#we’re all reading this together for the very first time LMFAO

[forwhump]

a/n; y’ever wanted gore that also makes you deeply sad ??? >:)

word count: 5k 😬 (it’s a WHOPPER I’m so sorry)

tw/cw: gore, graphic depictions of violence, mutilation, decapitation, execution, major character death (reoccurring), threats of sexual violence, implied rape, noncon, misgendering, transphobia, mentions of medical torture

living weapon whumpee, captivity, escape attempt

In the wants he keeps close to his chest, Silas gets a happy ending.

He gets it with Wren. They get to get out of here.

Silas doesn’t know what that means, not really. He doesn’t know anything outside of this place. He doesn’t know what a life outside of here would be, what it would mean for something like him. He knows with everything in him that he wants to do it anyway, whatever it is, as long as he gets to do it with Wren. His Wren.

The heart that Silas wears on his sleeve beats Wren’s name in time. There’s a spot in his chest where Wren festers, the spot where his heart used to be. There isn’t anything in the world Silas knows or the one he doesn’t that he wouldn’t do for him, for his Wren. He doesn’t know what a life with Wren outside of this place would be but he knows he wants it. He can’t even begin to fathom what’s waiting up there for him but he wants to brave it with Wren.

He’ll never get to.

He knows that now. He’s always known, really, but being the biggest, being the strongest, being a fuckin’ freak killing machine comes with a sort of arrogance that Silas never really realized was arrogance. He always figured, at some point, he’d win. There was never really a doubt in his mind. Silas is the biggest, the strongest. Silas is a fuckin’ freak killing machine. The widowmaker. All the soldiers, the guards, the recruits, the scientists, the surgeons — they’re all afraid of him, they’re all so afraid of him that some of them can’t hide it, not with all the trained rigidity in the world. There would come a time, Silas knew — he didn’t think, but he knew — when their fear would mount and it would make them stupid and all that would be left, to send home to any of their grieving families to bury, would be a couple of broken bits of teeth and maybe a broken fingernail, if Silas were feeling especially generous. They’d get to be free.

He knows now it was just a delusion. It was stupid, and it was stupid of him to ever think he was deserving of any sort of happy ending. He just isn’t hardwired for it. Silas is gonna die just as he lived — miserable and hundreds of feet below ground.

They’re all scared of Silas, and for varying reasons, they all hate him, too. He’s difficult and he’s a disappointment. He’s not smart enough, he’s not obedient enough. He’s too violent, too unpredictable. Not good at following orders. Belligerent. Lacks any sort of respect for authority. Difficult to control.

But Silas isn’t just any captive. He isn’t any soldier. Silas was biomechanically engineered. A lot of money, time, manpower, the world's best surgeons and smartest scientists and steadiest hands had gone into Silas’ insurrection; too much for them to let him go to waste. They won’t let Silas leave for the same reason they won’t let him die, not without reanimating him.

They can’t. They need him. They spent too much money to let him go.

He’d be lying if he said he took that lying down. Silas never lets himself want, and the only time he ever slipped up, the only thing he ever let himself want was Wren, and to live the life Wren wants with him. He dug his nails in so deep that losing it had torn out every one of his fingernails. But maybe that was his own fault. Maybe he should’ve known better than to ever let himself want.

That ache had worsened, split open into the leaking yellow pus of a wound that festered, infected, spread him through with rot. The rot had spread quickly, infected him inside and out with a raw, bloodthirsty sort of resolve. Silas is never getting out. Silas doesn’t get a happy ending. Silas is going to die down here, no matter how much or how privately he might yearn otherwise.

That doesn’t mean Wren has to.

It’s a solid resolve in his chest, not one that weighs him down but one that makes him stronger, that thickens his skin. There’s no reason Wren has to die down here, not while Silas is still breathing. If Silas is gonna die down here, if he has no choice, than his death, at the very least, is gonna mean something. If Silas has to die, he’s gonna die happy.

Quietly, he says, “where is he?”

Still, his voice echoes down the long concrete corridor. He speaks quietly but not kindly. He grins, but there’s blood on his teeth. It isn’t his own.

There isn’t anything Silas wouldn’t do for Wren and there isn’t a life he wouldn’t end for him. He can only imagine the nightmare figure he must cut; does he look like somebody that’s going to die today?

His hair is matted with blood and splattered chunks of flesh, sticking to his face, the sides of his throat, his bare shoulders, his chest. His joggers were grey, hospital grey, the same dull grey as everything else, but they’re so soaked through with blood they’ve turned a wet, shimmering sort of black. His socks are the same, blood warming the bottoms of his feet and leaving lethal footprints in his wake. There’s blood on his hands, so much of it it looks like he’s dipped them. There’s blood under his fingernails, chunks of flesh between his teeth.

Dagger looks up at him, sprawled across the concrete, just barely propped up against the wall. Silas had made quick work of incapacitating him, splitting open his achilles tendons with a knife he had stolen from his buddy, Venom’s, belt. First, Silas had used that knife to split Venom’s Adam’s apple down the middle, then to separate his head from his throat. The tendons, arteries, threads of sinew had split around the blade like snapping elastics. His spinal cord was easy enough to sever, a flick of Silas’ wrist, and he turns Venom’s decapitated head over in his hands again, facing him towards Dagger as he repeats, a little lower, a little bit worse, “where is he? Tell your buddy if you don’t wanna tell me,” and when Dagger chokes out a wet, strained sound, pained and scared, weak and non militant, Silas grins widely. “You scared, Dagger?”

He chokes out another sound he’d probably be too proud to make if he weren’t dying. His feet are hanging off of his ankles at weird angles. Silas may have cut him too deep. His lead lolls, probably heavy, against the wall. “How do you think this is gonna end for you, Park?”

“M’not worried about me,” Silas answers. “Where is he?”

He tips his head back a little further to look at Silas, so much bigger than him, even crouched in a pool of blood on the pavement. “Her fucking dog,” he says bitterly, and chokes out a sound that’s probably supposed to be a laugh. “She’s with Point, Park. Where do you think she is?”

Silas lifts his chin, pretend grateful, as he says, “hold this, man,” and hoists Venom’s head into his hands.

Instinctive, woozy with blood loss, Dagger takes it, and in the split second it takes him to realize, just as he drops what’s left of Venom into his lap, just as he starts to make this sound of dawning horror, Silas takes him by the face, digging his fingers hard into his eye sockets.

Dagger starts to scream and his eyeballs burst around Silas’ fingertips. The hot fluid that leaks from the sockets clears tracks in the blood on Silas’ hands. The soldier doesn’t scream, he makes this high, whining sort of sound, and Silas pulls his head almost ninety degrees from the wall to crack it back against the surface with so much force that Silas breaks completely through his skull and splits open his knuckles against the concrete.

He already knew where Wren was. A long time ago, it might have been a little harder to find him in the labyrinth of the district, a maze literally created, in some points, to confuse and disorient and discourage escape. Wren could’ve been anywhere, could’ve been with anyone, but that was a long time ago. A lot of time had passed since then and a lot of things had changed. Now, as he has been for a long time, if Wren isn’t with Silas, and he isn’t in medical, he’s with Point. He’s just at the end of the hall.

The barracks is an odd space in the district, honestly, and Silas doesn’t care for it, especially because of all the horrible things that have happened to Wren in here but additionally because it’s so jarring on the eye. Almost everything Silas knows is grey — the walls, the floors, his sheets, his clothes. His uniform, for training and for field tests, is black, the same black as all the rest of the soldiers, but it’s such a small dose that he can handle it. The soldier’s uniforms, their weapons, the masks, they’re all black — the surgeons, too, their masks and aprons, but the sight of them has always strained Silas’ eyes, anyway, black or otherwise. The barracks are wholly and entirely black, top to bottom, sheets and bed posts and the shackles they use, and it hurts to look at and Silas hates to see it.

It’s empty. Unfortunately, it’s empty. It hadn’t been, not before everybody had come running and Silas had started using the corridor outside as a slaughterhouse. Point hadn’t been among them, unfortunately. There’s still time — somebody will notice the carnage eventually, and if not then, Point will notice Wren is missing, and he’ll raise the alarm. He’ll come running. If Silas gets anything, he wants to get to kill Point before he goes. How can that be too much to ask?

He finds Wren exactly where he expected him, in Point’s stupid private bedroom, a little black room off a short black corridor in the very back black corner, almost hidden behind a row of bunks. Wren’s shackled to the black bedpost with a black restraint. He looks really surreal on the black sheets, white hair and pale skin and the stupid, frilly layers of white material Point had made him wear. He isn’t unconscious, but he’s sleeping, snoring softly, and Silas doesn’t really have time but he stalls for as long as he can, letting him get as much sleep as possible. He doesn’t have a totally cohesive plan, but he imagines the next few minutes are gonna be incredibly hectic, and then Wren’s got a lot of running to do. He’s gonna need at least a little sleep.

As carefully as he’s capable of, Silas tears the leather at Wren’s ankle and tries not to look too hard at how bruised it is underneath. He won’t forget it, though. He lifts Wren into his arms as delicately as if he’s lifting glass, cradling him to his chest, still trying not to wake him as he carries him from the barracks, down the corridor, past the carnage.

Silas really isn’t good at very much, and he wouldn’t be comfortable saying he is, but he has a small handful of talents, and there are a few things he’s better at than anybody else. Silas is a weapon, a freak, a monster, etc., but he was trained as a soldier, too. He couldn’t give Wren the directions, but he remembers the layout well enough. He can get him where he needs to go.

He makes it farther than he would’ve expected before War stops him. It isn’t a good sign, and Silas exhales softly, placing Wren down gently, close against the wall. He turns the knife over in his hand again as he turns back to face War head on, cracking his neck.

“Where do you think you’re going?” War asks calmly, lifting his gun. He doesn’t work general security detail, he’s too important, so Silas doesn’t see him too often. If he’s weaving the labyrinth on Silas’ tail, it means he was sent after him. It means they’ve noticed he’s missing. And if they haven’t sounded the alarms, it’s because they don’t want him to know yet.

Silas is running out of time.

“I have to make this quick,” he says, “so this won’t hurt for long. It’s gonna hurt a lot, though.”

“Just gotta be quicker than me, big guy,” War says, and he pulls the trigger.

Silas is fast, almost fast enough. Nothing lethal, not immediately, but he takes a bullet in the shoulder, the bicep, and then one of his ribs. He tears a hole in War’s throat with his knife, opens the soft flesh chin to sternum. War gurgles, his gun flails, he loses aim, and Silas reaches through the wet, opened cavity of his throat to pull his spinal cord out through it. War drops into a disfigured, bloody knot on the concrete.

Shoving him out of the way with the side of his foot, Silas spits on him before he turns. Wren’s sitting back against the wall, watching him, and as inappropriate as it is, Silas can’t help himself and he smiles at him, crooked. It’s disappointing, of course, in a way that Silas knows will fester, will get infected the more Silas starts to miss him, but it’s hard, right now, not to feel good about it. Sucks that he’s gonna die, but he dies all the time, what’s one more? Sucks he doesn’t get to go with Wren, but Wren gets to go, and that’s what matters, isn’t it? Sucks that Silas is gonna spend the rest of his life, however long or short it may be, missing him, but how fortunate that Silas, who never got anything else good in his life, got to have Wren, at least for a little while. He’s never deserved Wren, not ever, but he got him, anyway, and the rest of his life, however long or short, will pale in comparison, but it’s so fuckin’ unbelievable he got to have it at all. He’ll die happy this time.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Silas says.

Wren smiles blearily, angling his head. “I missed you.”

Silas feels a small beat of guilt he chooses to ignore. “I missed you, too.”

“What are you doing?” Wren asks, taking the hand Silas holds out to him, clinging to it still once he’s on his feet

“I need you to come with me,” Silas explains. “Do you want me to carry you?”

“I can walk,” Wren says, but he doesn’t, angling his head again as he looks Silas up and down. He motions him closer, and Silas leans down, letting Wren try to wipe blood off his face with one of his white sleeves. “What are you doing, Silas?”

“We don’t really have time for this,” Silas says softly, but he doesn’t stop him. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

Silas hesitates. He shouldn’t have — it gives him away more than anything he could’ve said or any lie he could’ve come up with off the top of his head. He doesn’t know a lot of things, but he’s learned a few things about Wren in the time he’s loved him and Wren is so unbelievably stubborn, especially for such a soft, human person, that sometimes Silas doesn’t know what to do with him. And he digs his heels in weird places, about weird things, he fights Silas about Silas’ general disregard for his life so ferociously that sometimes it’s actually a little intimidating. Silas had been expecting a fight. He was just hoping they’d be a little closer to freedom.

Wren’s hand is a firm touch against his cheek. “What are you doing?” He repeats softly.

“I’m gonna get you out,” he says.

Wren thumbs slowly over his cheek as he sighs, “Silas.”

“Not like last time,” Silas tells him softly. “I fucked up last time. I know. Let me make it right.”

“You don’t have to make it right,” Wren says softly, pushing Silas’ hair behind his ears on both sides, touching his face so gently it sort of aches. “I’m not angry with you. You tried —”

“Not hard enough,” he says simply. “I didn’t do good enough. I didn’t get you out.”

“You tried,” Wren repeats. “You —“

“Let me try again,” he says, leaning his cheek a little harder into Wren’s palm. “I fucked up last time when I tried to leave with you. I’ll do it right this time.”

Wren’s hands leave Silas’ face so quickly Silas doesn’t have time to stop him. “You wouldn’t come with me?”

Silas shakes his head slowly. “I can’t.”

“What?” Wren says, and Silas can see it, that stubborn thing starting to harden in his face. Wren is the only person Silas has ever met that’s never been afraid to stand up to him. Silas is gonna miss that about him. “You want me to leave without you?”

“No,” Silas admits, “I don’t want you to go. But I can’t get you out if I go with you.”

“No,” Wren repeats. “I’m not going anywhere without you. Silas, they’d fuckin’ kill you.” That much would’ve been obvious, Silas would’ve thought, and he can’t help if his eyebrows raise as he heaves his shoulders. The hardness seeps quickly out of Wren’s expression, replaced by something so blank it gives Silas a weird spike of discomfort. Just as quickly, Wren flushes with a sort of fury Silas doesn’t think he’s ever seen on him before. “No. What the fuck are you talking about?” He spits. “You’re not gonna fuckin’ die for me, Silas.”

“Wren —”

“No,” he snaps. “I’m not even entertaining this.”

“I can do this, Wren,” Silas says. “I can get you out.”

“I’m telling you no,” Wren scolds sternly. “Absolutely fuckin’ — no. Are you — no. I’ve never thought you were stupid, Silas, but this is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Silas can’t help that his mouth pulls up on one side, crooked. “I’m gonna die again anyway,” he says softly. “Let me die for you this time.”

“No,” Wren says. “I’m not leaving here without you. I’m not leaving you here.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Silas says, exhaling a sound that he thinks might be the closest he’s ever come to laughter. “This is all I know, Wren.”

“That’s why I worry about you,” he snaps.

“It’s more important that you get out, Wren,” he says. “Not just to me. You have a whole life you can get back to. People that miss you. I don’t know anything that’s not here. I don’t miss anybody. Nobody misses Silas.”

“I will,” Wren snaps. He looks like something Silas can’t quite explain — something impossible. He looks up at Silas, heartbroken, and it breaks Silas’ heart in turn.

He doesn’t want to hurt Wren. He’s never wanted to hurt Wren. But this — he needs to do this. Even if it hurts.

He reaches out to him and Wren bats him away with more strength than Silas was expecting. “I’m not fuckin’ leaving you here,” he seethes.

Silas shakes his head slowly. “Wren —“

“No.”

“Wren,” he repeats. “They won’t let me go.”

“Then we’re not fucking going! What are you talking about?”

“I can get you out,” Silas says. “I can do this. Please,” he tries. “Please, let me do this for you. Let me die happy.”

“I’m not going to let you die at all!”

He lifts his shoulders. “You can’t stop me.” Wren looks like he’s probably considering it — the very best way to incapacitate Silas. In truth, it would be easy for him. If he asked Silas for the knife, Silas would hand it to him. If he asked Silas to bare his throat, Silas would bare it. “Wren,” he says softly. “Do you really want to stay?”

“Stop it, Silas, I’m not —“

“Stop being angry with me,” Silas says, “and be honest. If you had a choice. Leave or stay. Would you really choose to stay?”

Wren scowls. “Silas —“

“Wren,” Silas says. “Come on. You’re miserable.”

He almost looks offended. “Don’t —“

“Don’t,” Silas interrupts. “I’m serious. Nobody should have to live like you do. I don’t want you to. Who cares about me?”

“I care about you!”

“Okay,” Silas says, “but — come on.”

“Stop,” Wren snaps. “Stop this stupid, self sacrificing bullshit. I’m not leaving you here. You’re not dying for me.”

Silas sighs softly through his nose. “Wren,” he tells him softly. “You can’t stop me.”

“Like hell I can’t,” Wren says.

In truth, if he asked Silas to bare his throat, Silas would, and in truth, any other time, if Wren asked him to incapacitate himself, Silas would do it. For Wren, he would do it. But this isn’t any other time.

Any other time, Silas tries not to be too big around Wren. he tries not to be too strong. Wren is so fragile, still too human, and Silas is careful with Wren like nothing else. But this isn’t any other time.

“Don’t be mad,” Silas murmurs, and he lifts Wren off his feet and over his shoulder with one arm, with his good arm.

Wren does the whole thing; fights, thrashes, screams, threatens, presses his face against Silas’ back and pleads. Silas keeps a hand at his back as he carries him, thumbing across the stupid, crusted material of his stupid dress. Silas is really going to miss him, and selfishly, there’s a part of him that wants to let Wren have this one, that wants to keep him down here where Silas is; Silas has never really cared where he is, as long as Wren is there with him. He’s gonna miss him. He’s never gonna quite be the same without him.

They almost make it, too.

They get so fuckin’ close.

It’s a staircase that leads up, to a locked door that Silas breaks down, to a long corridor with another door at the end. The second to last door they need to pass through.

Vineyard stands in front of it, mask pulled down so his white, obnoxious teeth catch the light. His shotgun is held across his chest, nearly at ease, but his finger is stiff on the trigger.

“I’ll give it to ya,” he says. “You don’t know when to fuckin’ quit, Yeller.”

Wren tenses over his shoulder and Silas can’t help that his fingers flex in the stupid material of his dress. He isn’t worried — not yet. He’d wanted to kill Point but he’ll settle for this one. Point likes him best, so there’s gotta be something especially fucked up about him.

Slowly, he places Wren back on his feet, angling him behind him as much as he can without taking a hand off him. He flips the knife over again in the other. “You gonna get out of my way?” He asks.

Vineyard pumps his gun. “Take a step away from the girl,” he warns, “or she’s about to get real messy.”

Wren inhales sharply. He presses himself close at Silas’ back, clinging to his arm.

For the first time, something less than hopeful starts to worm its way up the back of Silas’ throat. It isn’t doubt, not yet, but if it grows anymore it will be. Vineyard is too far away, too close to the door and too far from Silas — Silas is big, fast, but not big or fast enough that he would be able to even get close enough to unravel Vineyard’s small intestine through his groin before Vineyard blows his head into such small pieces it would be doubtful there would even be enough of him left to put back together. And if it guaranteed Wren’s safety, of course, he would do it in a heartbeat. But if Silas dies here, now, permanently, Wren would probably never be safe again. And he definitely wouldn’t be safe in the aftermath, not here alone with Vineyard, not in such a short skirt.

For a fraction of a second, Silas thinks the clamour that bursts behind him could almost be a gunshot, but before he can even think to tense what’s left of the ruined door is blown out of the way by the calvary of armed guard that swarm into the room to flank Silas on all sides. To corner him.

Fuck.

Masks are pulled high and guns are lifted but it’s the laughter behind him, unnatural, that finally make his shoulders finally tense. Wren goes so still behind him it’s like he’s been turned to stone. Silas, instead, moves the quickest he’s ever moved, keeping Wren behind him as he pivots, angling himself between him and Point.

Point, who says, “this was a cute attempt, big guy. Really. Look at you! You almost made it.” Silas snarls, and Point’s grin stretches wider, more grotesque. He takes a step closer.

“Silas,” Wren breathes.

Fuck. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Silas wasn’t fast enough. Wren was supposed to be two doorways further away by the time the brigade caught up to Silas. Silas was gonna kill as many of them as he could, buy Wren as much time as he could, slow them down as much as he could before they finally put him down. Wren wasn’t supposed to still be here. Wren was supposed to be safe.

“Back the fuck up,” Silas warns.

Point grins even wider, hands behind his back as he saunters forwards, closer to Silas, almost leisurely. Silas’ lip pulls back from his teeth, but just when Point is almost in reaching distance, execution distance, Wren’s warmth leaves his back and he screams.

It happens too quickly. Wren is wrenched away from him and Silas turns, an instinct more than anything else, drawn to him, and as Vineyard wrenches Wren into his arms, off his feet, and Wren screams, Silas takes an instinctive step towards him and Point takes three in the same time. He drives his knife through the back of Silas’ knee with an almost inhuman strength, he pushes his knife into the back of Silas’ knee with so much force the blade comes out the other side. Time starts to slow, not to normal speed but even slower than that, when Point turns the knife, cracks Silas’ knee cap, and pulls a fistful of arteries and a wet chunk of meat out with the end of the blade.

Silas can feel that pain in every nerve ending in both his legs, biological and prosthetic. It knocks the wind out of him, and he doesn’t lose his balance, but he sways, and when he sways Point kicks his boot into the opened flesh into the back of his knee and completely separates Silas’ kneecap from the rest of his body. His leg gives out, and he drops onto his knees with a sound like splatter. He can feel the knife leave his hand but he doesn’t see where it lands. He doesn’t let himself scream, but he can’t help the winded, groaning sort of sound that’s knocked out of him. He doesn’t let himself scream, but Wren screams for him.

Vineyard’s gun is strapped to his back again, Wren at his chest. Wren, who wasn’t supposed to be here for this. Wren, who’s gonna suffer for Silas’ efforts.

Point stands in front of him. He takes his time unholstering a handgun for the sake of shoving the barrel down Silas’ throat, chipping one of his canines in the process. “You’ve been a very, very bad dog,” he says.

Silas scowls around the gun. He grabs Point by the throat.

He isn’t gentle. He means to kill him, to crush his windpipe, but Silas is losing a lot of blood very quickly, and he’d already been shot more than once. He grabs Point by the throat so hard that his face changes colour about four times in the span of the second it takes Silas to get his hands on him, before three soldiers, armed and dangerous, take Silas by the arm, between him and Point, and wrench it out of its socket with a crack so loud it echoes down the corridor. When they drop his arm again, it falls limp to his side, attached still to his body only by the skin of his shoulder, the bones completely severed.

This time, Silas roars. He can’t help it.

Point tips his head back towards the ceiling as he cackles. There’s already a bruise around his throat in the shape of Silas’ hand. “How did you think this was gonna go?” He teases. “Really? What do you think we do to dogs once they've started to bite?”

Silas meets his eye. He raises his eyebrows.

Point’s smile vanishes and he forces the gun a little further down the back of Silas’ throat. “You’ll get off lucky,” he tells him. “You’re just gonna be put down. The girl, on the other hand,” he says, and when Silas growls, low in his chest, Point grins again, right back to manic. “She’s gonna be punished greatly for your little performance today. It’s gonna be really miserable for her.” Wren makes a broken sound, a sob, and Point grins a little wider, stretched unnaturally over his face. “And something tells me you’re gonna be gone for a good, long time this time,” he says. “Might have worn a hole in her cervix by the time you see her again.”

Silas is bleeding so much it’s pooling around Vineyard’s feet already. The room starts to tilt as he lifts his head, and still, Silas flexes his fingers to try and get the feeling back and lifts his good arm, the arm still riddled with bullets. He grabs Point by the throat again.

The very last thing he sees before he dies isn’t Point, because he isn’t looking at him. He’s looking at Wren, a surreal streak of silvery light amid the grey, amid the black. He’s flushed with struggle and with crying, tears pouring down his face, shimmering in the fluorescent light. Hazy with blood loss, he looks the most surreal Silas has ever seen him.

“I’m so sorry,” he tries to say.

Then Point pulls the trigger, and he empties his gun into Silas’ face.

[kyber-crystal]

10 things i hate about you || f.w.

summary: rumor has it that you and fred weasley are going out. being the instigators you two are, you decide to play into said rumors. but just how far could you go before you lose sight of the line between fiction and reality? 

words: ~7.9k LMFAO I REALLY WENT OVERBOARD HERE

warnings: cheesiness, cliche 10 things i hate about you vibes, both y/n and fred being oblivious idiots. what’s more to love

a/n: you thought i’d avoid writing another fake dating fic? with fred? NEVER. ik there r some fake dating fred fics out there but i swear we need MORE bc this is the best trope ever idc. also made up a name for the school paper cs i forgot if it was a thing in the books/movies lol. reader is an implied gryffindor/ravenclaw but can technically be in whatever house you’d like : )

add yourself to my hp taglist here!

The problem with Hogwarts was that rumors spread through its halls like fiendfyre.

It all started during the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Harry had narrowly caught the Snitch after a Dementor false alarm and carried the team to victory, causing the stadium to explode into ground-shaking cheers.  Waves of deep crimson and gold were pouring onto the field and you almost got trampled in the midst of it until someone pulled you into the center. 

“There you are—I was looking all over for you,” Fred beamed. “You were watching, right?”

“I was sitting front row…you literally saw me, Fred,” you stated plainly. 

“I know, but I wanted to make sure,” he winked at you, sidelining you into a hug. “You look very pretty, by the way. I think my hat looks better on you than me.”

“Anddd there’s the woman of the hour! He couldn’t stop staring at you—almost crashed into the teachers’ section ‘cause of that,” Lee came over and clasped your shoulder. 

“That’s what that was all about? Freddie, you need to get it together!”

“Can’t help when you’re as alluring as a Veela,” the compliment rolled effortlessly off his tongue. He then tilted his chin down to kiss your forehead, and you didn’t bother pushing him away despite the fact that he was all sweaty after being up in the air. 

A bright flash of light pulled you out of Fred’s embrace, and you blinked to see Colin standing there with a wide grin on his face, camera in hand. 

“Just capturing the moment,” the younger Gryffindor said excitedly. “This is gonna be a good one!”

You thought nothing of it until you went down to the Great Hall for breakfast the following morning. You went over to find your Ravenclaw friends, who seemed to be huddled around something, staring at it intensely.

“Oh, hey Y/N!” Cho beamed brightly at you, moving over to make room for you to sit next to her. “Have you seen the latest school newsletter?”

You filled your plate and took a copy of the Hogwarts Daily Digest that Padma gave you. “No…what’s it all about?”

“Check page 3,” she told you. You took a bite of your toast first, pausing as you scanned over the page. At the front and center was a moving picture of you and Fred embracing, him pressing a kiss to your temple, smiles of pure bliss on both your faces. You had to admit that Colin had a way with pictures; so much so that you almost would’ve believed you and Fred were a true couple just by looking at the article. 

“So we’re going out, apparently,” you said, taking another bite of your food, “...Interesting.”

“Several students were interviewed about it, and they’re wondering if you guys are,” Cho explained. “With the way he kept looking over at you during the game, and how he was searching for you after it ended.” 

“I—I’ve ought to talk to Fred himself, see what he thinks about this—” you spluttered, feeling hot all of a sudden. “I just—we’re not even—”

“But you would be very cute together,” your best friend added. “I mean, you have known each other for how long now? It wouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone if you were.”

At the end of the day, you went to the library to squeeze in some quiet alone time for reading, curling up on one of the plushy sofas near the bookshelves. You were deep into a mythical book that Hermione recommended, fully zoned in for what felt like forever until the cushion sank a bit, indicating that someone had sat down next to you.

“What do you want, Fred,” you sighed without even looking up from your book. “Come to bother me again?”

He took the book from your hands in response and closed it. 

“Hey, I was reading that—” you began. 

“I wanted to ask you about the article,” he stated, “don’t you think Creevey’s quite the photographer?”

You scoffed. “If this is about us being a couple, you know we’re not.”

“I was going to suggest something else.”

“And what is that?”

“Given that half the school is talking about us already,” he referred to the whispers in the halls that followed you from class to class, “why not play into the rumors a bit?”

“So you’re suggesting that, what?”

“That we say we’re a couple.”

“...you want to pretend that we’re going out?”

“Why not?” 

“That’s insane,” you shot him a glare. “What do either of us get out of it?”

“Practice, of course,” Fred had a proud look on, “but also, why not have some fun with it?”

You stopped and thought about it for a second. He was right—who were you to not want to have a bit of fun? After all, it was just Fred; it couldn’t be that hard to fake-date someone, especially when you had no real feelings for them.

“Fine, but only on one condition.”

“What’s that, love?”

“Promise not to fall in love with me?” You stuck your hand out towards him. 

Fred took it and gave it a firm shake, his signature mischievous grin making its appearance. “As long as you don’t fall for me either.”

“Dream on.”

He leans forward, voice dropping to a low whisper. “10 galleons says you’ll fall in love with me first.”

“Oh, please. 20 says you won’t even last half as long.”

“You’re on.”

So it began—settling into the whole routine was surprisingly easy. But of course, it was probably easier since you had money on the line; asides from George, you and Fred were the most competitive people in the entire school. You’d do anything for extra money, glory, and infinite bragging rights. 

Making it a point to one-up each other, you began to brainstorm ways to really play up the whole “fake girlfriend” thing.

i. the pda competition, part 1

Monday afternoon’s Potions lesson proceeded as always, with Snape’s annoying, drawling voice instructing you on what to do. 

Today’s class was boring but ended early, the only downside being that you were assigned a hefty load of homework. 

“By the beginning of Wednesday’s class, you shall turn in to me two feet of parchment on the history of Strengthening Solution and its’ properties…” Snape ordered, “...for now, follow the instructions on the board. Ingredients are in the back. I expect the utmost perfection and accuracy…those who fail shall not be tolerated.”

Groaning internally, you headed to the back of the classroom towards the supply cabinets, Fred following close behind. Either Snape was out to get you both or it was sheer luck that had you paired together for this assignment. 

“Wait, you forgot something,” Fred called out as you were about to walk away. 

You turned around, a snarky reply ready. “What is—”

You didn’t even have the chance to finish your sentence when he grabbed you by the wrist and tugged you into his chest, kissing you square on the lips. You were completely taken by surprise and had no time to react whatsoever. 

Low wolf-whistles and “ooohs” reverbrated throughout the entire classroom as you broke apart. 

“What was that for?” you hissed. 

There was a devilish grin on his face, and you so desperately wanted to wipe it right off him. “Just trying to be a good fake boyfriend, of course,” he whispered into your ear.

“Touch me again without warning and I’ll break your nose,” you said in a low tone, ignoring the heat rising up your cheeks.

“Miss Y/L/N…Mr. Weasley…” Snape said lowly, “...back to your seats, both of you. This is a classroom, not a bedroom. Get to work.”

Several students giggled at this and you huffed, heading back to your seat. You didn’t speak more than a few sentences to Fred for the remainder of the lesson, face still flushed from the sudden incident. He kept stealing glances at you as you worked in silence, adding the ingredients into your bubbling cauldron with careful, precise movements.

“That’s 1-0 to me,” he reminded you. “Better hurry and catch up, or I’m winning those Galleons.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” you muttered, uncapping the bottle in front of you and pouring some of the liquid in.

ii. the pda competition, part 2

After Fred had kissed you in the middle of a packed classroom, you were determined to get back at him, racking your brain for ideas. 

You sat under a sprawling tree by the Great Lake with Cedric, Cho, Padma, Ernie, and several other Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students. Somehow, you got lucky and all had matching free periods today, taking the opportunity to have a picnic by the water together. 

“A little birdie told me that you and a special someone were going out,” Cedric pointed a finger at you, the other arm slung around Cho’s shoulders. “Now what’s going on?”

“They’ve always been mad about each other, only took them a million years to see it,” Ernie butted in. “Isn’t it obvious? One would think they’re already married at this point, though.” 

“Who’s married to who?” you heard someone ask from behind you. 

“Speak of the devil,” Ernie said, “there he is!”

“Was going to check on you—see you at supper?” Fred lightly touched your cheek. You nodded blindly, the skin of his hand hot on your face. 

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.”

You turned back around to see everyone smirking at you knowingly. 

“What?” you questioned, adjusting the collar of your shirt as if nothing had happened. 

“Aren’t you two the cutest,” Cho laughed breathily, “Ernie was right. It’s like you’re married.”

“Oh shut up, we’re still much too young for that.”

“Not for long!” 

Of course the only empty seat at the Gryffindor table that evening was next to Fred, and he made sure that you were sitting as close to him as humanly possible. All it would take was an extra few inches and you’d fully be sitting on his lap. You shook off the embarrassment and snapped back into it, determined to win the bet.

“I missed you all day, you know,” he admitted, placing a dinner roll onto your plate for you. “Where have you been?”

“By the lakes,” you said matter-of-factly. “Where else would I be?”

“With me, obviously.” 

“I’d rather be anywhere else.”

“Well that hurt,” he pretended to look hurt. “I thought I was your favorite.”

“Second to last,” you joked. “Hey, wait—there’s something on your mouth.”

“Where?” he tried motioning around with his fingers but to no avail. 

“Right…here…” you murmured, gently grasping his chin and pressing a lingering kiss to the corner of his lip, tasting a hint of the sweet cranberry sauce he’d been eating on the tip of your tongue. Loud gasps erupted through the Great Hall at the sudden private but public display. 

Fred inhaled sharply—he knew you were bold, but like this? For once, the jokester had nothing sarcastic to counter you with and was at a loss for words. 

When you pulled away, both yours and his faces were a shade of deep scarlet.

“Cat got your tongue?” you smirked, discreetly slipping a sheet of paper into his back pocket. “That’s 1-1 now, Fred.”

Again, Fred was left speechless. 

“I feel like I’m interrupting something very…” Ron coughed, damn near choking on his chicken leg. “Intimate. Scandalous. Very—”

“Shut it, Ronald,” you cut him off. “Can’t a girl snog her boyfriend when she wants?”

More jaws dropped at your reply, and you simply continued eating, a victorious grin on your face. Fred looked down and fished the note out of his pocket, unfolding the smooth parchment to reveal your tidy penmanship. 

Now who’s the flustered one? you know where to find me if you need me xx

You were so going to win. 

iii. the serenade

You found yourself sitting on the bench watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team practice—it was Fred’s idea to show up to as many of them as possible to really sell the whole “fake dating” thing. You didn’t mind all that much, as you got bored easily and liked to have a change of scenery every so often while you were studying. 

A loud, abrupt screech caused you to look up from your textbook and you winced, covering your ears. 

“You’re just too good to be true…can’t take my eyes off of you…” a melodic voice began flowing across the stadium. Confused, you set your book down and stood up, looking around for the source of the noise. 

“You’d be like Heaven to touch, I wanna hold you so much…at long last love has arrived…” 

Fred suddenly appeared from the commentator’s box, holding a microphone. He casually leaned against the pole before sliding down and hitting the bleachers, gracefully making his way down the steps. 

“...And I thank God I’m alive…” his eyes remained focused on you, blazing gold and green. “You’re just too good to be true…” 

“What the—”

He spun around and pointed at you, the corners of his lips quirking up in a childish grin, “...Can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“HIT IT, WOOD!” you heard someone (was that Lee?) yell, and music began blasting from the speakers.

Your friends were eyeing you with delight, fully entertained by the fact that you had absolutely no clue what was happening. Fred continued singing while he sauntered down the bleachers with a grace that you had never seen. 

“I love you, baby, and if it's quite alright

I need you, baby, to warm the lonely night

I love you, baby, trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby, don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby, now that I found you, stay

And let me love you, baby, let me love you”

A blush coated your cheeks as he finally approached you, taking one of your hands in his and twirling you around. He held your gaze the entire time, eyes alight with what looked like genuine joy and passion. The rest of your classmates joined in as they crowded around you, joining together in one voice. 

It was impossible to hold back the smile creeping up your face as Fred continued to sing—he was undeniably charming, and you had to admit, this was well worth suffering a brief loss for. 

“Oh pretty baby, trust in me when I say…” the final lyrics left his mouth and everyone burst into applause. He made a show of bowing dramatically and kissing your hand in an exaggerated motion. 

You rolled your eyes at the overly extravagant gesture. But deep down, you had enjoyed every second of the impromptu serenade. 

Within minutes after it ended, Fred’s musical spectacle was the talk of the school. Students nudged each other in the corridors as you passed by, whispering words of encouragement, saying how they wished for a relationship like yours, and wondering where they could possibly find someone like Fred. 

You felt him slip something into your robe’s pocket. Fred had sidled up next to you as you headed up the stairs to the common room, still grinning widely. 

“2-1,” he reminded you, kissing your cheek before turning to the Fat Lady and uttering the password. He stepped through the portrait hole and turned back to wait for you, then walked all the way inside. “Better continue that game of catch up, I might just steal the title of ‘best fake partner ever’ from you.”

There’s that beautiful smile, the note read. Keep it on for me, will you?

iv. the nightmare

Your body seemed to have a mind of its own, because it was 3:27 a.m. and you were wide awake after barely squeezing in a few hours of sleep. 

Nothing you did worked; even the Potion for Dreamless Sleep had failed to keep the nightmares at bay. You didn’t last long before jolting awake, beads of sweat forming at your forehead and chest heaving with raggedy, jagged breaths. 

After several minutes of tossing and turning you gave up, quietly tiptoeing down the stairs to the common room. The fireplace was on, indicating that someone was already there—

“Y/N?” Fred turned around from his spot on the couch to look at you. “What’re you doing up at this hour?”

You yawned, “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Finishing an assignment,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. Sheets of parchment, a vial of ink, and several books were spread out on the coffee table. “You?”

“Nothing,” you lied, sitting down next to him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

He didn’t miss the hoarse tone in your voice nor your tear-stained face, stopping what he was doing to fully focus on you. “Now I know that’s not true. What’s bothering you, really?”

“I said I’m fine, just can’t sleep.” You let out a shuddering sigh and attempted to will the tears away, but your vision began to blur. “Go finish your work—”

“Hey.” Fred’s voice was soft. “Come here.”

His arms gingerly wrapped around your trembling frame to envelop you into a tight hug. He reached one hand up to smooth out your hair as you shook with silent sobs, your hands curling  into the fabric of his robes as if holding onto him would keep you from slipping away and losing yourself again. 

Fred was never one to be patient, but he knew that you just needed this moment free of chaos. So he waited, laying there with you as he continued murmuring soothing words into your ear, gently rubbing your back; he’d wait for as long as he’d need to. 

You didn’t know how much time passed until the tears ran themselves dry and your throat felt like it had been scraped raw. 

“Want to tell me what happened?” he suggested. “But only if you’re comfortable, that is.”

You hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to tell him. Maybe he’d think you were strange…but seeing how he looked so genuine in that moment changed your mind. 

“I lost you…I lost everyone. I watched you die, Fred.” Your voice was cracked and raw, which sent a pang through his chest. The image of Fred’s lifeless body trapped between the rubble flashed across your vision, feeling as if it was wrapping its cold fingers around your throat. “I watched you all die and I couldn’t save you.”

“But I’m alive and well right now, aren’t I?” he assured you calmly, “I’ll be here for as long as you want me around. You’ll have to fight to the death to get rid of me.”

Managing a broken laugh, you looked up at him. “Really?”

“Really. What are fake boyfriends for, anyway?” His hand found its place against your cheek, fingers gently skimming across your skin. You leaned into his touch and let out a sigh, lips just barely brushing over his palm.  

“No one’s here, Fred…you don’t need to pretend.”

“I know I don’t.” Any and all traces of half-witted sarcasm were gone; wiped clean off his face. Instead, his eyes were glossed over with concern as they raked over yours. “Figured I could keep you company? Since I didn’t want you to be alone in your head like this.”

“I’d like that.”

He then passed a familiar folded square to you, and you opened it with a smile.

I’m here, whenever you need - F.W

v. the hospital wing run-in

“For Godric’s sake, how many more times will I have to see you in here?” Madam Pomfrey demanded as she hurried around, setting a metal tray by your bedside. “This is the third time this month.”

“Sorry,” you winced as you shifted your injured leg onto the pillow she’d set out. 

“What is it this time?”

“I broke my ankle.”

“Doing what, exactly?”

Pursing your lips, you elected to tell her the modified version of the story, which was the one where you had tripped while going down the stairs, not the one that included running down the Astronomy Tower after sneaking up there for a dare (the twins’ doing). 

She shook her head in disbelief, glancing over the cuts on your face and fixing the bandages around your foot. “You’ll be in here for a few days. We’ll have to regrow the bones in your foot and ankle…my, how someone can break this many bones just from missing a step, I can’t seem to understand…what are all of you doing here?”

You followed her gaze to where Hermione, Ginny, Cho, and Fred were standing by the hospital wing’s entrance, alight with excitement upon seeing that you were awake.

“Guys—”

“Miss Granger, Miss Weasley, and Mr. Weasley, need I remind you that no visitors are allowed at this time! I advise that you all head back,” Madam Pomfrey ordered sharply. 

“But we haven’t seen her all last night and this morning! Can we just stay for a minute,” Hermione begged. “Please?”

The older woman sighed as she scanned your friends (and fake? boyfriend’s) desperate, pleading faces. “...Alright, then. Don’t stay too long and for Godric’s sake, let her breathe.”

They immediately crowded around your bed and Fred walked over to your side, crouching down so that you were eye level with him. 

“There’s my princess,” his charming persona was back in full force, and he smoothly brushed a few stray hairs out of your face. For what felt like the eleventh time, he was swooping in to kiss your cheek. Not that you were counting. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here,” you winked as you attempted to prop yourself into an upright position, but failed, giving up and flopping back down. “Ow. My foot.”

Ginny pretended to throw up on Hermione, who then elbowed her in the stomach.  “Ow!” she yelped. “What was that for?” 

“Let’s leave the happy couple alone,” she hissed, and they slowly backed away to give you some space. 

Fred pulled up a chair next to your bedside, propping his chin in his hand to stare at you. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean for you to end up with five broken bones.”

“And a concussion, a killer headache, and not to mention dozens of sore muscles,” you grimaced, but felt a slight ache in your chest when you realized he looked genuinely guilty. “I don’t blame you, really. I mean, I was just as stupid and reckless. I definitely could’ve been more careful but I wasn’t.”

“I’m supposed to mess up your lipstick,” he groaned, “not your bones.”

“Someone took ‘public displays of affection’ the wrong way,” you said sarcastically, and then there was a brief moment of silence before you both burst into laughter.

“Damn right he di—OW, Hermione!”

“Gin, let’s go!” With that, the two girls left the hospital wing, leaving the two of you alone.

“Why are you here, anyway? Hermione and Ginny are because they’re my friends, and you’re my—”

“—lovely, charming, undeniably handsome boyfriend, of course. Why wouldn’t I be here?” Fred finished your sentence for you.

“Right,” your voice was dripping with sarcasm, “I just can’t seem to get rid of you, can I? It seems like you’re always around.”

“And yet, you don’t push me away,” a smile tugged at his lips. “Which clearly means that I’m just that irresistible. I don’t need a charm or some silly love potion to reel you in.”

“Don’t think that because I’m incapacitated, this game is over,” you warned him. “I will beat your arse to a pulp, and you’ll be twenty Galleons lighter. I bet you’re madly in love with me already.”

“Believe what you want, my darling,” he sing-songed, twirling his wand between his fingers. “But we all know I’ve already won this game.”

“Yeah, right. We’re tied now, by the way. That’s for getting me injured.”

“Oi! You can’t just—”

“Shh…don’t come crying to me ‘till you lose.”

He ended up staying overnight. 

You didn’t protest at all. 

Neither did Madam Pomfrey later that evening after seeing him slumped over on your bed, fast asleep, one hand clutching yours like you were the only thing he had left to lose. 

vi. the howler 

For once you managed to get to the Great Hall before Fred did. The bloke was always criminally late or ridiculously early to everything; it was almost laughable how there was no in between for him. 

He finally showed up just ten minutes before breakfast was supposed to end, breathing hard with his hair all messed up.

“What’d I miss?” he asked you.

“Nothing,” you responded. “Just another ordinary day…”

A gust of wind suddenly swept through the hallway causing the napkins to flutter in the air. A giant grey owl came swooping down onto the table and landed straight in front of Fred, clutching an envelope in its curved talons. 

“What’s Errol doing here? We’re not supposed to get our daily mail til’ tomorrow,” Ron gawked, “surprised that he’s here given the number of times he’s collapsed mid-delivery—oh blimey Fred, you must be in trouble! You’ve got a Howler!”

Several Gryffindors around you giggled at this. 

With a slight look of confusion and fear, Fred carefully removed the seal on the bright red envelope. Molly Weasley’s booming voice immediately came bursting from the pages. 

“FRED WEASLEY, HOW COULD YOU NOT TELL ME THAT YOU WERE DATING MY FUTURE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW! I AM DISAPPOINTED IN YOU—Y/N dear, if you’re hearing this, I’m very happy for you and hope to see you at the Burrow soon, I’ll make sure to whip up some homemade custard for you—YOU OUGHT TO TREAT HER RIGHT, BOY, OR ELSE! I BROUGHT YOU INTO THIS WORLD AND I SURE AS MERLIN CAN TAKE YOU RIGHT OUT!”

A silence fell over the entire Great Hall and Fred sat there, in shock. The red envelope folded itself up and then burst into flames, its ashes crumbling to the floor. 

“I’ve never seen him turn that red,” George sniggered. “You’re bloody brilliant, Y/N.”

“Y-you did this?” Fred spluttered. 

“Can’t say I didn’t,” you hummed, patting his head affectionately. “Your mum was bound to find out, one way or another.”

“And you thought this was the best idea?”

“Aww, is little Freddie all embarrassed?” you teased. “Never thought I’d live to see that day.”

“Quit gloating,” the redhead grumbled. “You haven’t won yet. Better sleep with one eye open tonight.”

vii. the pda competition, part ∞

As it turned out, continuing to slip into your fake relationship only became more fun as the days and weeks dragged on. And being competitive only added to the fun, as you were scrambling to one-up each other. 

You often opted to hold his hand when walking from place to place, which wasn’t difficult given that you were almost always with him now and had to sell the idea that you really were together. His hands were rough and calloused from all those hours working on joke shop prototypes, but they were still surprisingly comforting. A way to keep you grounded when your head got stuck in the clouds. 

Fred’s signature move was, of course, dropping random kisses on your cheek when you didn’t expect it. Sometimes, when he was feeling bolder than usual, that would change to the tender spot between your ear and jaw, your shoulder, or your nose. And each of those times he made sure they were extra drawn-out and that you were in a crowded area so others would see it. The courtyard. The Quidditch pitch. The classroom (two of those incidents were in Potions, much to Snape’s dismay. He didn’t even bother taking points off due to being too disgusted).

“I have a massive exam today,” he declared loudly to you as you stood in front of his upcoming class together. “I think I’m going to need a kiss.”

“Why?” you scoffed. “What do you need that for?”

“For good luck,” Fred said, “it’s kind of a tradition, isn’t it?”

“You…want a kiss for good luck?” you started.  

“I’m waiting…” he sang, face turned slightly in an invitation. You sighed and went up on your tiptoes, doing as he asked. “Thank you. But you have terrible aim…you missed.”

“I fear you’re having way too much fun with this,” you muttered. “Don’t make excuses. My lips are not going near yours unless they absolutely need to now.”

“Oh come on, you know you’re having loads of fun too,” he called out as he walked into the classroom. “Catch you later, sweetheart!”

viii. the butterbeer (alt: the pda competition, part ∞)

It was the day of another Hogsmeade outing and you were hand-in-hand with Fred as you walked down the cobblestone streets together. You had planned to spend the day alone for the most part and join Cho for a meal, but Fred had cornered you at breakfast and insisted you go on a date with him.

“To keep up the façade,” he insisted. “Wouldn’t people find it odd if the castle’s favorite couple wasn’t together?” 

You nodded and didn’t protest further; you had no energy to do so anyway. It was far too cold for your taste; you had been dragged out without having time to grab your gloves, blowing hot hair into your hands that were steadily growing numb. 

“Love,” he called for you as he took your hands in his, “oh, your fingers feel like ice.”

“No…shit…” your teeth chattered as you attempted to respond steadily. “Might lose ‘em if we don’t hurry up and get inside—”

“Wait one second,” Fred said as you two stopped right outside the Three Broomsticks, wasting no more time in taking his gloves off and handing them to you to put on, while he wrapped his house scarf around your neck. “There. Let’s head in.”

“But—”

“Boyfriend duties, remember?” he winked at you as he pushed the door open, holding it for you to step inside first. “Come on. I think a butterbeer or two’ll warm you up.”

Fred’s hand remained on the small of your back, pressing in gently to lead you to a cozy booth in the back. The added warmth felt quite nice, you thought, but you also wondered how he managed to stay like a human furnace when it the weather outside was so dreadfully cold. 

It was hard not to stare at him; catching his gaze every so often while sipping your drink. His hair was all tousled from the frigid winds; you took notice of the way it slightly curled out at the ends, glowing under the hazy yellow bar lights. It was annoyingly endearing how he could look so flawless without any effort and even more so that you didn’t have anything snarky to say. 

“Fred, I think we’re being followed…” you whispered as you scanned the near vicinity, fingers brushing against the rim of your mug. There in the far opposite corner sat Padma, Ernie, Cedric, and Cho, attempting to look nonchalant as if they weren’t half-stalking you but they were doing a rather terrible job at it. You quickly looked away.

“So? Isn’t that what we want—for people to see us?” he countered with a tone of confidence. His voice dropped low as he continued to speak to you. “Why don’t we give them a show? No need to be so private.”

Your face burned. “What do you—”

“Not like that,” he chuckled lowly, “what did you think I meant?”

“I…”

Fred paused, then raised his hand and brushed something off your cheek with his thumb. “You’ve got something on your face.”

“Oh, so we’re playing that game now, are we?”

“Indeed, my lady.”

You scoffed quietly and imitated his motion, reaching up to smooth out the crease that had formed between his brows. “Put a smile on your face, why don’t you? You look better that way.”

“I always look good, though.”

“I look better than your greasy arse.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged. “I’d like to see you tr—”

Before you could say anything else and before he could stop himself from what he was doing, Fred placed a hand on the nape of you neck and pulled you in, kissing you without another word. All protests left behind flew right out the window (along with your morals, too, you thought) and for a split second, it almost didn’t feel like you were pretending at all. 

When you broke apart eventually, breaths a little heavy, neither of you needed to look over to see that your friends were gaping in shock, mouths dropped wide open. Sure, Fred was confident and cocky and you were equally so, but both of you would be lying if you said this didn’t take you by surprise. 

“You still keeping track?” His voice still had that low, almost husky tone to it. He was cupping your cheek now, and you let him keep doing so. “There can only be one victor, right?”

“Wouldn’t forget it,” you exhaled. “You think we look convincing enough right now?”

“Without a shadow of a doubt.”

ix.  the thunderstorm 

The day’s exciting Care of Magical Creatures lesson was cut thirty minutes short due to the heavy downpour that had suddenly came crashing down, bringing with it a booming thunderstorm and soaking all your clothes within minutes. 

“Well, that’s it fer today, everyone,” Hagrid announced, “now let’s head back inside, don’ want yeh to catch a cold, we’ll continue when the weather lets up…”

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and flipped the hood on over your head, eyes narrowing as you stared up at the suddenly stormy grey sky. It just had to be on the one day you got to go outside and do something exciting, damn it….

It was freezing, nearly as horrible as that one day in Hogsmeade, and you wanted nothing more in that moment than to simply curl up by the fireplace with Hermione, the Patil twins, and Cho, and talk all evening long. If you could even make it back to the castle in one, unfrozen piece, maybe you’d at least get your hands on some hot chocolate from the kitchens…

A warm hand found yours amidst the strong winds, and all of a sudden you didn’t feel so cold anymore. 

As if he had read your mind, Fred said, “how about we sneak into the kitchens and grab something to drink? Hot chocolate, perhaps?”

“Sounds perfect,” you smiled and he draped an arm over your shoulders, bringing you into his side. It felt so natural now, like this wasn’t part of some long-standing bet to fool the whole school; as if you were just two best friends trying to keep warm in subpar temperatures. And it was almost too easy to get used to it. 

“Oblivious idiots. I told them for years that they’d be perfect together and it’s only this year that they start going out,” George exclaimed from several yards behind, walking side-by-side with Lee Jordan. “Dunno why it took them so long.”

“Love takes time, obviously,” said Lee as he watched Fred lean into your ear and say something, and you giggled lightly in response, “and now, what matters is that I finally have an excuse to make fun of them during Quidditch matches.”

“Oh—good point.”

“And you’ve noticed that he stopped pranking her? Unlike him, isn’t it?” 

“Wait…” George paused as he took in Lee’s questions. His mouth formed an ‘o’ in realization. “He’s utterly whipped, that git.”

“What happens when boyfriend duties overcome prankster duties…this is perfect. Professor Flitwick owes me 2 galleons. I called it that he’d fall first!” 

“You bet on them?” George squawked. “With Flitwick?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t either,” Lee laughed, “I know you did too.”

The expression on George’s face shifted into one of defeat. “I lost,” he muttered, “I owe McGonagall 3 galleons.”

x. verum exeat (let the truth come out) 

The Gryffindor common room was alight with chatter once again. After a long, grueling week of exam revisions, Quidditch practice, and a brutal match to be remembered, Lee and the twins decided that a small celebration was in order. They had originally planned on inviting half the damn school but after arguing with Hermione, had to shrink the party down to just their smaller, usual friend group (they swore up and down that they’d clean up and not get detention like last time, but she wouldn’t buy it). 

But you knew that if things had the Weasley twins’ names pasted next to them, they’d be far from peaceful; as far as you could possibly get—no matter how big or small. 

“Oh, there you are,” you heard someone say from behind, and turned around to see that it was Hermione.

“Not drinking?”

“Someone’s got to take care of the boys after they go wild, right?” she explained. “Besides…I can’t stand the taste of firewhisky. It burns.”

You offered a tired half-smile and agreed. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Hermione seemed to be deep in thought for a moment until she told you, “You’re very lucky, you know.”

“What are you talking about?” 

“To have Fred, that is. To find someone who’s that in love with you, it’s quite rare.” 

“Oh, please,” you tried to suppress a laugh, “I told you why we’re doing what we’re doing.” 

“And?” Hermione raised an eyebrow at you, “feelings change. Bet or no bet, he cares about you and anyone would be crazy not to see that. Ronald is half-blind and he can tell, too. You can’t possibly tell me that everything you’ve done up to this point has been a lie.” 

“It’s meant nothing to me,” you said bitterly. “I hate him.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. And it doesn’t help that he’s everywhere,” you stopped to take a swig of firewhisky, “and I can’t stand it!”

“Do you not, really?”

“I do, but I—”

“You what?”

“I just hate him!” 

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think? I hate everything about him!” you exclaimed, exasperated. “I hate the way he always tries to compete with me, I hate the way he doesn’t take things seriously, I hate that stupid, annoying little smirk he has on his face half the time I see him—”

You inhaled quickly; it felt like you’d just drank an entire vital of Veritaserum with the way that words were tumbling out of your mouth. Hermione gave you a look that seemed to say ‘Go on,’ so you did, “—I hate the way he walks down to the Great Hall every morning with his annoyingly perfect messy hair, I hate the way he risks freezing his arse off to give me his favorite gloves so that I don’t get hypothermia, I hate the way it’s so easy for him to kiss—borderline snog me like it’s nothing, I hate how this is all just supposed to be a game of pretend, and—and most of all, I hate the way he made me fall in love with him without even trying. I hate the way I don't actually hate him. Not even close, not even a little bit…not even at all…”

“You…really mean that?”

You whirled around to see that Fred was standing right behind you with his hands behind his back, eyes hopeful, and you felt your heart drop down to your stomach. “Fred—”

“Y/N, I—”

Suddenly it seemed like the walls were closing in on you from all sides, the room spinning; and then, everything around you jumbled into one chaotic mess of noise and color. Without looking to see either his or Hermione’s reactions, without caring that half the room had stopped to see what was going on, you pushed past your friends and quickly clambered out of the portrait hole. 

“What was that about?” Ron’s nose crinkled in confusion. “So much for being a cute couple. Now this is just sad.”

“Will you shut it, Ronald,” Hermione whacked him on the shoulder. 

“OW—”

“Stop being so dramatic! Don’t let me catch you drinking even one more shot or I will drag your arse back to bed,” she snapped. 

“Pleeeease do, I would lov—ow, ow, OW! OKAY!” Ron exclaimed as she pinched his ear and began dragging him away. “Okay! I’ll leave them alone, I’ll stop…”

Chest heaving and vision blurring with tears, you rushed outside, desperate for a breath of fresh air. It was quiet in the courtyard asides from the faint trickling of water but that did little to calm you down; it was still too loud, too chaotic, too much. Sitting down at the marbled edge of one of the fountains, you tried to catch your breath and balance, but the world still kept spinning…it felt like it wouldn’t stop spinning; for Merlin’s sake. All you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and disappear forever, or jump off the Astronomy tower and fly off to a distant land. You didn’t want to have to worry about how you poured your entire damn heart out in the middle of the common room about your fake boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend that you realized, with horror, you had begun to develop not-fake feelings for. 

A chill ran through you at that moment and you shivered.

Then the feeling of something warm—a thick coat—being draped over your shoulders shook you out of your trance. You instinctively slid it tighter around yourself.

“Thought I might find you out here,” said Fred. You opened your mouth, ready to ask how in Godric’s name he knew where you were at all times when he didn’t even have the Maurader’s Map anymore, but stopped. This was Fred Weasley, and you had spent an unhealthy amount of time around each other over the past several months that he had to have picked up on your little habits. He was more observant than he let on. 

“What are you doing out here?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him. 

“I couldn’t leave you alone outside to freeze, could I?” he asked, sitting down next to you. “What kind of boyfriend would that make me?”

“Please, just…” you inhaled sharply, “I can’t do this. You won. I lost. The game’s over, Weasley.” 

“On a last-name basis now, are we? Ouch,” he said jokingly, but dropped the teasing lilt in his voice when he noticed your eyes starting to water. “Talk to me, Y/N.”

“It just isn’t fair,” you whispered, looking down at your feet. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not fair,’” your voice faltered, “you’re not supposed to do that. To do this.”

“Do what?”

“To sabotage the bet. To make me lose track of the scores.”

“Well, I stopped counting, you know,” Fred admitted, tucking a hair behind your hair. “There’s no need to keep track anymore, I think we’ve done enough convincing, don’t you think?”

“But that’s the problem!” your voice cracked as you finally turned to look at him. “It isn’t that I’m probably going to be dozens of Galleons poorer after this. It’s that I’m feeling something I shouldn’t, that…that you made me fall in love with you—”

“Y/N—”

“—I hate the way I care about you far more than I should,” you continued on, “and I hate myself even more for even wishing what we had was real. Because it was all fake, Fred, and you know it. We were faking it, and—”

“Y/N,” he repeated more sternly this time, causing you to stop mid sentence. “Look, I already told you I stopped keeping track. After that night in the common room….that’s when I realized I couldn’t. Lee damn near had to hit me over the head and force-feed me Veritaserum to admit that I was in deep. Galleons and glory be damned, I didn’t care about any of that anymore; it was easy for me to pretend when I was already in love with you.”

“But we weren’t supposed to fall in love, that was the rule,” you sniffed, wiping a tear from your cheek, “I thought we were supposed to follow the rules.”

Fred’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Well, I think some rules are made to be broken.”

And then, he was closing the gap and connecting your lips in a deep kiss. The gentle motion cut through the chilly evening air, washing over you in a blazing heat that had you melting into a haze of firewhisky, adrenaline, and something that smelled distinctly like a crackling log fire and cinnamon. 

You had kissed him multiple times before this, but this one felt different than all the rest. It didn’t feel like you were doing it for show in the slightest; it felt genuine and warm and so real. 

And the biggest difference was that you never wanted it to come to an end. 

“So?” The grin on his face was palpable; contagious, as you broke apart, “What do you say, we stop faking it?”

“Are you fake breaking up with me?” you gasped and pretended to look surprised. “Way to ruin the moment.”

“I’m asking to real-date you, darling,” he said.

“There’s no money on the line this time?”

“No,” he hummed as he leaned forward to kiss you a second time and pretended to think for a second, “but there might be something else on the line instead.”

“And what is that ‘something else?’”

“You’ll have to wait a few years and see.”

xi. the promise 

—FOUR YEARS LATER—

Fred was a great planner, of course. “Brilliant,” Harry would say, “absolutely brilliant.” He might’ve been a jokester, but he was a very organized jokester. He always knew what he was going to do and when. 

So when it came to you, he thought he had a plan. He thought he had it planned for years; he was thinking fireworks, extravagant displays in the sky, taking you on a sunset ride across Romania on one of Charlie’s dragons. Something to match your free and daring spirit. 

But, the moment ended up presenting itself on its own. 

It was an ordinary night with yours and Hermione’s families joining the Weasleys for a quiet weekend at the Burrow. Mr. Weasley was listening intently as Mr. Granger and Harry explained the function of rubber ducks and the Internet in great detail, and the rest of you chatted with your parents,  Mrs. Weasley, and Mrs. Granger by the kitchen counter about post-graduation plans. 

Mrs. Granger had made an off-hand, passing comment about how lovely your silver bracelet—the one with charms of yours’ and Fred’s initials and Patronuses dangling from it—looked on your wrist. And then Fred was saying, “I know something else that would look great on her,” and taking a small box out of his pocket and flipping it open, revealing a blinding bright, silvery diamond ring. 

Even as shouts of realization and cheers of joy rose up from around the kitchen, the world seemed to fade away into complete silence when he put the ring on your finger and encircled his arms around your torso, kissing your cheek and whispering into your ear, 

“I told you there was something else, didn’t I?” 

tags: @xhanthexzoria @arkofblake @fictionalsimp449 @polar-myst @katelikeslaughs @lmllsl @schlattandcompany

[tastesousweet]

⭒ blurb : calling hamzah your “friend”

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary : headcannons/blurb based on the tiktok trend of calling your partner “friend”

mickey speaks : since ppl really liked my first lil blurb imma just play out all my tt fantasies with our fake bf :D also pls send me any hamzah reqs my brain is very empty lmfao!!!!

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

you prop your phone up against the vase of flowers on your dining room table, capturing both you and hamzah in frame.

“guysss!! look my friend brought me takeout hibachi for dinner tonight!” you squeal and lift the styrofoam box to show off your meal.

hamzah doesn’t catch it the first time, he’s honestly tweaking because he stopped to get you both dinner right after the gym.

he feels starved but maintains composure and a smile for your tiktok bit

“i just got the basic fried rice, veggies, and chicken. i think my friend got the same, hamzah what’d you get?”

his eyebrows pinch in confusion for a second, “uh yeah, i got the same as you.”

“okay first bites! i’ll have my friend go first” you can’t help but smile when you grab the phone and start to record hamzah, but he’s paused holding his fork in the air.

“why do you keep saying that?” he softly asks through a laugh.

“what?”

“callin’ me your friend?”

“are we not friends...?" "i mean yeah sure but like not just that?" "you're confusing me, just take your bite please we’re gonna run out of time on this”

he nods his head compliantly and exaggerates a hum of “mmm!” after his bite before taking your phone to film yours.

“okay friend, your turn!” he loudly mocks with a wide grin.

you try not to laugh while taking a bite yourself

“it's actually so good, i needed this right now.”

you now record the both of you, “okay my friend and i are gonna finish this and then we’ll be back with more bestie activities!”

as soon as you say 'friend' again hamzah leaves the frame to chuckle through the amount of food in his mouth.

“right, best friend?” you urge some more

he swallows and pettily glances from side to side, “where's the best friend at???”

“okay he’s trippin’ but we’ll be back”

you're both in your bathroom now, hamzah reads over the packaging of two sheet face masks while you pull your hair away from your face with a fuzzy cat-eared headband.

"'kay, now we're gonna do these face masks together, because hamzah’s such a good friend!” you hold and rub his arm.

he puffs his lips and closes his eyes in defeat while shaking his head, “stop,” he looks down at you, noticing your headband, “that’s cute,” he flicks one of the cat ears on your headband.

“you look like one of those get ready with me girls; you'd be like,” he mockingly pretends to push his hair back, “‘get ready with me to lie on the internet!’”

you laugh with him and add to the joke as well, "get ready with me to kill my boy-friend! my friend!" your eyes widen and you try hide the embarrassment.

hamzah quite literally points and laughs, "look at you! even you know you're a damn lie! girl, get outta here!"

cuts to a clip where it’s just hamzah talking to your phone as he shifts the mask around on his face, “i don’t even know if i’m doin’ this right, bruh.” he looks into the camera, “oh hell nah, i look crazy!”

“it feels so weird…” he taps at the slick, cold mask some more before coming close to the camera again, “guys im having a fucking identity crisis. why’s my girlfriend gaslighting me right now?"

“like, i didn’t even know that girls knew how to do that…comment down below right now and give me tips on how to understand women.”

“okay i found one, look how cute!” you’re back and holding another fuzzy headband with a bow in the middle.

hamzah laughs, “i love you, but im not wearing that.”

in the next clip of course he’s wearing it, “aw don't we look so cute?”

finally cuts to a clip of you later that night throwing yourself next to him in bed and flipping the camera to record him as he plays candy crush, curled under the comforter. “hi babbyyyyy! i was joking about the friend thing i know you’re my boyfriend.”

“i know you know i’m your boyfriend,” he distractedly mumbles, laying on his side while continuing to move his thumb around his phone screen.

you flip the camera once more as you wrap an arm around him and squish your face on top of his hooded head. he looks into the camera and smirks to himself when he sees your sweet face.

he sticks his tongue out obnoxiously, yells “goodnight vlog!!!” and covers your phone's camera with his hand forcing a loud cackle out of you.

[tokuvivor]

For this past Saturday’s final Halloween Movie Night of the month (this one focusing on the holiday itself, as well as Day of the Dead), once again, you’ll be getting highlights from both me and @violetganache42! So, here you have ‘em:

"Trick or Treat":

The triplets in their iconic Halloween costumes!

The rip having so much fucking camera movement and low volume

The Trick or Treat song!

@puffyducks: "she hurt his fragile masculinity"

The triplets watching Witch Hazel mess with Donald like: "Oh, boy! Violence!"

This fucking panel lmao

"The Town Where Everyone Was Nice!" (Rewatch):

"Have you ever been to Bahia?"

Panchito and José appearance!

Saludos Amigos easter egg!

The whole scene about Donald accidentally dropping Dewey's egg ��

Scrooge still being a hater lol

Huey: "Uncle Donald, you're very successful. You raised three boys and are rich in love. Isn't that the true measure of success?"

Scrooge and Donald: "No!"

Violet: "How is that not successful?!"

Violet sharing GIFs of various moments from the episode like last time:

Autism diet (Donald's just like us FR!) (i.e. macaroni and cheese)

@alex31624: "Webby has fallen"

Violet: "in Lego City"

Puffy and Violet making FNAF jokes, from the Bite of '87 to Bonnie on the burro tour sign

Dewey's words of wisdom (screenshot from when we first watched this episode together last November):

Puffy wanting to throw Dewey and Louie into the sun a la Storkules

Violet upon seeing Scrooge's reaction to Donald taking his wallet:

@fantasticenthusiasttale: “Webby please we literally know only 3 phrases of english stop asking”

Alex: “is amazing that a brasilian plant knows english at all”

@writebackatya: “I just realized that both episodes have a moment where Donald is being wrestled by someone and he starts tapping out”

Huey and Webby not sucking in this episode

Alex: “who hires a mariachi for a kids party”

Puffy: “they took the gay </3”

Briefly discussing Webby’s party in The Last Adventure!

The Trickening! (Rewatch)

Huey as Gizmoduck!

Louie sucking in both episodes we watched

Duck Twins!

Why do people hate this episode?

“WE’RE GONNA ROB A CANDY STORE?!”

Puffy: “not poor bluebert 😭”

“why didn't they send Webby first she's the one that can fight lmfao”

“what the hell is dewey gonna do if he finds a monster”

Poltergeist reference

“Donald, you’re the victim.”

Launchpad’s ridiculous Halloween backstory

Uno reference

The kid that looked like Timmy Jenkins😠

Donald, Della, and Launchpad being an amazing dynamic

Launchpad and Scrooge’s fight!

Chris P. Bacon being one of the names on the headstones

Dreamy: “‘Last halloween’ meanwhile scrooge is out there 150 y/o still doing it”

Creepy twins!

The Shining references

Launchpad reading the candy wrapper

Beakley as Darkwing!

“I love Hallowoon!”

The poll at the end for whose costume was the best

Puffy: “no it's foreshadowing that huey is gonna DIE”

¡Felíz Cumpleaños!

Panchito and José are back!

The evil piñatas

Puffy bringing up The Book of Life

Will: “I’ve only played the game and had the cereal”

Fin

The charm of Paul Rudish shorts that take place in other cultures

Puffy: “me at 4 years old watching José rattle off Portuguese in The Three Caballeros (I have no idea what he's saying but I am enthralled)”

Will: “damn you looked just like JFK when you were a kid”

Coco

Why do people make Dos jokes about Uno? (It’s Italian (Due), not Spanish)

The opening narration being visualized through papel picado

Puffy:

Ernesto de la Cruz

Puffy: “1942 HE DIED 2 YEARS BEFORE THE CABALLEROS NOOOO”

The mariachi player that Miguel is shining the shoes of being supportive of his dream

@teleportzz: “never name a street”

“Papá is home?”

Dante being the best boy throughout the movie

Miguel’s de la Cruz shrine

Puffy: “my room looks like this but with donald duck plushes”

Miguel getting grossed out by the romantic scenes

Mech: “aromantic moment”

Abuelita smashing Miguel’s guitar‼️

Don’t mess with the dead!

Will: “Cut him some slack he’s just a little kid”

“Thinking by the heart not the brain”

Puffy: “No he should be responsible for all of his actions ever we've established this for fictional characters”

“especially traumatized little boys”

“Your photo’s on your dentist’s ofrenda.”

The guy in question:

The long line for customs

Héctor as Frida Kahlo

Mamá Imelda! (And her frustrations with the computer)

Alex: “the dead use windows”

Dreamy: “Then he finds out he cant have a blessing because hes adopted”

Puffy: “found family is still family”

Pepita!

@spamtoon: “cog this movie's environments are so beautiful” (very, very true)

Dreamy: “Hot take: Ernesto de la cruz is Mariah Carey for dia de los muertos”

The mango scene

Chorizo bullying

Chicharrón’s final death (very sad, but also, this exchange):

Héctor: “And her…knuckles, they drag on the floor.”

Chicharrón: “Those aren’t the words.”

Héctor: “There are children present.”

Miguel and Héctor shouting like Panchito

UN POCO LOCO!

Mamá Imelda singing for the first time in the movie

Puffy: “gonna be awkward when he dies and then he's stuck with all his family forever”

Puffy getting Latinified

Miguel’s dog🤝de la Cruz’s horse

Dante

Miguel and de la Cruz meet

Puffy: “YAYYYY movie over!!”

Dreamy: “Frida kahlo number 2 is his drag name”

Héctor revealing de la Cruz’s true nature (plus the fact that he killed Héctor and put it in a movie, like wtf)

Puffy: “he just has like. a big scary pit outside his mansion”

Spam: “like all billionaires cmon mark installed his last week. real big vanity point (joke)”

The origins of Remember Me

Puffy: “I like the convenience of the whole plot twist working because nobody ever bothered to say each other's names”

Dante the spirit guide!

Sneaking into the Sunrise Spectacular (shades of A Goofy Movie, anyone?)

Me: “If I had a nickel for every time I 2 I was mentioned in the server this week…” (the first time being me showing the recent Dancing with the Stars team dance to the song)

“I don’t know, I’m still mad at you!”

Mamá Imelda singing reprise!

Me: “I’ve never seen this episode of DWTS”

Puffy: “imagine seeing this shit live”

Alex: “you mean dead”

The crowd booing de la Cruz (Puffy: “WHO HAD THE TOMATO 😭”)

de la Cruz getting crushed by the bell again

Puffy: “well now he's gonna be on true crime podcasts so”

Me pointing out that Miguel left his sweatshirt behind

The scene where Mamá Coco remembers Héctor when Miguel sings Remember Me to her (and everyone loses their shit, despite saying they’re not (cont’d.))

One year later…Mamá Coco has died in the interim

Alex: “well, she was old as hell”

Miguel bringing it home with Proud Corazón

Dante and Pepita being friends in the human realm

Watching through the credits because yes

Me: “Hermosa. Una película muy hermosa”

Dreamy: “Another one for the latin-america Alex WOOHOOOOOO”

Me: “Hey, you gotta use 4 semesters’ worth of Spanish some time”

But yes, it was a fantastic movie.

[clemkruckinnie]

HI! just finished reading your nami fics, and dude I literally live them sm😭😭❤

please give us more nami fics ! we need them 😪

maybe nami x f r

where it's just domestic fluff really (the tangerine one was so cute we need more like that😭)

maybe cuddles (facing each other) and hugs! r being shorter than her tho if u add any description bc that's so cute

BUT THIS IS ONLY A SEGUESTION PLS JUST WRITE FOR NAMI😭😭😭

thank you can't wait to read any other nami fics🤭

angel of the morning- nami x reader

(slight allusions to smut again LMFAO)

nami’s never considered herself much of a religous person. if she believed in heaven, she’d have to believe in god, and everything else that comes with it.

but if she did believe in all that, she’d swear she was in heaven right now. your sleeping form in front of her, early rays of sunlight peeking in, shining on your face. that’s what eventually wakes you up, (e/c) eyes focusing in on the bright blue ones watching you.

“mornin’, baby.” nami greets you, brushing a piece of hair away from your face. you smile, putting your hand over hers, holding it to your face and leaning into her touch.

“good morning.” you greet her sleepily. “how long have you been up?”

nami shrugs, genuinely not knowing. watching you tended to blur hours and minutes together for her, all the time in the world not feeling like enough to take in your beauty. “everyone else is still asleep. it’s just us.”

“we better rest up before luffy wakes up.” you tell her. “not a moment of peace with that one.”

nami laughs softly, nodding. “turn around.”you oblige, nami scooting in behind you, putting an arm around your waist to pull you close. “better?”’

you nod, blissful and content. “better.”

nami smiles, tangling her legs with yours as she closes her eyes again. just before she’s about to drift back off, a door slams open down the hall from her.

“good morning, crew!” luffy’s voice booms, the two of you groaning sleepily as he makes his way down the hall, still talking about something or another.

“nami, y/n! wake up! sanji’s making breakfast—sanji! don’t fall back asleep, cmon!”

“i wonder what it’s like having that much energy.” you marvel, sitting up in bed. you run a hand through your messy hair, trying to keep it from falling back in your face.

“here,” nami offers you her bandana from her bedside table.

“can you tie it for me?” nami obliges, taking a moment to admire her handiwork when she’s done.

“prettiest pirate on the sea.” nami marvels, heat rising to your cheeks.

“you’re tied with me.” you counter. nami leans in, pressing a sweet, loving kiss to your lips. just as you’re about to lean back in, there are three more raps at your door.

“okay guys! he’s up for real this time! sanji, come on, i’m—we’re hungry!”

the two of you walk hand in hand to the kitchen, sleepy as ever, but content. there are two cups of tea already set out, sanji being used to you two waking up first. nami leans her head into your shoulder as you sip yours, you resting your head on top of hers.

“could you two at least wait till noon before making the rest of us feel single?” sanji teases you, laying out the ingredients for breakfast.

“never.” nami deadpans. “you’ll see, you get a girlfriend like this, you won’t want to be apart from her either.”

“oh, the rest of us know just how much you don’t want to be apart from her.” zoro chimes in, taking his own mug and sitting across from you two. “didn’t i just talk to you two about how thin these walls are?”

“what’s wrong with the walls?” luffy asks, not catching on to zoro’s implication.

“nothing-“

“oh, PLEASE tell him.” sanji laughs, nami scowling before she whips her head back around to zoro. “don’t you DARE-“

“well, luffy, when two people love each other very much-“

“zoro-“

“if i have to suffer through it-“

you watch the two of them bicker, their voices increasing in annoyance while luffy’s face grows in confusion, and amidst all the chaos, you laugh.

mornings on the going merry with your friends and girlfriend couldn’t get better.

[robinofgothamcity]

“Maybe one day when we’re old and gray, we can be in love once more. Till then I won’t give love away, darling, I’m forever only yours. ”

Character: Zack Sabre Jr

Fandom: New Japan Pro Wrestling (and it AEW?)

Authors note: omfg, I’m actually terrified to write my first fic in what feels like centuries (even tho it’s only been since march) but I’ve just been on a ZSJ kick for forever now so that’s where this came from! I hope this fic turns out well bc if it doesn’t I might go back to my dungeon and not write again LMFAO. Anywayyy, please read my last post, thank you <3

With forbidden door being around the corner and New Japan talent crawling around the halls more often now, it felt like you were back in Japan talking in the halls with the girls from Stardom and the backstage talent. You had moved to AEW when Nick and Matt were scouting for talent to join their women’s roster and you were more than ecstatic to join them.

Your match with Mayu was running rampant through your head as you were now two days away from the anticipated match and you were like a chicken with her head cut off, doing as much promotion as you could for AEW to get everyone to watch your match.

-

Back when you were in Japan and wrestling for Stardom, you had this very interesting southern persona. Cowboy boots, tried to have a southern accent to which you failed miserably at, and even went out of your way to order a cowboy hat for every occasion. Many found it interesting and although most people loved it, Zack always seemed to be confused at it.

It was no secret that Zack was very blunt about whatever was on his mind. You could hear Zack cutting a promo from the other end of the building and although Zack was very quintessentially British, you found every reason to turn up your persona up to a thousand on a ten dial scale when he was around. It irritated Zack to no end and even though you loved your gimmick, when you made the move to AEW, you knew it was time to put up your gimmick to bed.

Now with you being a long term roster member, you had taken a few girls under your wing to train and build up. You had found solace in Kris as a best friend and for the moment, everything in your career was going smoothly until Tony had finally approached you with the most life altering news in your wrestling career thus far.

“We want you to be the main event for the women at Forbidden Door.”

The drink you were sipping on was now on the floor as you looked over at Kris who was shaking in excitement for you.

“Wait, you want me to main event Forbidden Door? As in main event one of the most highly anticipated pay-per-views in the year?” You replied back. Tony couldn’t help but laugh at your reaction, “yes, we want you and Mayu to main event it. Stardom was very excited to hear that it was you who was going to compete against Mayu.”

You immediately screamed in excitement as everyone in the hallway turned around to see the commotion.

“Yes, oh my god! Are you kidding me? This is going to be one of my career defining moments, when does Mayu come over this way? I saw some New Japan talent already but-.”

You felt someone covering your eyes when it all started coming together.

“MAYU!” You screamed as you turned around and picked her up, “this is going to be the greatest match in women’s history!” You screamed excitedly. Tony left the three of you in the hallway as he made his way to creative to let them green light the matches for you and Mayu.

-

You were in the hallway with social media, cutting some online promo when you were dragged away with a few other girls to do some social media for AEW’s TikTok page. Zack had been in the area, scouting for some food when he came across you and a few of the girls with the social media team.

You hadn’t said much to Zack after you left Stardom besides the very far and few compliments on each others matches. You knew Zack would make your life hell when you inevitably crossed him which is why he was waiting for you patiently at the end of the hallway with a smirk running across his face. Your new gimmick was like a smack to the face when he finally tuned into an AEW show and saw you.

You could argue that your new persona was like if Art the Clown and a loud cheerleader had managed to become one person. Your very poppy personality did not match your aesthetic and you guessed that was why so many loved you. You were truly loved by the fans and even found yourself getting caught off guard by how much you’d get approached in the public eye.

Once the girls had called it a day and you said your goodbyes to Kris, Britt, and Rosa, you knew you’d finally have to face Zack.

“Zackary, how are you?” You mumbled as you started to wipe the small amount of makeup off your face, “no more yeehaw darling? I’m kind of missing that right now,” he said in a slight mocking tone. You rolled your eyes as you found a small mirror to check if the makeup had came off your face, “oh, are we telling lies now? I 100% doubt that you miss me running around the New Japan and Stardom hallways with a cowboy had and a terrible southern accent,” you replied in the same tone.

The two of you had a slight romantic endeavor back when you were still in Japan but one night had changed the entire dynamic between the two of you. What seemed like a small misunderstanding in Zack’s eyes was more than that in yours.

You had thought that you and Zack were exclusive, only seeing each other, when you made the unfortunate mistake to walk into his hotel room one night and saw him in the middle of a compromising position with another girl from the roster. You didn’t blame the poor girl, you knew that it was Zack idiotic fault for giving you his room number that night along with a key and the idea that the two of you were only seeing each other.

Zack had came up with a million and one excuses for his actions but you had told him that it was okay. You pretended like it didn’t really bother you however you knew that was farther than the truth. You came home from your Stardom tapings bawling your eyes out and although you tried to see an alternative side to Zack, all you could imagine was that night.

Whenever Stardom had any crossovers with New Japan, you made sure to steer clear from Zack which is where your second romantic fling fruition with Adam Page. With the two of you having slightly the same image, it was clear that the two of you got along and whispers in the NJPW hallways had confirmed to Zack that you were seeing the wretched cowboy. It didn’t last very long as both of your careers had skyrocketed after that but it still felt like salt in a open wound to Zack whenever it was mentioned or even when you would appear on screen with him in AEW.

“I was just wondering if you were going to the after party on Saturday night,” Zack asked. You knew that there was a Forbidden Door after party happening after the pay-per-view but you weren’t completely sure on attending it, “depends if Mayu decides to keep me alive or not,” you joked. Zack rolled his eyes, “as much as I hate having a bias, I know you’ll come out the winner.”

You rolled your eyes, a bit irritated that Zack was very blatantly flirting with you.

“Hey girl, you have promos to cut with TV in a few minutes,” Yuta said as he skipped by, leaving a jokingly long kiss on your cheek. You smacked him with a random scrap of paper that was laying on the floor, “I already finished it you moron,” you screamed back, “I’ll see you tonight though!”

Zack couldn’t help but gag at the interaction.

“You and Yuta?” Zack asked. You rolled your eyes for what felt like that the thousandth time, “absolutely not. That’s actually a running joke we have but I won’t spare you the details,” you replied. Zack seemed taken back, “what?” You asked, really not knowing what was wrong with him, “why won’t you spare me the details? Scared I’ll go after him or something?”

This time you couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Oh so it was okay for you to be fucking someone behind my back but it’s an issue when a friend gives me a friendly peck on the cheek?” You exclaimed, finally snapping. Zack couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “you’re still on that?” He asked. You gave him a dumbfounded look, not really in the head space to be dealing with him.

“Of course I am! it seems as though you’re finding it an issue every time I date someone. Don’t think I didn’t hear what you said when I was dating Adam and now you’re bitching at me for a small interaction with Yuta!” You screamed, “but this is the most ridiculous argument ever and I’m over it already. We haven’t been ‘together’ in literally five years and we’re arguing as if we broke up six months ago.”

Zack wanted to speak up but you had left the hallway, not really in the mood to have Zack seeing you cry.

-

Saturday night rolled around and you felt like you were ready to vomit. You were getting encouraging messages from Mayu as she could sense that you were ready to projectile into any trash can you could find.

You had done all of your makeup and you were now just ready to get your match started. Your gear was eerily reminiscent to Julia’s when she had first started in AEW. You were wearing a cheerleading outfit but it was covered in blood and your boots had small slashes through the middle of them to signify cuts. It was hands down one of your favorite gears to date and you knew that the anger you were holding for Zack really sold the creepy, angry, and borderline psychotic persona you wanted to portray.

“You’re on in two minutes, you ready?” Kris asked. You had relied that happened between you and Zack to her last night and she cold tell you were still shaken up by it, “I am. I’m ready to put on the performance of a lifetime for myself and Mayu,” you replied. Kris smiled as you heard your theme going off through the speakers in the arena.

You grabbed your props and ran out to the screaming crowd. Mayu was waiting for you in the ring as you couldn’t help but noticed that most New Japan talent was sitting front and center to see the match. You felt this overcoming wave of anger when you saw Zack but you immediately pushed it down when you heard your friends and your fellow roster members in the crowd cheering for you.

-

You had reached the 60 minute time limit as you and Mayu had exhausted each other out. You had blood covering your face as well as Mayu having blood running down her arms and legs. What was 60 minutes felt like just a few mere minutes to the two of you.

You could hear the crowd screaming to give the two of you five minutes but you knew the final match of the night had get started.

Mayu helped you up to your feet as you gave her the most vulnerable and understanding look you could give her and hugged her. The crowd now on their feet and clapping/screaming in support as there was a mix of AEW and Stardom chants going through the arena.

You opened the ropes for Mayu to get out as a sign of respect for her as the two of you helped each other to the back. The two of you almost immediately collapsed on the chairs and chugged down what felt like at least two gallons of water.

The cameras had asked for an interview as you gave them the green light to go ahead with the interview.

You saw Renee approaching you as you gave her a small exhausted wave and tried to look a bit more presentable.

“So, this had been the most anticipated match of the night and it is very clear that fans all want a second match in Japan. How do you feel about that? Going up against Mayu again but in her home territory?” Renee asked. You gave her a tired smile, “Mayu knows where to call me and when to do it. If Mayu or the fans want a rematch, I guess I’ll be seeing her at World Rendezvous in July.”

You heard the crowd screaming in excitement as Renee cut the cameras and gave you a congratulatory hug. You knew you had to go in the shower before the blood and sweat started to mix even more and started to gross you out. You limped your way back to the lockers and took a slightly concerning long shower as you basked in the steaming hot shower.

Once you finished up and realized that the event had finished, you realized that you were in a slightly better mood and figured there would be no harm in attending the after party. You got the location from Julia and made your way over to the venue where it was being hosted.

“And she’s alive!” Yuta screamed. You couldn’t help but laugh as he and Jon gave you what felt like the millionth hug of the night, “that was a nasty match. You gotta run one like that with me,” Britt said jokingly, “I really do love you Britt but I’m giving myself a six month vacation from a match like that and even if I wanted too, it looks like I made a promise to Mayu to give her a rematch at World Rendezvous in July,” you relied.

As all of you started to drink and get comfortable, you saw all of the New Japan and Stardom talent walk in. You ran over to Mayu and gave her another hug as cameras had pulled you for promotional photos. From the back of the room, you could feel eyes on you which you knew belonged to Zack and him only.

You knew you were going to have to face him before he went back to Japan and although you didn’t want to, you’d feel the unnecessary guilt build up over time.

You pulled yourself away from the scene as you sat in the back knowing Zack would follow you. You gave him a quick look before staring at the table, “you never lost that habit, did you?” He said trying to ease the tension. You shook your head, “listen, I wanted to apologize for the other night. It was ridiculous of me to start an argument over that and you were right, it’s been nearly five years,” he said. You couldn’t help but agree, “but there is a reason for that.”

“Which is?”

“I always imagined me with you. I know that you work here and I still work in Japan but I haven’t been able to stop myself from finding someone else when all I try to do is see you in them. It’s ridiculous, I know, but you have realize that it’ll always be you even if we are thousands of kilometers away from each other,” Zack said in a singular breath.

You were shocked to say the least. You knew whatever you had with Zack was still there but you didn’t think he still liked you the way you did with him.

“It’s miles by the way,” you replied jokingly. Zack gave you a quick look of disbelief as you continued, “I guess I have to stay the same thing. You know it’s always been you. There’s a reason why my relationships never lasted and I guess it’s because I always hoped that we’d find our way back to each other.”

Zack reached over the table to grab your hand, “so where do we go from here?” He asked. You bent over the table and pressed your lips to his. He immediately moved it aside as he plopped you on his lap to deepen the kiss. Your hands ran over his blond hair, surprisingly softer than what you had imagined, “well, I do now have business in Japan as I owe a rematch to Mayu,” you replied.

He nodded in relief as you played with his hair in comfort like you used too.

“And I’ll take to Tony to see if there’s anyway I could start splitting time between AEW and Stadom but you have to promise me you’ll meet me halfway here. I can’t always compromise my career with AEW to see you,” you said on a serious note. Zack nodded in agreement, “well, I have contract negotiations with New Japan coming up so I’ll make sure I get more vacationing weeks added onto my contract,” he added on.

You smiled as you felt Zack pull you in for another kiss. From the distance you heard hear Kris and Yuta’s childish “ooooo’s” but you weren’t too worried about that since Zack had made his way from your lips to your neck.

“My room, twenty minutes,” you said giving him one final kiss on the lips before running over to the bar to close your tab, “if you’re late, you’ll be the one paying for room service tomorrow morning.”

[lovebvni]

hii!! it’s yemi again!!

it’s been a while and i was wondering if there is any message i need to hear regarding shifting again since so much time has passed!! i’m currently persisting (or learning how to be consistent with persisting!) but my life has gone downhill since the last time we talked and it makes me wonder how my journey’s been affected!!

idk what to add for you to tap into my energy BUT i really like to be as sweet and kind to people as I can and present myself as very energetic and erratic, and I’m a bit neurotic (LMAO) with a lot of creativity, but just as much anxiety. i’m a double major with theater and international language studies because I like them both and I want to find a way to put them together to do great things, despite the uncertainty of my future!! I’m usually thinking a lot, so I don’t have a lot of hobbies because of how bard I commit and what my anxiety likes to stick to. I hope that information helps!!

HI YEMI! it’s nice to hear from u again!!!

u we’re one of the first readings i ever did on here and it’s sooo amazing to hear that hr doing well (AND THAT U CAME BAXK FOR ANOTHER READING? HELLO?!)

so, i’m getting just shifting tips plus a shifting update for u!

LMFAO I GOT WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY??

so i’m gonna do a cartomancy instead.

two cards per question.

shifting my tips — 2 of cups and king of swords i’m getting talk to other shifters. on amino or discord. 2 of swords and 8 of swords keeps coming up too (8 of swords is actually bottom of the deck!)

so maybe spend time cutting off the people who are toxic. i’m sensing this may be a romantic relationship.

leave the people who are no longer serving you.

find new friends, people who are actually here for u and want to work for u.

** after doing shifting progress i wanted to do another shufflemancy for more tips!!

ok ok, spirit is saying you really wed to get out of this energy in order to do anything. they’re saying “bitch and moan” but i’m seeing more of a pity party. youre holding onto this for too long. you need to focus on what you really want. you want happiness, joy and love. then why not chance after it? times can be hard, but that doesn’t mean give it up.

loki also visited me and he showed 7 of pentacles. he’s also saying if you don’t focus, you’re not going to be able to reap the fruits of your labor.

shifting progress — 10 of swords and knight of swords

you’re coming out a bad period (as you told me) although it is slow coming. you are going to bleeding for a while, and it’s going to be hard.

this hardship is going to overcome with a pickup. maybe a mini shift, a message from a person, a new focus, whatever it is, it’s getting better “starting now”

thayw all i got for u yemiii!!! i love u sm! i hope to hear from u again soon telling me u shifted!

love and blessings! send a review <3

[pbaz7]

sexual content (whores 😒)

- now why i gotta be all that??

Sure, she had spent the last 24 hours checking her phone, hoping for some last-minute miracle text from Azzi.

- Down bad in the 2nd sentence smhhh

“Damn, P, you good?” Arike nudged her as they jogged back onto the court.

- RIKEEEE

Cowboy hat. Cowboy boots. A very short jean skirt. And Paige’s #5 Dallas Wings jersey.

- nah she gotta drop 50 no bullshit

A slow, smirk tugged at her lips before she sent Paige a quick wink.

- shiiiit might have to be 70 atp

Paige and Arike were playing off of each other perfectly. Their ball movement was seamless, as if they had played together for years and the defense was scrambling to keep up.

- this what i need to see next season! Arike showing she can facilitate at Unrivaled rn give them time to gel and it’s gonna be special

“Stop,” she mumbled, tilting her head slightly. “We’re in public, and there’s cameras everywhere.”

- after she was carrying on like that the whole game?? Courtside??? Girl….

Azzi smiled first—it was small, soft, just for Paige—and Paige couldn’t help but mirror it, her grip tightening slightly on Azzi’s waist.

- Not the hard launch😂😂😂

but she knew that shit was about to be everywhere.

- IRL this would put Tiktok in a frenzy and there would be someone saying omg guyss i hug all my friends like this don’t make it weird 🙃🙄

Paige mumbled against her skin, her voice muffled. “Come on, I miss you Az.”

- young lady maybe go inside the tinted vehicle ????

“I want you to keep it on later,” she said, giving no context.

- oh?👀

Paige laughed. “Bro just give her three more shots, and she’s gonna pull out a bible and make them turn off the music.”

- lmfao no literally

“I have a thing for shooters,” she said, her tone light but suggestive. “Especially ones with eyes like yours.”

- it’s giving cornball. I have second hand embarrassment 😷

“Then keep your eyes on the road, baby.”

- OH?😮‍💨😮‍💨👀👀👀

She hesitated for a second before trailing behind her, saying, “I almost died last time we tried that.”

- ey pbaz im starting to think you a freak cause ….

“Then beg for it.” She bit down a little harsher this time, drawing a sharp inhale from Paige before soothing the spot with her tongue.

- yea this one for the whores fr😮‍💨🫡

“I want you to hold it for me,” she mumbled against Paige’s lips, her fingers sliding into Paige’s hair.

- me personally the dialogue the best part of these scenes ngl. You have them talking cash shittttt😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 serious behavior

Paige barely had time to finish her sentence before Azzi’s lips were on hers again, swallowing every whimper and shaky breath.

- lmfao nah she finna kill her😂😂😂 that vibrator in the strap combo will have you shaking like a leaf (don’t ask me how i know im celibate it’s an educated guess)

“I’m about to fuck her up,” she muttered to herself, rolling her shoulders back in confidence.

- LMAO yo what is with you and leaving us on a cliffhanger😂😂😂 cause you know good and well we need the mirror scene now. Go head and lock in we’ll be waiting on that one🤝🏾🤝🏾👍🏾👍🏾

Yeaa man temp prolly went up 3 degrees in my house just reading this😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

shillit might have to be 70 atp

70 in her first game is crazy 😭

this what i need to see next season! Arike showing she can facilitate at Unrivaled rn give them time to gel and it's gonna be special

i’m lowkey excited to see how it all unfolds. especially with the addition of nylssa whose game i think is super underrated. especially when she’s having fun

IRL this would put Tiktok in a frenzy and there would be someone saying omg guyss i hug all my friends like this don't make it weird

bro!!? like it’s not our fault you got a weird ass friendship because EYE personally barely touch my friends

ey pbaz im starting to think you a freak cause ....

hm

me personally the dialogue the best part of these scenes ngl.

the dialogue be saving me otherwise i have NO idea what to write

Imfao nah she finna kill her 😂😂😂 that vibrator in the strap combo will have you shaking like a leaf (don't ask me how i know im celibate it's an educated guess)

🤨 educated guess you say

[lesser-mook]

Deadpool & Pander-ine (and Logan) “less is more” *spoilers obviously*

I watched it twice in the same day and it is fun, same ol’ Ryan hammyness but it ain’t all that.

The movie is just No way home part 2, because we all know what that movie did right?

And how many people are talking about it now?

Same shit, different studio. Now its Fox. (Though No Way Home is still decent, recommended. Best MCU Spider-man movie because: Consequences. Not because cameos, but Peter had to grow up & finally become Spider-man)

Otherwise, Fanservice: The Movie

Just better Fanservice than Japan’s bullshit.

The plot of this Deadpool 3 is garbage only because it boiled down to (destroying timelines) which literally means nothing now and the villain was weak because her motivations make no sense.

They’re sent to the void, to go to the base then to escape, to roadtrip, to go right back to the same fucking base, then to some town, and that’s it.

Logan somehow gets through to baldy to let them go buuuut now she wants to make the void the only frontier left, multiversal genocide. Ooookay then, cause that’s now a thing.

We don’t even get to see what happened to her in the past. We’re told.

The best thing about it is Wolverine. And Deadpool is a lot more serious at times in this movie.

The film is actually pretty critical of Deadpool through Wolverine and it works but the film itself was just a hack pander piece.

Using Logans corpse like that in the beginning was beyond disrespectful and mind-numbing. And no, being self-aware of the problem doesn’t vindicate the problem.

Dancing and shit, while weaponizing bones, just what the actual fuck is the MCU anymore.

That “call out your own writing flaws, thus that makes continuing the flaws A-Ok”shit didn’t work for Horikoshi and it ain’t working for you, DP3.

Now when you watch the Logan film again, just know- THATS what happens to his remains years later.

MCU comes and literally beats a dead horse.

My biggest complaint, criticism:

X-23 was underused.

This character is the Cassandra Cain of Marvel Comics (possible inspiration of Cain 90s to 2003)

She should’ve had more of a bigger role helping Wolverine heal emotionally like Logan was present for her in their journey in the previous movie- a poetic role reversal, but she’s helping to heal his Callous exterior.

The dynamic between her Wade, & Logan would’ve been great.

Not some rushed campfire scene where he spills his guts to a kid he doesn’t even know.

It’s a good good scene, one of the better ones cause DP isn’t in it- but it reads like it was payoff to build up and development we never got to see between these two.

When she walked in the room, and they saw each other: You could feel it, Hugh & Dafne have a very subtle acting chemistry, and its better when you remember: Oh shit, this is a different Wolverine but Hugh worked with this same kid way back when, didn’t he? Yep. Same people, believe it or not.

So you naturally want everyone else in the room to fuck off and just hear these two talk.

Now if Laura was there a little earlier, in more of the film and they had more time together not only would everyone want to see that, but it’d make his change of heart on his part make more goddamn sense.

Because now he has an actual dynamic with this young lady, who in some respects is his kid.

Maybe even set up her getting her own suit, admiring his.

Just wasted potential, all the effort went into “REMEMBER THEM!?”

Nostalgia-Bombs over storytelling. Sloppy

Got Lady Deadpool in the mix, yaaay (said someone), but why are the DP’s dropping so easy and not healing while moving or fighting like they’re mercenaries with healing factors too, they’re not zombies.

I get thematic timing, but if Lady DP was one of the first to drop, why wasn’t she getting up first or faster? Lmfao.

Why doesn’t any of them have the teleport belt? Why doesn’t Wade have the belt yet!?

My favorite scene though is Wade & Logan going apeshit in the van, and thus Logans strength is soooooo much better represented in this movie than any of the others. And there have been plenty of good highlights in the Logan movie (X-24 is prime Logan so the feats are by proxy his own):

The way he manhandles Wade, tackles the van so hard the airbag deploys, he even slings the man through a solid wall- THAT’S Wolverine. Brute fucking strength.

That kind of strength behind unbreakable claws + the healing is why he’s a problem. Imagine that striking strength, it’s like a Car made of razor blades sideswiping you at 60 mph with every throw, and that’s lowballing.

Think about it, he’s got like 200–500 pounds + of metal on him, you know how strong he’s gotta be to carry that 24/7, even while swimming?

There’s a reason why he can give Hulk a little bit of a fight, Big Guy Hulk anyway “Dumb Hulk”. Green Scar? Not a contest. But Logan can hang with the best of them for a reason.

It got the little things right more than the bigger shit. They really lost me with that timeline destruction plot, please please please stop with the universe shit only If it boils down to “mwahaha me evil”

Did WE really forget why Thanos worked in the first place? less is more more.

Logan was a small scale film, very humble, with personal small scale stakes. 

That’s why it works, thats why its tense, that’s why it’s emotional: because there’s no multiverse, no timeline, no reality bullshit. Just personal stakes.

DP&W is more fun than Logan, but Logan is going to age better than Deadpool & Wolverine. As it’s aged very well even now.

It aged better than Endgame.

We’re really overlooking the importance of a stake being “personal” to a character.

Why do you think Phase 3 even worked in the first place? Because Phase 1–2 had personal stakes, small scale storytelling first (small enough, Thor was punching kind of high with it’s 3rd act but hey, it’s Thor).

Now, people seem to enjoy this, good. 

Nice to hear laughs than dead silence from collective regret that money was paid to see trash. Same with No Way Home.

I think we’ve had enough of preachy movies making people miserable: but at the same time we gotta trace back the formula to better storytelling, less predictable member-berry heavy gimmick plots- cause this just might become a branched genre of hammy exploitative movies, if all it takes is jangling keys.

Small scale stories are now underrated.

DUNE PART TWO crushes this easily in terms of writing, pacing, story, but this is one of the better films of 2024 tho. It’s a gimmick driven, fun ride, prioritizing the audience liking what they see and not making the audience like what the narrative wants them to see.

Wasted potential on many fronts, Laura should’ve been in so much more of this, hell she could’ve been the compass to guide them through the wastes to accomplish things with purpose instead of them aimlessly wandering from place to place. A more mature, realized Laura, give us some sit-rep on what happened to the other kids, remember those other kids? I still remember the eldest boy, Rictor; He was cool. I hink he was Avalanche’s kid.

All in all, the film is a one-trick pony, but it’s a fun ride.

[gaybd1]

chris watches twilight for the first time

omg this blueish filter is wild is this like a Pacific Northwest thing

that girl is not tan enough to be from arizona

also I’m getting big gay energy from her so idk how this movie is gonna be like. plausible.

if the dad wasn’t a cop I’d definitely smash

do u guys remember though when they used to cast ACTUAL teenagers for teen roles? refreshing

wow this guy in the cowboy hat has MAJOR swag

oh nooo Taylor Lautner I grew up with him and he sucked (real)

idk why ppl always shat on kstew being like inexpressive in this??? seems fine??

all these vampire siblings date each other?? lolololol

so far this seems like a fun little teen drama idk. it’s so blue though

Edwards stare is so intense I KNOW rpat had a great time with this lolol

Lolllll imagine seeing someone try to switch classes to avoid u but u don’t even know them??

the daughter-distant father awkwardness is v nice, v realistic

ugh this dad is so hot

Does Edward have RED eyes girl that sounds like a red flag get away

Ok this soundtrack sucks

Wait so his eyes change? Why?

wow he stopped a bread van for her w his muscles how romanticccc

also how small is this school like how does everyone know her?

vampire doctor creeps me out

lol his name is carlisle what a square

taking bets at how soon he tells her he’s a vampire it’s probably pretty soon I’m gonna say like around the one hour mark

girl is she having sex dreams about him

God Edward really is so creepy eh

Lautner’s Michigan accent is sooo bad in this omggg I can’t

are these new vampires?? the whole eating people thing really disrupts the tone of the story

So gay of bella not to care about the dress shopping. And also just skipping prom lol

Edward just following her everywhere RUN GIRL

“I should make sure Bella gets something to eat” most awkward and obvious way to ask for a date

So she’s def a vegetarian and he def doesn’t eat people food

We’re like 40 minutes in and he’s already telling her lol

Anyway why can’t he read her mind is this like a soulmate thing

This is soooo fanfictiony lmao

So she finds out he can read minds and just lets it go lol

Edward is such a dumbass though she figured him out so easy lolllll

And now she’s having vampire sex dreams lmaoooo this movie is great

Oh here it comes the “I know what you are” “say it” lol I only know this scene bc it’s from a meme or something

lmao this speed animation

is he about to sparkle

BAHAHAHAHAHA THIS IS SO UNSERIOUS

god they’re both crazy girl why are you so into him and Edward why are you so obsessed w her

ok yeah some of these lines suck

First of all these kids are missing class and for what

Second of all I cannot IMAGINE being a teenage straight girl seeing this for the first time when it comes out and basing my ENTIRE personality on this shitty ass self-insert fanfic ass plot

Girl how the hell can you be in love with him already

That’s so high school, they’re only walking together and people somehow know they’re together?

oh wow so the doctor turns these kids to stop them from dying that’s neat

I used to live only off tofu and I was very satisfied thank u very much

Wow he’s special about reading minds that’s convenient

He’s such a kid w her that’s not what I was expecting but I like it

They’re making Italian food for her bc her name is Bella lmfao

WOW anger issues much

He doesn’t sleep, he doesn’t stop going to school, he doesn’t eat, terrible existence

Was that the author in the diner

HOLY FUCK HE SNEAKS INTO HER HOUSE AND WATCHES HER SLEEP RED ALERT

DONT KISS THE GUY WHO WANTS TO EAT YOU NOOOOO

there are so many problems here lol

Dad just messing w his gun at the kitchen table, so cop coded

So American coded actually lol

Wait Edward is gonna meet him w the gun there lmao

Vampire baseball lolllll

This is just one big incest nerd family

They could have tried a little harder w the cgi for such a big budget?? This looks like the CW. Feels like it too actually

FRENCH bad guy vampires??

These stakes seem suddenly way too high??

Don’t break the hot dads heart nooooo

This really does feel like the CW though

Yeah no Rosalie is right why does that family care about Bella so much like she’s a high school girlfriend not a wife lmao

I think I’m dumb but I don’t entirely understand what’s happening here like did Bella go back to Arizona?? Why did she have to go so far to get away from this guy

FUCK is he gonna run all the way to Arizona now lol

I just don’t know how things got so suddenly so dramatic like can’t this James guy just let it go why is he going to so much effort this just all seems so silly

Wow Black Swan

yeah again idk why everyone was hating on kstew’s performance in this, it’s good

How did Edward get there so fast is there like some portal between Arizona and Washington isn’t that like a 1-2 day drive?

This is a fancy ass ballet studio btw

Yeah this fight scene sucks

So Mufasa coded “Remember who you are”

What is happening to Bella now she doesn’t turn until the last book right? (I’ve never read it idk)

Why did that guy have venom?????

Wow finally creepy Edward gets what he wanted and can drink her up…… he ain’t gonna stop

Oh I get it he stops w the power of love. Okay. Whatever.

This SONG sucks

“You lost a lot of blood” yeah THANKS Edward

Oh god the old ass cellphones. Throwback.

Not sure why she’d need oxygen w the injuries she had tbh am I missing something or is it for drama

“You’re in here bc of me” damn straight

Go to Jacksonville Bella (I know she won’t)

Don’t be a baby about it Bella????

Oh fuck is she going to prom? THATS not gonna create School Drama at all…

“Alice lent me the dress” yeah you’re too gay to own any

I know it’s bc of my issues w lautner as a person but I hate Jacob and I ALSO hate that lautner claims to have “distant” indigenous heritage bc that is another thing that he didn’t have when we were kids so why is he playing this guy

“Should we dance?” “You’re serious?” Bro you came to prom together wtf did u think u we’re gonna do

All the music in this movie sucks ass

I don’t usually advocate for this with vampire stuff but I’d have less of a problem with the creepiness of this relationship if he DID turn her

If MY bf was a vampire I wouldn’t want to be human either wtf

Okay yeah I mean that movie was whatever. Glad I understand the pop culture references now I guess

Oh no oh wait oh god I gotta watch the rest of these movies now don’t I…. Please tell me they get better

[harrys-only-angel333]

HEHE I LOVE ANSWERING QUESTIONS ABT MY DR LEMME DO THIS NOWWW

1. My first DR was a Harry Potter DR (like most ppl’s was I think) and currently my main DR is my One Direction DR. I made this switch cuz I feel way more connected to my 1D DR than I ever felt towards my Hogwarts DR. It’s funny cuz I had been shifting to Hogwarts for over a year before I made the switch and within a month, I was way more connected to my 1D one so I’m glad I made the switch

2. As in my DR self name? My full name in my DR is Chloe Lilian Adams. That’s my name cuz my first and middle names are the same in both my CR and DR, but I HATE my CR last name so I changed it. I love Wednesday Addams (grew up watching the films) so I think that’s where I got the last name from

3. The house I originally live in is the same as my CR house (but w some slight changes so I’ll know if I’m in my DR or not) but I end up moving into this huge house w my bandmates around like 2012/13. I don’t have any pics of it w me rn but my favourite room in it is this tiny room dedicated for reading that I designed myself. It’s like this little reading nook and it’s so cute

4. There’s probably a lot of edits of me in my DR but idk how to describe them lmfao. The fandom is CRAZY in my DR (crazy in a good way) but they’re all rlly nice. If you have ANY idea what the 1D fandom is like (especially in their prime) …that’s what I have to deal w in my DR. I love them tho

5. My outfit of the day would probs be just some jeans, a t-shirt (that probs belongs to my bf) and a hoodie (that also probs belongs to my bf). Just cuz it’s comfy. It’s what I wear here too sooooo it’s easier to connect w my DR self

6. In my free time I hang out w my bandmates and we just visit random areas. It depends where we are. Like for example, if we’re in London, we’d mess around in the streets and visit the monuments or whatever

7. I don’t rlly know abt niche, but I only have one DR now (I’m permashifting to it) and it’s obvs my 1D one so can I just say that???

8. There are soooo many ways I could describe my DR but if it had to be one it’d be ‘one dream, one band, one direction’ CUZ that’s kinda their like ‘motto’ ig so I’ll go w that one. Also cuz I’m not creative at all and I can’t think rn haha

9. I script on notion, and again, I deleted all my other DR scripts because I hyperfix on one DR (and yk what that one is by now ig). My fave script is my main DR one cuz I’ve spent the most time on it and it looks rlly nice :)

10. My friend group is my bandmates, so that’s easy. The group was made cuz we were put together on the X Factor cuz some judges thought we’d be good together lmfao

11. My family is the same in both my CR and my DR so I don’t think I rlly need to say anything here. I tried to keep my DR as close to my CR as possible so I can connect w it easily - and also so it’s realistic for me ig

12. My fave scenario (I didn’t script it, it’s crucial to happen for my DR to have its point) is the one where I meet my bandmates/bf cuz that leads to all the fun stuff I’m excited to experience in my DR (like touring and performing). I’m also rlly excited to do the San Siro concert cuz that was our ‘we made it’ moment imo and I can’t wait to experience it. Like everytime I watch it I’m like ‘holy shit I’m gonna be up there’

13. Justin Bieber cuz that fucker was rlly creepy w me at one point and I’m like ‘ummmm hell nah’

14. I have millions of followers in my DR. I’m mostly active on Twitter and Tumblr. On Twitter I post abt stuff to do w my career and tours, w the occasional unprofessional tweet. My Tumblr is the complete opposite. It’s VERY unprofessional (but not in a bad way) I just interact w my fans and be my real self and it’s rlly fun

ᓚᘏᗢ﹐𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞. ⁞ ˎˊ˗

shifting ask game reblog for asks ↻ ‧₊˚.

i’m bored so here’s another ask game, i’ll try to ask to everyone who reblogs, as long as tumblr isn't too glitchy, but feel free to send asks to others

— 💡 : what was your first dr and what is currently your main dr? How and why have you made this switch?

— 🏷 : what is your name for your dr and why is that your name?

— 👜 : what’s your house look like? Do you have any roommates or people who live with you? What’s your favorite aspect of your house and why?

— 🎞 : what edits of you would there be in your dr? what is your fandom like?

— 🩰 : what is your OOTD (outfit of the day) for a dr and why?

— 🏛️ : what do you do in your free time? Who are you with? Where do you go?

— 🗝 : what is your most niche dr and why did you make it?

— 📜 : summarize your dr in a sentence

— 🧳 : what is your favorite way to script and share your favorite dr script

— ♟ : who’s in your friend group and how did you make this friend group?

— 🕰 : what’s your family like? Who’s your favorite person and what are your relationships with your different members?

— 🎻 : what is a fun scenario you have scripted and you excited for? (be detailed! :)

— 💼 : who is someone you don’t get a long with in your dr? Why?

— 🍨 : what are your socials like in your dr? Followers? Username? What do you post?

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Yuki’s LN was actually a sob story omg THE DOG WAS SO CUTEEE omg I hope he adopts a dog someday in the future bro did NOT think that scuffle through but omg just shows how selfless he is…

LMAOO FR!! I mean if I really had to rank then yeah I TECHNICALLY have a fav but if you really asked me to choose between faves I probably wouldn’t be able to still even though some are technically ranked “higher” than others

No because Rin giving old vibes /hj in a different way than Aiku LMAOO wait I would pay to see Barou captain that’d be really funny “YOU DONKEYS GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER!!!!!!!”

Oh yeah I’ve not dipped my toes in AoT at all so that makes sense LOL

LMAOOOO OMG DO IT (imagine a double date but in the end y/n talks more to his sister and yuki than to him LMFAO)

No definitely as I went back and did the formal translation he was 6 and the sister should’ve been 9 by their description of her being 3 years older so?? Not even double digits (BRUH THE REO ONE IS DIABOLICAL??? WDYM A GROWN ASS ADULT WAS CONFESSING TO BASICALLY A LIKE 7 YEAR OLD HSHDSHSHSH)

GRAND AGE OF SIX AT 5K WORDS ok so if we do the math…. 2k at 4, 5k at 6, 3k word difference per 2 years, 1.5k words per year. Assuming this ends up at 20 year old Karasu that means we still have 14 years to go. 14 x 1.5k is 21k. Therefore, the new ballpark is now 21k /j (if this math is wrong um…no it isn’t!!! /j) im assuming we wouldn’t be seeing every single year in between so this is probably a bit overboard anyways LOL

No wait I love seeing childhood moments because they’re honestly so important for shaping who someone turns out to be?? OOHUU IM LOVING IT “I only see you as a child” angst progression

Nagi does NOT see the sun bro needs some vitamin d for his pasty ass…/j but FR I’m devouring these Karasu crumbs also I’ve noticed Otoya’s hair has been slightly more silver leaning! I’m pretty certain it’s still supposed to be relatively white, but typically in digital art using like pure white usually isn’t as great because it leaves less possibilities in terms of lighting and coloring so that might be why..? The version of him in the game also isn’t like pure white white so I’m wondering if that’s the case (also mixed with the sort of darker kinda color tone of s2) so I don’t think it’d be wrong to refer to it to white still! The (little) merch floating around of him also has his hair basically white so. No because not even a SLIVER of his hairline like yeah I know it’s my man’s chin but would it kill you to show his face?? No fr I was wondering why Otoya too….like I know that Karasu is more popular than him…and also Hiori too?? I’m hoping that just means we’re getting a cracked trailer with a full screen of Karasu’s face next time

The more I read the more I was like did they just craft the perfect man??? I loved the scene with the dog so much it was too cute like wdym his first practice buddy was a dog??? That was a rollercoaster and honestly probably one of my favorite LNs…I really like how they show the progression of his characters and actually kinda dig into his painful moments?? I think I need to reread everyone’s atp omg

-Karasu anon

I JUST FINISHED READING THE CHAPTERS YOU SENT IN OMG I’M BAWLING 😭 he’s so sweet fr…omg i hope he gets to retire and be happy one day with a dog and a family he truly deserves it

exactly like i have my top five but it’s always changing HAHAH there’s a couple mainstays but i’m so easily convinced to start liking new characters especially in shows like bllk which have such big casts that it’s inevitable you’ll be able to have a bunch of favs

aiku gives like uncle old vibes rin gives like cousin old vibes LMAOO that makes no sense but like aiku is just your weird uncle whereas rin is the cool cranky older cousin that you admire but all of the adult relatives hate because he has an attitude

aot is…something 😭 idk i was very very into it for a while and i really do appreciate and love the majority of it but i’m not a huge fan of how the ending was handled (not for the typical reasons people complain abt it i just think that some characters were let off too easily for what they did) and the fan base is INSANE. like peak no media literacy/critical thinking twelve year olds saying the craziest shit because they don’t realize that the actions of certain characters are meant to be condemned and not supported!! so i’ve drifted away from it now for the most part…a lot of the writing skills i have now i developed through trial and error with my aot fics though so i’ll always be grateful for that but i look back at it more as a fond memory/w nostalgia than anything

OKAYYY yayoyuki is now canon 🫡 (i named karasu’s sister yayoi hehe idk it just flowed well w tabito?? like yayoi and tabito sound like sibling names the same way seiko and eita do in my mind) actually lowkey i feel like that could kinda help the plot…the reader being like “wait why is your bf younger than you he’s literally your brother’s friend” and yayoi is like “bro it’s barely two years it’s not that deep” which makes reader be like “hmm…”

THE REO ONE IS INSANE. MY MAN IS A VICTIM AND NOBODY GAF?? ig it was supposed to show that people tend to value him for his money to the point that his teacher tried to get w him ostensibly because he’s a corporate heir…like narratively it makes sense but that should NOT have just been an egoist bible tidbit that was never expanded on?? iirc it’s not even mentioned in his light novel but that is so traumatic omg poor boy 😭

he’s still six and we’re at 6k words now if you want to adjust your estimate KDJISJ i am so scared of this fic i can just tell it’s going to be so long…we’re going to see karasu go from 4 to abt 20 and reader from 6 to abt 22 BYE why did i ever think i could fit all of that into “6-9k words” i’m not even going to bother w reestimating atp just going to go w the flow and see what happens…should i withhold the wc updates so you can be surprised when i finally post or do you want to be prepared going into it 🤔

pretty much all of the story is their “childhood” though ofc it progresses and they get older and older…icl i have no idea how to write kids so there’s going to have to be some suspension of disbelief going on 😭 YESS the angst and pining (from karasu naturally) are so real!! i think it makes sense on both ends because on the one hand yeah two years isn’t a huge deal esp once you’re older but on the other it’s like…karasu this girl has seen you throw tantrums because your sister wouldn’t play w you why WOULD she find you attractive 😩

ENOUGH LMAOOO no but that’s def the reason because he’s paler than every other character and for sure it’s because he doesn’t touch grass 😓 i think it’s definitely more silver compared to like nagi’s hair but still very light/almost white!! maybe more of a cool/gray toned white versus nagi’s which leans towards cream/straight up show white most of the time!! and yeah ik in animation pure black and pure white tend to fall flat which is why a lot of black haired characters end up having greenish hair when animated!!

YKW I WOULD’VE BEEN HAPPY W THE ICONIC SMIRK AHHH like it would’ve made him seem a little villainous if we only saw the lower half of his face and it’s just him smirking but those in the know realize it’s just the karasu signature 😔🙏🏻 sassy smirk + fuck ass hair WE NEEDED ONE OF THE TWO and wait omg i forgot abt hiori (and nanase) maybe they’re trying to keep the more relevant characters secret and just using characters anime-onlies would recognize in the trailer (so like igaguri’s irrelevant ass) still doesn’t explain why otoya and kurona made it instead of the bambi osaka boys but uh maybe they were just easier to animate?? or maybe they went w otoya because he’s very distinctive (aka doesn’t have dark hair and blue eyes) so he stood out more than karasu might (i bet some people would’ve been like “why did zantetsu take off his glasses” or smth abt karasu lowkey)

NO LITERALLY yukimiya invented being the ideal guy nobody in bllk can compare…actually let’s just go ahead and say nobody in shounen can compare 😫 he was truly meant to be a shoujo male lead more than any other bllk character 😭 i agree i think the ln did such a good job at showing his progress and why he is the way he is!! his backstory is also super realistic too 💔 like the whole medical trauma thing…i hope he and chigiri don’t get the boot from the main cast because of their health issues i love both of them sm 😓 i rlly liked this ln too!! especially compared to hiori’s and nagi’s which are the two i’ve reread the most for fic purposes the tone felt a bit more serious and mature (considering half of hiori’s is him stalking karasu and 99% of nagi’s is him slacking off in school this makes sense) i’m excited to see how barou’s is!! and also aryu’s lol maybe i’ll be more into him after reading his backstory or smth

[bisluthq]

Gotta be honest, I do find the whole "mattress" thing in BTR, and the insinuations in Last Kiss that they LITERALLY slept together quite humorous considering who inspired them.

I'm not stupid. I'm aware that "Mr. Purity Ring" was never all that pure, but that wasn't known at the time. Before the days of ex-child stars saying he asked them for nudes, and Sophie Turner calling him out for where exactly he was putting his fingers, he was just that teenage boy on the Disney channel who's decision to wear that ring shaped his entire public perception.

This very well may not be the case, but based on how she spoke about him post Joever (1.0), I like to imagine that part of her goal with Better Than Revenge was to put it out there that JoBro wasn't as pure as he portrayed, but then by the time the song actually came out, he wasn't on Disney channel, the ring was nowhere to be found, and he was sticking a lot more than his fingers inside of his girlfriends.

I know they'd kind of made up by that point (there's pictures of them being cordial at a grammys party in Jan that year), but it's still a fun crack-theory.

It does make me wonder though, what exactly was Camilla Belle offering to that child of God in the mattress department to "lure" him from goody, goody Taylor Swift who has never had a sexual urge a day in her life?

yeah lol I mean they DID NOT have PIV (nor did Joe and Camilla - his first PIV was Ashley and we know this only because he’s told us) but they obviously weren’t just holding hands lmfao. You don’t have to have PIV to be very intimate with one another. Source: my sex life lol. Last night we actually had a bit of PIV to spice things up lmfao but it’s legit something we do like as a spicy activity not like as part of our nightly thing (and we do have sex pretty much every single night, unless we’re sick or one of us is away or I mean if we get home VERY late and drunk). Nothing wrong with liking PIV but it’s not the be all and end all.

re Camilla I don’t think it was about the sex stuff lol that’s also why Taylor changed the lyric. She was just 19 and slut shaming another girl because the boy she liked wasn’t into her anymore. I never did that but I’ve been on the receiving end of some at around that age because the rumor went round that I’m down for freaky shit (I mean I am but I hadn’t done any at that point!!!) and that’s why a guy was like choosing me over this other girl and like I wasn’t even looking to date anyone then because I was seeing bookstore girl and fucking randos so actually now I read that back I do recognize why I was being slut shamed lol.

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

My dearest Yve,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

XOXO, Nat <3

SAFE & SOUND — part 1

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

word count: 14k

MASTERLIST

Rotten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Avoid the cities. Get out fast.

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

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

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

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

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

For a time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weakness gets you killed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re coming.

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

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

You’re out of time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But the reprieve is short-lived.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Future...?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re surrounded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They’re… looking out for each other…?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s hard to tell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smirks. “Take it however you want.”

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

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

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

This, sitting and talking, feels foreign. Unnatural.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He nods, his jaw tightening. “Barely.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ready to disappear without a trace.

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

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

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

Something is wrong.

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

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

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

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

“Like someone put them there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then it’s someone else."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

masterlist | part 2 - warmth

♡。·˚˚· ·˚˚·。♡

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

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

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

[lyonfreddie]

prolonged wailing and gnashing of teeth under the cut!!!

let me just preface this by saying that i never get super personal on here anymore but i really just need to vent!!!!

i love my job mostly because i love my coworkers. i work in development/fundraising at a pretty big museum and our team of 5 is all a bunch of young professional women with Good Taste and Witty Banter. like we are all successionpilled. i would hate my job so much if i didn’t work with these people. last week, my favorite coworker announced she was moving to another city and got a job there to be with her long-distance fiancé (he got a tenure track job and obviously... cannot move lmao), and i was SO SAD because she is SO COOL and SO POISED and i want to be just like her, but i took comfort in the fact that we would still have 4/5 of our lovely team still together.

and then my boss pulls me aside first thing this morning and tells me SHE’S LEAVING TO LMFAO

like. i’m literally going to go insane. after march 16, our team of 5 will be a team of 3, and we won’t have either a leadership giving manager OR a membership manager. i print member cards and assemble renewal/new member packets once a week each week as my Big Project but before my boss leaves she’s going to teach me how to do pretty much everything she does that she hasn’t taught me yet. which is really, really nice of her, and also kind of a vote of confidence—i seriously doubt she would take another job if she wasn’t absolutely sure she was leaving her membership program in capable hands. 

my boss is the best boss i’ve ever had. she’s so organized and she knows everything about our museum’s institutional history because she was working there before it was even built. she has always given me clear instructions and honest feedback and she’s just so, so funny. she’s great. we’re practically the same person and have the same interests. and i still have so much left to learn from her. it almost feels unfair that she’s leaving, but i’m an actual adult now and i know this is the correct career move for her. she’s not even going that far. she’s going to work at another museum that is like 800 feet away from us.

but i’m still SO fucking sad. i’ve been crying on and off all day, including at work, where i had to hold it all in. the major gifts officer saw me at the printer and was like ‘you must be feeling sad, huh’ and all i could say was ‘yeah’ and she patted me on the back and i almost lost it in the middle of the office. like... GOD

it’s so embarrassing. i pride myself on being very cool and calm and collected, and the rest of my team always tells me it’s nice how i’m so calm all the time, especially when we’re running events. but i literally walked home today and then sat on the floor of my apartment and bawled for 5 straight minutes until i was out of breath. lol. i am going to be a wreck for every single bit of their farewells and it is not going to be pretty. i’m so sad. i’m so scared. what the fuck.

i’ve also just like... been On Edge for the past week or so in a way that hasn’t really manifested since grad school. my first semester of grad school was when i developed really bad anxiety that only manifested as physical symptoms—nausea, diarrhea, constipation, loss of appetite, insomnia, weird painful muscle cramps, etc. to the point where i literally thought i was on the verge of death! i’ve been reading a book about the salem witch trials and couldn’t help but notice that the “fits” described by the “afflicted” were weirdly similar to how my anxiety jumped out, save for, like, hallucinations. it’s a good book and i want to finish it but just thinking about the similarities almost gave me a panic attack one night... which is crazy. and then i woke up this morning and found out my stupid hemorrhoid is flaring up again. which, in retrospect, just seems like an omen. lmao.

if there is any silver lining to this at all, it’s that there is a possibility i may be promoted to membership manager. i’m currently at the coordinator level, but when my boss broke the news to me, she said that we’d be working with our external membership consultant (who i’ve met! she’s great.) to help keep renewal notices and regular mailings going out. presumable until i’m up to speed. i’ve been at this museum for over a year, and full-time for 7 months. they might wait a few months, until i get closer to a year as a FT employee. or they might just hire a new boss for me. i’m ok staying at the coordinator level for a little while longer; it’s nice not having to worry a TON about budgets and financial goals. but i could probably do it if pressed. and getting a big ass salary bump would be nice.

if you made it all the way to the end, thank you for being cringe with me 🤝 the reason this is here and not in my journal is because there was clearly too much to put into my journal without having my hand cramp up. i’ll be ok. i’ll get through this. but it’s gonna fucking suck 😭

[miekasa]

any dad!levi hcs for father’s day today🥺🤲🏽

Absolutely!! I’ll do this I guess using the kids I have for him in my parent au? If you’ve read that, you know about Holden, but there are two more so prepare to meet them :’) happy father’s day to Levi <33

To begin with, you guys would plan to have your kids (to the best of your abilities; you were intentionally trying to have kids at a time when you both knew you were ready for them. 

Although accidents to do happen, and Levi would welcome an unplanned child all the same; that being said, if you’re both want a family, you would have discussed it beforehand (which is to a degree, is a lot about mental preparation for himself). 

In his perfect world, he’d have two daughters. They’d be equal parts him and you, and they’d be quiet and curious and lovely and life would be good. He’d spend his days with you and his two tiny daughters, raising his little family and doing all he could for his favorite girls. 

So, naturally, he does get two daughters, but also a son in between; and the latter two kids are far from easy in their own unique ways lmfao 

You might have already met Holden, and she’s the oldest in my dad Levi au, and the most like him. Levi’s dark hair, his grey eyes, his overall unimpressed visage, his knack for cleanliness and organization—down to the way she holds her sippy cups, she’s damn near Levi’s doppleganger. 

Holden is somewhere between 3.5-4 years old before you have your second kid, and in that time is when Levi confirms he thinks he was cut out to be a certified Girl Dad. 

Both Levi and Holden take quality father-daughter time very seriously. It’s impossible to change plans once they’re set: “Daddy, you promised we would go to the famer’s market on Sunday. You pinky promised.” And Levi wouldn’t dare break a pinky promise, so he makes time for it. 

Levi doesn’t play favorites with his kids, but there is something special about Holden as his first born. He’s constantly in awe of just how much she resembles him. Four years into raising her and it’s still hard to wrap his head around. 

Much to his chagrin, Hange and Eren are Holden’s favorite adults. Maybe Levi understands the admiration for Hange, but Eren... come on, Holden, you’re breaking his heart at that point. 

It’s almost out of character for your daughter to be so openly affectionate about someone outside of your immediate family, but she really loves having Eren as a babysitter; and you know she’s playing favorites, because she remains neutral on Armin, even though he and Eren always babysit as a duo. 

She doesn’t have a favorite grandparent, but Kenny spoils her the most. Levi tells him he shouldn’t, but when has Kenny ever listened to Levi. The man isn’t a fan of kids, but he thinks yours and Levi’s are pretty cool, and Holden is about the coolest 4 year old he could ever meet. 

When she was learning to walk, Levi’s favorite thing was holding her little hand and guiding her around. Even now, when she can stand perfectly fine on her own two feet, Levi loves it when she reaches for his hand; Holden is a pretty independent kid, even at 4 years old, so Levi never takes affection from her for granted. 

They’re best friends and Holden goes everywhere with him. Their favorite father-daughter activity is going to the grocery store, and Levi lets Holden point to and assess her favorite fruits and veggies while she sits happily in the shopping cart. 

Sometimes there are other parents struggling with a kid throwing a temper tantrum. Levi simply clicks his teeth, while Holden shakes her little head. “That’s pretty embarassing, daddy,” she says, looking at the poor parent with an unamused glare that rivals Levi’s. He nods and pushes the cart past the scene, “Tell me about it, kid.” 

Your second kid is a boy, and he looks more like you than Levi, but manages to have Levi’s signature hair color and pout when things aren’t going his way.

He comes as a shock to both you and Levi, because after your ultrasound, you were told you were having another girl. Turns out, they’d accidentally mixed up your files, and you were having a boy instead, which you do not find out until your mid-term check up a few months later. Cue Levi buffering like an old computer. 

Kiaan is welcomed all the same, even tho Levi is still in disbelief; he was mentally preparing to have another daughter on his hands. He puts more pressure on himself with his son; not that he wasn’t trying his best to be a parent to Holden, but any insecurities he might have about being a good come out when your son is born, because Levi has no “man of the house” example to follow from. 

You reassure him that your son will turn out to be just fine, and raising him the way you raised Holden, and would have raised another daughter is perfectly acceptable. Of course Levi rises to the occasion after the initial shock; he’s determined to be the dad to his son that he never had. 

Where Holden is more reserved, Kiaan likes to talk and babble about anything whenever and wherever he can, to whoever is around. It’s not uncommon for you or Levi to find your son completely entertained by telling a story out loud to himself while playing with his toys.

Loves to rope Levi into making his toys interact and have “conversations” with each other, and Kiaan genuinely thinks his dad is hilarious, even if he doesn’t completely understand what he’s saying. It always makes Levi smile to hear Kiaan try and copy the bass and tone of his voice when he’s mocking him. 

Kiaan loves messing with his dad, and Levi’s all talk, so of course he lets him. He’ll be on a Zoom meeting for work, and Kiaan will be sat in his lap, running little toy cars across the desk in front of him, or tugging on Levi’s hair, and Levi just lets him. It makes quite the cute sight, and Hange has definitely taken a few screen recordings. 

That being said, your son is more of a mama’s boy than anything. Kiaan loves messing with Levi, but if you’re in the room, there’s a 95% chance he’ll be on your lap or at your side shadowing whatever you’re doing. 

Kiaan is a universal copycat tho, so whatever you, Levi, or Holden say or do, he tries for himself. This makes him especially susceptible to repeating Levi’s foul language and bad habits than Holden. (“Kiaan, you can’t sleep on the chair, it’s not good for your back.” “But daddy sleeps on the chairs sometimes!” “...Alright kid, you got me there.”) 

He’s a very loving kid with his words, too, always thanking people and proclaiming his love, so he doesn’t exactly have a “favorite” adult or babysitter, but he does get particularly excited when Erwin or Farlan come around. He feels especially tall when Erwin lets him sit on his shoulders, and Farlan always entertains his story-telling. 

He’s a sucker for his grandma though, and gives Kuchel a million kisses whenever she comes around. Does not let go over her for the entire time she’s over at your house, and will sit on her lap throughout dinner. 

The most affectionate child, so where Holden only likes holding hands, Kiaan loves cuddling with you and Levi, and likes to be held whenever possible. Levi spoils him a little too much, and more often than not, if you’re walking outside for more than two hours, Kiaan will end up on Levi’s shoulders or in your arms. 

Your last kid is another girl, and, yeah she’s just a baby no older than a few months, but Levi can’t help but think she’s especially tiny, and he can’t help but to look at her and hold her whenever possible. Your baby girl also leaves Levi a little dumbstruck because she manages to look like a combination of you and his mother. 

As she grows, it becomes apparent that you’ve got another daddy’s girl on your hands. Doesn’t matter if you’re literally breast feeding her, Aria will throw a tantrum if she’s separated from Levi for more than an hour. 

The good news is, her sleep cycle is as irregular as Levi’s, so he’s got someone to keep him company when everyone else has gone to bed for the evening. Unfortunately, this also means Aria naps a lot during the day, which leaves Levi a little bored since Holden is old enough to be in school full-time, and Kiaan is gone for at least a portion of the day. 

So, he would never tell you, but sometimes he wakes Aria up from her naps just a little bit early to spend more time with her (and cure his boredom). Having an infant trying to grab at his hair with her ravioli sized baby fists while he tries to cook lunch certainly makes the task more difficult, but it also adds welcomed color to his day.

You and Levi have to hold Aria constantly when she’s awake or else she’ll cry (although, if you leave her in the arms of her siblings, she does settle down, too); that, or she’ll find her tiny baby hands somewhere they shouldn’t be. Like dipped in a jar of strawberry jam. Or peanut butter. Or both. 

Levi talks to his kids like he would any other adult, so it’s not uncommon to find him brewing tea with a baby strapped to his chest, narrating the steps to good tea-making out loud to her for her to hear. He swears she can understand him, and he attributes Holden and Kiaan’s growing vocabularies, and the early ages at which they started speaking to this. 

Aria will be in her little chest strap thing while Levi’s cooking dinner, and he’ll look down at her like, “Alright, we’re gonna julienne your carrots today. Yesterday we cubed them, but you’ve got grabby hands, so this will give you more room to work with.”

Kiaan loves holding Aria and honestly just being around her, and you and Levi think it’s adorable how he loves to play with her, and how he knows to be gentle with her. He shares a room with her, and loves sharing his bedtime story times, so you or Levi will read them to sleep together. 

Holden isn’t crazy about babies, but she’s a good older sister, and Aria seems to be obsessed with her. She crawls and scoots towards her if given the opportunity, and Holden will always look to you or Levi before attempting to hold or lift her up, as if asking permission. She’ll pat Aria’s head to get her to stop crying, or let her play with her hands. 

Levi thinks one of the best parts about being a dad is seeing the different dynamics and relationships between your kids. Holden isn’t most physically or verbally affectionate, but she’s still compassionate, and Kiaan looks up to her; and Kiaan is the perfect middle ground, knowing when it’s appropriate to bother (affectionate) Holden, and when to give her space, and curiously hovers around his baby sister, too.