate in the other DA games, it doesn’t play much with differences in dialogue for the different characters - like making one stand out as being anachronistic or having a different way of expressing themselves or being very unlike the others in some fundamental ways, it doesn't challenge and/or characterize through banter in the way the other DA games have done and it doesn’t give us companions that seek meaningful conflict or are difficult to understand. Veilguard is the only DA game where I haven’t felt any kind of strong emotional reaction while interacting with the companions, and while you could argue that this is a good thing because teamwork and professionalism or whatever, I’d say that for a text, this is a factor that makes it flat. No great piece of writing has only likable characters capable of self-reflection because no actual human being is only likable or not likable to everyone and by god are actual humans not always capable of self-reflection. In fact, some humans shy away from it for entire lifetimes.

The story of DAV is consistent in its themes, yes. It’s just that it’s also without nuance and - again - without stakes. The companion quests raise big moral dilemmas but the answers are so bland they might as well just be ignored. The outcome changes nothing, doesn’t affect the characters. There’s no price to be paid for becoming first talon, no punishment for being a lich, it’s just another wardrobe choice. Should I wear blue or black, perhaps become an immortal creature? No matter darling, you are always adorable. I think most of all the state of the game is a testament of a really fucking tragic industry that doesn’t care enough about storytelling and authenticity or its workers. I think it’s clear that the writers were trying very hard but I also think it’s clear that it wasn't the narrative the powers that be decided to focus on.  The DA fandom at large, quite frankly, has always just made me exhausted and miserable. I think a lot of the criticisms of DAV have been unhinged. I think a lot of the defences of the game have been so deranged that it makes me wheeze as I read them out loud to my husband. I’ve seen plenty of people dragging up some 17 year old noob’s post from the depths of reddit just to do some edgy take about how stupid people are for disliking the game and it’s just been so many bad faith takes. Overall, I’m truly sorry to say, I have no desire to play this game anymore nor do I feel very tempted to play the other DA games. I’m happy to see that my mutuals are having fun - I wish I felt anything stronger than oh well about the new characters, but I don’t. Maybe I will not be this actively bored in the future and pick it up again, but for now, no. I'll try to finish my fanfic and then probably be done for good with this fandom.

[whchenlvr]

Can u write about reader as little sister (prob 1 year gap) of one of the eunjang student??

Like how would baekjin na and the gang react to their gf as the little sister of their enemy (eunjang student)??

IM SORRY IF THIS DOESNT MAKE SENSE U CAN IGNORE IT IF U WANT 😭😭

i decided to use their korean names for this one since the requester did. anyway i hope you don’t mind!

when your brother is in eunjang ;

union x fem!reader

baekjin “donald” na

➤ oh boy

➤ it took him a long time to trust you in general because of his past, but it was even harder once he found out your older brother was a student at eunjang. more specifically, one that hung out close to big ben and the others

➤ it wasn’t a secret, so you didn’t feel the need to explain yourself when baekjin “suddenly discovered” that you were in “cahoots” with the enemy

➤ “you’re a spy.” “i’m not a spy.” “you’re a SPY!” “NO!”

daehyun “jake” ji

➤ his extroverted self does not care

➤ daehyun knows he can’t date you publicly like he wants, but he gets your brothers begrudging approval before asking you to be his girlfriend with the promise of never involving you in any of the union’s activity

➤ in private, you’d hold hands and invite him over to your house to play games, read comics, and eat dinner. sometimes the two of you kiss super dramatically just to annoy your brother

➤ in all honesty though, your brother likes daehyun. he trusts him with you and thinks you’re super cute together

hyeokjin “dean” kwon

➤ hyeokjin is taller and older and scarier than your brother, and you use those facts alone to tease your brother into letting you see him

➤ “if you don’t let me go on my date, hyeokjin is going to punch you.” “Y/N??? IM YOUR BROTHER?!” “YEAH BUT HES HOT SO”

➤ hyeokjin finds the two of you more amusing than anything else. your brother and you are constantly bickering, but at the end of the day, hyeokjin still makes it known to your brother that he will protect you

➤ “he’ll never admit it, but my brother likes you a lot.” “you’re just saying that so i pull my punches.” “yeah <3”

jihoon “jimmy” bae

➤ “you’re brother goes to eunjang?” “yeah..” “… would you totally dump me if i beat him u—OW!”

➤ you love jihoon. you love your brother. you hate seeing them argue, especially when it’s on your behalf, but you understand that they’re rivals and it can’t be helped

➤ after several months of dating, your brother accepts the fact that you won’t be breaking up with jihoon. he isn’t happy about your relationship, but there isn’t anything he can do to end it

➤ likewise, jihoon hates the fact that you have familial ties to eunjang. still, he loves you enough to look past it and is sure to limit the fight talk when you’re around

jeongyeon “jack” kang

➤ he starts scheming

➤ “okay, so, is there any chance you could ask your brother where he and the eunjang students are planning to meet?” “no.” “… would you do it for a scooby snack?” “???”

➤ honestly, he was worried that you’d break up with him when your brother said he didn’t approve of your relationship. however, after you slapped your brother for laying a hand on jeongyeon, he knew that it didn’t matter

➤ “y/n…” “don’t mention it.” “you smacked your brother.. for me?” you’d laugh at his super dramatic and cheesy reaction. “anything for you, snookums!”

seongje “wolf” keum

➤ just because your older brother fights for eunjang doesn’t make you eunjang property, and seongje reminds them of this often

➤ thankfully, even though your brother finds seongje quite terrifying, he agrees and knows that despite everything, seongje would never let anything happen to you

➤ if only the other eunjang students thought the same

➤ “i’m going to break their fingers—“ “no, no finger breaking.” “—yes finger breaking :)”

[bellaed1t]

- mysterious man -

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

rapper!rafe & singer!reader meet at the grammys

warnings: none that i can think of!

authors note: first time writing btw! sorry if you don't like it

word count: 625 (sry its short i’m SUPER busy)

Cameras flashed like lightning, blinding you with every step. The paparazzi’s voices blended into a deafening roar, their questions sharp and relentless.

“Over here!”

“Who designed your dress?”

“Is it true you’re dating—”

“Look this way!”

You could barely see, barely think. All you wanted was to escape to the after-party. The air was thick with heat and desperation, the press shoving closer, their lenses invading every inch of your space. Security was nowhere in sight.

Then, out of nowhere, a firm hand grasped yours, pulling you from the chaos. The touch was strong, certain—no hesitation. You barely had time to react before you were being guided away, slipping through a narrow opening between two buildings. The world around you blurred as you stumbled into the safety of the shadows, the muffled noise of the crowd fading behind you.

Your heart pounded.

You looked up—and there he was. The mysterious man you’d seen twice before. His presence was undeniable, his gaze intense, as if he had been expecting this moment.

“You again?” you breathed, half in shock, half in something else—something unfamiliar.

He tilted his head slightly, a smirk forming. “You looked scared. Are you okay?”

His voice was smooth, edged with amusement, but there was something in his eyes—something unreadable.

You swallowed hard, still catching your breath. The city lights cast shadows across his sharp features, making him look even more enigmatic.

“I’m fine. Thank you,” you replied, your voice steadier than you felt. You didn’t break eye contact—something about him held you in place, like a force stronger than logic.

His smirk deepened. “Funny, you don’t look fine.”

Before you could respond, the distant chaos of the paparazzi grew louder. They were still looking for you. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at you, as if weighing a decision.

“Come with me,” he said suddenly. It wasn’t a question.

Your heart pounded. Every instinct told you to walk away, to go back to the safety of the party. But something about him—his confidence, his familiarity—made you hesitate.

“Why should I?” you challenged.

His smirk faded, replaced by something more serious. “Because if you stay here, they’ll find you. And I have a feeling you don’t want that.

He extended his hand. The air between you crackled with something unspoken.

You had a choice. Follow the stranger who had appeared in your life not once, not twice, but now a third time—or risk being swallowed back into the flashing lights and deafening shouts.

With one last glance at the approaching crowd, you made your decision.

You took his hand.

The moment your fingers touched, a strange sense of déjà vu rushed over you, like you had been here before. His grip was warm, steady. Without another word, he led you deeper into the alley, past rusting fire escapes and abandoned doorways, moving like he knew exactly where he was going.

“Who are you?” you finally asked as you struggled to keep up.

He glanced at you but didn’t slow down. “Someone who knows when trouble is coming.”

The way he said it sent a chill through you.

The two of you emerged into a quieter street, far from the flashing cameras. A sleek black car was parked at the curb, engine idling. He pulled open the door and motioned for you to get in.

You hesitated. “I don’t even know your name.”

For the first time, something flickered in his expression. Amusement? Hesitation?

Finally, he said, “Call me Rafe.”

It didn’t feel like a real name. But before you could press, the shouts of the paparazzi erupted again in the distance.

“Decide fast,” he warned.

Your mind raced. This was insane. But so was standing in the street, waiting to be swallowed by the cameras again.

With a deep breath, you slid into the car.

Rafe got in beside you, shutting the door just as a group of photographers spilled into the street, their cameras scanning frantically. The driver pulled away smoothly, melting into the night.

The silence inside the car was thick, heavy with unspoken questions.

“You never answered me,” you finally said. “Why do you keep showing up?”

Rafe exhaled, leaning back against the seat, watching the city lights blur past the tinted windows.

“Because someone needs to,” he murmured.

The way he said it sent another chill through you.

Because deep down, you knew this wasn’t a coincidence.

And whoever Rafe really was…

He knew more about you than he was letting on…

[teaboot]

Cause like. I WAS gonna say Death, but dying doesn’t scare me, being separated from my loved ones does- and that’s not so much a Fear as a Sadness, and Sadness is important. I’m not afraid of feeling sad

But the reason I’m not afraid of feeling sad is because it passes. Or it always has before, even if it still hurts- the worst part I think is the lowest point where the world feels like it’s ended and you aren’t ready to stop grieving yet

But if grief were to last forever and never lighten, to truly be permanent, I imagine at some point it would involve a complete loss of hope- an acceptance- and a certainty, I imagine, because this is a sadness that would surpass dying- and catch up with the rest of me.

Complacency in misery. A lack of desire for better. An inability to hope or imagine an end, like an open wound that never scabs over and just keeps getting deeper like a bottomless pit of hurt that you just kind of get used to.

I like Anger. Anger feels powerful and actionable, and as long as I don’t use it to hurt people, it’s an intoxicating sort of euphoria.

Sadness feels good, too. You ever fall asleep after a long awful cry and feel lighter? You ever feel like your sadness was honouring something? I don’t mind sadness.

Pain, too, is a motivator. Hurt of both emotional and physical kinds. Im scared of needles, and falling, and getting stabbed, but those are fleeting fears- once they happen, you do the best you can to fix it. Pain sucks when you can’t do anything about it, but unexpected or abrupt pain is actionable. There’s a forward momentum.

Despair… despair is an acceptance of bad things. No determination, no motivation, no energy. It’s knowing that something horrible has happened or is happening and accepting that there’s nothing you can do and just… giving in.

Despair is a loss of hope, a deafening of anger, an acceptance of pain, and a total neutralizer of anything good about fear.

People watch scary movies, and tragedies, and gore, because a part of us likes a bit of fear and sadness sometimes.

I can’t think of a genre people enjoy because it inspires complete, abject hopelessness.

And more than any amount of pain or fear or loss or danger, I fear a reality in which I no longer react.

This wasn’t initially meant to get deep, but like… emotional paralysis. The possibility of accepting eternal grief and letting it eat my potential alive. Something that leaves me alive and breathing while unable to honour the memories of those I care for.

Despair.

That scares me

Name the thing you fear the most

Despair

[vershautece]

imagine how lu would react to his back after missionary the night before

YES imagineeeeee having ur arms and legs wrapped around his back during missionary and the marks you’d leave all over him as he’s pounding into u

the next morning u guys would be cuddling in bed and he’d stand up to go to the bathroom - you’d gasp seeing his upper back just absolutely covered in scratches from ur acrylics: ‘oh my god lu look in the mirror’

‘mhm? what is it, you think i look sexy?’ he’d wink at you - he’s stood in front of you completely naked and ofc he looks gorgeous, but you just roll your eyes and get out of the bed to walk him over to your full length mirror and show him what you’d done to him😭

‘no way, i know i fuck you good baby but i look like i’ve been attacked by a wild animal’ he’s in shock, laughing at u

you glare at him playfully: ‘i don’t know if it’s nice to compare your girlfriend to a wild animal’

‘well we were fucking like animals last night so it’s fitting’ he smirks, and u giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck on your tiptoes. he picks you up by your thighs, holding your naked body to him, and your legs go around his waist instinctively. the skin on skin contact is so comforting and familiar <3

‘i’m sorry lu’ you carry on giggling. because he’s holding you up and your arms are around his neck you can reach his upper back, and you trace the marks you left, leaving soft kisses on his face and neck

‘sh, i don’t care, it’s physical proof of how good i make you feel - it’s just funny i didn’t even realise how much you were digging your nails into me last night, i was preoccupied with something else, y’know’ he laughs in your ear, making his way to the bathroom with you in his arms. he turns on the shower and whispers: ‘you wanna make my back look worse, hm?’

you giggle in response, squealing as he holds you even tighter and smacks ur ass before setting u down on the floor of the shower

[winniefrezcomics]

Why does Peri use a cane in ur AU?

I know other fop artists have there Headcanons on why and I was curious what urs was! c:

Ooh, good one! I’m sure Perry receives a diagnosis at some point in his life, but I’ll refrain from choosing a specific irl condition both for lack of knowledge and bc it’s actually magic related! (I imagine human doctors would have no way to properly identify trace amounts of magic in his system lmao)

The FULL reason is a spoiler so I’ll put the doodle under a cut, but the TLDR is- like canon Poof, Perry is a WISH baby, and later in the AU timeline he has ALL the magic drained from his system for plot reasons (surviving ofc but just left very tired for a while) and when his body slowly started building back up his residual magic, his human immune system had already gotten used to the magic being gone, and starts ATTACKING the ‘foreign bodies’ in his system ☠️☠️, resulting in him needing his cane, and later, his wheelchair. The amount of magic in Perry’s system gradually plateaus over time, but never QUITE returns to the power level he had as a child- I think his medical problems started in high school tbh, when the magic has had some time to replenish- and one day Iris has to unexpectedly CATCH his boyfriend in the hallway bc his knees randomly give out and neither of them have any idea why. Perry suffers flareups like this for the rest of his life, seeming random to human doctors, but usually the magic is actually reacting to other magic around it, or particularly magical times of the year-

Sometimes though, in quiet moments when he’s older, Perry will feel his body start to react, but puts the pain aside, because somewhere deep in his heart, he knows it’s just someone he loves dearly paying a visit, even if he can’t remember them 🧡✨

Lmk if this sounds similar to any IRL condition yall know of- like I said I’m sure Perry HAS a professional diagnosis, it’s just not QUITE accurate bc magic ☠️

ALSO Lmk if yall wanna hear about Perry’s mild magic powers! Idk if “powers” is the right word bc he can’t rlly control them and they’re barley noticeable tbh, but being a wish baby means ya boi got some weird stuff going on lol ✨✨

Concept art for post “Ved’s Betrayal”- Perry offers his magic to power Dev’s wand and saves the day, but spends the next week or so feeling very sleepy and sluggish, while doing his best to comfort his friend. Iris does, uh- NOT take the betrayal well… 😭💔😞

Don’t tell nobody but this damn comic is looking like it’s gonna be around 20 pages lmfao-I’m gonna try to fully color it I think bc it would be dope af if it looked like the frames could be stills from an ‘episode’, but that’s gonna be a LOTTA work, so don’t expect the full thing to be done anytime soon lmao ☠️☠️

[swytchoocos]

𝑂𝑓𝑓- 𝑙𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑡𝑠

One shot~

Pairing: Rindo haitani x reader

Description: you tried to stay away from Rindo because of bontens danger but you refused to let him go.

The cold city air bit at your skin as you hurried through the dimly lit streets, your hood pulled low over your face. You knew you shouldn’t be here. You told yourself you wouldn’t come back.

And yet, here you were—outside his apartment.

Your fist hovered over the door for a moment before you sighed, steeling yourself, then knocked.

A few seconds passed before the door swung open, revealing a half-asleep Rindo, His black and violet hair was a mess, his shirt barely thrown on, but the moment he saw you, his sleepy gaze sharpened.

“Y/N,” he murmured, voice rough. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You hesitated. “I needed to see you.”

His jaw clenched. “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t come around anymore.”

You had agreed. After all, dating a Bonten executive was a death sentence waiting to happen. Mikey had already warned you once—Rindo was dangerous, his world was even worse, and people who got too close to them never lasted long.

And yet, despite knowing all that, you couldn’t stay away.

“I tried,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “But you know I can’t just forget about you, Rindo.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. “Damn it, Y/N… I’m not gonna lie to you—Mikey finds out you’re still hanging around me, it won’t end well. For either of us.”

You swallowed. “Then let’s keep it a secret.”

Rindo scoffed, but there was something in his eyes—something raw, conflicted. “Tch. You don’t get it, do you? This ain’t some fairy tale, babe. People in this world, they don’t get happy endings. They get buried six feet under.”

You stepped closer, barely an inch between you now. “Then tell me to leave. Tell me you don’t want me here, and I’ll walk away.”

Silence.

Rindo’s gaze flickered to your lips, then back to your eyes, his breathing a little heavier now. His fingers twitched at his sides, like he wanted to pull you in but was fighting against it.

“You’re a damn idiot,” he muttered.

And then his hands were gripping your waist, yanking you inside before kicking the door shut behind you.

You barely had a second to react before his lips crashed against yours, desperate, reckless— like he was trying to burn the memory of you into his skin before it was too late.

Maybe this was dangerous. Maybe it would end in disaster.

But right now, none of that mattered.

All that mattered was him.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🐕‍🦺1k 💜💜💜💜💙💙💙💙 ooo excited to see Eddie's POV in a cranberry story!

WOO! Let's go.

1k for the girlie (dog):

---

But the thing is, Cranberry is potentially one of the most perfect creatures in all of existence. He can’t say that out loud. Buck already says he babies her too much. As if she isn’t an eternal baby? She’s just easy to exist around. Happy, quiet, sweet. He doesn’t have to be anything around her, because she’s sort of obsessed with him for no reason, as is. So, yeah. As much as he’s grateful for Pepa and Carla, he’s sort of eager to see his dog. Buck’s dog. Whatever. 

“In the crate,” Chris grumbles, looking sour about it. “I knew you’d want to see her.”

“Christopher,” Pepa scolds. 

“We didn’t want her to jump or knock into you,” Carla explains. “We know she gets a little over excited about you.”

“Training goes out the window every time Eddie gets home from work,” Buck admits. 

“I want to see her,” Eddie says, feeling snappish. “Let her out.”

Pepa and Carla look surprised. 

He’s not usually… Well he knows he’s being short. He knows they did what they thought was right. But still. He wants the damn dog. Why is no one getting her? Does Eddie have to go get her? He will.

“Okay, uh… I’ll go get Cran,” Buck says, upon reading that Eddie is dead serious. “Eddie, why don’t you go sit down, okay? Or, if you need to go to bed…”

“I don’t,” Eddie says. “I’m just… Yeah, I’ll sit down.”

‘

Pepa looks at him nervously. “Can I get you anything, Edmundo? Water?”

Eddie shakes his head. He just wants the damn dog.

“I’m good.”

🦮🦮🦮

Cranberry comes tearing through the house towards him, squealing with excitement that he’s home. But right before she crashes into where he sits on the couch, she stops. She looks at him blankly for a moment. Eddie tenses. Chris is sitting beside him, watching both of them. Eddie doesn’t want to react to the dog acting differently, so he keeps very still. But why? Why did she stop? Can she sense that something is missing about him?

Cranberry takes a tentative step forward and starts to sniff his legs. 

“It’s okay, Cran,” Chris says. “Dad is okay. He missed you.”

Eddie keeps still. His throat feels very tight. He feels like he might cry. 

But then Cranberry wags her tail, licks Eddie’s knee, and hops up onto the couch.

“Careful!” Carla calls across the room. “Oh, be careful.”

Eddie ignores it. He uses his good arm to stroke Cranberry’s head as she lies across his lap. She stays very still, presses her head into his stomach. 

“Good girl,” Eddie whispers. “Thank you, good girl.”

Buck walks into the living room, pausing in the entryway. He watches them. Eddie pretends he doesn’t see. 

iii.

Buck takes even more time off work. 

He’s already been gone for a week to be beside Eddie in the hospital. He takes another week.

Eddie feels guilty about it. Guilty, guilty, guilty. Shameful. How many days did he take off when Buck lost his leg? None. How many days did he take when Shannon died? Three shifts. Three. What kind of fucking person is he?

Buck is such a good caretaker, too. Astounding really. Eddie has everything he needs, all the time. Never misses wound care or medication doses. He does it all while caring for Chris, the dog, and minding Eddie’s shitty mood. He’s a miracle. A force of nature. Eddie loves him. He appreciates him. He wishes he’d remember to say that more now. For some reason, the words are stuck on his tongue. Thank you. I love you. What would I do without you? Why can’t he just say it?

He just has to hope Buck knows while he tries to shake his brain free of cobwebs. 

Eventually, though, Buck does have to return to work. He does have to leave Eddie. Eddie dreads it. Quietly. He doesn’t say he’s terrified about being alone with his thoughts today. He doesn’t say he’s sore and miserable. He doesn’t say knowing Buck is in the other room, doing dishes, while Eddie sleeps, makes Eddie feel safer. 

On the morning Buck is due back at Emergency Ops, Eddie wakes up to Cranberry laying her head on his chest. He’s been having trouble getting up in the morning. The meds make him sluggish. Eddie insisted Buck wake him up before he goes, but when he opens his eyes, Buck is dressed and ready, trying to sneak out of the bedroom. Which doesn’t make sense. Because Cranberry is in bed. 

“Buck,” Eddie rasps, pinned in place by the dog. 

Buck pauses, then turns to Eddie.

“Hey, hon,” Buck smiles. “I’m just about to go. You need anything?”

“Uh, no… But, why aren’t you taking Cran?”

Buck frowns. “Um… Well… I put pull tabs on the fridge and some drawers. I put your meds in a velcro bag she knows to target. She can do other basic retrievals.”

“Buck…”

“She won’t be any work!” Buck interjects. “She’s been fed, done her business, and has enough water to get through the day. She’ll be fine if you can’t let her out until I’m home. She doesn’t need anything, but she can help you.”

Eddie sighs. “I know she’s not any work, but Buck… She’s yours. You need her.”

“Yeah, and today she can help both of us,” Buck says. “Because… Because I think you need her more than me. And knowing she’s here with you will put my mind at ease, okay? If you need me, drop your phone but can’t… She could get it for you, you know?”

And how the hell is Eddie supposed to say no to that? Because, honestly? He’d feel better with her here, too. 

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you, Buck.”

He manages to say it that time.

[kaunis-sielu]

Naja Returns: 2

When you get Cassie back to the safe house you switch out the plates on the car, just in case. Then, slipping out of the garage you pull your phone out of your pocket and find Bucky’s number. Taking a deep breath you press his name then put the phone to your ear.

“Hi Doll.”

“Bucky.” You’re a bit embarrassed to admit that you sound breathless when you say his name.

“You somewhere safe?”

“Yea.” You assure him, it warms your heart that he’s asked. “Why are you in New York?”

“Never really left. I got a place in Brooklyn after everything that went down with you.”

“Oh.” He, never left?

“Can we meet up somewhere? I feel like we have a lot to talk about and I’d rather do it face to face.”

“You can come here. Just, make sure you’re not followed.”

“Your client is okay with that?”

“I trust you and she trusts me.” I tell him and Bucky is quiet for a moment.

“I, thank you.” You’re surprised that he seems surprised by this information. He did save your life once after all.

“I’ll send you my address.”

“Is this your new number?”

“Yea.”

“Okay. I’ll see you in a few.” He promises and after you hang up you send him the address. Cassie is in the bedroom when his car pulls up.

“Hey Cassie. Bucky is here do you wanna hang with us or in your room?”

“I’ll stay in my room if that’s okay? He’s such a big man.”

“Whatever makes you more comfortable. I’ll keep him in the living room.”

“Thank you. For everything.” You can’t help but give her a little smile, Cassie is a sweetheart and you hate what he’s done to her. The knock at the door doesn’t surprise you, it’s two quick taps, not loud but loud enough to hear across the house. When you pull the door open Bucky moves into the house.

“Hi.” He says not looking at you but instead glancing around the room. “Where is Cassie?”

“In her room. She doesn’t need to be here does she?”

“No.” He stares at you for a moment. “It’s really nice to see you Tori.”

“You too Bucky.” This is kind of awkward, you don’t know how to react. The last time you saw him you were running away from him after killing several men. “Do you want to sit down?” He sinks onto the couch then looks over at you on the armchair.

“So, you’ve put yourself on the map with some dangerous men.”

“Not the first time. Won’t be the last.” You tell him with a little shrug.

“Probably true.” He rests his elbows on his knees, “but Sam thinks these ones are dirty. So these ones have a badge and probably a vendetta.”

“Great.” You deadpan and he gives you a little smile. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“I want to hire you.”

“I’m a little busy Bucky.”

“I know. I have a plan for that too.”

“That you came up with in less than an hour?” You ask with raised brows and he chuckles.

“The plan started to come together the second I saw you.” You lean back in your chair waiting for him to continue. “I could put Natasha on your client. She’s the best female I have. We’ll keep the same agreement you have with her and we’ll stay on her until you’re satisfied that the job is done.”

“They know me now.”

“So did I.” He says locking eyes with you. “Tori. My team isn’t built for surveillance and evidence gathering. You took down an entire team of assassins by yourself in less than twelve hours. I got an up close and personal look at how you work and I’m still not sure how you did it.”

“I have to talk to Cassie about this. I won’t just abandon her to someone she doesn’t trust.”

“Understandable. I can have Nat come over?”

“I want to talk to Cassie first. Before anyone comes over.”

“Okay.” He agrees, “would you ever consider actually joining Nomad?”

“No.” Bucky laughs softly at your immediate response, and you’re glad that you didn’t offend him. “No offense but I’m better working on my own.”

“I wasn’t offended. It would just offer you some extra protection if something were to happen.”

“If I kill someone.”

“Yea.”

“I’ve only killed one guy and that was because he started it.” You tell him, in your defense he did start it. He’d started the shooting the second he’d laid eyes on you, you’d just finished the shooting. Bucky grins at you,

“Just give it a thought Doll? Please?” You nod and he leans back against the couch.

“How have you been?” He asks,

“I’ve been okay. Keeping busy, trying to make sure that I don’t slip back into bad habits.”

“Like?”

“Do you know how easy it would be for me to just, get rid of these men and not bring them to the police?”

“I’d like to think it would give you some pause after six years.”

“You’d think.” You agree but he’s wrong. Sometimes it’s so easy to imagine how you’d take care of the shit heads before you met Bucky.

“And you’ve really been okay?”

“Yea. I have steady work, I feel like I’m making a positive difference. It’s, nice.”

“Good. Are you,” he shifts in his seat, “are you seeing anyone?”

“No. Hard to date someone when I have to lie to them about my past.”

“Oh, right.” He rubs the back of his neck, “sorry. This is kinda weird right?” You can’t help but laugh,

“Yea it’s kinda weird.” You affirm and he leans back in the chair.

“Why did you run from me?”

“Because, I couldn’t be the person you wanted me to be and being around you when I couldn’t do that was too hard.”

“So you ran from me?”

“And my past. At least a little.” You admit, Bucky nods his head.

“I can understand that. Do you want to go talk to Cassie so I can fill you in on my plan?”

“Yea, it might be a tough sell.” You tell him before standing and heading to the room where Cassie is hanging out.

Tag list:

@connie326 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @killcomet @wonderlandfandomkingdom @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

[fernspirals]

am I being delusional and over dramatic

[waywardstation]

One last store update! After this I will begin sending emails to a subscriber list.

You can input your email of choice for my shop newsletter into this google form here.

A quick summary of some things:

I was unable to finish orders by printing their shipping labels by today, despite what I said last week, because of health issues that had to be addressed instead.

More of my product order was messed up, had enough items to fulfill every order but I’ve been left with ZERO extra stock on a couple items to put into my shop after.

I got enough interest in the Halloween keychains and stickers so I will be making them.

Full explanations below ^^

I have now packed every single order and reviewed all of their contents. However I was unable to send them out today as at some point last week I became very unwell. I’ve been going downhill for a while but it has never gotten to this degree this fast before. I still don’t really know what caused it and so I had been unable to pack over the weekend and couldn’t get all the shipping labels printed for them today.

I will be printing these labels out and taking chunks of the orders to the post office over the next few days.

But the more I’d packed the more I’d realized more of my product order had been messed up. I had ordered extras of everything and yet some of the products that I ordered just BARELY fulfilled every order — I had to use some of the initial samples to fulfill every order but rest assured they are the exact same as the products in size and quality. I have exactly ZERO of some products left over for shop stock when I’d ordered 10-15 extra of every item (as well as TOO MANY of some less popular products that didn’t need all these extras) which sadly means a few items will not be in stock when I open the store back up. I may put discounts on the unwanted extras I received because of this.

While I would expect by default to receive the products in the quantity that I ordered, I also understand that I ordered hundreds of products all in one order, and that is only one order that is being fulfilled out of the many other orders they get daily. I myself did not count out every single product to check because of the sheer amount of everything that was ordered — I had ordered over 500 keychains alone to fulfill the preorders and the entire order has taken up a full room when all spread out. But I still did not count beforehand and would only find out once I’d run out of a certain product, so I accept this is partly my responsibility too. This should not happen again as I never expect to make an order this big again, I had only done this for shop startup, and I will be making another order to restock these products. But it’s still sad it happened.

I apologize for this and I appreciate all of your patience once again. I am explaining all of this as I believe you are owed information about what is going on seeing as you’ve put money into this, and I myself said they would all be sent out by Monday. I just want to be transparent ^^

And one last thing — many of you wanted Halloween merchandise, so I will be moving forward with that! (I’ve decided they will not be glow in the dark though, as I’d have to make every vibrant color instead transparent for the glow to come through, and I believe the designs would suffer too much without these colors)

I have ordered from this manufacturer multiple times before over the years and they’ve always gotten it right with more reasonably-sized orders, so I am confident these will not have the same problems as this preorders period has.

Thank you again very much for your support and understanding up to this point!! <3

[nonsensechemicals]

me in 2023: i like Settings though i wish people loved them the same as the 2 main characters. shout-out to the people who are into the lesser known characters i'm not that strong

me in 2024-2025: [HEAVY LABOURED BREATHING] I HATE IT HERE I HATE EVERYTHING I HATE MY LIFE