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annievrse · 2 days ago

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rumour has it!

trafalgar law x fem!reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic

summary: rumour has it that the surgeon of death is your boyfriend... w/c: 5.3k c/w: suggestive, secret relationship, reader wears a dress, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns.

The sun is just moments off dipping behind the horizon, the pink and orange hues meshing into subtle indigo. Since leaving the previous island, the air has been humid and sticky, but the slight breeze drifting through the Grand Line is refreshing.

The inside of the girls' quarters smells of vanilla, salt, and Robin's rosewater incense. The waves crash against the side of the ship, seaspray making its way through the ajar porthole, and you're sure Nami will scold you for leaving it open, but you're far from caring now.

The cotton sheets of your bed, a present from Robin for your birthday, are soft on your legs as you turn over for the nth time in ten minutes. You wouldn't call your current state one of grief, since he is still alive, but the rawness of your throat and the deep ache in your chest makes it seem so.

Skipping dinners and chores was enough for Nami and Robin to know there was something wrong, but you've been holed up in the room since departing the last island, and now they're positive this is more than just feeling sick.

The door slams against the wall when Nami kicks it open, a scowl on her features as she stomps over to you and rips the sheets off. You whine at the loss of cover, your body curling further in on itself as you shove your face into your pillow.

"Leave me alone."

Nami scoffs. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nami—“

"We're worried about you," Robin's soft voice comes from the doorway. "You've never skipped out on your chores for this long before."

Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes shut. No words leave your lips, and Nami and Robin share a concerned glance.

"Come on, dinner's ready. The crew's been waiting for you to join."

You sniffle and swallow thickly, remaining unresponsive to their words. If you were to tell them it feels as though your heart is going to explode and your limbs are lethargic because of a man, you fear they'd laugh at you.

"Has that window been open this whole time?—"

Robin says your name softly, abruptly cutting Nami off. "Please?"

You've always thought of the archaeologist as an older sister of sorts, so when she gives you an encouraging smile and a hand to take, you give in. Robin's always been more understanding than Nami, but you wouldn't trade either of them for the world.

"If this is about that rumour..."

You ignore her, your skin ablaze with apprehension at Nami's implication. The fresh air of the deck hits you in the face, and joyful screams and laughter from the galley have your stomach churning with anxiety.

"We understand if you don't want to talk about it, we know that rumours can get out of hand sometimes."

Your eyes remain on the floor while your cheeks burn with embarrassment. You're feet away from the kitchen door, and you resist the urge to run in the opposite direction.

"Seriously," Nami says, an easy laugh falling from her lips. "You can tell us anything, you know that."

Guilt bubbles under your skin, and you feel disgusted with yourself for feeling like you couldn't confide in them. You open your mouth to reply when a sharp gasp cuts you off.

"You're here!" Luffy exclaims, his contagious giggles making your lips turn upwards for the first time in a week. "I missed you!"

Suddenly, limbs are wrapped around you, and Luffy's grin presses against your cheek.

"I missed you, too," You smile and lean your head on his shoulder.

"Are you hungry?" Luffy asks, unwrapping himself from your torso. "Sanji cooked up a feast!"

And he isn't exaggerating. The cook stands before you, his eyes wide with concern as he takes your hand. "I made your favourites, mon amour."

You nod as you take in the platters and towers of food splayed on the long dining table. Brook, Franky, Jimbe, and Chopper sit on one side, and Usopp and Zoro sit on the other, all giving you reassuring smiles as you greet them.

"Thank you, Sanji."

"Anything for you, my angel!"

You take a seat beside Zoro and Luffy slides in next to you. "Let's eat!"

Dinner is as chaotic as usual, and in the week you've been hiding in your room, you've come to miss the disordered affair. Mountains of different dishes are piled onto your plate, thanks to Luffy, as Zoro pours sake into your mug. You won't be drinking tonight, but the thought that Zoro wants to share his beloved drink with you has your heart growing with warmth.

You pick up your fork and stab a piece of grilled broccoli. The flavour melts on your tongue as you chew, your gaze scanning your crewmates as they continue with their normal dinner conversations.

"So is it true?"

The room goes silent, and the only sound is the clink of Chopper's hoof on Brook's humourous. You stare into the voids of his eye sockets and swallow quickly to avoid choking on the vegetable.

"Wrong thing to say?"

Nami is the first to growl as she stands. "Yes, idiot!"

The rest of the crew groans and throws their assaults at the skeleton before he cries out.

"Okay! Okay, I'm sorry," Brook winces, his hands up in defence. "If I had a heart it would be full of remorse right now."

His usual gag makes you exhale a short laugh and the crew visibly relaxes.

"I'm fine, guys," You sigh. "I'm not going to break."

"So, Traffy, huh?" Zoro is amused, and when you look at him, he raises an eyebrow. "What? It's what we're all thinking."

"He's not wrong," Franky pipes up. "Rumour has it you're together."

"Who knew you two were such gossip?" Robin quips, a mug of tea held up to her lips. "Where'd you hear this so-called rumour?"

"Around," Usopp says, evading answering with a proper response.

"It's not true though, right?" Franky asks.

You shake your head immediately, stomach souring. "How would it be? I haven't seen that guy in forever, let alone be in a relationship with him."

"That's what I said!" Nami exclaims, slamming her hands on the wooden table. "I think I would know if my best friend had a boyfriend, especially if it were Traffy."

As the crew start discussing who they think started the rumour, you sit quietly. There's no telling who or how the rumour started, and you'd rather not think about it.

The article in the newspaper had been published a month ago, and to say it had caused waves was an understatement. With you and Law on two separate, infamous pirate crews, it was bound to affect civilians and pirates alike. The thought of the Heart Pirates and the Strawhats allying again had the world on edge, and if it was because of something as fragile as love, then it would be problematic for both sides.

You pick at your plate with no appetite. There are eyes on you from across the table, but you ignore Robin and continue moving food around with your fork. She can think all she likes, and so can the remainder of the crew, but you're not giving up your most vulnerable secret that easy; especially when the rest of the world thinks the same.

—

You have to tread lightly. Above you, a monthly meeting between the Kid Pirates, the Strawhats, and the Heart Pirates is taking place.

Nami rushes around the girls' quarters for a map she forgot before she stops and sees you at your desk. Various pens and papers are sprawled on the surface, and Nami wonders what you're writing. However, she doesn't press and scolds you instead.

"You're meant to be upstairs."

You groan and spin in the chair. "I'm busy."

Nami rolls her eyes. "Come on. This is important."

"Can't you just relay it to me when it's done?"

The newspaper and the rumour have been long forgotten. It's been two months since the dinner and a month and a half since the crew dropped the gossip, and you've been back to your old self. Nami's grateful that you're no longer affected by it, but there's something about the way your wrist flicks the pen on the page that has her suspicions surfacing again.

You mumble something she can't hear and stand. Nami furrows her eyebrows when she sees the state of you—you wear one of your nicer dresses and your eyelashes seem fuller, longer. She doesn't question it, but her mind circles back to the months-old rumour.

The walk upstairs and onto the deck is a tense one, and you feel the excitement of seeing Law swirl in your stomach. It's been a while since you've seen him, and him you, so, when the sun warms your skin and the heads of all three captains turn to the creaking door, you smile.

"Hi, everyone!" You say. "Sorry, I'm late."

Luffy brushes off your apology and grins while he tells you to sit with the crew. There are multiple sets of eyes on you, but only one makes your nerves dance.

You find a spot beside Chopper and face the other crews. The silence of your arrival slowly dissipates as the pirates start chattering again. You sigh deeply and scan the crowd. A familiar polar bear catches your attention, and you wave when Bepo meets your gaze.

The mink greets you with a warm smile, one that never fails to lighten your mood, as he nudges Penguin beside him. The pirate rubs his bicep before he realises what Bepo is saying, and then he grins, promptly whacking Shachi while doing so. It's a chain reaction, and soon, all of the Heart Pirates are waving at you from across the deck.

The more you think about it, the more the reason why the rumour was started becomes clear; you're not subtle.

Ikkaku almost squeals when she sees you, and soon she's crossing the grass to squeeze between you and Chopper.

"I've missed you," She whispers, throwing her arm over your shoulders. Chopper looks at her curiously, his head tilting as the cogs in his mind turn.

Sure, you've always been friendly with the Heart Pirates, but that's because you hailed from the same island as Law, Penguin, Bepo, and Shachi before you landed yourself in the East Blue. Simple. Definitely not because you're in love with their captain and have been for the past ten years of your life...

You refuse to think about the fact that you haven't told your crew yet, though, you're confused as to how they couldn't know. Sabaody, Punk Hazard, Dressrosa, Zou, Wano... on all islands, you were attached at the hip despite trying your best to remain indifferent toward each other.

Maybe your downfall was hoping that they could figure it out themselves.

"Strawhat." His timbre is low, one you've heard countless times yet it never fails to give you goosebumps, even on the hottest of days.

"Traffy." Your captain laughs.

"May I talk to your seamstress for a minute?"

The crews fall quiet once more, and the air is thick with anticipation. A legion of owlish eyes set their sights on you, and you shift with discomfort.

Luffy nods and waves his hand in your direction. "Go ahead."

Ikkaku pats your knee before she stands and you watch her skip back to her spot beside Shachi. Law gives you an expectant look and nods his chin toward the Polar Tang.

A low whistle behind you makes you freeze and you glance at Zoro. He shrugs at your raised eyebrows, and smirks. He may not seem to be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but you know he's onto you, and from the looks the rest of your crew throw you, you know they are too.

You brush them off with a flick of your wrist and follow Law to the edge of the Sunny. He's quick to shamble you onto the Tang and lead you inside.

Once the air-tight door is shut, you release your breath.

"You okay?"

Nodding, you take a step toward him. Law watches you intently, his own shoulders relaxing.

"Come 'ere," Law mumbles, tugging you against him. You smile into his chest, your hands splayed across his back. "Missed you."

You look up at him, a smile on your lips. "Missed you more."

Law snorts and leans down, his nose brushing yours. The silence is comforting, especially when you're in it with him, a quiet kind of peace that speaks volumes without saying a word. There’s no need for conversation, no pressure to fill the air with sound. The moment stretches between you like a soft, invisible thread, binding you together without effort.

"Did you see the newspaper a few months back?" Law's voice carries an undercurrent of caution, and from the way he hesitates, you can tell he’s debating whether to bring it up. You hum, your eyes flickering briefly between his.

"The crew asked a lot of questions, but I never let it slip," You say, but there’s a tension in your words.

The need to be careful has grown more important as time passes, as the world becomes more dangerous, like a delicate dance you’ve learned to navigate without drawing too much attention. Still, the questions, the rumours, the assumptions—they're starting to take their toll.

“It shouldn't be like this,” Law murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes close briefly, as though he’s trying to block out a reality he can’t change. "But is there any other choice?"

You can hear the desperation in his words, the quiet plea for an answer that seems impossible to answer. This hidden side of you that's tucked away from prying eyes and curious minds has become both a refuge and a cage, something you never wanted it to be.

"No," You answer softly, your voice steady even as your heart tightens in your chest. "There’s no other choice."

You don't need to say more—he knows. Both of you know.

"But I’m going to tell my crew," Your voice cracks the silence, and the statement hangs in the air between you. "They're onto me."

Law exhales, and you can see the conflict in his eyes. The fear of consequences and the possibility of everything unravelling if the wrong person knows eats away at you, and from the way Law's eyes plead, you know it hurts him too.

"Of course you can," He mumbles, his voice low. "I would never tell you what you can and can't do."

His words are firm, but they don’t bring the comfort you're hoping for. You both know that telling is easy, but it’s living with the consequences of that decision that’s the hard part. It’s about what you risk losing if it all falls apart.

You lean back to look at him from a different angle, your heart beating a little faster than it should.

"But you’re scared, aren’t you?" You say quietly, knowing the answer before he even opens his mouth. You know him, you don’t need him to say it aloud.

"Yeah," He admits softly. "I am. Because I can’t lose you. But I know you don’t want to lie to them either."

There's a raw honesty to his voice that he usually keeps under lock and key when there are other people around. But when it's just you, Law is as vulnerable as he allows himself to be, which is much more than he's ever shown to anybody else.

"It’s not about them," You whisper. "Whatever happens, we need to decide what we can live with. Because if the four seas know we're each other's weakness, there goes our cover of ambiguity, and you've always been mysterious."

There’s a flicker in his eyes, a brief spark of something, and for a second, you think maybe he’s going to speak, probably some remark to dismiss the tension or shift the conversation. But instead, Law chokes out a laugh—quick and unexpected.

It is short, but it carries relief, like an exhale after holding in too much. The tension between you lifts, just slightly, in the aftermath of it. You can’t help but smile, even though the gravity of everything is still hanging just beneath the surface. The humour is a welcome distraction, a brief flicker of light in a room that’s been dark for too long.

And you suppose it has. You haven't seen Law in a few months, and every time you do, it's like the floodgates of your heart open all at once—suddenly, there’s no holding back the torrent of everything you’ve kept buried, everything you've tried to push aside. Nights crying yourself to sleep, endless days stuck in bed replaying the memories, dealing with the longing, and suffering through the unsaid words that have accumulated in the silence between your last meeting and this one.

Law moves one hand to rub the back of his neck, his usual aloofness returning, but softened with your attempt at making him laugh.

“I suppose that would make me less... mysterious,” He murmurs, regarding you with that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "No one’s going to take me seriously as a captain if they know this side of me."

Rolling your eyes, you press onto your toes and press your lips against his. You giggle against his mouth when he immediately kisses back, his response urgent, as if he’s been itching for this moment, for permission to bridge the gap between the two of you.

There’s no hesitation in him now, just the raw need that’s been held back, tightly reined in for months on end. His hands find their way to the back of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair, pulling you closer like he never wants to let go.

"They're probably waiting for us," You gasp as Law trails his mouth down your jaw. "Wondering what the hell we're doing."

Law's chuckle is dark as he continues his attack on your neck. "If they can't guess then they're dumber than they look."

Your giggle dies on your lips as Law gently pushes you against the metal wall of the Tang, his leg slipping effortlessly between yours.

"That’s a low bar," You manage through gasps. "Have you seen those guys? They think jumping in the ocean is the epitome of cleanliness."

He laughs against your skin, the sound vibrating through you. "Yeah, okay. But, if your crew don’t know by now, they’re either blind or still trying to figure out if the looks I give you are innocent."

You pull back slightly, glancing at him with mock seriousness. "Innocent? You just bit me on the neck, Law."

He grins, clearly enjoying himself. He ignores your comment, reality creeping back into his mind. "If they don't already know, you tell them, alright? I want you to be happy."

He looks at you like you hung the stars, and there's no other way you would wish him to look at you. You nod and kiss his cheek. "We're not that subtle, though, are we?"

Law furrows his eyebrows and recalls a time from your past, the memory making him smile prematurely. "Like the time you tried to sneak past Bepo and Penguin and knocked over an entire shelf of medical supplies?"

You wince and then laugh. "Well, they didn’t hear that, did they?"

Law tilts his head, his lips curling into that devilish grin. “I think they'd be more concerned if we weren’t doing this. I mean, what else would explain us sneaking away like this?”

You snort, trying to hold back the laugh threatening to escape. "Probably think we're plotting to steal the Sunny's meat stash. Honestly, I'd be more worried about that."

“Hey," Law's voice drops to a mockingly serious tone. "Strawhat would argue that meat is the only thing worth risking a mutiny for."

You burst into laughter, shaking your head. "Guess they really are dumber than they look if they don’t figure out what we’re up to."

"Exactly," Law says with a wink, pulling you back into him, his lips finding your neck again. "Now, stop talking, and let’s just enjoy the mystery.”

—

When you emerge from the Polar Tang, the noise hits you first—the unmistakable sounds of raucous laughter and clinking sake cups over the familiar lull of the ocean. The air is thick with the smell of grilled fish and meat, and the warm, comforting aroma of rice wine.

The moment you step onto the deck, you're greeted by the sight of Franky and Zoro having a challenge to see who can drink the most sake without passing out. Usopp’s telling a wild, drunken story that no one can fully believe (and everyone’s too tipsy to really care if it's true or not, it's funny as hell). Nami’s chatting animatedly with Robin, Ikkaku, and a few women from the Kid Pirates, all of them clearly amused by the antics happening around them. Sanji’s serving food, and from the looks of it, he’s already had a few cups of sake himself—he’s not even trying to hide the gleam in his eyes when he sees you.

Law is as calm as ever, his cold demeanour never faltering as you step into the crowded area, though you catch a flicker of amusement in his gaze. It’s as if the two of you are invisible in plain sight. You exchange a glance—silent communication, the kind that only the two of you can manage—and it’s clear: they don't seem to suspect the rumour to be true.

Zoro waves a half-empty bottle of sake at you as you step towards the group of girls, his grin slightly lopsided. "Hey, hey, you're back! What’s the deal? You two off somewhere plotting how to take the all the sake?"

Nami looks over, catching the tail end of Zoro's question, and you can practically feel the shift in the air as her eyes flicker between you and Law. Her eyebrow arches, the wheels in her head turning. She throws you an exaggerated eye roll, but there's something different in the way she does it now—a knowing, almost playful glint in her eyes.

"Ugh, you guys are too much," She says with a knowing smile playing at the corner of her lips. "That rumour doesn't seem so far-fetched now, does it?"

Seems your crew is a lot sharper than you wished they were.

“Wait, what?” Zoro squints at the two of you as though trying to piece it together. “Are you saying these two really have something goin' on? Thought it was just a dumb rumour..."

Nami’s grin only widens, her arms crossing as she watches you squirm under the weight of her gaze. “Oh, Zoro, you really haven’t figured it out yet? Please, it’s obvious. All the sneaking off when we meet with the Heart Pirates, the looks they give each other when they think no one’s paying attention, her constant sulking when we part from them—come on, you’re not that dense.”

You freeze as Nami starts listing off what seems to be a mental list. Had you really been that naive to think she wouldn't know? Your eyebrows triangulate as you try to catch her gaze, your eyes full of regret. Nami smiles softly when she sees the look and waves her hand. You know she'd never use this against you, but you can see the flicker of hurt in her amber eyes.

Maybe you underestimated your crew's observation skills, or maybe you deemed yourself unworthy of being the centre of attention. Whatever it is, it's making you uneasy.

On the other side of the deck, the volume of chatter softens. The Kid Pirates may not have been paying much attention to the earlier drama, but now they’re looking at you, and every single one of them has just become aware of the situation. Especially Kid, who raises an eyebrow in your direction, leaning forward slightly.

Your heart skips a beat when you realise they have also figured it out, and then the whole keeping it between your two crews turns into the Kid Pirates knowing too. Panic rises in your chest when you register the severity of the situation—if they know, then how easy is it for strangers to do the same?

"Wait, you two...?” Kid starts, his voice rough and a little too loud. His gaze flickers between you and Law, then back at his crew, who are clearly picking up on the vibe. "Huh. That’s not a surprise, but I guess it explains the newspaper thing."

Killer’s grin widens, a knowing glint in his eyes. "So the rumour was true?"

But Law, ever the picture of composure, only tilts his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It’s really not that interesting," He says dryly, arms folding across his chest.

Kid is unimpressed with Law's deflection, his eyes flicking back to the rest of the crews, who are now too interested in the drama to look anywhere else. "Guess that rumour was right, after all. Kinda figured you two had something going on, especially after that time you both disappeared on Sabaody while the fight was going on."

You stare at Kid, trying not to let your face betray how uncomfortable the situation has become. "That had nothing to do with this."

The laughter, the teasing, the questions—everything starts to blur together, an overwhelming rush of voices and jabs that twist around in your head, all at once. Your heart hammers in your chest as you struggle to keep up with the rapid-fire chatter.

"That long?" A shocked cry comes from the other side of the deck. Sanji's dramatic approach is unmistakable, his wide eyes filled with genuine concern as he rushes over, his steps quick but careful, like he's about to witness something catastrophic. “You two... really?”

You inhale sharply, trying to steady yourself, but your breath feels shallow, trapped in your throat. The reality of the situation hits you all at once. The entire crew—your family—along with your second family, and the Kid Pirates are staring at you, waiting for some reaction, some explanation.

"Enough."

Law’s voice cuts through the haze, louder than anything you’ve heard in the past few minutes, sharp and commanding enough to grab your attention. It’s like the snap of a whip, but it doesn’t feel threatening—just firm, steady, the sound of someone who’s done with the chaos and isn’t going to let it continue.

The silence is immediate.

"We were going to tell you soon," You say, voice quiet. “But I just don't want to whole world to know, you know, considering the positions of everyone here.”

"Wait," Usopp says, finally grasping the situation. "Are you telling me the rumour has been true this whole time? You’re… you’re really together? And we didn’t notice?!"

“What?” Luffy blurts out, voice high and incredulous. "You two? Together?" He tilts his head, processing the words at lightning speed, then grins ear-to-ear as if he’s just solved the greatest mystery in pirate history. “That’s awesome! I knew it! I knew you two were up to something! You’ve been acting all sneaky, like when I steal food and nobody sees me! I can tell, you know?!”

Nami opens her mouth to scold Luffy but is cut off by Robin.

"Interesting," She says, but there's no judgment in her tone—just an almost quiet understanding. “I must admit, I’m curious as to how long this has been going on. You both hide it so well.”

Her gaze lingers on you and then shifts to Law. The curiosity in her voice is gentle, like a conversation you might have over a quiet cup of tea. She’s not pressing for answers; she’s just acknowledging the truth without making a big deal out of it. There’s no teasing, no grand statement, just that calm acceptance that feels like an anchor in the middle of the storm that’s just hit the Sunny.

“Few years,” Comes your vague answer, but it satisfies Robin nonetheless.

“I’m glad you both are happy," the archaeologist says simply, and there’s a softness in her eyes that makes you feel like she truly means it. Your honorary big sister approves of your relationship, and it makes tears prick the corners of your eyes. “Don’t worry about the others too much. They’ll adjust. Just take your time.”

“Adjust, my ass,” Zoro quips, crossing his arms with a sigh, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. “So you two were just playing it cool while the rest of us looked like idiots? And you still managed to dodge all my questions? Impressive—"

A loud, exaggerated "yohohoho!" from the back of the crowd echoes across the grass, interrupting Zoro. You glance at Brook, who had been standing somewhat aloof in the corner, a wide grin plastered across his skeletal face. His arms are thrown dramatically into the air like he’s just witnessed the most epic romance of the century.

“Well, well, well, it seems that true love has bloomed!” He says, his voice full of glee and a touch of theatrical flair. “I can see it now!” Brook continues, hands raised to the sky. “'The Pirate King’s Crew: A Hidden Love Unveiled!' A ballad of passion! A symphony of suspense!” He pauses dramatically, looking back at you and Law with a gleam in his eye. “You two should definitely star in it... or, perhaps, just provide the inspiration. Yohohoho!"

“I’m glad someone’s enjoying this,” You say with an uninhibited giggle.

Law shakes his head, though he’s clearly amused by the skeleton’s antics. "If he writes a song about us, I'm throwing him off the ship."

“Oh, don’t worry, captain!” Brook says brightly. “I’ll make sure the song is perfectly respectful! There will be no disrespectful verses in this one! It’ll be a tale of true love!”

Nami facepalms and ignores the musician. “I told you guys they were too subtle. You seriously think you can get away with anything with me around?” Her eyes flick to Law. "But I’m guessing you didn’t exactly want to make this public right now. And with Kid's crew around, I can see why."

“Hey!—”

“It wasn’t about hiding it forever,” Law cuts in, his voice steady and calm. “We just didn’t want to deal with the... complications. Not with everyone constantly looking over our shoulders.”

“So I assume Law’s crew has known for a lot longer than we have?” Robin says. “Considering you’ve known them since childhood?”

"I'm sorry." Your nod is sheepish, though there’s no anger, only mild surprise from your crew.

“We didn’t mean to keep it from you guys…” Bepo calls from his spot on the bow with Shachi and Penguin. “It was just... well, her and Law’s business, you know?”

“We’d rather keep this under wraps,” Law announces, his glare pointed at Kid. “So don’t go running your mouth, got it?”

Kid throws his arms up in defence, a smug chuckle leaving his lips. “Don’t care that much anyway, Trafalgar. No need to get your panties in a twist.”

“Got it!” Luffy laughs, shoving a hunk of meat into his mouth. You trust your captain with your life, so his easy answer is enough for you.

Law tuts and turns to you. He looks slightly pale at the realisation that people know, but the relief in his posture is evident.

There’s an air of collective understanding in the air as the chatter starts up again. Usopp is back telling his stories to the women, and Zoro throws another empty sake bottle at Franky’s feet before the cyborg can finish his drink.

You wish to explain your side to Nami, but she looks content sipping on her cocktail and conversing with the Kid Pirates. You'd tell her all about it when this meeting is over and you have a clearer head.

“Well, now that that’s settled,” You say, turning to Law with a smirk. “How about we finally get some rest?”

“And give them more ammunition?” Law asks, the corners of his lips curling into a smile.

You sigh, glancing back at your crew. “Not like we’ll escape it ever again…”

And as you look around at your family, both the Straw Hats and the Heart Pirates, as well as the Kid Pirates, who are revelling in the gossip, you can’t help but feel a warm sense of relief. It’s out there now. No more secrets, no more hiding.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#— ann writes!#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar d water law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader #law one piece #one piece #one piece x reader

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megamindsecretlair · 3 days ago

Note

hey i just need something real nasty between husband and wife with mr.aaron (i say it key and peele😂😂) with some angst before the actual plot🤭

A/N: Ask and ye shall receive, beautiful.

Made You Fall For Me

Pairing: Husband!Terry Richmond x Wife!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. Cursing, teasing (fem and male receiving), PIV, oral (female receiving), Reader is able to be picked up, use of pet names, angst. Mentions of death of a loved one, trauma. All consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: It had been two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death and Terry still beat himself up over it. Tired of Terry not letting you in, you join him in the shower and show him that he has a life to lead right here and now with you. Story by @uniqueoutlierblog

Word Count: 5,371k

AO3 Link

A/N: Thank you so much for dealing with my hiatus. I'm stronger mentally than I have ever been. Definitely worked on myself and stopped being so hard on myself. The kind asks really helped me find my way back, so have this smutty fic as a giant thank you! Thank you so much for all your continued support! Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Terry sighed as he entered the bedroom. You looked up from your phone to watch your husband.

His tall frame moved fluidly around the space, taking off of his pants and his shirt. It was soaked through having just finished at the gym. He sat on the edge of the bed to fling off his socks and toss it in the knit hamper.

“Hey babe,” you said.

“Hey baby,” Terry sighed.

You stared at the back of his head as his shoulders drooped the longer he sat on the bed. He looked so…dejected. Like someone sucked the air from his tires. You leaned up and let your powder blue throw blanket fall from your shoulders.

This was the second week in a row that your husband was still in this funk. Two weeks since the anniversary of Mike’s death where it seemed like Terry relived it all over again. It started with a dream, the very moment he ran into the hospital carrying Summer. Hopped up on adrenaline, a bullet in his shoulder, and him looking for the next threat.

Then he would slowly withdraw mentally, checking out of conversations. Floating through the motions of going to work and getting back home. You were worried that he would get into an accident but he was able to operate on auto-pilot, navigating the world just as he normally would.

It was both sad and amazing that he was able to do so. But this wasn’t your husband. This was a guilt ridden man who sometimes realized that he had no family. You were his family, of course, but he had no living blood relative alive. Mike was his one and only connection and that was severed by hate and pride.

“Baby, will you please talk to me?” You asked. You fiddled with the edge of your phone. He wasn’t facing you, but you were still nervous to look at his face. You didn’t know which would be worse. Hearing you and choosing not to speak or not hearing you at all because he was lost somewhere you couldn’t reach?

“I-I’m trying,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. You longed to comfort him, hold him, console him in some way. But every time you reached out, he would stare at you as if he couldn’t feel it. Couldn’t feel you.

You didn’t know how to help him through this. You’ve lost people, sure, but you always had enough family and friends to fall back on. You didn’t know what it was like for him and he was too stubborn to let you take some of his pain.

You moved forward and crawled on the bed towards him. He stiffened as you got closer and you wrapped your arms around him anyway. You held on and placed your hand over his heart. It beat rapidly beneath your fingers and you inwardly sighed in relief. He was still in there. His heart still beat.

“You have to stop beating yourself up about this. He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself forever,” you said. You kissed his back and rested your cheek on his skin. He was always so warm, like your own personal fire pit. But due to the sweat, he was cold and clammy.

“I was supposed to protect him. That was my one and only job,” Terry said.

“You were supposed to love him. But what happened was out of your control,” you said.

Terry sighed and stood up, breaking your embrace. He hung his head as he walked to the bathroom. The door closed decisively and you flinched from the harsh sound. The light turned on underneath the doorway. The shower turned on and you didn’t hear anything further.

Some days you wanted to knock your husband’s teeth in. His overprotective instincts went into hyperdrive, past the point of what was healthy. He refused to think of himself and the consequence be damned. Other times, you just wanted to wrap him in a floofy blanket and never let him out of your sight. You couldn’t very well fault him for wanting to keep you safe when you were the exact same way.

But this…it varied on when he’d be able to pull himself out of this. Sometimes you’d say or do something to bring him back. Sometimes he’d take a deep breath and release that dark cloud. And sometimes, he’d disappear for a whole day and return back to the sweet, loving man you married.

But fuck this. You missed your husband. And you were tired of seeing him walk around like a zombie. You got out of bed and headed straight to the bathroom.

Steam rushed out and passed over your exposed skin. You closed the door behind you and noted the discarded underwear on the floor and a red towel on the edge of the sink. Terry’s silhouette moved just behind the foggy glass doors.

You quickly stripped, flinging your lavender sleep set to the ground with his briefs. You stuffed your bonnet beneath a shower cap and slid the glass doors back. Terry looked over his shoulder at you and you entered the spacious shower behind him.

The custom shower with tiles painted in different shades of brown was roomy enough for about three people comfortably if they were all intimate. Water cascaded down from a waterfall shower head, pouring down over Terry’s strong body. Water dripped from the edge of his wide nose, his full lips, and his well-defined chest. You followed the trail of water down his belly and over his long, thick dick. Water fell down in his long legs and huge feet.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I’m taking a shower,” you said. You shoved past him and grabbed your wash cloth, pulling it under the spray of water to get it wet.

Terry huffed. “Had to be now?” He asked.

“Yup,” you said, popping the ‘P’. Instead of grabbing your favorite soap, you grabbed his and lathered up the wash cloth.

“C’mon,” Terry said. He tugged on your arm for you to turn around.

You did so and slapped the wash cloth against his chest. “I miss you,” you said, cutting off whatever he was about to say. He closed his mouth and grimaced, jaw flexing.

You flattened both of your hands against his chest and stepped closer. Water hit your back at a lukewarm temperature. You had no clue how he could shower like this but that wasn’t the point. “I miss my husband and I need you to come back, right now,” you said.

Terry closed his eyes and his long eyelashes fanned across his cheeks. His mouth worked like he wanted to say something but the words never came. Whatever he wanted to say lodged in his throat and he couldn’t choke it out.

“So after this shower, you better step out of it and remember that you did everything right for Mike. And he made his own choices. That’s not your fault. It has never been your fault. And it’s time you accept that,” you said.

You moved the wash cloth over his skin, scrubbing him down. Soap transferred to his body in thick suds, falling down his skin. He watched you and shut his mouth as you scrubbed him all over his chest and moved on to his arms.

His eyes never left yours as you massaged the cloth between his fingers. He sighed and hummed as you found tense spots. You rubbed him deeper in those areas, working out the tension.

You maneuvered behind him so he could rinse and then washed his back, creating big circles of soap. You moved down to his ass, teasing him a bit. He grunted and then chuckled. Well, that was a good sign. If he was chuckling then at least he was starting to relax.

You washed down his legs, tickling him in areas. He danced out of your way and you warned him to be careful in this slippery ass shower.

“If you die, I’ll bring you back and kill you again,” you warned.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said and smirked.

You worked your way back to his front. His dick twitched and bobbed in your face. You looked up at him and his head was tilted to the side as he looked down at you. Fuck, he was pretty like this. Above you, staring at you, and in all his naked glory.

He needed to walk around like this more often. For your eyes only. That beautiful male body needed to be on display 24/7.

You looked at his dick and then slowly dragged your eyes up his body and back to his striking ocean eyes. He took in a deep breath as his mouth curved upward. The rise and fall of his chest had an answering throb in your clit. You dropped to your knees on the hard flooring but it barely registered in your mind.

Your husband worked his way back to you in the best way you both knew how. Sex was everything to the both of you. The one way you knew you were on solid ground. From the moment you two met, it had been electric and consuming. Always finding ways to touch each other or be near each other and breathe each other’s air.

You dragged the wash cloth over his dick. At the first press of your hand, he hissed and jerked his hips towards you. You steadied your left hand on his hip and then stroked him with your right.

He lifted his head towards the showerhead and let the water run down his face. Since he leaned back, water fell on top of your head and face but you kept looking towards him and the look on his face.

He was hands down the most beautiful man you had ever met. And the kindest. He wasn’t always nice. He had more than enough words to say about folks that crossed him. But he was always kind, always treated people with respect. And he was a gentleman on top of it. Always opened your doors, always stood on the side of the street closest to danger. Every day, you found new ways to fall in love with your man. You only wished he’d forgive himself.

“I love you. And I miss you. I need you to come back,” you told him. You increased the pressure, giving him long, slow strokes. All the way down to his base, squeezed, and then worked your way back to his tip.

He groaned and rolled his neck, moving his hips. Your pussy throbbed seeing cum leak from his tip. He leaned one hand on the side of the shower, fingers pushing into the grooves.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry.”

“You have to let me in when things get dark, Terry. I don’t like feeling like I’m on the outside,” you told him.

Terry nodded his head and his eyes turned darker. But he didn’t look so far away now. His eyes were clearer, more present. “I hate feeling like I failed,” he said. His jaw flexed and you matched him stare for stare.

“You did everything you possibly could. You deserve a life too. Not to punish yourself for the life Mike doesn’t have,” you said. You paused stroking and let the sound of the shower fill the room.

Steam rose to the ceiling in wispy clouds. Soap and water rushed down Terry’s body. His chest rose and fell in heaving sighs but then evened out. Once his breathing returned to normal, you began stroking him again.

He groaned and dropped his head as you increased your strokes. You watched his face and watched the emotions play across his features. His lush lips parted and he moaned, deeply and guttural. “I’m gonna bust,” he moaned.

“Give it to me,” you whispered, just loud enough to be heard above the spray of water. You kept your same pace and three strokes later, Terry’s dick throbbed and his cum splashed onto your neck and titties.

Terry’s moans were sweet music to your ears. You grinned evilly and kept stroking. He jerked and stuttered with chuckles and reached out to still your hands. He huffed and chuckled, giving you a saucy wink.

He pulled you up by your arms and crushed his lips to yours as soon as you were within reach. He grabbed the cloth from your hands and hung it on the lip of the shower door. He cupped your neck in both hands and angled your face to meet his rough kisses. You moaned into his mouth. You missed this. You missed him. So damn badly.

The ache in your chest finally lifted now that your man was back. He healed and soothed with every kiss, every swipe of his tongue, every caress of his thumb on your wet skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he harshly whispered between kisses.

“It’s okay,” you whispered back.

Terry pulled back and looked into your eyes. He narrowed his and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “I will call and get help later today. There’s no excuse for how I’ve been acting. You deserve better from me,” he said.

You tilted your head and kissed his wrist. “I do. But I also know we’re in this for life. So I need you to let me in more,” you said.

Terry nodded. “I promise. Thank you, for sticking with me through this shit,” he said.

“That’s what wives are for,” you said with a giggle.

Terry took a deep breath and then a mischievous gleam made his hazel eyes twinkle. A smirk curved his lips and he began to massage your neck. You hummed and your eyes drooped. “Husbands are for protecting you and taking care of you, right?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said slowly, eyeing him. He was up to something…

Terry flipped you around and pressed your chest against the glass shower doors. You cried out from the sudden cold on your nipples as he pushed until your titties flattened against the doors. He kicked your legs wider to spread for him and your body shivered from his casual roughness.

“T-Terry,” you sighed.

Terry locked your arms behind you, hooking his arm around your elbows so that you were unable to move. Terry licked the shell of your ear and you shuddered. He slipped his free hand around your throat to pull your neck back and rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m gonna make up for my bullshit,” he promised with heat laced through every syllable.

“Terry, you don’t–”

Terry cut you off by moving his hand from your neck to his dick. He ran the tip through your dripping folds and then plunged inside with a rough thrust. “Oh shit!” You cried out, twisting your hands to try and slow him down. But because he had your arms trapped, you had no choice but to take his dick.

He angled your hips into a more comfortable position and then he slipped his hand back around your throat. He grunted with every deep thrust, filling you up, and making you take it.

“Too much, too much,” you whined, trying to lean away from him. Terry pushed into you harder, pinning you to the door, while he continued to fuck you. Your forehead leaned on the doors and your breath fogged up the glass with your moans and sighs.

“You can take it, baby,” he said, sinking you deeper and harder onto his length. He kissed your neck, licked and nibbled in areas, and moved upwards to your ear. “I love you so much. And I know I’ve been an ass. I haven’t been fair to you,” he whispered in your ear while he continued to dig into your guts.

You weren’t quite prepared for him to be so sweet and so nasty all at once. He gave you no time to fully hear his message or fully focus on his dick inside you so you were stuck in a twisted limbo. Suspended between absolute pleasure and your heart swelling with emotions.

“That ends today, okay? I’ll prove that I’ll do better,” he said. He grunted and cursed under his breath.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moaned.

“That’s my job as your husband. And it’s a job I take seriously,” he said. He smiled against your neck and then pulled you into a rough kiss over your shoulder. Your lips danced and played with each other as your orgasm rushed to the surface.

You began to cry and stutter as it washed over you. Terry moaned as you squeezed around his dick. “Fuck, that’s it,” he panted into your ear.

When you came down, Terry let your arms go. He slipped out with a grunt and stepped back. You missed the heat of him instantly. He rubbed the feeling back into your arms from having them bent back for so long. He grabbed the discarded wash cloth from the top of the shower and rinsed it out.

He lathered up with his soap and then carefully washed down your back and your ass. His finger slipped between your cheeks to tease as he washed you down and you giggled with him.

Terry turned you around and washed down your front. Washed the cum from your chest that didn’t rinse off from the water. You smiled at each other, finding your way back with every swipe of the cloth across your titties, your tummy, and down your thighs. He ran the cloth between your legs, careful not to get soap in between, and you moaned just from having his hands on you again.

His lips on yours. His eyes seeing you again after weeks of zoning out. Hints of your husband poked through that barrier he erected and now you were let in behind the wall. You grinned at him and leaned on your toes for a kiss.

The kiss was meant to be innocent and sweet, just something to show that you loved him. That you were there and never letting him disappear again. But Terry kissed you deeper, grabbing you about the neck once more and crushed his lips to yours.

His tongue slipped inside and then he gently nibbled on your bottom lip with his teeth. “Terry,” you sighed. Your stomach flipped with desire. Pussy throbbing. Once wasn’t nearly enough.

“I know,” he said. He lifted your chin and brought you in for a sweet kiss. He deepened the kiss even as he maneuvered you towards the shower wall. He lifted you by the ass to wrap your legs around his hips.

“Fuck,” you cried out. It never ceased to amaze you that he was so strong. He worked hard in the gym to take care of himself but also to lift every pound you had. He lifted without effort, without strain, and grinned when he caught the look on your face.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Terry said. He stared into your eyes as he pushed back into you. Back into your warm, wet heat and you both groaned as he pushed in slowly, all the way down to the base.

Your nails dug into his back and shoulders, clutching on for dear life. He was huge and thick. Long. He pulled back and then sank in once more, repeating this over and over to make you feel every last inch of him. Feel his mushroom head push against your soft, spongy walls welcoming him in.

Your mouth dropped open, needing to release something. A cry, a moan, a word. Nothing came as he stroked into you, increasing with each one. Soon, he was slamming into you. His wet, loud strokes echoed in the tiled shower and your cries soon joined it.

“You feelin’ me?” He asked.

You nodded. You adjusted your arms around his neck and he dropped his forehead to yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered. You locked your eyes with him and it somehow made his strokes even more intense. He throbbed inside you.

“You feel me. Right here and now. I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going away again,” he moaned while he stroked.

“Terry,” you sniffled.

Fuck, this was all you ever wanted. You didn’t need him to be perfect. You didn’t need him to be a textbook definition of a husband. You just wanted him present and with you. Sharing his pain and his joys. Sickness and health. Better and worse. Those were the vows you swore before a room full of your close friends and family.

“I feel you. I feel you right here,” you promised.

Terry switched up his strokes, getting deeper than before and bottoming out. You both groaned and threw your heads back, getting lost in the sensation of him filling you up. Connecting the both of you. As close as you could possibly be to another human being.

Terry leaned down and kissed you, playing with your lips, even as his hips slammed into you over and over. Pressure built in your belly, making your thighs quake and your arms tremble. “Terry, please, I can’t,” you begged. It was too much. It felt like you were out of control, out of your norm, unrooted.

Terry only continued exactly what he was doing. “You’re taking me so well, baby. You can keep going,” he said.

Your eyes swam and your vision turned blurry as you clung to him and came undone on his dick again. Your cries were loud enough to echo and bounce off of the tiled walls and ceiling, giving you a feedback loop of your own pleasure. It amplified your orgasm and you shut your eyes and surrendered to the overwhelming feeling.

Terry kissed you all over your face, neck, and shoulders. He pumped you into you until his own hips stuttered and shot loads of thick cum into your pussy. You whined and shivered as he fucked his cum deeper and deeper.

He slowed to a gradual stop and you stayed connected like that while you both recovered. Water still pelted the both of you and you kissed on each other, soaking up the moment. Terry leaned over and turned off the water, still holding you.

He smiled and kissed your lips. He nuzzled your nose. “Missed this,” he said.

“Me too,” you said. You kissed his cheek.

Terry carefully stepped out of the shower with you still wrapped around him like a spider monkey. You were glad. Because now that you had him back, you weren’t ready to let him go. As if you would keep him here with you by sheer force of will.

He moved the towel from the edge of the sink and placed you down, slipping out of you. You kissed and loved on each other while he dried the both of you off. Greedy for more, you reached between you to play with his heavy balls.

Terry groaned and tilted his head down at you. “You sure you wanna do that?” He asked.

You continued fondling his balls, rubbing them between your fingers, and making him moan. His hips canted towards yours and you bit your lip, needing him back inside. Two orgasms weren’t enough. No number would satisfy you.

“It’s been too long,” you pouted and looked at him.

He chuckled and kissed you, taking possession of your poked out lip. He suckled on it and you moaned, feeling your pussy respond and ache from just this small action.

“Get that sexy ass on our bed. Let me clean up in here and I’ll take care of that,” he said.

You pouted again and whined but he bit your lip. “Now.” He deepened his voice and arched a perfect eyebrow at you.

You rolled your eyes and his eyebrow lifted higher. You grinned and hopped off the sink. While being punished for your attitude would be fun, you just wanted him right now. No extras, no games. You wanted to enjoy him and enjoy his body.

He smacked your ass as you walked out and he chuckled after you shrieked and hid your ass behind your hands. You skipped to your bedroom and laid down on your bed. Cool air blew across your damp skin but it wasn’t freezing or uncomfortable.

The temperature was just right to make you hyper aware of your body. Of the feel of your skin and the thorough fucking Terry just gave you. Your pussy was still sensitive but you couldn’t resist teasing your clit. You ran your other hand along your skin, your belly, and your titties. Squeezing your nipple between your fingers and moaning from the dual sensations.

“Terry…” you called out, drawing out his name. If he didn’t get in here soon, you were about to take matters into your own hands.

The afternoon sun was setting low, rich oranges and golds slanting through your curtains and casting a warm glow about your room. Most days, you hated that your place faced east and west, but on lazy days like today, it was perfect.

Terry moved about the bathroom, you had no clue what he was doing. So you closed your eyes and continued to play with yourself. You grew wetter by the second, your mind filling in with images of Terry’s broad chest. His narrow hips. That monster he had between his legs and the unbridled pleasure he managed to provide every single time.

God, you loved that man. In every which way you were able to get him. You didn’t have the words to convey it but you’d spend the rest of your life trying to find them.

You moaned as your imagination took over. Replaying what happened in the shower, the look on his face, the fire in his hazel eyes. You sighed as Terry entered the room.

“Oh, you bold,” he said, his voice laced with amusement.

You didn’t stop though. You spread your legs further and shifted on the bed so that he could get a clearer view. “All warmed up for you,” you teased.

Terry’s eyes dropped to the core of you, at the way you held your pussy lips open. Your other hand teased around your clit in figure eights, dipping into your pussy every so often to gather up more essence.

Terry’s tongue swiped out to lick from one side to the other. Your fingers lost their rhythm. “Keep going,” he commanded.

You whined and started up again but you couldn’t think straight. Not with him leaning against the wall looking at you like you were a five course meal and he was a starving man. When you just couldn’t find that spot again, Terry smirked and walked closer.

“What happened?” He asked.

“You,” you said.

Terry smirked and took his time kneeling at the edge of the bed. He grabbed your thighs and pressed his thumbs to your inner thighs, massaging them. “Fuck,” you moaned and twisted, trying to close your legs and trap his hands there.

“Naw. Open back up. That’s what you get for trying to handle it yourself,” he said.

“It’s been too long since I’ve seen you,” you said and smirked. Terry lifted an eyebrow but his eyes were still on your throbbing pussy. He had to see how you were clenching around nothing. Clenching and reaching for him.

He leaned down and kissed your clit. He retreated too quickly for your blood and you whined, pushing your hips back towards his face.

“I’m still apologizing so I won’t make you beg this time,” he said. Without further ado, he dragged his pink, juicy lips through your folds, hunting for your clit. His tongue darted out and teased, dragging the tip through your folds. His tongue was warm as it flattened against your clit and he licked.

“Fuck!” You screamed out.

Terry smiled between your legs before getting down to business. He suckled and licked and nibbled while he feasted on your pussy. Your pussy throbbed and ached while he slurped up your essence noisily.

“Fuck, baby. Right there,” you moaned.

Terry locked in to the spot and swirled his tongue around in tight circles. You clutched to the covers, nails digging in for dear life as you twisted and jerked. You reached down to grab onto the back of his head and push his head deeper.

Terry placed his hands to your thighs and pinned them to the bed while he ate you out, never stopping for breath. He just ate like a man possessed until you were twitching and crying out on his tongue, reaching your climax in record time.

Terry continued to eat you out through it, whispering into your pussy how perfect and sexy you were. How much he had to make up for. Your throat was scratched raw from all the moaning you were doing, too spent to respond. To tell him that he didn’t have a damn thing to make up for. His pain was valid and he had a right to see it through, but he had to see it through. Not just disappear into his head.

None of that came through. Your vision swam as you looked at the popcorn ceiling, too blissed out to form a coherent sentence. Terry replaced the view of the ceiling, leaning down on his fists, as he smirked at you.

“Still with me?” He asked.

“Always,” you sighed.

He chuckled as he climbed onto the bed. It dipped beneath his weight, jostling you a bit. His knees pushed your legs on top of his thighs. His eyes sparkled as he slipped into you, meeting no resistance from your pussy.

“Shit,” you grunted. You pushed feebly at his chest. Not necessarily to make him stop, but fuck, you needed time to recover. Time to catch your breath. He stole the motherfucker, the least he could do was let you gain it back.

“Nothing feels better than this,” he said. He sank deeper into you, making you curl into him and squeeze his hips with your legs. He grabbed both of your hands and pinned them above your head, poking your chest out for his lips to capture your nipples.

He suckled on them, going back and forth between the two, while he fucked into you lazily. Unhurried. Like he managed to pause time long enough to focus on delivering you pleasure. His eyes found yours and he smiled, his dazzling grin turning you stupid and pliant.

He groaned as he felt your body relax and he dug into you, harder, deeper, faster. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you,” you moaned.

“Cum with me, baby,” he said.

You whined and focused on cumming with him like he said. You could feel him throbbing inside you, close, oh so close. You panted, sweating, legs trembling, back bowing. He leaned to one side so that he could slip his free hand between your legs to play with your clit.

Your moans increased to a near panic as your orgasm came running at his beck and call. You cried out and your squeezing pussy milked him. He moaned and dropped his head as he spilled into you over and over, his body trembling from the force.

He kissed your cheek but you otherwise laid there and enjoyed the feeling of him crushing you to the bed. Who needed oxygen anyway?

Your stomach rumbled, breaking the beautiful silence after such a powerful moment. You both laughed as it rumbled again. Terry released your hands and you covered your tummy. He pushed your hands away with his chin and then kissed your belly.

“We’re gonna need another shower and then I need to feed my wife,” he said.

“Feed your wife or feed your wife?” You asked, waggling your eyebrows. You were spent and tired but you could find another round in you for him. Always for him.

“Both, nasty ass,” he said. He stood up and then pulled you with him to stand as well. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss and promised over and over with both his tongue and his actions that he would become a man worthy of your love.

The end.

I love you all. The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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riftclaw · 2 days ago

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having grown up with like, people who were alive to remember rationing, i think this might just be the author trying to encourage those older folks to use garlic more. i'm australian but my grandparents' cooking was pretty much Like This--so light on the herbs and spices that it was practically flavourless. i thought i hated vegetables my entire life but it turns out a bit of salt and butter makes them all taste amazing. building up my spice tolerance to not baby levels took me like three years.

meanwhile my grandfather was kid around rationing time and the only thing he'd eat in the last few years of his lifespan was meat and three veg, but it had to be cooked to be soft and mushy (like his mother used to do in her pressure cooker). you couldn't even put salt in it while it cooked, he couldn't stand that (he ended up with a salt deficiency at one point). grandma's more adventurous and eats a lot of the curries and stuff i cook, but still doesn't like too much of a lot of herbs.

This screenshot from a gardening Facebook group has been on my phone for several years and I'm not sure I'm ever going to be able to delete it. Apparently it comes from a British gardening book from the 80s. I know we all joke that the English are afraid of flavor, but I assure you, you are not prepared for this.

GARLIC

Until quite recently, scientists smiled at all the wonderful medicinal powers claimed for garlic, but recent research has shown that there is some truth in a few of the old wives' tales. Garlic, of course, has an important role in Continental but not in British cookery — it really isn't worth growing unless you are a fan.

Any well-drained spot will do. Buy a head of garlic from the greengrocer or supermarket and split it up into individual cloves. Plant them 2 in. deep and 6 in. apart in March. Apart from watering in dry weather there is nothing else to do until the foliage turns yellow in July or August. Lift the bulbs and allow to dry under cover, then store in a cool, frost-free place.

If you are a beginner with garlic, you must use it very sparingly or you will be put off for ever. Rub a wooden salad bowl with a clove before adding the ingredients. Rub the skin of poultry before roasting and then you can try dropping a whole unskinned clove into a casserole or stew, removing it before serving. If by then you have lost a little of your garlic fear, you can try using crushed (not chopped) garlic in meat etc. as the Continentals do.

#i know this is just a funny post #and nobody cares that much about it #but i also think about my poor nearly 90 year old grandmother #who has lost interest in eating lately #because all she knows how to make is flavourless slop and all she can buy is also flavourless slop #and she's scared to try new things :(#the fact that we got her to enjoy sushi at all was a miracle but she doesn't want to eat most non-salmon types still #we'll keep working on it

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 days ago

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Always the bridesmaid never the bride

I'm not going to lie. I forgot if this was a prompt or a response to something I posted since I got it back before Thanksgiving. But if it's the former then:

Danny says this to Bruce at Clark and Lois' wedding. He is convinced Bruce is in love- or in lust, at the least- with Clark because the wealthy man constantly popped up at their office for important "business" and "private exclusive" interviews.

Now, Danny won't lie and say he's a better journalist than Clark or Lois- those two are the top two of the Daily Planet. There is a reason almost all Superman stories are covered by them- but he's darn good himself. After retiring from protecting his town from Ghosts, he's only ever used his powers scarcely, but they have helped him with a few articles here or there.

His career as a reporting journalist was mainly made by his ability to stumble across trouble alone! Danny had won awards for his articles. He has been included in a city time capsule project.

Danny got the scoop on Jason Todd being alive story way before everyone else. After realizing the boy was in witness protection, he hadn't even exposed it without speaking to Mr.Wayne first. The man was nothing like the tabloids had one believe. Danny found him a severely intelligent man with a deep love for his family and city. He just distracted people with his razzle and dazzle, hiding his beautiful soul in plain sight.

It had been an eye-opening conversation. The duo made a deal to wait until Jason was safe to be announced; Danny waited three whole months before he was greenlighted to release his story. Jason Todd had officially "returned" from the dead with an exclusive interview with Danny Fenton.

Danny honored and protected his dignity by writing a story that made the public love the returned young man. He hated reporters who only dragged people's names through the mud because that wasn't real investigation; that was just accepting the latest gossip on the streets.

Bruce was so grateful that Danny hadn't put his son in danger that he even gave Danny a business card that went to his home office!

And yeah, okay, Clark had Bruce's personal cellphone, but Danny just couldn't understand why the billionaire was so hung up on Clark Kent. It wasn't like the guy was Superman!

And maybe he was overly happy to find out Clark and Lois were an item. Sure that someone as good as Bruce, for all his facade of being a party boy who never grew up, would never chase a taken man. Danny had been right, too, because Bruce Wayne appeared less and less around the Daily Plant office.

It was.....sad not to see him, but Danny was a very busy journalist. He was grateful that the distraction had finally taken the hint and scurried off somewhere. What irked him in the following year and a half of Clark and Lois dating was how often Perry signed the two to cover Gotham News.

Mostly at one of Bruce Wayne's extravagant parties! Yeah, it was sort of cool that most of Bruce's parties were charity events. He had checked the numbers himself, finding that Bruce's efforts were honest and working to better his city. How many billionaires actually kept their word when wanting to be a philanthropist?

Of course, Danny had to write a piece on it. The people needed to see the positive change Bruce was making. Sometimes, it felt like people forgot how much he gave to the city. The article went viral, and people on the other side of the world were praising the good man Bruce.

Perry had given Danny a raise for it.

Clark had ruined that significant mark on his record by placing a wrap present on his desk with a wide grin. Apparently, the two had gone on a yacht trip together without Lois or Bruce's significant other. Whoever that was. "Bruce wanted me to give you this as a thanks."

Ugh, the smug asshole was just rubbing it in Danny's face that he was still friends with his ex. The present had been a shitty ship in a bottle that Danny had placed beside his writing awards in his living room. You know it would be a waste to just throw it out.

Or let it get dusty. Or not stare at and wonder if Bruce knew he liked pirate movies, so the fact he had a model replica of Captain Jack Sparrow's Black Pearl made for Danny was really no big deal.

Then Bruce came by the office after buying out the Daily Planet, giving Clark a month's vacation paid due to some "family emergency."

Danny had been worried about Ma Kent and Pa Kent- the pair had visited the Daily Planet and were the nicest people to ever walk the planet- so like the well-mannered man his mother raised, he had gone to the farm with some of his Dad's famous fudge. Only to find the Kents unaware there was an emergency in the family until Danny reminded them.

He had been a journalist long enough to call bull on their meaningful glances. Danny knew that neither Bruce nor Clark would dare cheat on Lois. They were both too good for something as sleazy as that- and honestly, Lois would kill them- but that didn't stop Bruce from obviously still carrying around a torch for Clark.

Which meant he gave him unfairly favorable treatment in the workplace. Ugh! Perry didn't even seem to care, stating that Bruce had signed their paychecks, and as long as he wasn't forcing Clark into anything harassment-worthy, Danny just had to deal with his coworkers having friends in high places.

That meant they got away with different things. He just had to suck it up and accept it.

But now, Clark and Lois tied the knot. Bruce had to back off. He would never overstep a friend's relationship like this. Danny might have seen him sneak a few glances at the dancing couple- not that he was staring at Bruce Wayne! But the man was one of the hottest topics to write about, and he never knew when a good story would pop up.

It was rather sad, really. How Bruce forced himself to come to a celebration of the man he loved marrying and choosing someone else. Danny had dedicated a drink to his heartbreak- from clear across the room.

He wasn't on a personal cellphone number basis with Bruce Wayne, let's allow a "Drink your broken heart sorrow away with me" basis. And maybe Danny had a few too many. Perhaps he lost count after realizing it was an open bar because, surprise surprise, Bruce was footing the drink bill for all guests.

Danny doesn't remember what made him think he could cross the room to Bruce or why he found the courage to point a finger in his face before slurring, "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, eh Brucie?"

He does remember those piecing blue eyes locking him in place, brow folding in concern as Bruce replied. "Mr. Fenton, are you alright?"

"Me? Oh yeah! Just enjoying the party." He throws his arm up, spilling some of the alcohol out of the cup. He doesn't mind since the DJ starts to play one of his favorite songs, and he just has to sway to the beat. "This is a fun party. Are you having fun? I'm having fun!"

"I think you've had a little too much," Bruce says, helping Danny to his feet. When did he fall? Oh, right, when he was dancing. He laughs again, curling up on Bruce's chest. He feels it shift with the vibrations of the other man's voice. It's rather nice. "Did you come alone? Is there someone I can call for you?"

"Can I tell you a secret, Brucie?" Danny mutters, leaning forward to whisper into the man's ear before he can respond. "I live alone. I have no one to take care of me. I can't even drive."

"I see. I can have my driver take you home then. Can I see your wallet? I want to read the address-"

Danny has a second to think Oh no before his stomach lurches, and vomit falls out of his mouth all over Bruce Wayne's fancy suit that probably costs more than his house. Danny's eyes water. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I don't usually drink, and I feel terrible, and I-"

"It's alright. " Bruce says, smile still perfectly kind, understanding, and slightly dizzy. Danny knows he's lying, though- his reporter eyes can see right through that facade. He's pissed that Danny threw up on him. Understandably.

He starts sobbing, apologizing even more, and pointing out how he knows Bruce is actually upset.

Bruce looks mildly surprised before throwing one of his arms over his shoulder and helping him out of the hotel ballroom. The reception had started hours ago, and despite it not being anywhere near over, no one would bat an eye at them leaving early.

They were walking down the hallway. Danny found himself leaning on a counter, laughing into his hands about a potted plant, while Bruce chatted up the lady at a computer. He told the pair that Bruce should rebound with a man instead of a woman if he wanted to get over Clark but was ignored by them.

Rude.

Then suddenly, Danny was being pressed into a soft mattress on his back while someone was taking off his shoes and losing his tie. When did he get home? How had he moved that quickly?

This didn't feel like his pillow. Danny has a special one. He can't sleep with it. He packs his pillow when he travels, even if it's just one night he plans to stay. Danny has used the same pillow for years now.

"I'm sorry, I can't get your special pillow, but I can give you lots of water." A man says, making Danny blink and open his eyes. His eyelids feel so heavy that it takes him a moment to stay open.

Above him, Bruce is carefully unbuttoning his suit jacket. The billionaire had removed his own coat, but the vomit-covered white shirt remains. Danny feels ashamed at the sight even as Bruce pulls his arms out of the jacket sleeves.

"Sorry," He whimpers. "About the vomit."

"It's alright. You needed to throw up. Do you feel better?"

Danny nods, closing his eyes and feeling a warm towel run along his face. He sighed as the sticky, gross feeling around his mouth was gone, and he sank further into the Not Right But Comfty pillow.

"Sleep well, Mr. Fenton," Bruce says, tucking the blankets around Danny once he finishes cleaning him up. Danny hums, already half gone, when he whispers.

"You're a good man. No matter what you present to the world. No matter if you believe you're not, I know you're good."

There is a moment of silence before Bruce replies. "I paid for the hotel room. It comes with a free breakfast, so when you're feeling up to it, come down for food tomorrow. Have a good night, Mr. Fenton."

"Stay?"

"I'm sorry. I never intended to stay; I just wanted to get you somewhere safe. Going home in your state would have been a bad idea."

Danny's words are nearly too slurried to be understood as he slowly slips away: "Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, Fenton. Bruce would never want you."

He wakes up with a killer hangover, confused about where the hell he is, and almost has a heart attack when he realizes he crumpled up the suit pants he rented. All that is so hard to process in thirty seconds that he nearly missed the written note on the nightstand.

Call me xxx-xxx-xxxx

XOXO

Bruce Wayne

What in the world happened at Clark's and Lois's wedding!?

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #Never the Bride #Part 1 #spirt halloween ship #Danny is a reporter at the Daily Planet #Develops a crush on a celeberity he interviewed #Bruce never paid attention to Clark's coworker #Until the wedding #Now he can't stop thinking about him #misunderstandings #Bruce and Clark were just doing JL stuff #TW: Blackout Drinking

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fear-is-truth · 2 days ago

Text

❝ WITH THE LIGHTS OUT, IT’S LESS DANGEROUS ❞

warnings — murder mention. s2 spoilers. suggestive pairing — nam-gyu x f!reader word count — 745 a/n — english is not my first language sorry

THE DORMITORY IS UNNERVINGLY QUIET TONIGHT, just the occasional cough or the faint rustle of shifting blankets break the stillness, but even those small sounds seem out of place. the events of the night before hang like a disaster on a frayed piano string, threatening to snap at any second. bodies are still sore, bruised, and battered from the chaos that erupted when the lights went out—violence erupting in the pitch black, leaving a trail of terror in its wake. the air reeks faintly of sweat and fear, mingled with the metallic tang of blood that had dried into dark brown stains on the floor.

the thanos team is completely disbanded, not that you cared, anyway. you didn’t much like the rapper anyway, but his death felt like a strange relief—a violent severing of a bond you never wanted in the first place. se-mi, though. your chest tightens at the thought of her. se-mi didn’t deserve what happened to her. you don’t even know how she died—no one does.

now it’s just you, min-su, and that asshole nam-gyu.

min-su doesn’t say much these days. he sticks close but keeps his distance at the same time, like he’s not sure if you’re allies or just temporary survivors sharing the same sinking ship. nam-gyu, though, you don’t trust that prick.

you’ve learned to sleep lightly, one ear always tuned to the sounds of the room. and tonight, something feels… off. the faintest sound of movement makes you jolt awake, fingers instinctively curling around the shard of glass tucked in your sleeve.

“relax.” even without seeing him, you know it’s nam-gyu. the last person you want to deal with in the near darkness. “what are you doing?” you whisper harshly, fear twisting into irritation as his silhouette moves closer. he doesn’t answer, just shoves your legs aside like he has every right to be there. the audacity of this man.

“move.”

“get off,” you shove at his shoulder, but it’s like trying to push a wall. he wedges himself onto your narrow bunk, his body pressing flush against yours.

“someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

“you’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“not after what you did last night,” his arm bumps into your ribs as he makes himself more comfortable. “you’re better at playing dirty than i thought.” you bristle at the words. from anyone else, it might sound like begrudging respect, but from nam-gyu, it feels like a thinly veiled insult. after all, you were just trying to make it out alive.

“then keep an eye on me from your own bed.”

“what bed?” he snaps. you realise belatedly that his mattress must’ve been stolen during the free-for-all. you open your mouth to argue further, but nam-gyu suddenly wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you down against the mattress with him.

“shut up,” he hisses, breath warm against your cheek. “you think i trust you after everything? you’re lucky i’m still on your side, or you’d already be dead.”

the shard of glass digs into your palm, and you loosen your grip, debating whether to stay still or stab him. the latter is very tempting. a chill runs through you, but it isn’t fear. not entirely. his grip on you is unyielding, almost desperate, as if holding onto you because he doesn’t know what else to do with thanos gone.

“this isn’t necessary.”

“stop moving,” he hisses. you shift again, uncomfortable because there’s something hard pressed against your lower back. “unless you want to wake everyone up. trust me, they’ll have a field day when they see us all cuddled up.”

“this isn’t cuddling. it’s you being a creep.”

“call it what you want, just quit squirming for god’s sake.” he grouses, “you’ll just make it worse.” nam-gyu moves again, adjusting himself discreetly.

“make what worse?” the words tumble out before you can stop them, but the second they do, you freeze.

then it dawns on you.

oh.

heat rushes to your face, mortified as the realisation settles in. you freeze, hyperaware of every inch of him against you—the solid weight of his chest, the curve of his thigh pressed to yours, and now… the unmistakable press of his hardened cock slotted firmly against your ass. nam-gyu clears his throat awkwardly.

“just go to sleep.” the edge in his tone is softened by exhaustion, one that mirrors your own. “we’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”

#squid game #squid game season 2 #nam gyu #nam gyu x reader #namgyu x reader #nam gyu x y/n #namgyu #nam-gyu #player 124 #player 124 x reader #player 124 x you #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #namgyu x y/n #squid game x y/n #squid game x you

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reiding-writing · 3 days ago

Note

hi. I have been reading all your criminal minds stuff and I just LOVE IT!!! Anyway, my request is a cold!reader x Spencer, were reader gets hurt pretty badly (like veeeery badly) and he saves her. Keep writing, you got talent there!

CRACKED ICE — SPENCER REID!

a foot chase goes awry when a shot takes you down. spencer makes sure you’re alive enough to make it to the hospital.

spencer x cold reader | 2.4k | angst | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

WARNINGS | reader gets critically shot, unsub also gets shot but not badly, lots of blood mentions

a/n — thank you <333 i need to write more angst for this series i think

The air was thick with the scent of gasoline and rainwater, the streets slick with puddles reflecting the dim streetlights. Sirens wailed in the distance as your boots slapped against the wet pavement.

You were closing in on the unsub now, your breath ragged but controlled, each step pushing you further into the chaos that had erupted only moments ago. The rest of the team was scattered behind you, covering different angles, but you were in the lead.

“Team, status!” you barked into your comm as you rounded a corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of your target.

“No visual,” came JJ’s voice, breathless but steady. “He’s fast—too fast. We need to get him before he gets out.”

You glanced ahead. So many side streets, perfect for a man who knew the area. But you wouldn’t let him get away. Not this time.

“Keep looking,” you ordered, even as you sprinted forward, the adrenaline pumping faster than your legs could keep up with.

Without waiting for confirmation, you veered left, cutting through a narrow alley that wound its way between two old brick buildings. The sky overhead was clouded with the weight of an impending storm, and it was only a matter of time before the rain began to fall again.

Your fingers brushed the side of your gun, just a touch, ensuring it was secured in its holster. You couldn’t afford to hesitate.

The alley narrowed as you sprinted deeper, the sound of footsteps behind you fading as you focused on the task at hand. And then, just ahead, you spotted him.

The unsub.

A tall, lanky figure darted from one shadow to the next, the barrel of a gun glinting briefly as he moved. You had to act fast. You skidded to a stop, pressing your back against the wall of the building to the right, silent and still. You could hear his labored breathing now, closer than ever.

“FBI! Drop your weapon!” you shouted, your voice cutting through the silence.

For a heartbeat, there was nothing but the rain. Then, a flicker of movement.

The unsub was turning, eyes wide with panic. You knew he had a gun, but you didn’t hesitate. You raised your own weapon, fingers tight on the trigger. He was cornered now. There was no escape.

But then, in a desperate last-ditch effort, he spun, his gun coming up in a smooth motion—too fast, too practiced.

The first shot rang out, and you barely had time to register the impact before the world seemed to slow. Pain. White-hot, jagged pain shot up your leg, and for a brief moment, all you could do was stare at the blood blooming through your pants.

You hit the ground hard, knees slamming into the asphalt, but your finger squeezed the trigger reflexively, sending a burst of fire at the unsub. The recoil was a blur, but you saw the man stumble, his shoulder jerking as the bullet grazed him. He stumbled back against the wall, clutching at his arm with a howl of pain.

Your breath was ragged now, your focus on him, not the searing pain in your leg. You pushed yourself to your feet, gritting your teeth as you made the effort to stagger toward him. The alley was spinning slightly, the walls closing in around you as dizziness swept over you. But you weren’t done yet. You had a job to do.

“Hands in the air!” you shouted, even though the words came out slurred. You were close now, so close. The unsub was on his knees, clutching his arm, but his gun was still gripped tightly in his other hand.

“Don’t make me shoot you again.” you warned, your voice growing hoarse as you approached. Your fingers were trembling now, the pain too much to ignore, but you had to finish this. Had to cuff him.

You took another step forward, but that’s when your leg finally gave out. A sharp cry tore from your throat as your knees buckled beneath you, and you crumpled to the ground in a heap, the world spinning faster now.

The unsub—he was moving again, but you were too weak to stop him. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision, but it was no use. Blood was pooling beneath you now, the sharp taste of metal in the air as your vision blurred at the edges.

The sound of pounding feet grew louder, and then familiar voices cut through the haze.

“Shots fired! There’s an Agent down!” Morgan’s voice was sharp with urgency. “Over here!”

You blinked up at the blurry shapes of your teammates rushing into the alley. Morgan went straight for the unsub, forcing him onto his stomach to secure the cuffs. But Spencer ignored the scene entirely, his focus laser-sharp as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Hey,” he said, his voice tight. His hands hovered uncertainly for a moment before he pressed them against your thigh, trying to stem the bleeding. “Stay with me, okay?”

“Reid,” you muttered, your voice strained but laced with sarcasm. “You’re ignoring your arrest quota.”

He didn’t rise to the bait. His jaw was clenched, his normally steady hands trembling slightly as he worked. "You’re losing too much blood," he said, more to himself than to you. “I need to—hold on—“

He pulled off his jacket, looping it tightly around your thigh just above the wound. The pressure made you hiss in pain, but he didn’t falter. “This is going to hurt,” he warned, twisting the fabric to form a makeshift tourniquet.

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” you bit out, your tone dry despite the agony.

“Keep talking,” he said, glancing up at you briefly. “Sarcasm’s good. Means you’re still with me,”

“Spencer Reid,” you said, pausing to suck in a shallow breath. “Master of the obvious and amateur tourniquet maker. Truly a man of many talents.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile. “You’re going to be fine,” he said, more firmly this time. “The ambulance is on its way,”

“Just let me bleed out,” you muttered, blinking rapidly to stave off the encroaching darkness. “Better that that another stupid hospital.”

Spencer’s expression tightened. “Stop that. You need to stay awake.”

“Your concern is cute, but there are more important things at hand here,” you murmured.

“Not right now,” he snapped, though his voice cracked slightly on the words. His hands pressed harder against your leg, trying to slow the bleeding. “You’re going to make it. Do you hear me?”

You swallowed hard, the fight to stay conscious growing harder with every passing second. “Fuck—“ You take as deep of a breath as you can manage. “Go, fucking cuff the guy already, dig your finger into his bullet hole if that makes you feel better.”

“I’m staying here,” Spencer stutters out a breath of his own, hands still applying pressure against your leg, fingers saturated red.

You snorted, despite the pain, trying to focus on something—anything other than the pounding in your leg. “I didn’t just get shot for you to not arrest this guy, Reid.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “I’m not letting you bleed out on me,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight with concern.

His fingers were trembling slightly, but he kept his focus, muttering to himself about the importance of stopping the blood flow, keeping you conscious, keeping you alive.

“You can’t just… you can’t just ignore the guy,” you protested, even as your head swam and your vision darkened. “He’s still there…”

“Morgan’s handling it,” Spencer interrupted, his voice firm now. “And you’re not going anywhere until I make sure you’re stable. Do you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but it came out more like a half-hearted shake of your head. The world around you was spinning, the sounds of the city fading into the background.

You heard Morgan’s voice in the distance, barking orders as he secured the unsub. JJ was likely talking to the EMTs, telling them to hurry.

And all you could do was lay there, helpless, staring up at Spencer’s face. His wide, concerned eyes locked on yours as he hovered over you, applying pressure to your wound with shaky hands.

“I’m not dying, Spence,” you muttered, your voice thick with exhaustion. “I just… need a second. Just… a second.”

“Don’t close your eyes.”

But you do, and then you don’t have the energy to open them again.

—

The room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, mingling with the lingering smell of coffee from the cup sitting untouched on the small tray table by your bed.

When you stirred, the first thing you noticed was the heavy ache in your leg, a deep, throbbing pain that felt like it had settled in your bones. The second was the weight on your hand—warm, steady, and grounding. You blinked, your eyes adjusting to the pale morning light filtering through the partially drawn curtains.

Spencer was slouched in a chair beside your bed, his lanky frame folded awkwardly into the too-small seat.

His head was tilted forward, soft brown curls falling over his forehead, and his hand rested lightly over yours. His jacket was draped over the back of the chair, his tie loosened, and the faint shadow of stubble lined his jaw. He looked exhausted, but even in sleep, his grip on your hand didn’t falter.

You shifted slightly, wincing at the sharp pang in your leg. The movement must have been enough to wake him because his eyes fluttered open, bleary and unfocused for a moment before they locked onto yours. Relief flooded his face in an instant.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice raspy from sleep and tinged with something you couldn’t quite place—concern, maybe, or perhaps guilt.

“Unfortunately,” you croaked, your throat dry. You glanced at the IV drip hooked to your arm and the bandages wrapped tightly around your thigh. “Looks like I survived.”

Spencer leaned forward, his hand tightening around yours. “Barely. You lost a lot of blood. If we’d been a few minutes slower—”

“But you weren’t,” you interrupted, your voice firm despite the lingering haze of fatigue. “You got me here. That’s what matters.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, his brows furrowing. “You scared the hell out of me,” he admitted quietly. “When you passed out, I thought—” He cut himself off, shaking his head as if trying to dispel the memory. “I thought we were going to lose you,”

You offered him a faint smirk, trying to inject some levity into the moment. “It takes more than a bullet to get rid of me, Reid. You should know that by now.”

His lips twitched, the barest hint of a smile breaking through his serious expression. “I do. But still…” He glanced down at your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “You need to stop putting yourself in these situations,”

“Occupational hazard,” you replied, shrugging as best as you could while lying flat on your back. “Comes with the badge.”

Spencer didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, his eyes scanning your face as if to reassure himself that you were really okay. “The unsub’s in custody,” he said after a moment. “Morgan and Rossi handled it. He’s not going anywhere,”

“Good,” you said, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. “At least it wasn’t for nothing.”

“It wasn’t,” Spencer agreed. His voice softened, and he added, almost to himself, “But you scared me. I don’t want to go through that again.”

You met his gaze, the raw emotion in his eyes catching you off guard. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice quieter now.

“I know,” he interrupted gently. “And I know you’ll probably do it again if it means saving someone else. But just—be careful, okay? Please?”

The vulnerability in his words made your chest tighten, and for a moment, you couldn’t find the right words. Instead, you gave his hand a light squeeze, letting the silence speak for you.

After a moment, Spencer cleared his throat, his usual awkwardness returning as he shifted in his chair. “I brought you some books,” he said, gesturing to a small stack on the table beside your bed. “Thought you might want something to do while you recover.”

You glanced at the titles—an eclectic mix of crime novels, classic literature, and even a few puzzle books. “You think of everything, don’t you?”

He shrugged, a faint blush colouring his cheeks. “I just wanted to make sure you had what you needed.”

You smiled, genuinely this time, and for the first time since waking up, the weight of the past day felt just a little lighter. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he replied, his voice soft but steady.

The two of you sat in companionable silence after that, the chaos of the previous night a distant memory as the morning light spilled into the room. For now, you were safe. And that was enough.

#cold!reader ᝰ.ᐟ #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid angst #criminal minds angst

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voxslays · 3 days ago

Text

NEED SOMEONE OLDER — HWANG IN-HO

➴ After the deaths of his first wife and unborn child. In-ho decides to spend the rest of his miserable life as the frontman, killing players who were in his same position he used to be in. In-ho thought he would never love again…that was until he met you.

➴ You were younger than him, by almost fifteen years. You were in your late twenties, having come to the games to pay off your student loans. But little did you know, someone was keeping an eye on you from afar.

➴ In-ho had already decided to join the games this year, wanting to keep his enemies close instead of monitoring them from afar, but you being in the games only gave him more incentive.

➴ In-ho—now known as player 001—who instructed his guards to keep you safe no matter what. In red light, green light if you were caught moving? No you weren’t. In Dalgona, if you broke your cookie? Nobody saw it.

➴ In-ho was quick to gain your affections, charming you as the older, married man, Young-il. He felt bad about lying to you, but it was the only way to keep you safe, for now.

➴ During mingle, when you twist your ankle after being pushed out of the way by a muscular man around your age, who shoved his way into the same room as Young-il right before the doors shut, he killed the young man mercilessly.

➴ When one of the pink circle guards points his gun at you, Young-il shouts out some command, that sounds like gibberish, and the guard grabs a needle out of his pocket, causing you to see black before passing out.

➴ When you wake up, you wake up in a warm Alaskan-sized bed. The walls around you were floor to ceiling windows, with a view of the surrounding sea. You pull the dark grey sheets off your body, ready to fight for your life when the frontman walks in. You gasp.

➴ In-ho takes off his mask and explains everything. He deflects your questions about the other players safety. Are they even still alive? In-ho tells you it’s been a week since you’ve last been conscious.

➴ In-ho takes his time, trying to get you to personally fall in love with him…which you do. You stick by his side as he oversees the games and manages the VIPs. And soon, Mr. Hwang pops the question on the island’s beach right after a batch of the games has concluded.

A/N: Omg y’all are crazy….thank you so much for all your support.

Idk how the hell I managed to get 1k notes in one day lol.

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greengoblinswifey · 2 days ago

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Solace—Kang Dae-Ho/Player 388 x Fem!Reader

summary— Dae-ho has had a crush on you since day one but it takes him almost losing you for him to gain the courage to confess. Based on this request.

warnings— usual squid game activities, fluff, friends to lovers, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie.

a/n— hope you guys enjoyed my first dae-ho fanfic <3 been extremely busy, i don’t even have time for myself :((

From the very first day, Seong Gi-hun took you under his wing when no one else would. You stuck with his group because of his genuine care for your well being and for—him. Player 388 whom you learned to be Kang Dae-Ho.

During the first game, Red Light, Green light as per Gi-hun’s instructions, you were to keep still and hide behind a player.

From the moment Dae-ho stood beside you in the first game, he was mesmerized and had an inkling to protect you.

Before the music stopped, he ran in front of you, shoving you gently behind him. “Stay behind me! Don’t move.”

Confusion swirled your mind as to why this stranger was helping you, but you did as you were told and as you made it across the line you thanked him. Dae-ho’s breath hitched as you wrapped your arms around him reluctantly and he returned the sentiment, resting his chin on your head.

“You saved my life,” you muttered, pulling away.

“I-it’s no problem, really. It’s the least I could do.”

From that interaction, you couldn’t keep your eyes off each other. You had that effortless charm and aura that pulled Dae-ho in. He wanted nothing more than to be able to have you be his—to have you in his arms but even a marine who had encountered many dangers had overwhelming nerves.

You were magnetic, a radiant presence that drew him in like a moth to a flame. Your beauty, both inside and out, left him breathless, and he often found himself lost in your eyes, captivated by the warmth they held. Despite his shyness, he couldn't help but admire you from afar, his heart racing each time you laughed or smiled.

In your presence, he felt a mix of awe and nervousness, wishing he could express just how enchanting he thought you were. Every moment spent with you felt delicate, where words sometimes escaped him, but his gaze spoke volumes, revealing the depth of his admiration. You were his muse, inspiring a quiet affection that blossomed in the softest of glances and the sweetest of smiles.

So, he opted to show his care through protecting you in any way he could. Outside of that, any interaction you had would be filled with him stuttering and developing rosy cheeks.

He was never really shy around women in the outside world or with the other female players—like Jun-hee who was in the group. It was just you. You had that pull on him no else did.

During the Six Legged Pentathlon, Dae-ho ensured you were included in the group and he cheered you on as you successful won Ddjaki with little effort. Your confidence and ability drew him in even further.

When it was his turn to complete his game, you were right by his side, encouraging him with your kind words.

“You can do it, don’t be nervous,” you smiled softly, “I believe in you.”

Dae-ho went on to successfully complete Gonggi and you immediately pulled him in for a hug, almost toppling everyone over but it made his heart flutter.

Walking back into the dormitory, his eyes were fixated on you, tired but grateful to be alive. You all collected the small portion of food and sat around to eat. As Gi-hun spoke, he completely zoned him out, his focus remained on you.

“Uh, here, t-take this. You need your strength, you did great out there,” he stammered.

“I couldn’t. You need your strength too,” you smiled.

God, your smile. It was one of the the most beautiful things about you.

“I’m a marine, I have all the strength I need.” You chuckled, the sound music to his arms and took his share of food from him.

That night, Dae-ho only had one reoccurring thought in his head and it was you. He wanted to confess, to see if you felt the same way but he didn’t know how.

In the cold bunk, you lay on your side and unbeknownst to Dae-ho, your mind was on him. You were just as infatuated with him as he was with you, but since he never explicitly said anything, you pushed it to the side. He was just being nice. He didn’t have feelings for you and you were delusional to even think so.

He was cute, strong and sweet, there was no way he would go for a girl like you. Especially in the midst of all this chaos, there were more important matters to deal with. At least—that’s what you thought.

The game that followed was Mingle, but as usual, it wasn’t as simple as it looked and came with a deadly twist.

With your heart in your throat, you stepped onto the platform waiting for it to spin and the music to start playing. Dae-ho stood close by, trying to keep an eye on you while also looking out for the rest of the group. It was probably the most hectic game so far.

The spinning had you almost lose your footing and as the platform stopped and a number was called, chaos erupted.

Players grabbed each other, some even bouncing you and running into rooms. Meanwhile you were a chicken without its head, running away from the group when you should’ve been running with them. It was the last number and being so close to death that many times had left you discombobulated.

Dae-ho tried to scan the room for you but it was cut short when he was shoved by the others into a room. His heart beat so fast he thought it would tear out of his chest as he looked through the hole in the door for you.

Meanwhile, just before the countdown ended, you quickly ran into a room that thankfully did not have the maximum amount of players. You looked on as players were eliminated in cold blood, just grateful you were able to survive at the very last second.

Dae-ho’s room was suffocating. He sat huddled in the corner, his knees pulled to his chest, trembling hands clutched tightly together. What gnawed at him the most was you. He didn’t know where you were, if you were safe, if you were still alive.

When the guards herded the players back to the dormitory, Dae-ho didn’t care about anything else. His eyes darted around the room frantically, searching every corner for you. His breath hitched as he scanned every face, his heart dropping when none of them were yours.

And then, there you were.

You stood near the back of the room, brushing dust off your clothes, looking tired but unharmed. Relief hit him like a tidal wave, and before he could stop himself, he was sprinting toward you.

“Y/N!” he called.

You turned, startled, just in time to catch him as he practically collided with you, his arms wrapping around you tightly.

“Dae-ho?” you asked, shocked.

“You’re okay,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

You smiled softly, though you were still confused. “Yeah, I am. Are you okay?”

He pulled back just enough to cup your cheeks, his hands trembling slightly as he looked at you, scanning your face as though he couldn’t believe you were real. His eyes were glassy with unshed tears.

“I thought—” His voice faltered. “I thought you might not have made it. I was scared. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

Your heart ached at the sight of him, so vulnerable and raw. “Dae-ho, I’m fine,” you assured him, your hands resting on his wrists.

He shook his head, as if trying to gather his courage. “I—I have to say this now. I don’t know if I’ll get another chance. I like you. I’ve liked you since the day I saw you. You’re so beautiful, so smart, and so kind. You make all of this—this nightmare bearable. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I—”

“Dae-ho,” you interrupted, your voice soft as your cheeks warmed.

“I mean it,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how. And today, when I thought I might lose you, I couldn’t—”

You smiled, cutting off his rambling by leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. For a moment, Dae-ho froze in shock, but then he melted into the kiss, his hands still cupping your cheeks.

When you pulled back, your smile widened at the dazed look on his face. “I feel the same way, Dae-ho,” you admitted.

“You—you do?” he stammered.

“I do,” you said, a small laugh escaping as you watched his face flush.

A loud whistle interrupted the moment, and both of you turned to see Jung-bae standing a few feet away, grinning from ear to ear.

“Finally!” he said, crossing his arms. “I thought I’d have to spell it out for you two.”

You rolled your eyes, and Dae-ho ducked his head, clearly embarrassed but unable to stop smiling.

“Shut up, Jung-bae,” you said playfully, though you couldn’t hide your own grin.

Dae-ho held you close like he never wanted to let go. His arms were firm around your waist, his head buried in your shoulder as he whispered, “I can’t believe you’re in my arms right now.

You reached up, running your fingers gently through his dark hair. “I’m here,” you said softly, leaning into him. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands moving to cradle your face, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks. His eyes searched yours, still in awe. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice low and tender. “I’ve dreamed about this—about holding you, about just, having you close. I never thought it would actually happen.”

“I’m glad it did,” you whispered.

He smiled, his lips brushing softly against your forehead, then your temple. The kisses were tender. You closed your eyes, melting into his touch as you snuggled against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

When night came and the dormitory was quiet, everyone else fast asleep, Dae-ho hesitated as he stood by your bunk.

“I should go,” he whispered, though his body betrayed his words, lingering close.

“Stay,” you said softly.

He froze, his eyes meeting yours in the dim light. For a moment, he looked uncertain, but then he nodded, climbing into the narrow space beside you.

You turned to face each other, lying so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. His hand rested on your waist and you reached up to trace your fingers lightly along his jawline.

“Hi,” you said softly, a small smile on your lips.

“Hi,” he echoed, his smile widening.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a tentative kiss. It was soft at first, almost shy, but as his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, it deepened. His lips moved against yours with a passion that had been building for days.

Without thinking, you shifted, moving to straddle him. His breath hitched as his hands instinctively settled on your hips.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your cheeks flushed, and you leaned down, your lips pressing against his again. “You said that already,” you teased softly.

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he replied, his hands gently running up and down your sides. “Because it’s true. You’re incredible. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” you whispered, cupping his face in your hands. “You’re here with me, and that’s all that matters.”

Dae-ho pulled you in for another kiss, this one deeper and more lingering than before. His hands rested on your hips and you instinctively shifted, your body moving on top of him in a way that made his breath hitch.

You froze for a moment, realizing that he was hard, and then let out a soft giggle. “Oh,” you murmured, the corners of your mouth curling upward as you looked at him.

His face flushed immediately, and he stammered, “I—I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for—”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off gently, placing a hand on his chest. His heart was racing beneath your palm. “It’s natural.”

He swallowed hard, clearly embarrassed, but you tilted your head, watching him carefully. “Do you—want me to help with that?” you asked.

His eyes widened slightly, and he stuttered, “I—I mean, only if you want to. I don’t want you to feel like—”

“I want to,” you said softly, cutting through his nervous rambling.

For a moment, he stared at you, his expression a mix of wonder and disbelief. Then he nodded, his voice low as he murmured, “Okay.”

You quietly slipped out of your bottoms, and he did the same. As you positioned your pussy over his raw, hard cock, his hand found your waist. He was already leaking from the tip and you took ahold of his shaft, dragging it along your folds. With a low gasp, you sank down onto his cock, the size of him stretching and filling you.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice trembling with awe. “So perfect.”

You moved slowly, your pussy adjusting to him as your hands pressed against his chest for balance. His grip on your hips tightened, his eyes locked on yours. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he murmured.

“Believe it,” you whispered back, your bounces becoming more fluid as you found a quiet rhythm together.

“You feel so good,” he said through gritted teeth, his voice strained. His hands guided your movements, his fingers digging into your skin. “You’re fucking, incredible, y’know that?”

A soft smile came on your lips, and you leaned forward slightly, your breath mingling with his. “You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, earning a breathy laugh from him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, his forehead resting against yours. “Fuck, you’re going to ruin me,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

You giggled softly, brushing your lips against his. “Then we’re even,” you replied.

The two of you moved together quietly, his hips thrusting upwards and meeting your bounces. Every whispered word of praise, every soft touch, made the moment feel almost surreal. He held onto your waist tightly but gently, afraid you would slip away and in awe at how you moved on top of him.

His forehead was pressed against yours, jaw agape as he felt your tight pussy move up and down his shaft. You bit your lip attempting to hold back your moans, he was hitting spots inside you no one else had.

And as you both reached your limit with him throbbing inside you and your pussy quivering, he whispered, “Please, cum with me.”

You nodded, your body trembling as you followed his lead, your hands clutching his shoulders for support. You moaned softly as you felt his load fill you up and your pussy clenched around him as your release washed over you. His arms wrapped tightly around you as he buried his face in your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

When you came down from your high, you both stilled, your breathing heavy but quiet. He pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, his hands still resting on your hips as if reluctant to let go.

“We should get dressed,” you whispered, your voice tinged with amusement and exhaustion.

“Yeah,” he agreed, though he didn’t make a move to pull away just yet. Instead, he looked up at. “Thank you, beautiful,” he said softly.

You smiled, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Anytime,” you replied.

The two of you quickly redressed, your movements careful and quiet. As you settled back into the bunk, he stayed close for a moment, his hand brushing against yours.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered again, his eyes soft and full of warmth.

“So are you,” you replied, giving his hand a gentle squeeze before he returned to his bunk.

Even as you drifted off to sleep, you could still feel the weight of his gaze on you, a silent promise that you weren’t alone.

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tragedy-machine · 2 days ago

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“Edwin, do you ever think about… what it’d be like if we went to school together?”

“I cannot say that I do, Charles.”

“I do, sometimes. About how life would be like if we were both alive and attending St. Hilarion right now.”

“I assume your vision does not include any of our classmates being killers?”

“Nah, ‘course not. Times are different now, aren’t they? So… what do you think?”

“Well, you would be a star of the cricket team, no doubt. And you can certainly bounce a ball without letting it fall for a very long period of time, so maybe a football star, as well.”

“I don’t know about being a star, but– cheers.”

“Of course. Indeed, given your natural charisma, one might readily surmise that people would be most inclined to gather about you. If they possessed any sense whatsoever, your classmates should eagerly seek to make your acquaintance. You would graciously give everyone the time of day, much as you do with our clients, and they would be endlessly charmed by you. ”

“Now you’re really overdoing it, mate. What about you?”

“Me? Oh. I would… greatly delight in the study of languages. I have heard it said that schools nowadays offer a wider array of them within their curriculum. Literature, too, holds a special allure for me; indeed, I might even volunteer my services in the school library, simply for the opportunity to spend more time there or attend a study club. Science has also been a source of fascination for me—chemistry in particular, I could well imagine devoting a lot of time to it.”

“Mhmm, go on.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“What of your friends?”

“I have not considered– perhaps other members of the literature club? Our recent adventure in the States have shown me that although people are decidedly still not my forte, it is possible for me to make acquaintances with them if they share my interests. If they are not dreadfully insufferable, that is to say.”

“And…?”

“And?”

“C’mon, how do we meet?”

“Oh. Realistically, I do not think our paths would cross. You would have more than enough friends interested in sports and music and other activities you enjoy, and I would never set foot near a gymnasium or a music room. We are an unlikely pair, after all.”

“...what? You don’t think we’d be friends if we were at school together?”

“I merely mean to say— as I have mentioned— with a sufficient company of good and worthy friends around you, you would have little cause to seek me out at school, particularly as we would be spending our time entirely differently.”

“Edwin, that’s horrible. A load of tosh, if I’ve ever heard one. I refuse to believe that. We could meet in class, or– maybe I’d have trouble with English, it’s never been my favorite, could never get my letters correct, could I? And since you’re so good at it, you’d offer to tutor me.”

“You believe I would offer?”

“‘Course, you’re proper kind like that, aren’t you? Or I’d ask you and you wouldn’t be able to say no to me.”

“So certain I would not be, even right from the beginning?”

“Isn’t that how our first meeting went?”

“...touché. You can be quite persistent. However, that does not mean you would have to befriend the boy who tutors you.”

“I liked you right when I met you, didn’t I? It’d be the same.”

“You are awfully confident regarding the matter.”

“Yeah, mate. Think about it, we may be an unlikely duo, but against all odds, we met. We stayed together. And will stay together. We’d find each other in every universe, just like we had in this one.”

“...who is the one ‘overdoing it’ now?”

“Come off it, mate! But just think about it, we’d go to uni together, you’d study– English or, or Law, you’d make a great lawyer, you know, and I– I don’t know, I’d study something too, and we’d live together.”

“Would we start a detective agency together as well?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Alive Boy Detectives does not have the same ring to it. Neither does Alive Men Detectives.”

“We’d figure something out.”

#charles “do you ever think about...” rowland #dead boy detectives #my posts #edwin payne #charles rowland #payneland #dbda #dead boy detective agency #painland

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badgerflavored-fruitloop · 2 days ago

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I’ve been a fan of Danny Phantom since like I was alive. I was born 2002, show came out 2004, so I never got to enjoy it until consciousness hit me and I started joining in on fandom activities in 2013ish.

I have ALWAYS either made art, talked about fan theories, or just interacted with the fandom. From my experience alone, it’s the oldest fandom I’ve been a part of, considering it’ll turn 21 this year in April, which speaking of, we’ll promptly have a takeover like we do every year for the shows (d)anniversary

This wouldn’t be possible without people still posting to the fandom space. We wouldn’t have memes in this fandom or a fandom PERIOD if we just. Stopped posting the year after it came out. The reason why newer fandoms die out is because when kids got trapped indoors in 2020, they latched onto whatever was popular and thought “okay, gotta keep with the times. I shouldn’t like this thing anymore because there’s no content for it”. I’m not saying it’s wrong, as it’s just a result of what happened during the pandemic. But we NEED to normalize that you can stay in a fandom long after it’s dead or inactive. You can stay in a fandom space even if it’s not popular anymore. You can stay with fans even if your friends have moved onto something new. It’s OKAY to still like something a year, five years, or even a whole two decades after it’s been released

I see a lot of kids nowadays saying how they wished they were online when Gravity Falls was big or Voltron was popular and how they would’ve loved to be part of the fandom space, despite all their flaws, but it wouldn’t have been possible without people still posting as they waited for the next season, or people posting about their fan theories, or even just posting about shipping. I wanna say to that younger audience:

Someday, YOU will be part of that original fandom. Mouthwashing, Dandy’s World, etc. someday, YOU will hear from 9 and 12 year olds online that they wish they were part of that fandom space but now they have this show and that show and “the fandom doesn’t feel like those older nostalgic shows :(“ it is your job, as part of the youth, to keep your fandom alive. Post videos. Make art. Make fanfic. Do it months or even years after the show lost all popularity. Do it even if the creator is a POS (look at how the fans of Danny Phantom and Harry Potter are doing without acknowledging their media’s creator). Do it even if the show got canceled or ended. Just create and keep fandom spaces alive. YOU are responsible. Make it even if it’s bad.

Ask yourself this: How can you keep food on the table if you don’t go to the store and get it?

"Imagine still posting fanart a whole year after the game came out" brother what are you talking about

#phucker rebloog #Danny phantom #also hi I’m back cause I’m trying to phase my way away from Tiktok lol

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thatfeelinwhenyou · 2 days ago

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SAFE & SOUND — part 2

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: 13k

MASTERLIST

Warmth.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the warmth of the sun on your face, its golden light filtering through the gaps in the trees. You blink against the brightness, disoriented for a moment as you sit up abruptly. That’s when you realise your head had been resting on Jungwon’s lap.

He’s still there, sitting exactly where you left him, his blade resting against the wooden railing. His posture is stiff, and there are faint shadows under his eyes, but his gaze remains focused on the treeline, sharp and unwavering.

“You didn’t sleep,” you say, your voice hoarse from disuse. It’s not a question—it’s an observation, one that feels heavier than it should.

He glances at you, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Didn’t want to risk it,” he says simply, as though staying awake all night was no big deal.

Your brow furrows, guilt creeping into your chest. “I thought we were switching shifts.”

He shrugs, leaning back slightly against the railing. “You looked like you needed it more.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words sinking in. He barely knows you, yet he gave up his rest so you could have yours. The realisation sits uncomfortably, making your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you say quietly, the word feeling inadequate. “But you didn’t have to—”

“I know,” he interrupts, his tone light but firm. “It’s fine, I didn’t think i would’ve been able to sleep anyway.”

The camp below begins to stir, the others waking slowly as the day takes hold. You glance down, watching as Sunoo stretches lazily, Sunghoon stokes the embers of the dying fire, and Jay mutters something under his breath, clearly not a morning person.

“You should get down there,” Jungwon says, his voice pulling your attention back to him. “Grab something to eat before they take it all.”

“What about you?” you ask, still uneasy with the thought of him staying awake all night.

“I’ll eat later,” he says, waving off your concern as he finally stands, stretching his arms above his head. “Someone has to keep an eye on things while everyone else sleeps in.”

For a moment, you consider arguing, but the look in his eyes tells you it’s not worth it. Jungwon’s sense of responsibility runs deeper than you realised, and while it frustrates you, it’s also hard not to respect it.

“Alright,” you say finally, climbing down the ladder. But as you reach the ground and glance back up at him, the faint guilt lingers.

You sit by the dying fire, its faint warmth barely reaching your skin as the morning unfolds around you. Despite the ache in your body and the exhaustion clawing at your mind, you can’t stop your eyes from darting across the camp, taking in the subtle movements of the group.

There’s a rhythm to them, an unspoken flow in the way they interact, as though every task and gesture has already been decided without a single word being spoken. It’s not chaos, not the haphazard scramble you’re used to seeing in desperate survivors. It’s something else. Something deliberate.

The longer you watch, the clearer it becomes that they aren’t just a random assortment of people who happened to survive together. The dynamics of this group, odd as they may be, seem to work, each person carrying out a role that seems as vital as breathing.

You hate to admit it, but it intrigues you. There’s a part of you—a part you thought you buried—that wants to understand how they make it work. Against your better judgment, you can feel your curiosity growing, clawing at you for answers.

One thing, however, is abundantly clear: Jungwon is the leader.

You spot him high up on the watchtower, his silhouette outlined against the soft glow of the rising sun. His arms are crossed, his posture relaxed but alert as he surveys the camp below. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t bark orders, yet the others seem to fall into line as if guided by an invisible tether.

“Hey,” Sunoo’s voice cuts through your thoughts, jolting you slightly. He’s seated across from you, fiddling with a dented tin cup and flashing one of his easy, disarming smiles. “Jungwon figured that if you’re going to be staying, it’d be better to let you in on how things work around here.”

Staying. You’re not entirely sure about that.

The idea of staying with a group, of being around people again, stirs something uneasy inside you. It’s not a fear of them—it’s a fear of what comes with them. The horror of your past still clings to you like a second skin, a constant reminder of what it means to care, to hope, and then to lose. You’re not sure you’re ready to open yourself up to that again.

Because staying with people means watching them die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

Not to say this group will meet the same fate—but in this world, there’s no guarantee of survival, no matter how capable or united they seem. Death isn’t a possibility; it’s an inevitability. The only question is when.

You’ve seen it before—how quickly things can go wrong. How one misstep, one unlucky moment, can unravel everything. Staying means becoming a part of something, and a part of you wonders if you’ve got anything left to give. After all, what’s the point of building something that will inevitably collapse?

“It’ll help you understand why we do what we do,” comes another voice from behind. You start slightly, not having noticed Jungwon’s approach. He settles on the log beside you, his presence calm yet commanding, as if he’s somehow taken control of the conversation without trying.

Sunoo leans forward, his grin widening. “Alright, listen up. Starting with our fearless leader over here—Jungwon.” He gestures dramatically, and Jungwon rolls his eyes, though there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “He’s our strategist, the one who keeps us alive by figuring out where to go, when to move, and how to deal with… well, everything.”

Jungwon exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly. “Someone has to keep you lot in line,” he says dryly, though there’s no malice in his tone.

“Whatever you say, captain,” Sunoo replies, offering a mock salute before turning his attention to Heeseung.

The man sits at the edge of camp, methodically sharpening a blade. “Next, we’ve got Heeseung, our scout and tracker. He’s got the best eyes out of all of us. If there’s something—or someone—out there, he’ll find it first.”

“And that grump over there?” Sunoo gestures toward Jay, who’s seated a short distance away, carefully cleaning his pistol with a precision that borders on obsessive. “Jay’s our long-range shooter. Best shot we’ve got. He’d never admit it, but he’s saved all our asses more times than we can count.”

“Jake,” Sunoo continues, pointing toward the man currently inspecting a med kit, “is our medic. If you get hurt, he’s the one you want patching you up. And don’t worry, he actually knows what he’s doing, and not just throwing plasters on everything hoping for the best.”

Jake smirks faintly, his hands moving deftly as he tosses a roll of bandages into the kit. “I was in pre-med before all this,” he says, his tone light but tinged with a quiet seriousness. “It’s not anything impressive, but it’s enough to keep us alive. Just don’t make me work too hard, alright?”

“And then there’s Sunghoon,” Sunoo says, his tone growing slightly more dramatic, “our weapons expert and close-range fighter. If it comes down to it, he’s the one who’ll keep the rest of us breathing.”

Sunghoon glances up from where he’s tinkering with a makeshift blade. “And by ‘close-range fighter,’ he means I’m the one who has to deal with the messy stuff,” he says dryly, though there’s a faint glimmer of pride in his eyes.

“And then there’s me,” Sunoo adds, placing a hand on his chest with mock seriousness. “Diplomat. Negotiator. The one who talks us out of—or into—trouble, depending on the situation.”

“Mostly into trouble,” Jake interjects, his voice carrying a faint edge of amusement.

Sunoo waves him off with an exaggerated sigh before turning to the cheekiest of the group. “And last but not least, Ni-ki, our little magic hands. If it’s broken, he can fix it. If it’s running, he can make it run faster.”

Ni-ki, who’s crouched by the van inspecting its undercarriage, glances up briefly. “Yeah, and if you want it to work, don’t touch it,” he says, his tone sharp but not entirely unfriendly.

The pieces start to fall into place, the dynamic clicking in a way that almost makes sense. You find yourself both impressed and uneasy, the thought of fitting into something so cohesive feeling alien to you.

Sunoo tilts his head, his gaze meeting yours. “And you? What about you?”

The question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. You’ve been on your own for so long, your only role has been survival. You’ve never had to think about what you could bring to the table—only about what you could take to stay alive. And in that sense, staying would be a terrible idea.

Then again, these people clearly know what they’re doing. It doesn't hurt to be around people that will keep you alive.

“I guess… I’m figuring that out,” you say finally, your voice quieter now.

Sunoo studies you for a moment before nodding, his grin softening. “Stick around long enough, and we’ll figure it out too.”

About three days have passed in their camp, and you’re beginning to entertain the possibility of staying with them. They work well together, almost seamlessly. It’s not something you just discovered, but the more you witness their dynamics, the more in awe you are.

You can’t help but wonder: if the community building you were part of had been like this, would it have fallen the way it did? Maybe with them, you finally have a real shot at staying alive.

Most of them seem to have opened up to the idea of you sticking around—at least, you think they have. Truthfully, the only people who’ve expressed any contentment with your presence are Sunoo and Jake. But that’s likely because they’re the ones you’ve spent the most time with. They’re always in camp, managing supplies and rations, keeping the place running while the others head out.

And, of course, because you’re not allowed to leave camp. Orders from Jungwon—though you suspect Jay had a hand in that decision too. You figure it’s less about keeping you safe and more about making sure you don’t fuck up their rhythm.

Speaking of Jungwon, you’ve noticed something about the way the group operates: his words hold a lot of weight here. And not just because he’s the leader.

Even after spending the last few nights on watch with him, sharing quiet conversations under the stars while the others slept, you still haven’t quite figured it out. There’s an ease to the way he interacts with the group, a quiet authority that doesn’t need to be forced.

Every decision, every movement, seems to flow through him first. But it’s not in a micromanaging or authoritarian way. It’s just… natural. The others look to him, wait for him to weigh in, like his judgment is the glue holding them together. He doesn’t shy away from it either, even when it’s clear the burden weighs heavily on him.

Whatever this group’s flaws, it’s clear Jungwon holds them together, even at the expense of himself. And maybe, just maybe, you’re starting to understand why.

He’s not the leader because he demands it—but because the others trust him to be.

It works for them, clearly. They function like a well-oiled machine, each person playing their role with practiced efficiency. But if you’re being honest, you find it a little risky.

To have everyone’s lives hinge on one person’s decisions? To place that much responsibility on a single set of shoulders?

It’s a dangerous gamble. For even the strongest leaders have their breaking point. And if Jungwon ever falters, you wonder what will happen to the rest of them.

You’ve also learned that they only leave the camp unattended during high-stakes expeditions, like the one back in the city. Other than that, it’s almost always Jungwon, Heeseung, Sunghoon, or Jay who take turns heading out. And even then, they only leave when it’s absolutely necessary.

Not to hunt. Not to scavenge.

They don’t hunt. They’re surviving off the food they stole when they escaped The Future.

It’s a startling revelation, one that lingers in the back of your mind every time you watch them ration out supplies. Even though you know Heeseung is perfectly capable of hunting, they don’t take the risk.

No, when they go out, it’s not for food or water. It’s to cover their tracks and secure the perimeter. To ensure that no trace of their last expedition leads anyone back to this camp, which you suspect is also another reason why they don’t let you leave.

Ni-ki is harder to figure out. He’s a wild card—sometimes he goes out when needed, but otherwise, he stays behind to keep watch. These past few days, though, Jay has been staying in camp too, and it’s clear he’s still wary of you. He doesn’t trust you, not fully. He doesn’t sleep when you’re on watch and makes sure you’re never alone with any of the others for too long.

Aside from Jungwon, Jake, and Sunoo, you haven’t exchanged many words with the rest. Even when everyone’s in camp, the conversations are minimal.

Most of them don’t like talking about their lives before the world fell apart. And you understand. What’s the point in reminiscing about a time that no longer exists? It only makes the loss worse, reminding you of everything you could have had.

Well, most of them feel that way—except for Sunoo.

He talks endlessly, filling the silences around camp with anecdotes and bits of his past. You’ve learned from helping him manage supplies that he was in law school before everything fell apart. It makes sense, given how much he talks. He’s always negotiating, always diffusing tension with his words.

When he asked you what you did before the world ended, you kept it vague, telling him you were in school too.

And yet, despite the distance, they’ve started treating you like one of their own. It’s been a long time since you’ve gone days without starving, and for the first time in forever, you almost feel like you’ve found a safe haven.

But before you even have the chance to fully sit with the idea of staying, your attention is drawn to Jungwon, who’s making his way over to Heeseung. His movements are careful, deliberate, and the moment they begin talking, it’s clear the conversation isn’t meant for everyone’s ears. Still, their words are loud enough to reach you from where you’re sitting by the logs.

“Heeseung, how’s our food situation?” Jungwon asks, his expression serious, his brows furrowed in thought.

Heeseung glances around briefly, his sharp eyes scanning the camp before leaning in closer to Jungwon. “We’ve depleted almost everything we took from The Future. With our current resources, it’ll last us about a week.” He pauses, then adds in a lower voice, “Well, less now that we have…”

Heeseung’s gaze shifts toward you, and you realise a second too late that you’ve been staring. Your eyes meet his, and he stiffens, clearly caught off guard by your attention. His words trail off, but the meaning behind them hangs in the air, unspoken yet deafeningly clear.

A wave of guilt washes over you, sharp and overwhelming.

That’s right. You’re just another mouth for them to feed. Another person whose survival they’re now responsible for.

You hadn’t thought about it before, not really. But now, it hits you like a freight train. Every bite you take, every resource you use—it’s something they can’t spare, something that might have kept one of them alive just a little longer.

And that triggers something in you.

You lower your gaze, suddenly unable to hold Heeseung’s. The weight of your presence in their camp feels heavier than ever, and the resolve you thought you’d solidified earlier begins to shift.

Staying with them, trusting them, letting them trust you—it’s not just about your own safety anymore. It’s about what your presence costs them. And that’s not something you can ignore.

So, you make up your mind there and then.

The next opportunity you get, you’ll leave. Leave and never turn back.

They don’t entirely trust you, but they don’t distrust you enough to keep you at arm’s length, either. They let you into their camp, shared their food, their fire. They even explained how they work together, the roles they each play. Yet, you remain an outsider, lingering on the edges of their tight-knit circle. And you know, deep down, that’s exactly where you belong.

So when the opportunity arises—though you’re not sure when you’ll have a moment alone long enough to slip away unnoticed—you’ll leave. You won’t even take anything with you. Just slip into the shadows and disappear before they even realise you’re gone. No attachments, no debts, no goodbyes. That’s how it has to be.

But not yet. Not until you’ve made sure they’re safe.

Despite your resolve, you can’t bring yourself to abandon them while the unknown danger you and Jungwon discussed the night you met them still lingers. Not after everything they’ve done, not after the way they fought to protect each other, to protect you. That’s right, you still owe them for saving your life and feeding you these past few days.

So you’ll wait. Watch for the right moment. Repay your debts. And when it comes—when the threat has passed, and the dust has settled—you’ll leave. Without hesitation. Without looking back.

But that selfless thought is, in itself, an act of caring—you just haven’t realised it yet.

Jungwon and Heeseung return from their quiet discussion, their expressions unreadable. Without needing to say a word, the group instinctively gathers around the fire that has long gone out. The way they move, as if summoned by some unspoken signal, is fascinating. No commands are given, no prompting required.

Just the sheer presence of Jungwon.

“We’ll have to send a team out to hunt,” Jungwon begins, his voice calm but firm as his sharp gaze sweeps across the group. “Latest before noon. If we leave then, we can make it back before dusk.”

Jake, sitting with his legs crossed, looks up sharply. “Hunt? Are we out of food already?” Concern threads through his voice, his usual calm demeanour faltering just slightly.

Jungwon doesn’t answer immediately, his focus flickering toward Heeseung, who nods in silent confirmation. “We’re low,” Jungwon says finally.

“I mean, we do have one more mouth to feed,” Jay mutters, his tone biting as he glances at you. He clicks his tongue in annoyance, leaning back slightly, his arms crossed. It’s not the first jab he’s made, but it stings more than you’d like to admit.

You force yourself to keep your expression neutral, meeting his gaze evenly. If anything, you’re oddly relieved by his hostility. At least someone here is keeping their guard up around you. Someone who doesn’t want to trust you, who wants you gone. You can’t explain why, but you hope it stays that way. It feels safer, somehow, for at least one person to see you as an outsider—a liability.

It makes leaving easier to justify.

“Jay,” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the moment, sharp but not angry. It’s enough to make Jay’s expression shift slightly, though he doesn’t apologise.

The silence that follow is heavy, Jungwon’s words settling over the group like a cold wind. The reality of their situation is clear—if they don’t find food soon, things are going to get a lot harder. And none of them, not even Jay, have to ask for you to know you should be the one to do it.

“I’ll go,” you say, your voice firm despite the nervous knot forming in your stomach. All eyes snap to you, the weight of their gazes almost crushing.

Jungwon raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable. “You?”

You nod, holding his gaze. “You need every fighter you can spare here, and I can handle myself. I’d hate to sit around and do nothing all day, like a parasite. Let me help.”

“At least she’s self-aware,” Jay mutters under his breath, earning a sharp glare from Sunoo.

The air grows thick with tension, the subtle coo of morning birds the only sound as the group processes your words. Heeseung is the first to break the silence, pushing himself to his feet. “I’ll go too,” he says, his tone matter-of-fact. “If she’s going out there, someone has to track. I’m not sending anyone out blind.”

Jay lets out a sharp, humourless laugh, shaking his head as he rises to his feet. “Yeah, no. If Heeseung’s going, I’m going. Someone has to make sure this doesn’t blow up in our faces.” His words are pointed, his glare fixed on you. It’s clear he doesn’t trust you, and he’s not about to risk Heeseung’s safety over it.

You bite back a retort, understanding his scepticism even if it stings. Heeseung glances at him but doesn’t argue, his focus already shifting to what the group will need for the trip.

“I’ll go too,” Jungwon says suddenly, standing up from the log. His tone is steady, but you can see the tension in his shoulders, the calculation in his eyes. “We can’t take chances with this.”

“No, you can’t go,” you say quickly, before he can cement the decision. The firmness in your voice catches him off guard, his brow furrowing as he turns to you. The rest of the group falls silent, thrown by your sudden declaration. Usually, whatever Jungwon says goes, so for you to challenge him is clearly a first.

The awkwardness is suffocating, the weight of everyone’s stares pressing down on you. You take a small step closer to Jungwon, lowering your voice so only he can hear.

“They need you here,” you whisper, your voice steady but insistent. “If you leave, that’s four people left at camp—two of whom isn’t much of a fighter.”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing slightly. “They can handle themselves. It’s not the first time I’m leaving anyway,” he replies, his voice calm but firm.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “But it’s clear they’re rattled by the food shortage. They’re anxious, Jungwon, whether they’re saying it out loud or not.” You glance briefly at the others, noting the subtle tension in their postures, the way their gazes flit to Jungwon as if waiting for reassurance.

“You’re their leader,” you continue, your voice soft. “You’re the reason they stay focused, the reason they trust they’ll make it through the next day. If something happens to you out there...” You let the sentence hang, the weight of the implication settling heavy between you both.

Jungwon’s expression falters for a fraction of a second, the barest flicker of uncertainty crossing his face before he schools it back into something unreadable. He doesn’t respond immediately, and you think he’s going to argue. But then his gaze softens slightly, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“And you think you can handle this?” he whispers, his voice softer now but no less serious.

“I do,” you reply firmly. “Heeseung knows what he’s doing, and Jay clearly won’t let anything happen to… well, him. I’ve hunted before, Jungwon. Plus, I know you stayed up on watch again last night. You need to stay here.”

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he exhales sharply, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Alright,” he says, though there’s a reluctance in his voice. “But don’t take unnecessary risks. If it looks bad, you come back. Understood?”

The way he says it, as if he knows you’re considering running, makes something twist in your chest. Not yet, though. Not yet.

“Understood,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off your palms.

Heeseung secures his knife into its sheath with a nod, and Jay rolls his eyes but grabs his gear without protest. The three of you prepare to head out, the camp watching in silence as you gather your supplies.

Just as you’re about to step beyond the barricade, you spot Jungwon whispering something to Jay. Whatever he says makes Jay scowl, shaking his head in visible protest. But Jungwon’s expression hardens, his voice firm as he cuts the argument short. Jay sighs, clearly annoyed, but ultimately relents. His sharp eyes shift back to you, now carrying an edge of suspicion sharper than before.

Jungwon’s gaze lingers on you as you leave, his expression unreadable. The weight of his trust—or maybe it’s his doubt—feels heavier than any weapon you’ve carried. But you push the thought aside.

The three of you move quietly through the forest, the morning sunlight filtering through the trees in patches of gold. Heeseung takes the lead, while Jay trails slightly behind, his sharp eyes constantly scanning the surroundings. You stay somewhere in between, the knife in your hand an extension of the resolve you’re trying to summon.

The silence between you is heavy, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of leaves or the faint chirping of distant birds. You don’t speak, and neither do they, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s one born of necessity, of focus. Every sound, every shift in the forest, could mean danger—or an opportunity.

But, of course, the concentration doesn’t last. Jay, who you’re beginning to suspect thrives on friction, breaks the quiet with a pointed comment.

“I don’t understand. Why does Jungwon care so much about you?”

Heeseung doesn’t turn around, but you can practically feel the exasperation radiating off him. “Seriously, Jay? You’re talking about this now?” His voice is calm, but there’s an edge of disbelief in his tone.

“What?” Jay retorts, his tone almost defensive. “Are you not curious at all? They stayed on watch together a few times, and now Jungwon’s ready to risk everything to keep her safe.”

“I’m literally right here,” you snap, the annoyance in your voice cutting through the tense air. “If you’ve got questions about me, maybe try asking me directly instead of talking like I’m not standing a few feet away.”

Jay glances at you briefly, his expression unimpressed. “Fine. Why is Jungwon sticking his neck out for you?”

You blink, caught off guard by the bluntness of his question. “I don’t think he’s sticking his neck out for me,” you say, your tone defensive as your grip tightens around your knife. “What are you even talking about?”

Jay lets out a humourless laugh, shaking his head as if you’ve just proven his point. “Then why did he ask me to keep an eye on you? Make sure you come back alive?” he says, his voice low but edged with irritation.

Your steps falter for just a moment, your breath catching in your throat. “He… told you that?” you ask, your voice quieter now, the frustration giving way to something more uncertain.

Jay nods, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah. Said you’ll be a great addition to the group or something. Like we don’t already have enough to deal with.”

You’re not sure how to answer—hell, you’re not even sure why Jungwon has been so willing to give you a chance. Before you can formulate a response, Heeseung cuts in.

“Maybe because Jungwon’s a nice person,” Heeseung says dryly, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Not like a certain somebody who can’t seem to shut up.”

“Nice? Jungwon?” Jay scoffs, his tone sharp. “He’s the last person after me among the seven of us to be nice, especially to strangers. You think this is just him being friendly?”

You glance at Heeseung, hoping for some clarification, but he keeps his focus on the trail ahead. Jay’s words settle uneasily in your chest. If Jungwon isn’t the kind of person to extend trust easily, then what’s his angle? Why is he giving you the benefit of the doubt when others—like Jay—clearly think you don’t deserve it?

The weight of Jungwon’s trust feels heavier now, more significant.

“Well, I didn’t ask for him to do that. I don’t need anyone keeping an eye on me.” you say finally, your voice a little steadier, though the uncertainty still lingers.

Jay snorts, his expression sceptical. “Yeah, well, tell that to Jungwon. He’s not exactly the type to give orders lightly.”

The tension between you hangs heavy in the air, but before either of you can say more, Heeseung glances over his shoulder, his tone calm but firm. “Enough. We’re here to hunt, not to argue. If we don’t bring back any game, it’ll blame it all on you.”

“Well, it’s her fault we’re even out here in the first place. Blame her.” says Jay with a scoff.

Heeseung’s gaze narrows. “I said that’s enough, Jay.”

Jay rolls his eyes but doesn’t push further. Instead, he mutters something under his breath and turns his focus back to the forest ahead, the tension in his shoulders still evident.

You let out a slow, steadying breath, the heat of the argument leaving you rattled. But it’s not just the argument that lingers in your mind—it’s Jay’s words. Jungwon had specifically told him to keep an eye on you? To make sure you came back alive?

Why…?

Before the silence stretches too long, Heeseung motions for a stop, crouching low and studying a patch of disturbed earth. His fingers graze the ground lightly, his sharp eyes narrowing. You watch him carefully, impressed by the ease with which he reads the signs the forest leaves behind.

“Squirrels,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. He points to a set of tracks leading deeper into the woods. “A few of them. Probably moving together.”

Jay nods curtly, his grip tightening on the bow he’s been carrying. “We’ll have to be quick. If we miss, they’ll scatter.”

Heeseung glances at you, a faint flicker of consideration in his expression. “You’ve hunted before, right?”

You nod. “A few times. Mostly small game, but I know how to stay quiet.”

“Good,” he says simply, standing and motioning for you to follow. “Let’s move.”

As the three of you make your way deeper into the woods, the tension eases slightly, the rhythm of the hunt taking over. Heeseung’s calm, methodical approach is a stark contrast to Jay’s sharp vigilance, but they work well together—an unspoken understanding guiding their every move.

At one point, Heeseung stops again, holding up a hand to signal a pause. He crouches beside a tree, studying a new set of tracks. Jay moves ahead slightly, keeping watch, and for the first time, it’s just you and Heeseung.

He glances over at you, his expression softening slightly. “You’re doing alright,” he says quietly, his tone low enough that Jay won’t hear. “Not bad for someone new to the group.”

You nod, unsure how to respond. His calm demeanour is a welcome contrast to Jay’s constant scepticism, but you can still feel the awkward tension hanging in the air.

Heeseung hesitates, the silence stretching between you as he seems to weigh his words carefully. His hand flexes around the hilt of his knife, a nervous habit you’ve noticed before. Finally, he sighs, his voice dropping to a quieter, almost reluctant tone.

“Jay’s not… always like this with everyone,” he says, his gaze fixed on the ground, as though avoiding eye contact will make it easier to get the words out. “The way he’s acting with you, I mean. There’s a reason he’s so hard to trust new people.”

You furrow your brow, confusion flickering across your face. Of course, it’s not unusual for survivors to be cautious—vigilant even—around strangers. In a world like this, where danger lurks at every corner, you either kill or be killed. Trust extended to the wrong person could easily land a knife to your back.

But the way Heeseung describes Jay’s distrust, it sounds like something more. Something personal.

“Why?” you ask cautiously, your voice low. You don’t want to push too hard, but you can’t hold back your curiosity.

Heeseung sighs, running a hand through his hair. “After our escape from The Future, we took in another survivor. A guy, around our age. He was half-starved, injured. Begged us to help him. Said he’d been on his own for months.”

You can already feel where the story is headed, but you don’t interrupt.

“Jay didn’t trust him from the start,” Heeseung admits. “Said something felt off. But the rest of us… we thought he was being paranoid. We were tired of losing people. We wanted to believe the guy was just another victim of this world.”

His voice grows heavier, the memory clearly weighing on him. “At first, it seemed fine. He kept to himself but didn’t cause any trouble.” Heeseung’s jaw clenches, his knuckles whitening as he grips his knife tighter. “But turns out, Jay was right.”

Your stomach knots, dread curling in your chest. “What happened?”

“He waited until we were vulnerable,” Heeseung says bitterly. “Waited until we were distracted. Then, he grabbed one of our friends, put a knife to her throat, and demanded our supplies.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“We gave him what he wanted,” Heeseung says bitterly, his jaw tightening. “But he didn’t let her go. He slit her throat anyway, right in front of us. And then he ran.”

The air around you feels colder, the quiet of the forest suddenly oppressive. You glance at Heeseung, his calm facade cracking just slightly as he stares at the tracks before him.

“That’s why Jay is the way he is,” Heeseung continues, his voice low but steady. “He was closest to her. Blames himself for what happened. Ever since then, he doesn’t trust easily. And he doesn’t forgive.”

Your mind pictures Jay back at the camp, how his posture is always tense and hunched as though he’s carrying the weight of that memory with him every second of every day.

“I didn’t know,” you murmur.

“No,” Heeseung says softly. “You wouldn’t have. But now you do.” He looks at you again, his expression softer, though the pain in his eyes remains. “So, if he’s hard on you… it’s not personal. It’s his way of protecting us. His way of making sure it never happens again.”

You nod slowly, the weight of the story settling over you. “I get it,” you say softly, though the words feel inadequate. “I’d probably feel the same.”

Heeseung glances at you, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But trust me, if you stick around long enough, Jay will see what the rest of us do. That you’re not like him. That you’re not a threat.”

You don’t respond immediately, his words settling into your mind like seeds in freshly tilled soil. The weight of their past lingers with you, a reminder of just how fragile trust can be in a world like this—not that you needed the reminder.

The two of you rise silently, falling back into the rhythm of the hunt as you make your way to rejoin Jay, who has moved further ahead on his own. You spot him crouched behind a dense thicket of ivy, his form still but alert.

Heeseung is about to call out when Jay abruptly places a finger to his lips, his sharp eyes locking onto yours as he motions for you both to get low.

You and Heeseung exchange a quick glance before crouching, carefully shuffling toward Jay. Every step feels heavier than the last, the rustle of fallen leaves beneath your boots deafening in the tense quiet. The forest, once filled with the gentle hum of wildlife, now feels suffocatingly still.

“What’s wrong?” Heeseung whispers, his voice barely audible as the three of you huddle closer.

Jay doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on something beyond the ivy. Then you hear it—the familiar shuffling of feet, slow and uneven. The guttural moans and growls you’ve come to dread. But this time, it’s not just a few. The sound is overwhelming, a dissonant symphony of the undead. Dozens, maybe more.

“There’s something very wrong,” Jay whispers, his voice taut with unease. “Look at the way they’re moving.”

Your stomach churns as you part a few strands of ivy, revealing a massive clearing surrounded by towering pines. In the centre of it, a cluster of zombies moves in a strange, unnatural rhythm. They’re walking in a perfect circle, their shuffling steps eerily synchronised like ants trapped in a death ring.

“What the fuck?” you mutter, the words slipping out before you can stop them. The sight is wrong—so wrong it makes your skin crawl.

And then you hear it.

Voices.

Your head jerks toward Jay, whose wide eyes mirror your own shock. “Did you hear that?” you mouth, barely breathing.

The sound comes again, low but unmistakable. “Round... them... up…”

It’s deliberate, controlled. Words spoken in the same hollow, rasping tone as the undead.

“They’re… talking?” Heeseung whispers, his disbelief matching your own.

You strain your ears, heart pounding as the voices continue.

“Saw them… around here…”

“Find them…”

Your blood runs cold. They’re not just words—they’re instructions. Coherent, deliberate instructions.

Your breath catches in your throat, and your hand instinctively grips your knife tighter. You glance at Jay, and the flicker of fear in his eyes confirms what you’re dreading. These aren’t just zombies.

There are people—or not people—you're not entirely sure. But something is walking among the dead.

Heeseung’s jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing as he shifts his weight slightly, readying himself for whatever comes next. “What do we do?” he whispers, his voice steady but laced with urgency.

Jay’s gaze remains fixed on the clearing, his expression grim. “We move. Quietly. Back the way we came. Now.”

You don’t argue, your body already taut with tension as you begin to inch backward. The sound of human voices mingling with the moans of the undead burns in your ears, the weight of the revelation settling heavily on your chest. Whoever these people are, whatever they’re doing, one thing is clear: they’re more dangerous than the undead. And they’re looking for something—or someone.

The trek back to camp is a blur of tension and urgency. None of you speak, your steps light and calculated, careful not to make a sound that might draw attention. The eerie chorus of moans and human voices fades behind you, but the weight of what you’ve just witnessed hangs heavy in the air. Your chest tightens with every step, your mind racing with the implications.

By the time you see the familiar barricade of the camp, your legs are trembling—not just from exertion, but from the sheer adrenaline coursing through your veins. Heeseung is the first to signal to the others, his hand raising in a sharp, deliberate gesture that sets the camp into motion. Sunoo and Jake rush to open the barricade, their expressions immediately shifting from curiosity to concern as they take in your faces.

“What happened? Why are you guys back so early?” Jungwon asks, his voice calm but edged with urgency as he strides toward you. His sharp gaze sweeps over each of you, searching for any sign of injuries.

“We need to talk. Now,” Jay says, his tone clipped and serious. He glances back at the forest, his hand still gripping his bow tightly. “Inside.”

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t question it. The commotion quickly grabs the attention of the rest of the group and they instinctively assembles, their expressions a mix of confusion and worry.

Heeseung speaks first, his voice steady despite the tension in his posture. “We found a horde. Dozens of them, maybe more, moving together in a clearing.”

“Okay, and?” Jake asks, his brows furrowed. “That’s not unusual. Hordes travel together all the time.”

“It wasn’t just a horde,” you say, your voice quieter but no less urgent. All eyes snap to you, and you feel the weight of their attention pressing down on you. “They were… whispering.”

“Whispering?” Sunghoon repeats, his expression sceptical. “You mean the dead started to talk?” Sunghoon leans forward slightly, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. His usually calm demeanour cracks under the weight of disbelief, his brow furrowing deeply.

“We don't know what it was.” you say, your voice sharp. “They sounded like the dead, but they were coherent words.”

A heavy silence falls over the group, the crackling of the fire the only sound. Sunoo looks between you and Jay, his usual light-hearted expression replaced by unease. “Are you sure? It couldn’t have just been… I don’t know, echoes or something?”

“‘Round them up,’” you say quietly, your voice breaking through the tense air. “‘Find them.’ Those were their exact words. It wasn’t just random sounds or echoes. It was deliberate.”

Jay shakes his head. “And it wasn’t just one or two words. They were coordinating.”

“Coordinating?” Jungwon repeats, his voice low and measured. He’s not panicking, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his concern.

Jake leans back slightly, his expression hardening as he processes your words. “You’re suggesting that the dead have started to talk? Or that people are out there pretending to be the dead? Why? To what end? That doesn’t make any sense,” he mutters. “Why would anyone—”

“Doesn't matter. They were looking for someone,” you cut in, your voice sharper now as you recall the chilling words you heard.

Jungwon’s expression darkens, his sharp mind clearly working through the possibilities. “Did they see you?”

You shake your head. “No. We got out before they could.”

“For now,” Jay mutters, his jaw tight. “But if they’re moving through the area, it’s only a matter of time before they find the camp.”

The group falls silent again, the weight of the situation sinking in. Jungwon exhales slowly, his gaze sweeping over everyone before settling on Heeseung. “What did the clearing look like? Could it be a pattern, or just a random gathering?”

“It wasn’t random,” Heeseung says firmly. “They were walking in a circle. Over and over, like some kind of… ritual.”

The word hangs in the air, chilling in its implication. You glance at Jungwon, his expression unreadable as he processes the information. Finally, he speaks, his voice steady but resolute. “We don’t have enough information to act, but we can’t stay complacent. Sunghoon, Heeseung, start reinforcing the barricades. Make sure every gap is sealed. Jake, check our supplies. I need to know how long we can hold out here if we need to. Sunoo, Ni-ki—keep the van ready to move at a moment’s notice.”

“I’ll keep watch with Jay,” you pipe up just as Jungwon turns to you, his sharp eyes meeting yours. His gaze lingers a moment longer than you expect, as though he’s searching for something—resolve, maybe, or doubt. Whatever he finds, it’s enough to make him nod.

Without a second to spare, everyone falls into a rhythm. The weight of what you’ve encountered hangs over the camp like a storm cloud. Nobody says anything, but the silence tells you everything. They’re scared. Jungwon included.

You climb the watchtower with Jay, the makeshift structure swaying slightly under your combined weight. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the forest in hues of orange and gold. The beauty of it feels jarring against the tension in the air, a cruel reminder of the world that once was.

Behind you, you hear the faint sizzle of the campfire, now reduced to embers and smoke despite the night’s cold settling over the camp. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the smart move. Light and smoke would only draw attention, and right now, attention is the last thing any of you need.

Jay settles into position, his bow resting across his lap. His expression is stony, his eyes scanning the tree line with sharp precision. You don’t speak, sensing the simmering emotions beneath his calm exterior. Instead, you keep your focus outward, your own knife gripped tightly in your hand.

The forest is quiet, too quiet, the kind of silence that prickles at the back of your neck. Time crawls, every second feeling heavier than the last. Dusk settles in slowly, the golden hues fading into muted greys and shadows. Then, just as the last rays of sunlight vanish, movement catches your eye.

A figure emerges from the tree line, their silhouette hazy against the growing darkness. They’re limping slowly, deliberately, their steps unhurried, as they approach the gate. It’s a single person, their posture relaxed but not aimless. Something about them feels… wrong.

“Someone’s coming,” you whisper, nudging Jay with your elbow. He turns quickly, his sharp gaze locking onto the figure. The second he sees them, his entire body goes rigid.

“Shit,” he breathes, his voice barely audible. Before you can ask, he ducks behind the barricade, pulling you down with him. His face is pale, his usual composure cracking just slightly. “Stay down.”

“Who is it?” you ask, your voice low but urgent.

“It’s someone we took in. Don’t necessarily have the best relationship with,” Jay whispers harshly, his voice barely audible as his eyes remain fixed on the approaching figure. His expression is dark, and there’s an edge to his tone you haven’t heard before—something between anger and unease.

“A survivor you took in…” you begin, your stomach knotting as you piece it together. “You mean the one who killed your friend?”

Jay’s jaw tightens, his eyes flicking toward you briefly before returning to the figure. “Did Heeseung tell you that?” he mutters, his voice sharp but low enough to avoid carrying. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is he’s bad news, and he’s here.”

Your heart skips a beat, a cold dread settling in your chest. You glance over the edge of the barricade, your gaze snapping back to the figure, who is now closer to the gate. His features are clearer now—sharp, wiry, with a crooked grin that sends a chill down your spine.

“He doesn’t know you,” Jay continues, his voice tight. “You talk to him. He hasn’t seen you before. If he recognises me, it’s over.”

You hesitate, the weight of what he’s asking sinking in. Before you can respond, the man stops just a few feet from the gate, his eyes scanning the camp with a calculated intensity. Then he calls out, his voice loud but casual, almost friendly. “Hello? Anyone there?”

Jay gives you a small nudge, his expression hard but pleading. “Just keep him distracted, long enough for me to warn the rest,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. You nod, swallowing hard as you straighten, forcing yourself to step into view. Your fingers tighten around the knife in your hand, its cool weight a poor comfort against the fear knotting in your chest.

The man’s eyes light up when he sees you, his crooked grin widening. “Ah, someone’s home. Wasn’t sure if this place was abandoned or not.”

You take in his tattered clothing, the dried blood stains on his skin, and those eyes. Those eyes belong in a mental asylum if this were the world before.

“What do you want?” you ask, keeping your tone neutral but firm.

The man chuckles, his gaze sweeping over you with a calculating glint that makes your skin crawl. “Relax,” he says smoothly, spreading his hands in a mock gesture of innocence. “I’m just passing through. Haven’t seen anyone in a while, thought I’d see if there were any friendly faces around.”

“This camp’s occupied,” you reply coolly, standing your ground. “You should move along.”

For a split second, his grin falters, a flicker of something darker passing through his expression. But then the smile returns, sharper this time, and his gaze narrows slightly. “Fair enough,” he says lightly. “Don’t worry, I’m not looking for trouble. Just curious, is all.”

He takes a step closer, his tone turning smoother, more calculated. “Say… you haven’t seen a group around here, have you? Seven boys. One’s blonde. Another’s got a sharp tongue—calls himself Jay.”

The air feels heavier, and your grip on your knife tightens instinctively. Your heart pounds in your chest as his words settle over you, their implications clear. Your mind races, trying to calculate the safest response, but the danger in his tone is unmistakable.

“I haven’t seen anyone like that,” you say carefully, forcing your voice to remain steady. “And I wouldn’t know if I had.”

The man’s grin widens, but his eyes remain cold, watching you with unsettling precision. “Is that so?” he drawls, his tone almost mocking. “Well, that’s a shame. Been looking for them for a while now. That guy, Jay, he owes me… let’s just say, a few favours.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with menace. Behind you, you can sense Jay’s absence, the faint rustle of his movements as he slips away to warn the others. It’s just you and this man now, and you’re painfully aware of how exposed you are.

“Like I said,” you repeat, your voice firmer this time, “you won’t find them here. So you should move along.”

For a moment, the man doesn’t respond, his gaze lingering on you as though trying to read between your words. Then he takes a step back, his grin never wavering. “Well, I won’t take up any more of your time,” he says lightly, though there’s a faint edge to his voice. “Nice camp you’ve got here. Hope it stays that way.”

With that, he turns and begins to limp away, his steps slow and deliberate. You don’t lower your knife, your gaze fixed on his retreating figure, tracking every laboured movement until he vanishes into the tree line. Only when the shadows swallow him whole do you finally let out the breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. Your legs tremble beneath you, exhaustion and adrenaline mixing into a potent cocktail that leaves you unsteady.

“Is he gone?” Jay reappears and asks from behind you, his voice low and tense. He steps closer, his eyes darting nervously toward the gate as if expecting the man to reappear at any moment.

“For now,” you whisper, barely able to hear your own voice over the pounding of your heart. The words feel hollow, more for your own reassurance than his.

You glance at Jay—his face is pale, his usual composure shattered. His bow has been replaced with his pistol, and he grips it so tightly that his knuckles turn white, as if it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

The silence between you lingers for a beat too long. Without a word, you start climbing down the ladder, your mind racing to piece together what just happened. Questions swirl in your head, each one more unsettling than the last. Why was he here? How did he find the camp? And most troubling of all—what does he really want?

Jay follows, his footsteps slower, more hesitant. By the time the two of you reach the bottom, the rest of the group is already gathered around. Their expressions range from confusion to concern, a tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.

“What happened?” Heeseung is the first to speak, his tone wary but insistent. “What did he want?”

You glance at Jay, whose jaw is clenched so tightly it looks like it might snap. His grip on his pistol hasn’t loosened, and his posture is rigid, like he’s bracing for something.

You shift your gaze back to Heeseung, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them. “It’s the guy you told me about,” you say quietly. “He was looking for you lot.”

“And I don’t think he bought a single thing I said,” you admit, your voice even but laced with quiet frustration.

Jay exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, but instead of relief, you see something else settle in his expression—panic, the kind that runs deep and raw. “Oh god… we can’t stay here. We need to leave. Right now.”

The fear in his voice startles you. You’ve never seen Jay like this, not the sharp, sarcastic, ever-sceptical man who’s never once let his guard down, and you’re suddenly more confused than ever. Then it clicks, the words the stranger said echoing in your mind:

That guy, Jay, he owes me.

He singled Jay out.

But why? If Heeseung was right, if the man was the one who killed their friend, why would Jay owe him anything?

Your heart sinks, the realisation creeping in like a shadow. You glance at Jungwon, his jaw clenches subtly, the muscle ticking as he processes it all. He doesn’t say anything, but the look he gives you says it all. He’s thinking the exact same thing.

“Jay,” Jungwon starts slowly, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. “What did you do?”

Jay’s head snaps toward the leader, his sharp eyes locking onto him like a deer caught in headlights. For a moment, he doesn’t speak, the silence stretching uncomfortably between you. Then his jaw tightens, and you see it—the guilt, the weight of something he’s been carrying for far too long.

“What did you do, Jay?” Jungwon presses, his voice steadier now, his suspicion hardening into certainty.

“Are you accusing me of something?” Jay scoffs in mock annoyance.

The silence that follows is suffocating. Sunghoon steps forward, his sharp gaze fixed on Jay. “No, he’s right. Why would he be looking for us? Specifically for you?”

Jay’s head snaps toward Sunghoon, his eyes narrowing defensively. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m asking if there’s something you’re not telling us,” Sunghoon says, his tone calm but firm. “Because he didn’t just stumble across us, Jay. He knows exactly who he's looking for.”

Jay hesitates, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, and you can see the internal battle raging behind his eyes. Finally, he lets out a sharp breath, his shoulders slumping as the fight drains out of him.

“I went after him.”

“You what?” Sunoo’s voice is a mix of disbelief and anger. “You went after him alone?”

Jay ignores him, his focus entirely on the ground as he continues. “It wasn’t hard to find him. He was camped out at the edge of the city, asleep, surrounded by our supplies. I took them back. All of them.”

“And then?” Jungwon presses, his voice dangerously calm.

Jay hesitates, his jaw tightening. “Then… I shot him. In the ankle. Left him there. The sound attracted the dead, and I ran.”

The silence that follows is deafening. You glance around the group, their faces a mix of shock, anger, and something heavier—betrayal.

“You left him?” Jake says, his voice low and incredulous. “You left him to die?”

“He killed her!” Jay snaps, his voice rising as he finally meets Jake’s gaze, his eyes burning with a mix of defiance and regret. “What was I supposed to do? He put a knife to her throat, and we gave him what he wanted. And he killed her anyway. You think he deserved mercy?”

“You could’ve told us,” Heeseung says quietly, his tone cutting deeper than if he’d yelled. “You could’ve trusted us instead of going off and doing something reckless.”

“I couldn’t!” Jay’s voice cracks, the raw emotion spilling over. “I couldn’t just sit there and do nothing. I had to… I had to make him pay.”

“And now he’s here,” Jungwon says, his voice cold and measured. “Looking for you. And you’ve put all of us at risk because of it.”

Jay’s shoulders sag, the weight of Jungwon’s words pressing down on him like a physical burden. “I didn’t think he’d survive,” he admits quietly, his voice barely audible.

“Well, he did,” Jake snaps, his anger bubbling to the surface. “And now he’s got a grudge and knows exactly where to find us.”

Part of you understands Jay’s anger, his grief. The sheer weight of what they’d lost—what that man had taken—could drive anyone to the edge. But the other part of you, the part sharpened by survival, sees the problem for what it is. Heeseung is right—it was reckless. This isn’t just about a chance encounter or a petty grudge. That man is here for revenge, and now the camp is squarely in his crosshairs.

Jay swallows hard, the fight in him extinguished. His voice trembles as he mutters, “I’m sorry…” The words hang in the air, hollow and inadequate.

The moonlight cast harsh shadows on everyone’s faces, highlighting the unease and exhaustion etched into their expressions. Sunghoon leans against the barricade, his jaw tight as he stares into the darkness. Jake’s hands are curled into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line. Even Sunoo, ever the optimist, looks pale and withdrawn.

Finally, Jungwon exhales sharply, breaking the tension. His shoulders square, and his expression hardens as he steps forward, taking charge. “We don’t have time for blame right now,” he says, his voice steady and commanding. The tone leaves no room for argument, cutting through the tension like a knife. “What’s done is done. We focus on what’s next.”

“And what’s that?” Sunoo asks, his voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“We leave,” Jungwon says simply. “Because if he comes back, he won’t be alone.”

The words hit like a hammer, and the weight of them settles over the group. Jake’s head snaps up, his eyes wide. “You’re saying we abandon the camp? Everything we’ve built here? I thought we’d finally be able to settle down.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Jungwon replies firmly, his gaze sweeping across the group. There’s a steadiness in his tone, but you can see the weight of the decision reflected in his tense posture. “He knows exactly where we are, we can’t defend this place against a coordinated attack. And it’s not the first time we’ve had to pack up and leave because of circumstances beyond our control.”

Heeseung nods slowly, his expression grim. “He’s right. We’ve seen what people like that can do. And it’s not just him. There’s that strange horde we encountered earlier today. If he’s somehow connected to them—staying here is suicide.”

“But where would we even go?” Ni-ki interjects, his voice edged with frustration. “It’s not like there are safe havens just waiting for us.”

Heeseung pulls a folded sheet of paper from his back pocket, its edges frayed and creased from frequent use. It’s a map of Seoul, though it’s seen better days. Parts of it are scratched out, and there are annotations scrawled in the margins—places they’ve scavenged, places they should avoid. As Heeseung unfolds it, you notice the heavy red crosses marking several areas.

“There’s nowhere to go but further north,” Heeseung says, his tone measured as he scans the map. “But that takes us closer to the demilitarised zone. That place fell to The Future the last time we checked.”

The tension in the group thickens as Heeseung continues to analyse the limited options. Judging by the sheer number of red crosses, it’s clear their choices are slim. The faint hope of finding refuge seems to dwindle with every second.

Then your eyes catch on something familiar—a road along the Seoul-Busan highway, just as it’s leaving the city. A rest stop is marked there, scratched out in bold red ink. The memory of that place hits you like a spark in the darkness.

“Here,” you say, pointing to the rest stop on the map.

Heeseung glances at where you’re pointing and immediately shakes his head. “No. That’s one of The Future’s outpost. The place is probably crawling with them.”

“What? No,” you reply quickly, your brows furrowing as you think back. “I was there. Scavenging. There was a gas station filled with supplies. It was too big of a place and too risky for me to set up camp, so I took what I could and left. But when I wanted to go back for more, it was overrun by the dead. I didn’t want to take my chances alone. But if there’s eight of us, it should be pretty easy to clear out if we’re careful.”

The words tumble out of your mouth, and for a moment, the group falls silent. You look up from the map, suddenly aware of the fleeting glances being exchanged between Jungwon, Heeseung, and the others. Confusion is written plainly across their faces, their unease palpable.

“When was that?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the silence, careful and probing.

You hesitate, trying to gauge the timeline in your head. “Over a month or two ago? Give or take. It was the first time I had to venture that far out in search of food. Finding that place felt like a blessing—I hadn’t eaten for days at that point.”

You’re so caught up in recounting the memory that you almost miss the look of shock that flashes across Jungwon’s face. His expression hardens, his gaze shifting to Heeseung, who looks equally taken aback.

“Y/N, are you sure it’s the same rest stop?” Heeseung asks, his gaze sharp and unyielding as it locks onto yours.

“Positive,” you reply firmly, though the rising tension in the air makes your chest tighten. “I think I’d remember the place that quite literally saved my life.”

Heeseung’s lips press into a thin line, his eyes flicking toward Jungwon. “Jungwon…” he starts slowly, his voice laced with urgency. “Wasn’t the last time we had to move camp to run from The Future about two months ago?”

Jungwon doesn’t respond right away. His jaw tightens, his expression darkening as if the weight of the realisation is physically bearing down on him. Finally, he looks at you, his sharp eyes searching yours for answers, certainty, or maybe even doubt. But all he finds is your unwavering resolve.

“Something is seriously wrong,” Jake mutters, his voice barely audible as he scratches the back of his neck. His gaze flits between you and the others, confusion etched deeply into his features. It’s as though he’s trying to piece together a puzzle where the pieces don’t quite fit. “If that place was overrun by the dead, and The Future was still active there, then…”

His voice fades into the background, his muttering drowned out by the rising unease. The tension among the group is palpable, a storm brewing just beneath the surface. You’re equally as confused as the rest of them, but you can tell their confusion stems from something you don’t yet understand.

Jungwon’s expression hardens further, his voice low and deliberate as he says the words that send a chill down your spine. “The Future… fell?”

The statement lingers in the air, heavy and foreboding. Your mind races, trying to comprehend what he means, but before you can process it, the sound of shuffling feet cuts through the stillness.

It starts faint, like the rustle of dried leaves in the wind, but it grows louder with each passing second. The guttural moans of the undead follow, a haunting symphony of the dead. There’s no mistaking it—there are a lot of them, and they’re close.

Jungwon’s head snaps toward the sound, his hand immediately gripping the blade at his hip. His voice cuts through the rising chaos. “Ni-ki, start up the van! Everyone else, grab what you can and get on. Now!”

The group springs into action, weapons drawn as the moans grow louder, the shuffling of feet drawing closer. You grip your knife tightly, your pulse pounding in your ears. The forest that once offered a fragile sense of safety now feels like it’s closing in.

“They’re coming from everywhere!” Sunghoon shouts, his voice cutting through the chaos as he points toward the tree line.

Jungwon moves quickly, stopping next to you, “Y/N, with me. We need to clear a path for the van to pass through.”

You nod, swallowing the lump of fear rising in your throat, and fall into step behind him. The first of the undead breaks through the undergrowth, its decayed face catching the dim light, its milky, lifeless eyes locking onto you with unrelenting hunger.

“Stay close,” Jungwon says, his voice low but steady as he raises his blade.

The camp erupts into a flurry of motion and noise, the clash of weapons against bone mingling with the moans of the undead. You steal a glance at Jungwon, his movements precise and controlled as he takes down one of the creatures with a single, fluid strike.

Even as you fight, your mind is clouded with questions. The Future fell. The weight of those words lingers, gnawing at the edges of your focus. What could it mean? How could it connect to what’s happening now? The rest stop, the hordes, the whispers—none of it adds up.

Your thoughts are abruptly cut short as another zombie lunges toward you, its rotting hands outstretched. You dodge instinctively, driving your knife into its skull. The sickening crunch reverberates up your arm, but you can’t afford to dwell on it. Not now. That’s right, what’s the point of dwelling on the dangers of the future if you can’t even make it out of the present alive?

“Y/N, watch out!” Jungwon’s voice snaps you back to reality just in time for you to duck as another undead stumbles toward you. Jungwon’s blade flashes in the dim light, and the creature collapses in a heap. He glances at you, his expression unreadable but firm. “Focus. We need to keep moving.”

You nod, breathless but determined, and press forward. The path ahead is thick with the undead, their shuffling forms threatening to overwhelm the group. But together, you and Jungwon cut through the horde, each strike clearing the way inch by hard-fought inch.

Behind you, the van’s engine roars to life, Ni-ki shouting from the driver’s seat, “We’re ready! Let’s move!”

“Keep pushing!” Jungwon calls to the others, his voice unwavering. The van lurches forward, and you fight harder, carving a path through the chaos as the vehicle edges closer to the gate.

The group scrambles toward the van, the undead closing in with every passing second. One by one, the group leaps into the back, the interior modified into a wide, open space—likely Ni-ki’s handiwork. The seats have been ripped out, replaced with a carpet that’s seen better days but provides enough room for everyone to pile in.

You’re about to climb into the van when something catches your eye—a lone figure standing just at the edge of the clearing.

At first, you think it’s another survivor. It’s upright, still, as though it’s observing the chaos. But then you take in its tattered clothing and decayed flesh, and the breath catches in your throat. It’s a zombie.

But it’s not moving.

Your heart pounds as your gaze locks onto its face. The peeling skin and hollow cheeks are all too familiar, but its eyes—its eyes are clear. Not the usual milky, lifeless void you’ve come to expect from the undead, but sharp and disturbingly human. For a moment, you could swear it’s looking directly at you.

“Y/N, what are you doing?” Jungwon’s voice cuts through the haze, snapping your focus back to the present. He’s gripping the doorframe, his blade still in his hand, ready to help you in.

“Do you see that?” you ask, your voice low and unsteady, gesturing toward the figure.

Jungwon’s eyes follow your line of sight. His expression shifts subtly—confusion giving way to unease as his gaze locks on the unmoving figure. He doesn’t say anything immediately, but the tension in his posture tells you he sees it too.

“Y/N, get in,” he says firmly, his voice quiet but insistent.

You hesitate for a split second longer, your mind racing as you try to process what you’re seeing. The figure doesn’t move, doesn’t make a sound. Its eyes remain fixed on you, eerily still and unnervingly focused.

“Now,” Jungwon snaps, his urgency jolting you into action.

You clamber into the van, pulling the door shut behind you. The van lurches forward, the sound of the undead clawing at the sides as Ni-ki floors the gas, navigating the rough forest terrain with practiced skill. Inside, the group struggles to catch their breath, weapons clattering to the floor as they brace themselves against the jerking motions of the vehicle.

But you can’t stop thinking about the figure. You glance out the back window, searching for it, but the dense trees blur past too quickly.

Jungwon leans closer, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, gripping the side of the van for stability. “It wasn’t like the others. It didn’t move. And its eyes…”

Jungwon’s jaw tightens, his gaze fixed ahead as if he’s already trying to piece together an answer. “We’ll deal with it later,” he mutters. But you can see the unease in his expression, the weight of what you both just witnessed settling over him like a dark cloud.

The van jolts over another bump, and you force yourself to focus on the here and now. The memory of the figure lingers, though, its sharp, human-like eyes burned into your mind. Whatever it was, it wasn’t normal—and the thought of what it could mean sends a chill down your spine.

Sounds of laboured breaths and quiet muttering fill the van as everyone tries to catch their breath. Sunghoon sits near the front, wiping blood off his blade with the edge of his sleeve, while Jake rifles through the med kit, his brow furrowed as he takes inventory of what’s left. Jay is silent, his expression dark as he stares out one of the small reinforced windows.

“So,” Heeseung pipes up from the passenger seat, glancing back over his shoulder. “Any idea where we’re heading?”

“Can we not have a moment of silence for the fact that we’ve barely escaped death? Again.” Sunoo quips, his usual sarcasm laced with exhaustion.

“Geez, don’t have to be all prissy about it,” Heeseung mutters, rolling his eyes as he slouches back in his seat.

“Head for the rest stop,” Jungwon says abruptly, his voice cutting through the low hum of conversation. His tone is calm but resolute, the kind that immediately silences any further remarks.

Jay’s head snaps toward him, his dark eyes narrowing. “You can’t be serious. We don’t even know if what she’s saying is true. What if it’s not what she says it is? What if The Future is still there?”

Jungwon’s gaze flicks toward Jay, his expression unyielding. “We don’t have many options, Jay. You saw the map. Everywhere else is a dead end—literally.”

Jay scoffs, his frustration boiling to the surface. “And this isn’t? What if we’re driving straight into a trap?”

“Jay,” Jake interjects sharply, his voice uncharacteristically firm as he closes the med kit with a snap. “With all due respect, I don’t think you have any say in this right now.”

The tension in the van thickens as Jake’s words hang in the air. Jay glares at him but doesn’t respond, his lips pressing into a thin line as he looks away.

“We’ll approach cautiously,” Jungwon continues, his voice steady but firm. “We scout the area first. If it looks clear, we check it out. If not, we move on. But we can’t afford to keep running blind. We need supplies, and we need a plan.”

The group exchanges uneasy glances, but no one voices further objections. Jungwon’s calm authority seems to settle over everyone, even if only temporarily. You can feel the weight of their trust in him, even Jay’s, despite his reluctance.

You lean back against the van’s wall, your fingers brushing over the hilt of your knife as you try to steady your breathing. The memory of the lone figure from earlier flashes in your mind, its clear eyes locked onto yours. You push the thought aside for now—there’s no room for distractions when the stakes are this high.

The van jolts slightly as Ni-ki manoeuvres it over the uneven terrain, his focused expression illuminated by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. You catch Jungwon’s gaze briefly, and he gives you a small nod—an unspoken reassurance, for now.

About half an hour drifts by, Ni-ki drives steadily along the uneven roads skirting the edge of the forest, the dense trees remaining close on the van's left. It’s a long detour as compared to driving straight through the city. But it’s safer this way—quieter. No one speaks, no one stirs.

Everyone else is asleep, or at least pretending to be. Jake is curled up against the wall, his head resting on his arms. Sunghoon sits with his back against the van, his knife still in his lap. Even Jay looks like he’s finally let himself rest, though his hand never strays far from his pistol.

But you? You don’t sleep. And neither does Jungwon.

You both sit next to each other in silence, the weight of unspoken thoughts pressing down on what little space there is between you. There’s an understanding in that silence—a shared knowledge of something far beyond your comprehension. Something that lingers, gnawing at the edges of your mind.

This isn’t just about surviving anymore. It’s about staying ahead of someone who knows how to hunt you down. That said, sleep is the last thing you’re worried about.

“What do you think that was?” you ask softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang in the air, cautious, careful not to disturb the fragile peace inside the van.

Jungwon doesn’t look at you. His gaze is locked on a single spot on the ragged carpet beneath his feet, his fingers tracing the worn fabric absentmindedly. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, distant. “A mutation? I don’t know.”

“Do you think it’s him?” you press, your heart beating just a little faster. You don’t need to explain who you’re referring to. The thought is already there, lingering between you both.

Jungwon’s hand stills against the carpet, and for a moment, he says nothing. Then, in a voice barely above a murmur, he replies, “Maybe.”

That single word carries so much weight, so much dread. It hangs heavy in the air, settling deep in your chest.

There’s no certainty in his answer. No confidence. It’s unnerving—he’s usually the one with the answers, the one who reassures everyone else that they’ll figure it out. But right now, there’s none of that conviction. Just tired confusion, vulnerable, almost hopeless. A stark contrast to the strong, commanding voice he uses when he speaks to the others.

It’s the kind of tone he never lets the group hear.

And for a second, you’re glad they’re asleep. Glad no one else is awake to see this side of him—the side that isn’t sure, that doesn’t have all the answers.

Because you know, without a doubt, it would weigh on them. Everything Jungwon says, everything he feels, it spreads through the group like wildfire. That’s how much they rely on him. That’s how deeply their survival depends on his mentality—whether he realises it or not.

Jungwon exhales slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. “If it is him… then we’re in more trouble than we thought.”

The van jolts over a bump in the road, and Ni-ki mutters something under his breath from the driver’s seat, his focus unwavering. The silence stretches between you, thick with tension but not uncomfortable. It’s a shared quiet—both of you lost in your thoughts, both of you carrying burdens too heavy to put into words.

You glance at Jungwon from the corner of your eye. His posture is rigid, his arms resting loosely on his knees, but the tension in his shoulders betrays his exhaustion. He hasn’t slept since… Well, that’s the thing—you can’t even remember the last time you actually saw him let himself relax for a moment. His gaze remains distant, focused on nothing and everything all at once.

Without really thinking, you shift closer, the subtle bump of your shoulder against his drawing his attention. He glances at you briefly, his tired eyes flickering with surprise, but he doesn’t pull away.

Your heart is still racing from the events of the night—the man, the whispers, the horde that shouldn’t have been there. But now, sitting here beside him, the weight of it all feels a little easier to carry. Slowly, cautiously, you let your head rest against his shoulder.

For a moment, he doesn’t move. You wonder if you’ve overstepped, if he’ll pull away, but then you feel it—slow and hesitant. Jungwon shifts slightly, his body relaxing as he leans into you. His head rests gently against yours, his blonde hair brushing your temple.

Neither of you says anything. There’s no need to.

The hum of the van’s engine fills the space between you, a steady rhythm that matches the rise and fall of his breathing. His warmth seeps into you, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the world outside fades into the background.

It’s strange, this quiet moment of closeness. You’ve spent so long keeping your distance from others, building walls to protect yourself. But with Jungwon, it feels different. It feels… safe.

“You should rest,” he murmurs softly, his voice barely louder than the hum of the engine.

“So should you,” you whisper back, your eyes closing briefly as the exhaustion pulls at you.

A faint chuckle escapes him, more a breath than a laugh. “Yeah.”

But neither of you moves. You both stay like that, leaning against each other, finding comfort in the quiet, fleeting peace. And for a moment—just a moment—you let yourself forget the chaos waiting outside.

You let yourself breathe.

part 1 - rotten | masterlist | part 3 - whispers

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

notes from nat: my apologies if i missed any taglist requests commented under the previous part! my tumblr's not working like it's SUPPOSED TO. regardless, i should've noted down everyone. part 3 is a little shorter so i'll post it coming saturday 12am kst (maybe earlier if this manages to reach 200 notes hehe) enjoy!

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