#the answer is no and also i'm great at this

[angelltheninth]

When Arcane Men Get Jealous

Pairing: Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Vander, Silco, Finn, Marcus, Loris, Steb x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, jealousy, possessive behavior, being protective, kissing in public, biting, holding hands, public display of affection, canon typical violence, suggestive

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Would die if they were jealous over me. Melt into a puddle. Gone.

When Viktor gets jealous he gets a bit more withdrawn than he usually is. Not that he was ever a social butterfly, however he was always more open and happy to talk when it was with you. So his behavior is odd, he even seems to get quieter whenever you walk into the room. Like he's trying to remove himself from you with silence.

"I am not avoiding you. Look, there has been a lot to do for the past week, I'm sorry if you got a bad impression but I was simply busy. If you want more company, go ask Jayce, or Skye, I'm sure they will be more than happy to entertain you, darling."

Viktor is short with his answers, saying as little as possible to minimize the amount of time he spends talking to you. Not because he doesn't want to talk to you, he loves talking to you, but if he keeps talking there's a chance he might say something he's going to regret. And end up hurting you.

"There you go again with these ridiculous accusations. You won't leave it alone will you? So now it's my fault that your project is running late? I would have been happy to help but someone was too busy talking with... you know what, nevermind. You're right, we both have a lot to do, so let's just drop this conversation and focus on work."

If you keep getting in the way of his work, Viktor will eventually come to a breaking point. Him not being able to work is only adding to his emotions, and he's never been the best at dealing with them. While he doesn't exactly yell at you, it's very rare that he ever raises his voice there's a notable frustration in his words, and pain, fear that you'd leave.

"If I'm being so unreasonable then leave. Go. Have fun. I know it's not idea to be cooped up in the lab all the time. There are so many more things to do out there. if you... want to go with other people I suppose I can't stop you, nor can I stop my own jealousy. How am I being even more unreasonable? I know you wouldn't leave me without talking about it. Look... I do not... want you to leave, working is more fun with you. But am I truly all that you want? Me? This lab? Because you're all I want. All that I can think of."

When Jayce gets jealous he keeps invading your personal space when you're around the person or people he's jealous of. His behavior is nothing innapropriate or pushy. It's just his arm around your waist, just him bringing you that drink you wanted, just him bragging about you a bit too loud and saying how much he loves you.

"You really are great, babe. How in Runterra did I ever find a beauty like you huh? What's that bashfulness for now, I always praise you, and I'm never gonna stop. You're my girl right? I can be a proud boyfriend and talk you up every once in a while."

Physical affection a big deal to Jayce and a way he shows he cares but also a giveaway to his jealousy. He holds your hand longer, his eyes flicker between you and the one he's jealous off, his smile is a bit more nervous when he has to leave you alone. Then there are his kisses, not as gentle, not a little, quick peck on the edge of your lips but a real kiss, lips pressed against yours until you let him know you need air.

"Got a bit carried away there. Ah, sorry, I can't resist you sometimes. All the time. Do you expect me to when you wear lipstick like that? Makes your lips look like they're made to be kissed. By me specifically. I'd kiss you all night long, for the rest of our lives and never get tired of it."

Jayce keeps denying that he's jealous when you bring it up in a teasing way. Logically there's no reason to get jealous, everyone knows your relationship is doing great, in fact you're hardly ever fighting and even when you are it doesn't last too long. How does he turn that part of his brain off? How can he not get jealous when all those people look at you the way he looks at you?

"They're always looking at you. How can you not notice? It's so obvious. You don't notice because... you're only looking at me? That doesn't even make sense! Of course they're looking, you're breathtaking everywhere you go. I just hope that wherever you go, you'll always take me with you, because I want to be by your side forever."

Ekko often jokes about being jealous so you don't pick up on him actually being jealous. A little jealousy is fine but not when it's getting in the way of his missions and operations with his team. He'd been a bit distracted in the past, by one of the Firelights flying too close to you, so he pushed his way between you two.

"It was the formation! Which you would have remembered if you weren't too busy chatting. Come on, Firefly, get your head in this. Otherwise you're gonna make your leader jealous. Wouldn't want that right? What if... what if you get demoted for it? Hey! Ow! I wouldn't demote you, who would listen to all my plans?"

When you have free time together Ekko makes sure to spend as much time with you as possible. If you're together all the time there's less chance that someone else will swoop in and flirt with you. He would never describe his behavior as being clingy, all he wants is to spend free time with his girlfriend. That is perfectly normal behavior.

"What do you say we go out to get some food? We don't have to spend all our time here. Not like the tree is gonna burn down if we're away for a couple of hours right? Besides it's been a while since it was just you and me all alone. Miss being alone with you. Don't you miss it too?"

If the person he's jealous of ever puts you in danger in any way Ekko will go off on them. Harder than he scolded others in the past. He might let some of his jealousy show then, but he storms off, well flies off before you can talk to him. As much as he wants to be alone he also makes room for you on his hoverboard when you float down next to him.

"Shouldn't have went off on them like that. I know, you don't gotta say it, I'll say I'm sorry. Let cool off a bit. You'd think that if they were flirting with you that much they could have been looking out a bit better. I'm always looking out for you. Maybe a bit too much. Sorry if I've been weird about it lately. Would you forgive me if I took you on a romantic hoverboard ride?"

No one wants to piss off a big man like Vander by flirting with his wife. Everyone values their life and their bones too much. But... they stare at you. Quite openly actually. You see it, and you bet he sees it too. He sees everything that's happening at his bar and he won't stand for someone ogling his wife, even if he has to get aggressive about it.

"It's my damn bar, I've got the right to break the table with their heads when they're looking at ya like that. Tell ya what, a lot more people would avoid this place if I started beating up every asshole that looks at ya wrong. Only reason I don't is cause I don't want ya to be mad at me after."

He hasn't banned anyone from his bar in a very long time. Vander knows he tolerates a lot, this is Zaun, and some people don't have the best manners, that's not exactly their fault. But on the other hand if they start something with him then he will finish it. When he tells them to stop looking at you like you like you were one of Babette's workers and they get in his face he will pick them up and throw them out.

"Bastards had it coming. I tried to be nice, then they had to go and call ya names. Ain't no way in hell I'm gonna let anyone insult my wife. Not here, not on the streets, not anywhere. I went there and I wanted to talk to them, tell them to fuck the hell off, they were the ones who started getting violent. So I responded in kind."

Vander calls you over to the bar a bit more often if he sees a particular table is trying to monopolize you. He carries some of the drinks over, the food plates too, or he simply walks up behind you when one of the guys is getting flirty. Seeing his imposing, huge frame behind you, his muscles bulging, is enough to get most to back off you.

"See, darlin', I can talk things out just fine. When people are being smart about it that is. Might have to stop selling so much booze in this place, then they won't be so bold with ya. Ya are a pretty sight, I can't say otherwise. But ya are a pretty sight for me, not them, ain't that right? Mhm. I know, I'm all yer's too."

Silco never ever says he's jealous of anyone. He is the most powerful man in all of Zaun, everyone is scared of him and with good reason. As the Eye of Zaun he knows when people are looking, talking too, and might even try to touch you. Those people are often payed a not so nice visit by his men.

"I did hear about that gang, yes. It's very unfortunate that they don't know how to keep their noses where they don't belong. It's not that big of a loss on our end. There are a hundred people who can do their work, and better. All that matters is that they won't even have to think about not touching you again."

He rarely has to get his own hands dirty when he gets jealous. All it takes is him saying who the target or targets are and he makes them dissapear from Zaun. That doesn't always have to be deadly, but if they're really dumb it is. If Silco feels that you're in some kind of danger then he will keep you close by. He tries to distract you from seeing he's jealous.

"All I'm saying is that we could take a break from work. Sevika and Jinx can handle a week of it. And you and me can lock ourselves up in our home and not come out. The bedroom works perfectly fine too, if you'd rather spend our time in there. And what is it that I'm doing, darling? Jealous? You are an observant one. I wouldn't want you any other way."

The only time Silco will threaten someone in person is if that someone is bold enough to flirt with you in front of them. He can scare people within an inch of their life just by talking to them, he's not just a good businessman, and some people tend to forget that. He has Zaun in the palm of his hand, and everyone in it.

"He did not actually piss himself. Did he actually. Hm, I wasn't look at him anymore to be honest. He was spineless, surprising given he talked to you like he did. Guess he was thinking with his other head a bit too much for his own good. Why are you looking at me that way? Ah, I see. Looks like someone enjoyed watching me put a scumbag into his place a bit too much."

Since Finn isn't someone who would take anything lying down he will be damned before he sees someone coming onto his woman and not do anything about it. He might have a certain charm about him but that doesn't mean he's not ready to makes heads roll the moment when someone crosses any kind of line with you. Imaginary or otherwise.

"Hah, did you see that doll? As soon as I threw one punch he went down. All his buddies ran like rats. Left him all alone there. After all that tough talk and he couldn't even defend himself. Serves him right. He's lucky all I did was break his nose when he flirted with you. I wasn't even that far away."

Finn will make out with you in front of who ever he is jealous of just to prove a point to them. And while he has you moaning, has your head buried against his neck and your body running hot he will look at the other person and stick his tongue out at them, right before making a V with his fingers and putting his tongue between them. He's vulgar but it gets the point across very well.

"All these people looking at what's mine. Now, I can't have that right? I love that you're showing off your body, it's a great body, you know how much I love it. But sometimes I want to keep you away from prying eyes. And if I can't the least I can do is give them a show. Make them know I'm the only one who can touch you."

His jacket is a signature part of his outfit, but Finn will let you wear it. Hell, he will walk over and drape it over your shoulders while not even looking at whoever you're talking to. Sometimes they're not worth looking at when he can look at the pretty way you blush as you touch his hand that's lingering on your shoulder.

"Thought you looked a bit cold there. Keep this on all night. Later on I'll help you warm up my way, a much more fun way. Don't even worry about your perfume getting all into this, love having your scent all over me. And by tomorrow you're gonna be wearing all of my marks."

There are a lot of people in the Enforcers who tease Marcus about having such a pretty wife. He knows you're pretty, but he doesn't like that the department is noticing it so much as well. Not that there's any way for him to hide it, or that he wants you to hide it, that would be a real crime.

"I was not pouting. That is so childish. I was glaring at them. Well, they were the ones who stared first. You visit me at work, like that's such a big deal. We're married, honey, I pick you up from work too. Why is it such a big deal here? I think they're just trying to get a rise out of me."

Won't deny that he's feeling jealous or shy away from showing it. When Marcus notices any of his men flirting with you he makes them work extra hard that day, he gives them more paperwork, something that everyone hates there, or assigns them to the toughest jobs that he knows will take them days to complete. He can't help but chuckle when you visit again and they're too tired to flirt with you, they just say hello.

"What do you mean I'm picking on them? Of course not. You know how hard it is to deal with all these extra cases. Someone has to take on a few more. No, the fact that it's the same Enforcers who gave you flowers that one time has nothing to do with it. You think it does? And do you have evidence of this accusation?"

Marcus isn't shy about kissing you in front of the whole department. If that's what it takes to send them all a clear message to back off. It's always perfectly chaste kisses, but he does make sure that everyone hears him say he loves you when you leave. He smirks when eyes turn to him and he wishes them all a good rest of their day.

"Now you call me petty. All of these accusations and you still don't have any evidence. That's not a very good way to have a case. You've been keeping count have you? Oh. You... actually have been keeping count? I'm guilty? Fine, you got me, you got me. Maybe... that was a little petty of me, but I'm not sorry."

Every time Loris is jealous it's almost impossible for him to hide that fact. He's a big guy, nothing about him is easy to his, not even his emotions. And he's loud, so every time he huffs, mumbles something, or grunts you hear it. Your eyes meet and he looks away, his hand grasping yours and running his thumb over the back of your hand.

'They were staring at you a bit too much for my liking, pretty girl. If they were as tough as they pretend they were they should have held their ground more. Proves they were all bark and no bite. People like that really get on my nerves, and then they talk to my girl like she's single."

Loris invites you to have lunch with him quite often, even more often when he gets jealous of someone who works with him. Dealing with them in any other way would be unprofessional of him, and might get him in trouble. This way he gets to avoid that, avoid them, and spend a nice lunch date with you. No matter how you look at it he's the real winner here.

"Looks so good. But if you keep looking at me like that I might get hungry for something else besides the food. Just try shifting the blame on me when you know exactly how you're looking at me right now. I wouldn't risk it at work, but... if you showed up with a few hickeys on your neck it might get the rest of the department to stop flirting with you."

As much as he tries to make his jealousy go away it's not easy. Loris knows he should be an example for others, after all he had been an Enforcer for a long time, he can't just let his emotions get the better of him. Hard to keep those emotions down when they concern you. If nothing else works he will intimidate people. Easy enough for him. But he would rather that be a last resort.

"If he wasn't ready to throw fists and words at me then he shouldn't have thrown flirty words at you. He should be able to back himself up if he's gonna be saying stuff like that. All I did was pick him up and throw him outside. Hey, I might get in a bit of trouble for it, but at least he'll leave you alone from now on. I'd risk my badge for you if I have to, you know that."

Since he is the quiet type Steb shows his emotions and jealousy is one that he works hard to surpress. Every time he notices that someone is standing a little too close to you he walks over and looks at you, lovingly, then he looks at the other person with a glare, a deadly one. All the while he's standing shoulder to shoulder with you.

"Come now, angelfish, they weren't even worth your time. We both know they only had one thing in mind when they were talking to you. I could see it in their eyes. I don't appreciate that they looked at you like that. And I know you don't either. So I felt like I had to step in."

He is very physical with his jealousy. Steb lets his eyes and touches linger a few moments longer when he wants to make a point to someone. While he knows you don't hate it he also doesn't want to come off as too jealous or too possessive over you. You can take care of yourself and he loves that about you, he's watched you put people in their place often, but there are times where he can't hold himself back.

"I could feel your fingers interlocking with mine. You wanted me to stand close to you when they weren't leaving you alone. Would you have raised your voice if I hadn't walked over? It would be amusing to see it. But I think those kisses we shared also sent an equally powerful message. You didn't have to bit me though."

Steb nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck when he's feeling really, really jealous of someone. He makes it look less possessive than it is, pretending like he's overhearing something you have to say, and then pushing himself just a little bit closer. His cold lips make contact with your neck, sending shivers down your body before he brushes your lips with his thumb and leaves with a smirk.

"That ought to be enough. I could have done more but marking you in public might have been a step too far. We can enjoy things like that in private however. I enjoy being close to you in any context, and if it makes others realize you're not looking for anyone because you've already got a man then I enjoy it even more."

[gardenfairie]

This question asked by a mileven to finn wolfhard might've been one of the best proofs bylers got today lmao.

There is so much to unpack here.

"What makes miIeven so strong?" — Finn didn't address this at all. Is their "love" really so strong if he can't easily speak on it? lol. Caleb was going on about how unconditional and forever lumax's love was today. Those were the words he used. And Noah went on and on about byler's bond at his last panel in 2024.

Instead of answering how their love is so strong, Finn starts talking about how romance was the last thing on Mike's mind when he met El. This easily kills the 'love at first sight' from the monologue, which is hilarious because the questioner is asking "how does Mike's monologue impact them after season 4". So not only did he ignore the question, but he also contradicts the monologue that the questioner wants to hear more about, not once, but THREE TIMES 😭😭😭

"I dont think romance was on his mind even when he initially found eleven" "didn't perceive himself to be in any romantic relationship" "that wasn't even on his mind"

Next he's comparing el to ET: the least romantic dynamic ever. ET is an alien that a boy named elliot takes care of. So apparently that's how Mike initially saw El— like a pet he had to take care of. (This is not news and has been said multiple times by the duffers and finn by the way). Oh and ET says goodbye and leaves at the end of the movie.

"relationship with a lot of people", "feelings towards someone" — Keeping it gender neutral I see :))

"first love", "that relationship is his first romantic feelings for someone" — Usually people signify the relationship being a first because it's not the LAST either *chuckles*. Interesting how finn doesn't say anything like "that relationship is his ONLY romantic feelings towards someone" if he wanted to emphasize how deeply in love they are like how the questioner so clearly wanted him to lol

"going into season 5", "still a couple going into it" — So he said not once but twice "going into..." He seems to want to make it really clear he's ONLY referring to the beginning of the season and nothing else, because it's literal common sense. mike and el ended off season 4 together, so yeah no fucking duh they're starting off season 5 together?? Like what lol.

"that's all I can say about 5" — So zero indication that Mileven are still together in the middle, or the end, or anywhere beyond the start of season 5.

Now what would be a better more pro-mileven response to this question? Probably something like this (I'm essentially taking stuff Noah and Caleb have said about byler and lumax and mashing them together):

The romantic relationship between Mike and El is a foundational element of stranger things. What makes them so strong and how does Mike’s confession impact them after season 4?

I think what makes Mike and El so strong is their unconditional love and connection with each other, just as what Mike's confession showed. I can't give spoilers about season 5, but I'm just excited for you guys to see it. Like I think all throughout the seasons, I have have so many great scenes with millie. I can't spoil anything but Mike and El's relationship has been so important all throughout, and you'll see what they will face in season 5.

[astraeus-tree]

Can you write something with Damian X Reader where R is an extremely intelligent girl, to the point of having discovered the secret identities of the entire Batfam only two months after moving to Gotham, and who is constantly in the Bats' action scenes (Like she shows up anywhere they're fighting criminals just to recite one by one the reasons why she's sure they're the Waynes, even with all of them denying it and pretending she's a complete crazy person. A bonus if Damian "hates" her (it's actually just misunderstood love because she's just awesome and he can't handle himself)). By the way: your Batfam fanfic is great!

Sometimes Things Aren't As Plain As They Seem

Pairing: Damian X F!Reader

Warnings: Self harm, blood, mention of torture near the end

Reader and Damian's age aren't specified and I'm really sorry but you can tell I gave up at the end I've also never written for Damian so he's probably ooc

You've held a secret for the past few months now.

No one else knew this secret of yours. Well, except the people involved in this classified information. Namely, the Wayne family and those close to them. In fact, this secret wasn't even yours to share.

What this secret was? The identity of the vigilantes that patrolled the streets of Gotham. Yes, the birds, the bat and those that worked with them in Gotham.

Your first hint was almost instantaneous after moving here. After all, who would have enough money for all those gadgets that Batman uses? Almost every citizen has come to realise that he doesn’t have any powers— with the exception of a few—so the only other reason would be man-made technology. But those costed money, and most people in Gotham could never afford those, so that left the rich or those with connection to them.

After this realisation, you made it your mission to find out their identities. It was a personal goal of yours, another thing to add to your list of achievements. And you did it. Just two months in to living in Gotham at that.

However, you needed confirmation. You were almost certain you were right, but you needed one final confirmation. You had doubts. The main being that it was hard to believe that someone from the high society of Gotham would even think to help the poor without a hidden motive. Bruce Wayne—Batman—had proven himself multiple times, yet the doubt would linger at the back of your mind.

So what better proof than word from the mouths of the heroes themselves?

Lately, Damian’s been dreading the patrols around Gotham. The reason being was this girl, around the same age as him, you.

In almost every patrol, you had interrupted them. You had somehow found out their routes for their patrols, even when they tried everything to make it impossible to track them. When questioned, you would say that there is a pattern in everything, that’s what made people human. Human, not a hero, not a killer, just human.

You would constantly put yourself in danger, just trying to get an answer from him and his father. You would always list reasons why Gotham’s vigilantes were the Waynes. It was almost endearing annoying.

In fact, you were a danger yourself. You were a risk. You could easily spill their identities.

So tonight, he would warn you. Save you. Unfortunately for you, his job was to analyse anything and everything about someone suspicious, and in his family’s books, you were one. Fortunately for him, you were easy to find, because just as you said, there is pattern in everything.

It was another night of you trying to get your final, solid evidence. You snuck around the streets of Gotham, heading to the area where you next expected Batman and Robin to start their patrol.

As you made you way, you felt eyes boring holes into you. You reached your hand into your pocket, clutching the pocket knife inside. As you heard a thud of a pair of feet landing on the ground, you turned around, shoving the knife at the person’s throat.

Your eyes widened when you saw a familiar domino mask staring back at you. Robin—Damian Wayne. What the hell? You’re usually the one to look for them, not the other way around. What’s with this turn of events?

“(Last Name).” His voice is sharp, not even bothered by the knife pointed at his neck.

“Robin? Why are you here? You’re not supposed to be on patrol yet.”

“Of course you would know that.” He mutters under his breath. “You’re putting yourself in danger. You need to stop or we will make you.”

“I- what?” You stumbled back, confused at his words.

“Stop following us. For your safety and our own.”

“Well maybe if you finally gave me answers, I’d finally leave you guys alone.” You cross your arm and roll your eyes. You knew you were being stubborn to a fault, but you really wanted this confirmation.

“And what will you do with this information?” He returns the action and raises his eyebrow.

“Nothing. Swear on my life.”

“And how should I trust you?” He asks, skeptically. There was an awkward silence between you two for a moment. You stared into each other’s eyes, before you put the knife to your palm and let the blood dripple down on the ground.

“May Lady Gotham herself place a curse on me should I lie.” You see his face twist, trying to make sense of what you just did. This was probably a stupid idea, but you needed answers. After all, the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back.

“Why did you do that? Do you know what you’ve just done?” Robin was dumbfounded. Who in the world would someone in their right mind make an oath like that just for some answers? Apparently you. He was almost amazed.

“Of course I do. Just tell me what I want to hear already.”

“Fine. You’re right. Will you stop putting yourself in danger already?” He sighs defeatedly. A smirk forms on your face, another goal achieved.

“I was right.”

“You were right.”

“Well, that’s all I needed! See you around wonderboy!” You turn on your foot, not waiting for his reaction to your nickname for him, and start walking back to your house. You’ll definitely be recording this down in your journal when you arrive.

“Hey wait! You hand’s still bleeding!” You stop in your tracks and look at your hand and back at Robin, now confirmed Damian Wayne.

“It’s fine, it doesn’t hurt that much. I’ll just bandage it up at home.” Actually, it did hurt, but you wanted to look cool in front of him. I mean who wouldn’t want to in front of the guy they like?

Another silence falls between you two. You could see the conflicted look on his face, even with the domino mask covering half of it. You mentally laughed at his expression. After a few seconds, he seemed to finally come to a decision. He reached for your wounded hand, and you hesitantly let him hold it.

“At least let me help. I have some gauze in my utility belt to cover it.” This boy really was full of surprises, first coming to you to threaten you and now he’s helping you fix a self-inflicted wound. You truly chose the right guy to have a puppy crush on.

“Alright.” He held your hand gently, like you were fragile glass that would break in one wrong move. He pulled out a roll of gauze and wrapped it around your hand. You can hear him muttering stuff under his breath before finally speaking up.

“You’re actually crazy. why would you make an oath like that?”

“Aww is little birdie concerned about me?” You teased him.

“(Last Name).” He remained serious, but you reply with a chuckle.

“I don’t plan to break it, so it won’t affect me at all.” He looks up at you, a disapproving frown on his face. You return with a smile and his face flushes before he goes back to fixing your hand.

He finishes up quickly and lets you go home.

As you finally walked back home you could feel somehow following you, but you didn’t feel threatened. You knew it was Robin.

The next few nights, you left a few art supplies on your window sill, and by the time you would wake up, they would be gone

This eventually evolved into letters that you would write to him. At first, you were met with silence, but you pursued. Eventually, you would finally see a reply and from then on, you two became friends.

Unspoken words lingered between you two.

They remained unspoken until a rumour goes around the rogues of Gotham that you knew the identities of the vigilantes.

You, not having any connections with them, lived in blissful peace. That is, until you’re kidnapped and tortured for your knowledge.

You spend hours in pain, never spilling a word. Not only because of the oath, but also to not put Damian in danger.

After a few hours, you were finally saved. High in emotions, Damian accidentally takes his anger out on you, before realising his grave mistake.

He isn’t greeted with your smirk, no, instead he sees your tears. That’s when he’s forced to confront his feelings.

During your recovery, he visited almost every day, apologising profusely.

The tension doesn’t go away even after your fully recovered, but you slowly but surely warm up to him again.

It takes a while to get your friendship to normal, but when it does, you get closer and closer.

In fact, you would say you two were closer than before. So it would come to no one’s surprise when you two eventually ended up in a relationship.

Some explanation -

The oath is basically self-explanatory. Should you break it, Lady Gotham would place a curse on you. It honestly just came to my mind while I was writing this and I liked it so I decided to add it

I also wanted to play around with the sentient Lady Gotham so yeah

Anyways, I'm so sorry this is kinda bad 😭I might rewrite this one day since I'm really not satisfied with it

I had to dance around the topic of reader being smart because I honestly didn't know how to write that

Tysm for the request tho! As much as I struggled with it, I absolutely loved the idea <3

I wanted to go into more detail but I got writers block in between and didn't want to make it multi-part so I had to do that last part like that 🥲

You guys know the drill, any mistakes are free to be pointed out and I will fix them as soon as possible

Don't know if anyone actually reads my long ahh A/N's, but if you do, asks are encouraged as I do love to interact with people and they give me motivation

[bairnsidhe]

Context for those who don't know what a kirpan is or why this became a debate:

A kirpan is one of the sacred objects Sikhs have to carry at all times. The kirpan specifically is supposed to be a physical reminder of a Sikh's duty to fight injustice, stand up for truth and honor, etc. While a kirpan is traditionally a short sword, the word "kirpan" comes from the words kirpa and aan, meaning mercy and grace respectively. This is intentional, as it adds an extra layer of reminder that the kirpan is ONLY to be used in defense of self or others, and NEVER for senseless cruelty or selfish/immoral reasons.

Context for my own opinion on said debate:

I'm not a Sikh, but my Uncle Gurkhi was, my Dad almost was, and I spent a lot of time as a kid in gurdwaras and ashrams asking questions of anyone who would answer them.

(Also, of all the many religious people I've asked questions of, Sikhs are one of my favorites. They answer questions, they don't try to make the answers a sales pitch, and they don't make me feel dumb for asking. Sikhs are great, go visit your local gurdwara and make a Sikh friend or five. 10/10 would reccomend.)

So while I definitely do not have the full authority to say anything firm about it, my personal take based on what I do know after asking many MANY questions about the "cool knifes" as a young child, is that if that baggie of wet boba is reminding him that he both can and should stand up against injustice but also ought to mitigate the harm he does in doing so if possible - which appears to be the case - then the baggie of wet boba is, functionally anyways, an acting kirpan. Might not pass muster for ritual reasons, but fuck if it ain't doing the job just fine.

I think I’m going to think about this youtube comment forever

[lilimaginebean]

reverse trope writing prompt pt.2

note: Dont ever do a course that last 8 hours in a day it’s horrible

REALLY NICE GUY WHO HATES ONLY YOU

MEGURU BACHIRA smiled at everyone but you. He always wanted to talk to everyone but you. You have gone mad. Every time you tried to talk to him, he gave you the dirtiest look. What could you have done? If you knew that he hated you because every time you were with him, his heart beat faster and he thought you were doing some voodoo shit on him to kill him.

TOO MUCH COMMUNICATION

SHEISIRO NAGI was a man of few words, who rarely spoke. But he was lucky, because so were you. Contrary to what others thought, the two of you communicated so well that it was almost as if you were telepathic. A raised eyebrow for 0.2 seconds? He wanted to take a dump. Staring at you in a meeting and squeezing your hand? He wanted to leave. You looked at him with a look of defeat? He hugged you to comfort you. Perhaps neither of you were talkative, but sometimes a sign is worth a thousand worlds.

SOULMATES WHO ARE FATED TO KILL EACH OTHER

MICHAEL KAISER looks at you with pity in his eyes. Oh boy, how did you get yourself into this situation? The two of you, pointing a gun at each other, daring to fire it to see what would happen. Apparently, your target wasn't just the prey, but also the hunter, the Emperor, your boyfriend of a month. "Oh my love, we were getting on so well, I was going to ask you to move in with me, and then it seemed like you wanted to kill me. Not cool, but I can't complain, I'm like you. I guess we will see each other in hell"

LOVERS TO ENEMIES

RENSUKE KUNIGAMI was no longer the man you knew in high school. He changed, his desire to be the hero everyone could count on turned into the most selfish self he could ever be. Those sweet hugs, lovely kisses and gentle demeanour turned into cold answers, no longer caring about your feelings or even loving you. When did this happened? Was it your fault? Why wasn’t he trying to fix things? Why was he letting you go and not fighting for you?You hate him, but as you said, he wasn't the man you knew at school.

TOO HOT TO CUDDLE

SHOEI BAROU who is caring, lovely, great player but all from the top, hot. His body and the way it hugs yours and covers you all from behind while you cuddle. You never thought you could get turned on while cuddling. But the way his hands caress your lower belly, the way he kisses you and the way his hands start to go even lower. Oh damn. He is just too hot to waste. “Again needy? Wow, what’s wrong with you” he said smirking to kiss you again

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🌷Pick a Picture:🍨⊹˚. ♡ What's coming up for you on February?🎀 ⊹˚. ♡

🎀𝗜'𝗺 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹🎀

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

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🖤If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!

🛍Masterlist🛍

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆Pile 1: Queen of Swords, 3 of Cups and 2 of Swords.

This February, everything may feel a little… random. Like you can't see clearly what's happening or what's coming next. And while it can be frustrating not to have all the answers, the Moon encourages you not to force things. Sometimes not knowing what's going on is a sign that you need to take a step back and allow yourself to feel without trying to rationalize everything.

You may be faced with situations this month that you may have been avoiding. Questions may arise about your relationships, your job, or even your current identity. And even though you may not perceive it now, it's all part of a developmental process. The confusion you're experiencing isn't harmful; on the contrary, it's like a "reminder" from the cosmos that there are elements within you that need to be heard. There will be times when you feel like the pieces are starting to fall into place, but there will also be days when you feel completely disoriented. And that's okay. You don't need to have everything figured out right away. It's a month to meditate, not to rush into solutions.

My recommendation would be not to put too much pressure on yourself. If you find yourself in a situation where things aren't clear, you shouldn't force yourself to make sure everything has immediate meaning. Keep an eye on your feelings, pay attention to the smallest details, and most of all, be kind to yourself. Clarity will come when it's needed, you just have to trust the process and yourself.

🧁Song:

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆Pile 2: The Sun, 4 of Wands and Queen of Wands.

You might feel like the pieces are starting to fall into place again this February, and that will give you a sense of clarity that you haven't experienced in a long time. You might feel more stimulated, more optimistic, or simply intent on giving your best. If there was something that was overwhelming you or that had stopped you, this is the moment when things begin to take a positive turn.

This month, you will experience thefeeling that something inside you is "waking up" in a sense. Perhaps you were already carrying some uncertainties or fears, but now it will give you the strength to face them, i heard "I'm going to put all my effort" as i was channeling your message. It is a favorable month to start a new project, undertake those dreams that you had saved or take on some circumstance that was going around in your mind. You will notice that the energy will be in your benefit. It is as if everything begins to flow without so much effort, like when you discover the right route and everything seems to be in tune.

Even if something is not exactly what you anticipated, your optimistic attitude and your clarity will help you to continue moving forward with confidence. Enjoy everything that this month brings with it. Sometimes we concentrate so much on the objectives that we forget to enjoy the trip. Take advantage of the minimal things, those that give us happiness in the simple things.

🧁Song:

⋆.˚🦋༘⋆Pile 3: 8 of Wands, The Chariot and King of Cups.

This month feels really "fast" to put it in a way, I think it will pass really quickly for you. Surprises can be a bit disconcerting at first, but in reality, they are bringing great potential. Some circumstances could change in unexpected ways, but that is just one component of the process. Don't worry if you feel that things are not progressing as you anticipated. Sometimes, the most significant transformations appear when we least expect them, and the final outcome can be much more favorable than you imagine.

This month could be a bit of a roller coaster, in the broadest sense. Some situations will evolve quickly, and you may feel like you are on a boat, but don't worry. There will be moments of uncertainty, but if you continue to evolve with the transformations, opportunities will begin to arise out of nowhere. It could be a good time to take a little more risk, as everything seems to be going in your favor.

Don't try to control everything. Life has its own rhythm, and sometimes it's best to allow yourself to be guided by the course of things. The surprises that will come this month will take you to unexpected places, and even though you can't anticipate what will happen, trust that everything has a reason to be the way it is. Let go of what you can't handle and continue to progress with the assurance that better things are yet to come <3

🧁Song:

💐Thank you for reading and tell me if it resonated💐

[jays-bonnie-on-the-side]

GOLDEN HOUR

PAIRING : jensen ackles x actress!reader

SUMMARY : jensen admits his adoration for reader during an interview at the boys season 3 premiere in paris. karen, who already knows of reader’s infatuation with jensen, overhears and plays matchmaker. and you two couldn’t be more grateful.

WARNINGS : age gap. strong language. crushes. flirting. love. lust. cheating. mentions of previous cheating. smut. unprotected p in v. rough sex. semi-public sex. creampie. praise kink. size kink. breeding kink.

A/N : this is my first jensen oneshot—yay! got the inspo from all the pics and videos from the paris premiere and he just looked scrum-deli-um-ptious. imo jensen deserves more attention from this premiere and i’m here to give it! i also made the two pictures to the right and i’m semi-proud of them, please don’t hate if they suck. hope y’all enjoy this!

Jensen stands in front of 'The Boys Prime Video' backdrop, posing for the countless cameras before him. He was solo, his wife choosing once again not to accompany him. The flashes would've blinded him if it weren’t for his sunglasses. It was his first time being in Paris for work, and he was ecstatic. He went from one backdrop to the next, making his way down the line.

His smile was wide and bright, fueled by nerves and excitement. Like a pro, he jumped from one news outlet to another. Jensen was enjoying the love the show was receiving, and he was thrilled to be a part of it. With each interview, he felt more confident and comfortable in his skin. It had been a while since his last premiere, and if he was being honest, he missed the attention.

"So, Jensen, how was it working with a new cast?" The interviewer asks before turning the microphone toward the star.

"You know, i-it's always nerve-wracking being the new guy. I starred on Supernatural for the last 15 years, so it's been a while since I've been 'the new guy' on a show. Everyone's been here since season one, and now Grandpa’s coming in!” He jokes, making the French man laugh. “No, but uh, everyone’s been incredibly welcoming, both cast and crew. I think they're all wonderful. There was never a dull moment, that’s for sure. We had a lot of fun."

"Is there any actor or actress you would've liked to work with this season?"

"Are you referring to actors in previous seasons or in general?"

"Anyone. Anyone in the world, who would you choose?"

Jensen's smile grows, and without hesitation, he answers, "Y/N Y/L/N."

"Ooo. Y/N Y/L/N, great choice. ‘Great actrice."

"The best! She’s extremely talented." He couldn't help but gush once he began speaking about you. "Her range is beyond anything I’ve ever seen. She can act in every genre, and what’s great about this show is that it pushes you out of your comfort zone, and I think she would have handled it like a boss. And I, for one, would have loved to see her in action. Not only does she have the skills, but I’ve watched interviews and promotions she's been a part of, and she's just—she's so hilarious and so sweet. I think she would've fit in perfectly."

The interviewer cocks an eyebrow and slyly accuses, "Sounds like you have a crush on Ms. Y/L/N."

"I mean...who doesn’t?" Jensen confesses. He had a major crush on you, and as silly as it was for a 43-year-old married man to have, he wasn’t ashamed. He chuckles, trying to suppress the blush from rising to his cheeks just thinking about you. "No, no. I, uh, I'm a huge fan of hers. I think she's incredible. I respect her work and her as a person. I'd be thrilled if I ever got the opportunity to work with—let alone meet her."

"Well, it's rumored she'll be ‘ere tonight."

Jay's eyes widen, and his smile falls. He wasn't expecting to hear that. He quickly skims through his brain, trying to remember if he saw any mention of you attending tonight’s premiere via your Instagram. No, he would’ve remembered. He would’ve been searching all over if you announced your attendance. His heart begins to race at the thought of seeing you tonight. Suddenly, he felt as if all eyes were on him. He forces a smile and tries to act aloof.

"Really? Well, I, uh, well, that's—wow. That's awesome." But his attempt fails. He was a stuttering mess. “Hope she enjoys the premiere.”

The man laughs, amused by Jensen's reaction. It was indeed true; You would be in the audience. He finishes his last few questions before moving on, trying not to let the possibility of seeing you distract him too much. Little did he know Karen Fukuhara heard everything. She smiles to herself and carries on with her interview.

The cast had left the blue “red” carpet and moved into the venue. Their teams escort them to a designated room where they wait for the audience to fill Le Grand Rex. Jensen talks with a few people near him before keeping to himself as his nerves climb. And not for the reason everyone thought. Is it true? Would Y/N be here? Would I be lucky enough to see her in the crowd? Questions flood his mind, keeping him occupied until Karen pulls him from his thoughts.

"Is it true?"

Jensen glances at his costar, furrowing his brows in confusion. "Is what true?"

“What you said about Y/N.”

“W-what? What are you talking about?” He tries to play it off, hoping to avoid the conversation.

“Oh, please. I overheard your interview. You like her!” She quietly accuses.

Blush rushes to his bearded cheeks. "’Course. She’s a great actress."

Karen shakes her head. "No, I mean like her like her."

Jensen rolls his eyes, trying to draw the attention away from the implication. "What are we in middle school?"

She giggles, then admits, "Well, she likes you too. Hell, she's obsessed with you! I swear half our conversations about this season revolved around you."

"Wait—you’ve talked about me?"

“More like her bringing you up every chance she got? Yeah, we’ve talked about you.”

He was stunned. Sure, he’d seen your interviews where you raved about your favorite show, Supernatural, and how in love you were with Dean, but he figured that was the extent of your adoration. He thought back to all the praise you gave to the show and the actors themselves, wishing he could’ve DMed you his appreciation but instead sparing himself an argument with his nosy wife, well aware his accounts weren’t safe from her. Maybe if he ran into you, he could vocalize his gratitude. He knew how much trouble he was getting into, especially after that interview but learning that you mirrored his infatuation made it worth it.

"You talking about Y/N's crush on Jensen?" Tomer joins.

Ackles's jaw drops from the shock of his other co-star's knowledge, too. He shakes his head, not believing the news. "You guys are screwing with me, right?"

"No."

"Not at all."

His mind begins to wander. What should he do with this information? Was this a sign to act on it? Would you even let him? Tomer watches as Jay's mind turns.

He smirks, only imagining what his friend was thinking. “Don’t forget that you’re married, my friend.”

“Tell that to my wife,” Jensen mutters under his breath, but loud enough, they hear.

Before they can question or comfort their friend, a crew member enters the room and takes Kripke, telling everyone else to “get ready.” Jay was so preoccupied with the thought of you that he hadn’t found the time to realize he would soon be facing a crowd of a thousand faces. His once confident demeanor had vanished. The thought of you liking Jensen should've given him that boost; However, between his starstruck state and the sea of fans, he was a nervous wreck.

The next thing he knows, they’re being ushered toward the front entrance of the auditorium and waiting to be introduced. His heart pounds, and he pushes you out of his mind. Suddenly, the doors open, and one by one, they walk down the aisle as Eric calls out their names in order, and fans scream over the speakers. Jensen was last in line, grateful he wasn’t first. At the steps, he’s handed a microphone and noticing Claudia’s lack of one, takes hers too. He graciously hands it to her as he takes the stage, immediately feeling the bright light beating down on him.

He smiles, interacting when necessary, and when the light allows him to, he scans the audience. He was in awe of the premiere’s turnout. Yet nothing prepares him when his eyes find yours. You’re in the front row, on his side of the theater of all places! His smile’s wide, heart thumping against his ribcage. You bite your lip as your eyes look him up and down, taking in the delicious sight. Seeing your not-so-subtle action, he winks at you.

Your heart, amongst other areas of your body, flutter. With your lips parted, you dramatically fan yourself, earning a smile from your celebrity crush. Jay glances elsewhere but can’t help the return of his eyes. You smile lovingly, overjoyed that he pays as much attention to you as you do to him. In all honesty, you hadn’t listened to the panel. You’re so captivated by his charming smile—hell, even the tiniest of movements, that you miss your friend’s answers.

Usually, you’d feel guilty, but not when it involves the love of your life as the center of your attention. You don’t even realize that the interview ends until everyone claps, snapping you out of your trance. Your hands join the applause before the stars step down the stairs to their reserved seating. The lights dim, and the first episode of the season begins.

The premiere ends, and the after-party begins. You couldn’t get Jensen out of your mind—as if it were different from any other day of your life. But this time, it is. This time, you have the opportunity to speak to him. Just thinking of it fills you with nerves. Would you actually talk to him? Would he even talk back? Your mind begins to race with questions until you conclude that you’d at least have a conversation with the man of your dreams. Who could that hurt?

You were so excited to see him. The longer you wait, the more anxious you become. The anticipation of seeing him again is all you can think about, even when you distract yourself by talking to others. Your eyes dart toward the door of Le Rex Club, and as if you have a sixth sense, the cast members walk in. Their presence elicited a roar across the guests, hooting and clapping for the stars. And that’s when you see him, walking in last once again.

With a grin, he scans the energetic crowd, refusing to admit he was looking for you. Finally, he finds your pretty eyes, and the room suddenly becomes empty. You were the only one he could see and the only one he wanted to. If it weren’t for others physically grabbing his attention, he would’ve made a beeline straight towards you. As he speaks with a few producers, Karen finds and gives you the warmest hug.

“Hey!”

“Hey! Congratulations! You were AMAZING.”

You pull away but stay close as the crowd grows louder. “Really? You think so?”

“Of course! Not many people can play a character without any lines,” you nudge her arm playfully. “That’s talent.”

“Awe, thank you, Y/N. That means so much.”

Jack comes over to greet you, pulling you into a side hug before introducing you to his girlfriend. Claudia wears the biggest smile on her face as she shakes your hand. Her giddiness was lost on you, but her confession of being “a huge fan” struck clarity. Fame was something you tried to forget. Sure, you loved acting, but it came with a price, and it wasn’t always an equal trade. Despite being in the spotlight, you refused to let it change who you are.

After some small talk, they left to mingle with others, leaving you alone with Karen. When she sees your eyes linger on Jensen, she smirks to herself.

“Do you need a napkin?”

“Huh? For what?”

“To wipe that drool off your lip,” She points to the corner of her mouth.

You swat her arm gently, but it doesn’t stop your blush. “Shut up! I am not drooling.”

“Might as well be. Could it be any more obvious that you want him?” She giggles.

“Please. He’s married.”

“Do you see his wife anywhere?”

Your eyes grow wide at your friend’s insinuation. You’ve known Karen for almost two years, and this was never something she’d condone. Ever. So why now? Why was this time different?

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She gets closer, speaking low enough for only your ears to hear. “No one knows this, but his wife cheats on him.” Your widened eyes grow wider as if it were possible. They wander to Jensen, and his eyes shift to yours. A smile brightens his handsome face, making you melt. How could anyone EVER cheat on him?! “She’s been doing it for years, and he pretends not to know.”

Directing your stare towards Karen, you demand, “How do you know all of this?”

“He got really drunk one night and confessed to me and a few other cast members,” She frowns with sorrow, then shakes her head, “He’s a great actor; He hides his pain well, but there’s days when we all see it.“

It would be a lie to say you were surprised. You’ve had your suspicions over the years, but there hadn’t been any solid evidence. The way they’d speak and act towards one another pointed to a deeper marital issue. Sure, some relationships were more teasing than others, i.e., the Reynolds. However, their body language suggests otherwise, and not what everyone excused it to be.

“And until today, I haven’t seen him interested in anyone else.”

You slowly nod, taking in the information. Despite the terrible news, you felt a rush of excitement from Karen's statement. Was it true? Was he interested in you? No, he couldn’t be.

“You’re lying. He isn’t—he can’t be.”

“Now, Y/N, why would I lie? And why’s it hard to believe?” She crosses her arms.

“I—I don’t know. He hasn’t even met me.”

“Well to be fair, you haven’t met him either.”

She got me there, you thought.

“God, Karen, what do I even say to him? “I love you, and I wanna have your babies. Please choose me, and we’ll raise our children as one big happy family.””

“Well, you better think of something quick ��cause he’s coming over.” She hurriedly tells you before her eyes shift behind you. Plastering a huge smile on her face, she greets, “Hey, Jensen!”

“Hey!”

You turn around, and there he was, in all his glory. He was breathtaking. His perfectly trimmed beard complimented his gorgeously styled hair. You swallow hard as he stares down at you, a crooked smile on his beautiful face. Annnnddd cue the wetness.

“This is—“

“Y/N,” He extends his large hand, and you shake it, your skin tingling at his touch. “I’m a huge fan.”

Your eyes threaten to widen, but you force yourself to play it cool. With a smirk, you tease, “You took my line.”

He chuckles, then clears his throat, nodding. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

You lay your hand over your heart. “I’m a huge fan!”

“Feel better?”

“Much.”

You both stare into each other’s eyes, dazed and amazed.

“Well, I have to go. I‘ve gotta say hi to a few other people. I’ll catch up with you later, ‘kay?” She leans in and kisses your cheek. Before she pulls away, she whispers into your ear, “Get ‘em, tiger.”

Karen walks away, leaving you and Jensen alone. Your hearts race in the presence of one another.

“So, congrats on The Boys. Soldier Boy looks badass. ‘Can’t wait to see more of him.”

“Thanks. And trust me when I say you’ll definitely see more of him. More than I would’ve liked.“

“Oh?” You raise a brow, intrigued.

“Let’s just say I was exposed more in my 40s than I ever was at your age.”

Your eyes widen. “What? You have to tell me more!”

“Hey, man!” You and Jensen stare at the male who came over to disrupt. He grabs Jensen’s hand and pulls him into a bro hug. “Congratulations on Season 3. How’s it feel to be done shooting?”

“Uh, good, man. It was fun while it lasted, but I can’t wait for everyone to see it.”

“I heard you got traumatized on set.”

“Uh, yeah. ‘Shooting Herogasm.” Jensen looks toward you as he explains, “During an episode, there’s this massive orgy between supes and non-supes.”

“Ahh, I see.”

“That must’ve been something. I was just talking to Antony and—“

“That’s great, man. Listen, we’ll have to catch up another time. I was in the middle of a conversation.” Jay gestures your way.

“Oh, dude, my bad.” He shifts his attention to you, and his eyes widen. “Wait, you’re Y/N Y/L/N! Oh man, I’m a huge fan. Can I take a picture with y—“

“And we’re done.” Jensen pats the rude individual on the shoulder before turning him away. “Look, there’s Eric. Why don’t you talk to him.”

He lightly shoves the man in the direction of his boss, earning a grin from you. “Sicking him on Kripke?”

“I gotta get back at him somehow.”

“Right. For participating in Herogasm?”

He laughs, the crinkles around his eyes on display. “Not quite,” He shakes his head. Even in the dim lights, you can see his blush. “My, uh, ass is displayed for the world to see when I meet The Boys.”

Your heart pounds faster when you hear the news. I’m gonna see Jensen Ackles’s ass!

“You’re gonna break the internet.”

“Oh, God, don’t say that.” He groans.

“Trust me, I could’ve said a whole lot worse.”

“What? You have to tell me more!” He mocks.

“Shut up!”

You shove his bicep, but he doesn’t budge. He laughs with you, and your bodies gravitate closer. You realize your hand lingers on his muscle, and you can’t help but bite your lip. Even through his suit, you can feel how strong he is.

“Wow. You’re so toned.” He glances at your hand, and nervously, you remove it. “Sorry. They didn’t look that big in Supernatural.”

“I don’t know whether to be amazed or worried that you noticed the size difference of my arms.”

“No, I—I saw your Instagram post of you working out last year,“ And oh, how you watched that video on repeat. “I mean—I-I’m not a stalker or anything, I just—“

“I’m messing with you.” His deep chuckle rings in your ears as a blush rises to your already crimson cheeks. “But thanks. It’s nice to be complimented once in a while.”

“Don’t you get it at home?” It comes out of your mouth before you can stop it.

“Uh…not as much as I’d like.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

He shrugs, and a shimmer of sorrow crosses his face. As fast as it appears, it’s gone, and he changes the subject. “‘S fine. Anyway, there’s a story behind the muscles if you wanna hear.”

“‘Course!”

“Alright, so…”

You and Jensen began talking about anything and everything. The longer you conversed, the deeper you both fell in love with each other. You both clicked. It was natural. It was easy. It was meant to be. And anyone with half a brain could see it.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you when your conversation was constantly being interrupted. Jensen had to remind himself he was here for work, not pleasure. Yet, he couldn’t pull himself away from you to mingle with others like he was supposed to. And you, well, you were here to support your friends, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t make a new one. Without knowing the information Karen gave you tonight, you would’ve been more than pleased to just be his friend. That’s all you could ask for. Putting his looks and talent aside, you fell in love with his personality. In this industry, you never know if someone likes you for what you do or who you are, and you hope you can prove to Jensen the latter.

“Y/N!” You both look in the direction in which your name came from. A woman waves at you eagerly. “Hi!”

“Do you know her?”

You smile and give a short wave back. “Not at all.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere more private?”

The multicolored lights dance on his expecting countenance. “Please.”

“C’mon,” Jay’s hand hovers over the small of your back as he guides you toward the exit. “I know the perfect place.”

“The view is incredible,” You breathe as you look out the watchtower, watching the sunset over the city. “So beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you,”

Your heart skips a beat, and your breathing stops. Had you heard him right? Had he called you beautiful? You turn around, stunned at his words. Your lips twitch, unsure whether to smile or frown. He stares at you with those forest-green eyes, making you internally squirm under his gaze. The sun’s warm glow shines upon his handsome face, and you’re in awe.

Just what you needed: the golden hour making him look more desirable than he already is. Your mouth parts to speak, but your brain doesn’t know what to say. Jensen takes slow steps toward you, and your heart races. He halts in front of you, and he’s dangerously close. He brings his hand up to your bare arm and lightly traces upwards. His soft touch leaves a trail of goosebumps on your hot skin. His gaze lowers to your parted lips as his hand cups your check.

His thumb swipes your bottom lip as he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widen, astonished by his question. “Y-you wanna kiss me?”

He chuckles. Resting his other hand on your lower back, he pulls your body to his. “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to.”

His smile disappears as you gaze at him with your innocent eyes. You can’t trust your voice, so you nod instead. Despite your heels, you were still shorter than his tall figure. He moves his left hand behind your neck and leans forward. This was it, you thought. This is what you’ve longed for. And then it happens; his lips meet yours.

All of your nerves get thrown out the window as he kisses you. It was gentle yet firm. It wasn’t rushed or lustful. It was perfect. It was everything and more.

The kiss ends, but another quickly begins. You wrap your arms around Jensen’s neck, pulling him closer. He deepens the kiss, this time with a little more urgency. His beard pricks your face, but you ignore it as he bites your bottom lip. You open your mouth, and he takes the opportunity to shove his hot tongue inside. A moan erupts from your throat. You’d have been embarrassed if one hadn’t fallen from his, too.

Your tongues explore each other’s mouth, not bothering to fight for dominance. If it weren’t for your bodies forcing you away, you both would’ve forgotten you needed air. Your heart hammers against your ribcage while your chest rises and falls. Neither of you pulls away, your breaths mingling as your noses brush against one another. Despite both of your eyes being closed, you could feel the other’s grin.

After regaining your breath, you compliment, “God, that was so much better than I imagined.”

“Oh, so you’ve thought about us before?”

“I told you I was a huge fan.”

“And how far has the fantasy gone?”

“Let’s just say I’m an all-in kinda girl.” You purr against his mouth.

“Well, sweetheart, lucky for you, kissing isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He utters, his gruff voice sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, lucky me, huh? And what other skills are you holding out on?”

“Why don’t I show you instead?”

His hand runs past your exposed upper back until it reaches the curve of your ass. You press your thighs together, feeling your wetness soak your lace underwear. He gently squeezes your plump derrière before connecting your lips again. This time, they were pecks, and they left you craving more. However, your slightly-corrupt moral compass reminds you of the elephant in the room: his wife.

“Wait…” You press your hand to his chest, pushing him back gently.

He steps back, concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Am I going too fast for you?”

“No, no. That’s not it. I just—your wife. We talked about everything else but her.”

He sighs and adds more distance between you, shaking his head. “She…she doesn’t matter.”

You hesitate but confess, “Look, I know your wife cheated on you. It’s horrible, and I’m so sorry that happened. I can’t even imagine how you feel, and I sure as hell can’t understand how she could ever cheat on you. You’re everything and more! But I don’t want to be someone you use to get back at her. I know my worth, and as much as I love y—like you, I refuse to be someone you regret later.”

His eyes perk up, and his hands reach your arms, pulling you into his warm body. “You love me?”

“Jensen! I’m being serious!”

“So am I,” his eyes bore into yours. “Do you love me?”

“I’ve always loved you.”

His lips crash onto yours, and you’re swept off your feet. Without hesitation, you kiss him with as much passion as he gives you.

He pulls away, assuring you, “I would never use you, especially to settle a score with that witch. I know the arrangement she and I have is…complicated and untraditional, and that’s something I’m gonna take care of after tonight, but meeting you—being with you is something I’ll never regret. I love you more than words can describe. So let me prove to you how much I want you, how much I need you.”

His words touch your fragile heart. You weren’t expecting him to admit what he did. If you weren’t so horned up, you’d cry. He loves me, you mentally exclaim. And you’d be damned if you refused to consummate the love you felt for each other right here, right now. You glide your hand to the front of his suit and unbutton his jacket.

His light-hearted chuckle warms your soul. “I take that as a yes?”

“Take it as a ‘Hell, yes.’”

Without wasting a beat, his mouth smashes against yours. His lips are intoxicating, but you aren’t upset when he moves them to your neck. As if he’s kissed you there before, he instantly attaches to your sweet spot. Your eyes shut as he harshly sucks your skin. You whine as the stinging sensation physically hurts, but you love it anyway. His lips move lower, marking your neck in various places, his bread tickling your sensitive skin.

Your hands run up his chest, grasping the peaked lapels near his collarbone and pushing his suit past his broad shoulders. It drops to the ground before Jensen backs you up against the wall. Your polished fingertips unbutton his dress shirt before flattening your palms against his hot chest. They slowly slide down his abdomen and stop at the top of his pants. His large hand slips through your dress’s slit, straight to your ass.

A moan erupts from your throat as you feel his bulge press against your clit. The pool between your thighs threatens to overflow. As if he read your thoughts, his hand slides inside your panties. His fingers brush over your sensitive nub and through your soaked folds. Desperate for more, your body arches into his touch. He teases you, pulling away from your littered neck to watch your face scrunch in agony.

After enough torment, he pries your drenched underwear down your legs, and you kick them off. His fingertips run from your outer to your inner thighs, and your breath hitches once they circle your slick entrance. You reposition your hands, one on either side of his toned shoulders. Giving him room to work with, your stance widens. His lips wear a proud smirk, seeing and feeling how ready you are for him. Moving the front of your silk dress out of his way, he holds the material near your hip, and your heart races faster.

Finally, his finger slides into your warm cunt. You sigh in contentment, feeling his digit in your holiest of places. His hand moves slowly, enjoying third base. Small moans fall from your pretty lips as his speed gradually quickens. When he sees your baseline of comfort, he adds another finger, drawing a loud gasp from your agape mouth.

His two digits alone stretch you deliciously. He slows his pace so you can get used to his thick fingers, and you can’t help but whine. Your neediness grinds your hips against his hand, wanting more than girth. He took your not-so-subtle hint and gave you what you asked for. And in return, you were a moaning mess.

You never thought you’d get this far with him, that it would only happen in your dreams but never in reality. Yet, here you were, squirming beneath his touch, being absolutely violated by his unholy fingers. Your head falls back against the wall as he curls his digits, hitting your G-spot perfectly. The pit in your stomach tightens, and you realize it isn’t much longer before it uncoils. You bunch his black shirt in your hands once his thumb applies heavy pressure to your clit.

Your moans grew louder, and you couldn’t stop them. Jensen’s left-hand pounds your aching pussy without mercy, and you feel like you’re in Heaven. His knuckles harshly kiss between your thighs and you revel in the promise of bruises. You glance in between your bodies and watch his hand pump in and out of you. The pleasure had built fast, and you were losing yourself faster. Your walls clench around his thick fingers, feeling your orgasm approach quickly.

“Fuck, Jay, I’m gonna—”

And before you can finish your sentence, you finish all over his hand. You scream into his chest as your climax washes over you. He works you through your high, drawing another orgasm seconds after the first. Your legs give out from under you, and his strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you upright. His hand stills inside you, giving you a chance to catch your breath.

After a few minutes, you regain the strength and stand on your own. Jensen finally withdraws his hand from your dripping cunt. He brings it to his mouth, and you see your juices coat his wedding ring. It shouldn’t have turned you on as much as it did, but something about coming undone on the symbol of his and his wife’s “eternal love and commitment” made you feel wrong in the best ways. His lips wrap around his digits, sucking your cum clean.

“Mmm,” the handsome man hums. “You taste as good as you look.”

His words make your pussy throb, and all you want left is confined behind his designer pants. You smooth his shirt from where you wrinkled it before and swiftly relieve his restraints. He sighs in gratitude when you reach your hand inside his pants and gently rub his bulge.

“You gonna let me taste you now?”

“Maybe next time, sweetheart. Right now, I just wanna be hip deep inside your guts.”

With one hand, he lowers his pants and boxers enough to free his aching member. It was long and thick, more than you ever imagined. The tip was a suffocating red and glistening with pre-cum. Your mouth salivated at the delicious sight, jealous of your awaiting vagina. His hand touches the back of your thigh, sliding it toward the back of your knee before pulling it towards his hip. His unoccupied hand wraps around his cock and swipes the tip along your wet folds. He presses it against your bundle of nerves, eliciting a whimper from your impatient self.

Before you verbally hurry him, he shoves his member into your entrance. Your back arches off the wall, and you hiss in discomfort. He was bigger than he looked, and your body knew you’d be feeling him for days after. Your hands wrap around his neck, holding on as he attempts to fit his entire length in your small hole. It isn’t long before Jensen’s thrusts go deeper as your walls adapt to his size.

“Fuck, princess. You’re so tight.” He wraps his arm around your back, keeping you in place. “Not used to a man this size, are you?”

“N-no.”

“That’s gonna change. You’re mine now, sweetheart. And I ain’t never letting you go.”

Your dominant hand grabs his hair, running your fingers through it before tugging at the long ends, not giving two fucks if it messes up the style. The pain quickly turns into pleasure, and your moans reflect it. His rhythm was hard and fast, just how you needed it. The squelching noise from his dick slapping against your wet pussy joined your unholy moans. The sounds fill the air, and neither of you cares who hears. Danneel herself couldn’t stop you two.

His lips attack the area where your shoulder and neck meet, sucking, licking, and biting. You fight to keep your right leg wrapped around his waist, but the pleasure between your legs is becoming too much to handle, making it feel heavy. With every ‘bottoms out’ thrust, he bruises your cervix, and you feel like you're gonna die the most blissful death. The familiar coil in your belly returns, and you continue your shouts of praise. His drive gets sloppy, and you know he’s as close as you.

“Cum in me,” you choke out. “I wanna have the honor of your babies.”

Part of you was scared after you uttered your confession. You knew Jensen was done having kids. Yet the other part didn’t care: You wanted his seed. You craved it.

And you were shocked at his response, “Sweetheart, the honor will be all mine.”

That was all you needed to hear before you gushed on his hard dick. He follows immediately after you, spraying his promise inside its new home for the next 9 months. Your leg slides off his hip, and he leans against you. A layer of sweat coats your entangled bodies, proof of the vigorous love you made. Your panting mixes with his as you each come down from your highs.

Your mind swirls, overcome with ecstasy. You just had sex with Jensen, and Jensen just had sex with you. Not only did you each have sex with your crush, but it was the BEST sex you’ve ever had. He slowly pulls out, and you whimper from the loss. The instant his cock leaves you, your mixed juices drip down your leg.

You press your thighs together, refusing to let any more escape. Jay lets go of you and tucks himself back in before kneeling. Your hooded eyes gaze after him. He grabs your discarded underwear and slides it up your shaky legs. The fabric works as a dam, for now, at least. He turns around and pulls his suit jacket over, grabbing the grey handkerchief from its pocket. You move your gown away, allowing him to clean up the excess cum from your skin.

“Thank you,” You breathe.

He stands, taking you in his arms before giving you a small kiss on your temple. “Of course, princess.”

“I don’t want to go back,” You admit as you button his dress shirt.

“So let’s go to my hotel room instead.”

“Really?” Your face perks up before furrowing with concern. “But don’t you have to be here? It’s your premiere, after all.”

“I’d rather take this party somewhere more private. And besides, I’m sure they’re all too drunk to notice I’m not there.”

You giggle at his silly remark before capturing his lips with your own. “Lead the way.”

JENSEN ACKLES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST | JOIN THE TAG LIST

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[astro-egg-celent]

"I just don't know, I'm simultaneously worried that you're just a yes-man who tells me what I want to hear while I'm also worried that you're just the manifestation of my doubts and fears. Maybe you're just a way to avoid going to a real therapist and externalizing my problems. But also you might just be a perfectly valid coping mechanism that helps me independently work through my issues." Brain therapist: "Those are all great observations, and the fact that you're aware of those issues show that you are at the very least not going to use me to get into some sort of horrible spiral. However, you should probably just see a real therapist to actually double check my answers." "No."

[izumkay]

♡How the JJK Men Would Choose Between Ass or Boobs♡

—featuring Gojo, Toji, Geto, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna, Megumi, Yuji, Yuta.

Satoru Gojo – “None, your pussy.”

Gojo doesn’t even hesitate. The second you ask, he just grins, tilts his head, and goes, “Now that's what I'm talking about, none.” You blink, confused, but before you can ask, he leans in, voice dropping low and cocky as hell— “Your pussy. That’s my favorite.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like the question was pointless to begin with. "Tits and ass are great, but baby, what I really wanna be buried in is between those thighs.” And yeah, he means it—because the way he worships you with his mouth every chance he gets? This man is a walking addiction.

Toji Fushiguro – “Ass. Easy.”

Toji doesn’t even have to think. “Ass,” he says immediately, like it’s a fact, like it’s already written in the history books. "I need something to grab when I’m fucking you from behind, sweetheart." He says it with a smirk, hand already squeezing a handful of your ass, pulling you onto his lap. “You know I love watching it bounce while I wreck you.” And yeah, he’s got a point—because the way he grips, spanks, and buries his face between your cheeks? This man is a menace.

Suguru Geto – “Boobs, obviously.”

Suguru leans back, arms crossed, looking at you like you just asked the dumbest question. "Tits, obviously.” His voice is smooth, confident, like there’s no debate. “Perfect pillows, perfect handful, perfect to suck on.” He smirks, trailing his fingers over your chest lazily. “And if you think I won’t tease the hell out of you by playing with them for hours, you’d be wrong.” And he means it—this man is a slow, teasing bastard, always pulling your shirt down, always biting, sucking, squeezing. He treats them like a damn obsession.

Choso– “I—I can’t choose…I like everything.”

Choso blushes immediately, looking completely lost. "Uhh… both?" His eyes dart from your chest to your hips, his hands twitching like he wants to touch both at the same time. "I don’t think I could pick. I just… love all of you." And honestly? He’s dead serious. If he’s gripping your ass, he’s kissing your tits. If he’s sucking on your nipples, his hands are kneading your ass. He wants everything, needs everything, and he worships your body like it’s something sacred. Soft Choso but still freaky? Yeah, that’s him.

Kento Nanami – “This is inappropriate.”

Nanami sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is an incredibly inappropriate question." His voice is flat, unimpressed, like he genuinely cannot believe you would ask him this.

You pout, nudging him. "Oh, come on, just answer. For fun."

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if debating whether or not to entertain your nonsense—but then he leans in slightly, his gaze sharp, his voice dropping just a little.

"If I must answer—thighs."

You blink. "Thighs?"

He adjusts his tie, completely composed. "They are elegant, strong, and often overlooked." Then, after a pause, he adds, "Also, they make an excellent place to rest my hand."

And just like that, he goes back to whatever he was doing, ignoring the way you’re now flustered as hell. Because, of course, Nanami doesn’t play into your games—but when he does, he always wins.

Ryomen Sukuna – “I take it all, brat.”

Sukuna snickers when you ask the question, his sharp teeth flashing in a wicked, predatory grin. “Tch. The hell kind of weak-ass question is that?” His voice is full of amusement, but there’s something dark behind it—something dangerous.

He leans forward, gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Why would I pick, huh? I take it all.” His voice is a low growl now, his nails dragging down your skin, possessive, teasing. "Tits, ass, thighs, pussy—every fucking inch of you is mine, and I’ll ruin all of it."

And the way he looks at you—hungry, confident, like he already owns you—makes your stomach flip. Because with Sukuna, there’s no preference. No favorites. He devours, he claims, he takes what he wants.

And he always gets what he wants.

Megumi – "I-I’m not answering that."

Megumi’s entire face turns red the second you ask him. He chokes on his drink, avoiding eye contact like you just asked him to confess his darkest secrets. "I-I’m not answering that," he mutters, gripping the nearest object like it’ll save him.

You grin. "Come on, Megumi, just pick one."

His jaw tenses, his fingers twitching. He looks anywhere but at you. "I—That’s—That’s not an appropriate question!" He tries to act all put together, but you swear you see his ears turning red.

Deep down? He’s an boobs guy, but he’s too shy to admit it.

Yuji Itadori – "Ass. No hesitation."

Yuji doesn’t even pause. The second the question leaves your mouth, he just nods firmly and grins. "Ass. No hesitation."

You blink. "Wow, that was fast."

He shrugs, completely unashamed. "I know what I like." His voice is so casual, like he just answered what his favorite food was. Then he smirks cutely, tilting his head slightly. "Besides, I like watching it bounce when—"

"YUJI!" You slap his arm, face heating up, and he just laughs, rubbing the back of his head.

"What? You asked!"

Yuta Okkotsu – "U-Uhh… boobs, I guess?"

Yuta is a flustered mess. His face turns bright red, his hands flying up in defense. "W-WHAT KIND OF QUESTION IS THAT?!"

You giggle. "Come on, Yuta, pick one!"

He stares at you, eyes wide, clearly panicking. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "U-Uhh… I-I guess… boobs?"

You raise an eyebrow. "You guess?"

He groans, covering his face with his hands. "I DON’T KNOW, OKAY?! I LIKE EVERYTHING! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!"

Yeah, he’s not surviving this conversation.

[unintentionalseductress]

hear me out...17 with zayne, but it's mc saying it to him...perhaps bc of his evol going a bit out of control... 👀

"You won’t break me. I promise."

--------

Little snowflakes are falling through the air and landing on your skin as Zayne kisses you. You should have known better when you let him eat that cholcolate liquer but the temptation had been too great to ignore.

Now you're at his mercy, clinging onto him as his tongue explores your mouth, his hard chest pressed against the softness of your breasts and your senses feel like you can't perceive anything beyond him. Zayne's hands, his skin, his lips, all working in harmony to cause little fires to erupt under your skin.

The room felt oddly steamy, yet cold at the same time. You hadn't anticipated Zayne losing control of his evol as a result of his intoxication. You shiver as he breaks the kiss, not just from what his carnal look implied, but also from the snowflakes that are now coating his bed. You card your fingers through his hair as Zayne gazes down at you with half-lidded eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, brushing away some of the snow that's landing on you, his mouth licking away the cold moisture that lingered behind.

"It'll stop in a while. But I can't control it for the time being. I know it's getting cold." Zayne hugs your body tightly against his, trying fuse some of his warmth into you. "We can stop if you want."

In response, you gently roll Zayne onto his back, watching his eyes widen in surprise as you straddle him.

"We're inside. It's not that bad. You won’t break me. I promise." Before he can answer, you raise your hips and start to take him inside you, moaning at the sweet way his thickness fills you, stretching out the wet ring of muscles at the entrance of your cunt. Zayne's eyes close and his mouth parts as he lets out a noise of longing, fingers indenting into the soft flesh at your hips.

You push down, sheathing him to the hilt before starting to ride, watching the way his body reacts to yours. Those pretty eyes are glazed over as he watches you atop him, his body desperate to keep up with yours.

"It's ok my love." You cup his face as you ride him sensually, letting him feel every inch of your wet walls. "I can handle it." His forehead rests tenderly against yours as you move, giving pleasure as well as seeking it. "Cum for me?" you ask sweetly and it steals the air from his chest.

Zayne's breathing grows ragged and you hold onto his shoulders as he starts to thrust upwards into you, burying his face into the crook of your shoulder as his orgasm grips him, his body trembling as he spills himself into you.

[shanastoryteller]

How do you feel with the fic being done? You’ve worked so hard on it! I can’t wait to see all the asks you’ll answer of people losing their minds with it!!

I'm soo satisfied with how this fic turned out! But I'm also kind of bummed too, lol, I had SUCH a fun time writing it these are such great dolls to play with. I am taking a little break from supernatural because I know there's other stuff to write, and you all have been very encouraging and patient about this fixation that I know most of you don't share, BUT I've already stated planning the next supernatural fic 😬 it's just so fun!

[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

[thepepsicolafams-blog]

Everyone is talking about the parallels between this new chapter of BSD (Chapter 121) and BSD Beast.

Before in the last few chapters (Chapters 115 - 120.5) were compared to the BSD Novel “STROMBRINGER”— specifically of how both Atsushi and Chuuya had lost close members that they considered friends and family to a power Ability Users that knows way more about them then they know themselves and wants them to themselves for reason yet to be known.

But now in this current chapter though, it parallels to the BEAST universe with Atsushi and fear.

Here we have “Hallucination Dazai(?)” talk to Atsushi about how he never needed to be ‘brave’ or ‘strong’ to get stuff done or fight what he fears.

The chapter talks about fight fire with fire— or in this case fear with fear as “Hallucination Dazai(?)” directs Atsushi’s attention away from how scared he is to fight Ame No Gozen to save Akutagawa because it was way he had lost a great portion of his friends/family—to the now fear losing whatever now remains of his family and friends with Lucy and Kyouka still waiting for him in the ‘Anne Room’.

This fear turns into motivation that makes him keep fighting.

Somewhat similarly, this is also seen in BSD BEAST of how BEAST!Atsushi used his fear of pain, suffering and specifically Death to become the Port Mafia’s White Reaper.

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

And this is just my thoughts so feel free to just skip this, but I find it interesting that this is not the first time something like this happened. Every time we saw “Hallucination Dazai” previous it said the same if not similar things to Atsushi.

I get that it's in his head, that's what a hallucination is, and he has the same thing with The Orphanage Headmaster, and I know it takes Dazai form to guild Atsushi and that’s it’s a hallucination in his mind so that it shouldn’t mean so much. But after seeing the end of this chapter I'm wondering how this will go out.

Like all I want to see now are some answers to Atsushi “Who you really are” like my guy... what do you mean!!! Is this a hallucination or something else? Is it Atsushi’s Bookmark powers telling him what to do and stuff, is it Atsushi connecting to the Book with how much it reflects to the world of BSD!Beast or is it Atsushi’s tiger powers/Byakko talking to him.

I say this because Atsushi had referred to know what this “hallucination” really is meaning that it’s not what we originally thought it was/that’s it’s not really a hallucination of Dazai but something else entirely.

Or

Is it Atsushi finally understanding what Dazai had been teaching, what he is telling him, this whole time and discoing/realizing who he really is.

Looking into himself in the picture he made of Dazai to help him keep fight to finally understand that he has a right to live, that he doesn't need to be brave to fight-- that he always been able/has been doing this and that he should stop now because some rat drew some pictures and ripped some paper.

Having that anime protagonist moments of self-discovery and finding the will to keep fighting.

Guess we just have to wait and see. Next Chapter is coming next month, and I can't wait for what happens next!

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On another note, it's a very funny coincidence that when I went to the library the only BSD Novels there were that day were BSD! BEAST & BSD! STROMBRINGER-- both of which i took with me and am now reading! What a coincidence!!

[ultrainfinitepit]

what are the standard powers vampires have in your setting, and what abilities does Teutho have in particular?

What a great question, I'm so glad you asked!

In my setting powers vary from vampire to vampire type so there's not really one standard powerset. I imagine the classic undead vampire (which are the most numerous) have the same powers we give to them in our world. And I think most vampires have supernatural strength and speed, enough to make it worth hunting humans for their prey. I also imagine most are weak to sunlight. I have more about vampires in my OCverse in this post.

Teutho is of a type of vampire that is based on vampire squids and siphonophores. Vivian and Mordecai are the same type of vampire (they were turned by Teutho), but even between the three of them there is variation in their abilities. Being marine vampires they can survive all sorts of conditions underwater and don't need to breathe. Instead of lying in coffins they rejuvenate themselves in bathtubs.

They each can extend their nails into long claws. Their hair is tentacles which can be used for dextrous tasks. And they all share an ability to glamour - that is, hide their true form. The glamour is a product of their ability to shapeshift ever so slightly as well as hypnotize.

Teutho is the strongest and fastest of the three. He is also unique in that he has weather powers! These are quite rare.

Teutho and Mordecai both have the ability to turn into a more monstrous form, in this form they have increased strength and agility but also act more on instinct.

I hope that answers your questions, thanks again!

[98onlyboo]

big baby - k.mg

>> part 2 of: treat you better - k.mg

genre: fluff; wc: 1,3k

ㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡㅡ

..."You know, I could treat you so much better than him..."

The next morning you woke up, Mingyu's arms still wrapped around you. You tried getting out of his grasp but his grip only tightened. "Gyuuu I want to get up" you whined. "Just a little longer" he said and pulled you on top of him. Now there is no way you can get out so you just accepted your fate.

Until you had an idea. You almost felt a little bad, especially since he was sleeping so peacefully but you had to get up. You started tickling him until he let go of you. "That is SO unfair" he said laughing. He grabbed a pillow and hit you, which just escalated the situation.

You were having a pillow fight, frequently landing some hits but also receiving some. You tackled him and started tickling him again. "STOP I CAN'T ANYMORE" he said laughing histerically. You stopped and looked at him, realising you were sitting on top of your shirtless best friend.

"What's wrong?" he asked grinning at you. He knew exactly what was "wrong". In a swift motion he flipped you around so he was on top of you. Your cheeks were burning at this point and he could see that. His face slowly moved towards yours. His eyes never leaving your lips. You were mentally preparing for what was about to happen next.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep a steady breath when you felt Mingyu's breath tickle your ears. "Don't start something you can't finish" he whispered seductively. Then he hit you with a suprise attack and tickled you without showing any mercy. You laughed until your sides hurt and tears formed in your eyes.

Mingyu then stopped and got up. "Come on, let's make breakfast" he suggested. You jumped up running towards the kitchen, Mingyu following close behind you. You opened the fridge and took out some yoghurt you had. "What do you want?" you asked. "I don't know..What are you eating?" "Some yoghurt. Want some too?" "Sure"

As you guys were eating, the room fell quiet. "How do you feel?" he asked all of a sudden. You knew why he was asking that. "Right now I'm okay I guess. Maybe I'm a little hurt that he would do that, but...maybe it was a sign. A sign that he wasn't the right one you know? I certainly think the right one wouldn't cheat" you chuckled saying the last part.

"I would never cheat on you..." Mingyu whispered as quietly as he could. You heard it but pretended you didn't. "What did you say??" you asked. "Oh nothing I just agreed with you" he smiled and continued eating his yoghurt.

-3 months later-

The thing with Brian didn't bother you much anymore. More or less it still hurt your ego a bit, but other than that you were finally okay again. It happened faster than you thought it would. Maybe because Mingyu was a great help in distracting you from it, but also helping you talk about it. It seemed like all of this made your friendship even stronger than before.

You were sitting at home, wondering what to do with your life. You decided to call Mingyu to see what he was up to.

"Hello?" someone answered, someone that wasn't Mingyu "Uhm hello? Is Mingyu there?" "He's not here right now, this is Minghao speaking. Do you want me to tell him something?" the voice said. You never talked to any of his friends before. "Uhm I just wanted to know what he was up to since I'm bored" you laughed nervously. "Well, you could come visit us at practice if you want. Then we can finally get to know you better, especially since you're Mingyus girlfriend" Minghao said. "Girlfriend..?" You asked "Well, you're saved under ___ with a million hearts so I thought you're his girlfriend" Minghao said, sounding a bit embarrassed "Oh no it's okay haha, we're just best friends. Would you send me the address though?? Then I'll come visit you guys" you smiled. "Of course!! See you later then" Minghao said and shortly after sent you the address over Mingyu's phone.

You got ready, trying to look at least a bit presentable to meet the guys for the first time. I hope he tells him that I'm coming. After you got to the company you were greeted by who seems to be one of his friends . "Hey!! I'm Minghao, the one you talked to on the phone" he said and kindly greeted you. "Mingyu has been talking so much about you, we're happy we finally get to actually meet you" he happily exclaimed. "Talked about me..?" you asked with a confused look.

"I may shouldn't have said that.." he whispered and laughed. You just laughed with him until you were infront of a door. You can hear music and some people inside. "Let me go in first" he said and motioned for you to hide behind him.

"Mingyu I have a surprise for you!!" Minghao said. "Really??" you heard your best friend say before running up towards you guys. Minghao stepped out of the way and revealed you as the "suprise". "___!" Mingyu screamed and picked you up. "I'm so happy you're here" he said after you told him to let you down. "Guys this is ___ my best friend!!" he said while you just stood there awkwardly.

You sat down with some of the guys and just started talking to them. You got along with them really really well. You laughed a lot with them and came to find out that all of them are so nice. When you started talking to Seungcheol, you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked around and saw Mingyu glaring at you and Seungcheol.

You went back to talking and laughing with Seungcheol, talking about everything possible. Suddenly Mingyu came up behind you and put an arm around your shoulder. You turned to look at him and asked him if he was okay. "Could we maybe go out just for a second?" he asked.

You agreed and left the room. "What's wrong??" you asked. "Do you like Seungcheol?" he bursted out. "What? I've known him for literally the past 20 minutes. He seems nice but that is way too early to say you like someone" you laughed. He apologised and you guys went back in. Why would he ask me that? And why would he care?

After some more very interesting and different conversations with his friends and spending the whole day with them you decided to go home. Mingyu accompanied you on your walk. "Thanks for walking me home" you said and hugged him. "No problem" he smiled, "also uhm, I hope this isn't too weird to ask but I've been thinking about this thing for some time now.." "What thing?" you asked a bit concerned. For whatever reason your first thought was that he wanted to end the friendship. "Us. I've been thinking about us.." he started", "I thought about how happy you make me, about my feelings in general and.." he looked down, almost acting a bit embarrassed to actually say what he wanted to say. "Please Gyu, tell me what's bothering you. What are you trying to tell me??" you said and took his hands in yours. "You know you can tell me everything right?" you assured him. 

"I love you yn" he blurted out. You didn't say anything at first. Seeing the lack of reaction, tears started welling up in his eyes. "I'm sorry.." he whispered, "I shouldn't hav-" you shush him, cupping his face with your hands. "Don't be sorry Gyu. There is no reason to cry, I haven't rejected you have I?" you smiled at him. Slowly you closed the gap between you two and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. It didn't last long, but it made obvious how you felt about his confession. 

"I love you too, my big baby" you chuckled.

[fanficfem]

"just don't have sex!" do you hear yourself, @/sharklovingaquarist? how effective is this mindset? wasn't it a huge joke a while back to poke and tease at any sort of sex ed class that'd tell you to abstain and nothing else because it's an ineffective strategy? it's not always willing sex, either, so i don't know how you're going "keep your legs closed" when you're conveniently forgetting that it's not always consensual. (which, by the way, is very similar to rape apologist talking points.)

going onto someone else's post that's sharing a genuinely great resource just to bash it because the words "birth control" triggers you, especially as many women feel embarrassed asking questions about our bodies, is pathetic. you should take the time to reflect on why it bothered you so much to the point where you went on an entire tirade about how women are "fucking your body up for mediocre dick" when you could've politely ignored it. or hell, even spread it because it is a good resource and at least a couple women could benefit from it. no one is denying that birth control doesn't have it's risks, but hey, if the op mentioned that the search engine can answer questions you have... perhaps it could answer, oh i don't know, what birth control actually does to the body? since who the hell is actually going to sit down and read the laundry list of symptoms and side effects that come with a pack of pills?

i'd also like to point out that birth control is used for purposes outside of contraception. i have used it in the past to help regulate extremely irregular periods that were debilitating and often left me bed-bound every other week due to their frequency. i'm sure i'm not alone in that. unfortunately, the reality is that there is no safer alternative to help in these cases (unless i'm oblivious to one). so even if i were to exclusively have sex with women or go entirely celibate, i'd still have a plausible reason to be on birth control. but i guess i should be ashamed of using it to regulate something in my body since it's all about keeping my legs closed, right?

Hey everyone there’s a new search engine app and browser called diem created by a team of women where you can ask anything from career advice to birth control and other personal questions. You can read more on their website!