#when your boyfriend wants to die with you

[theemporium]

Quinn Hughes +ice skating❤️

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

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“I think this counts as cheating.”

Quinn’s lips twitched upwards. “How is it cheating?” 

“Because this is your profession,” you retorted, your head still staring down helplessly at your own skates. 

Quinn looked at you with a fond expression. “You said you wanted to do something fun and wintery for date night.”

“This is hardly a fun winter activity when it’s like breathing for you,” you muttered, letting out a harsh breath when you felt your skates slip a little but Quinn’s grip on you kept you upright. “Fucking hell, I am going to die.”

Quinn snorted. “You’re not going to die.”

“This might literally be the last date night we ever have.” 

It was no secret that NHL players had schedules from hell. You knew that. Quinn had warned you constantly at the start of your relationship. So many other partners had reiterated the point until it was drilled into your head. You knew that no matter what, the scheduling was going to be a constant hurdle you would have to jump over in your relationship. 

But you had your ways around it. 

The date nights weren’t always every week or anything, but they were planned. It was dedicated time you both put effort into, took turns planning and always stuck to. No matter what was happening in either one of your work lives, it was all left behind for the duration of the date. They were even marked out on your shared calendar because Quinn was oddly endearing and organised like that.

You had made a passing comment to Quinn a week or so ago about wanting to do something more seasonal for your next date night. You just had assumed he would be as predictable as choosing ice skating—albeit, city ice skating in a public rink, but your point still stood. 

“You think I would let you die?” Quinn mused, choosing not to comment on the way you were digging your nails into his arm—even through your gloves. 

“You were the one who dragged me out onto the ice,” you grumbled, letting out a whimpering sound when a kid skated past you at such a high speed that it almost knocked you over by surprise. “This is public humiliation.”

“I would never let anything happen to you,” Quinn assured you as he pulled you closer, continuing to skate backwards with ease because he was a dick like that. “My reputation would be tarnished if you died under my supervision. Jack and Luke would never let me forget it.”

You lifted your head to glare at your boyfriend. 

Quinn’s grin widened in response. “Kidding. Mum would kill me first.”

“Ellen would avenge me,” you said with a nod. 

“You are her favourite.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you snorted but at least you were smiling now. “But I’ll take it right now because I’m pretty sure I am getting a cramp in my leg and I need you to drag me along before that kid skates by again.”

.

[muletia]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐟𝐮𝐥 ₊˚⊹♡

obsessed!smokescreen x human!reader

summary: you and smokescreen are trying to watch a movie, but his irresistible and constant need for closeness stubbornly gets in the way. will you make it to the end? (spoiler: you won’t.)

cw: fluff, suggestive, obsessive thoughts, unhealthy clinginess, possessiveness, very mild not nsfw dub-con, biting/marking, very light manipulation from smokey

word count: 1570

Your eyelids grow heavier and heavier. Consciousness drifts into another dimension, and your head slowly tilts forward further as you lose contact with reality and embrace sleep with open arms. But alas, sleep is not meant for you—not yet. Your boyfriend is keeping watch, ensuring you continue your fight to stay awake. And when he's near you, he seems unusually attuned to moments like these.

"Hey, hey, don't drift off on me now," he pleads, voice desperate, because this isn’t your first slip-up. "We just started the movie!"

"Ah, sorry," you mumble, rubbing your face to try and wake yourself up, which works. For now.

Your attention returns to the flickering TV screen in the garage, and for a moment, you really do feel alert. You're not proud of how easily you drift off, especially with company, but the day's events are catching up to you, pulling your eyelids downward. You’d promised him you’d finally finish this movie together— you’ve both tried to get through it multiple times, only to be interrupted every single time by something—or rather, someone.

That someone is none other than your personal heater sitting next to you, the primary disruptor of your small private movie nights.

And, as you catch him from the corner of your eye, it's clear he’s got a new idea for spicing up your passive movie-watching routine. His broad smile is utterly contagious, and you fight hard not to let your lips curl. It’s endearing, but you’re not falling for it—not yet. You know exactly where this evening will go if you give him your attention. After all, you’ve lived this scenario many times before.

"Optics on the screen," you chide softly. "We just started the movie, hypocrite."

"Oh, I am watching," he replies, with mock indignation.

"Not me!" you sigh. "We’re not restarting this movie for the tenth time. Look at the screen." You motion toward the brightest source of light in the room.

He knows he should listen. He’s the one who suggested the movie night in the first place. He also chose the film—one of your favorites—because he wanted to experience it with you, to watch your reactions, hear your thoughts, and discuss it afterward. All of it was just a way to interact with you, to be showered in your attention. To absorb it like the finest energon, savoring its addictive sweetness.

It’s not his fault that everything you do is infinitely more interesting than any fiction on the small screen. Sure, he likes human culture and finds it genuinely fascinating—but only because you’re at its center. You’re the one who reveals its secrets, who offers him glimpses of the daily life he so desperately wants to be a part of. Watching movies together lets him simulate that life. He knows he should use every chance to learn more about your world. The problem is, he can’t focus.

It’s not as if there are moments when he thinks of you more or less. No—he’s always thinking about you. Seven days a week, every hour of Earth’s solar cycle. During missions, patrols, recharge—even when he’s with you. It’s suffocating, overwhelming his processor, a constant need to express his untamed emotions, but with no outlet to relieve the ever-growing weight.

Having you by his side is wonderful—feeling your scent, your warmth; brushing shoulders and sharing a blanket. But, ever ambitious, he needs more. Thoughts of you provide only fleeting satisfaction, failing to meet even a fraction of his desire. They leave him helpless once again.

Smokescreen doesn’t want to be just an observer anymore, a witness to the action around him. Those days died with Cybertron.

He wants to feel, touch, and explore, even though he already knows every inch of your body—every mole, scar, and birthmark. Alien, but captivatingly beautiful. Unparalleled softness. Addictive. Meant to be worshipped and adored. It’s no surprise his servos fit your curves perfectly, as if you were made for each other—not just in spark, but in body too. No stimulant could compare to the euphoria of adoring you. No human cinematic masterpiece, no mission, no praise from Optimus Prime himself.

"You’re incorrigible," you sigh. "You just missed the most important part."

Suddenly, he realizes he’s spent the last several kliks staring only at you, fantasizing about physically expressing all the emotions roiling within him. His servos are trembling now, and he has to touch you—to prove how much you mean to him, how vital you are in his life.

Electricity courses through his frame—a signal of surpassing limits. He’s nearing a breaking point, teetering on the edge of abandoning the careful balance of your relationship. Can’t let that happen. He accepts destroying himself, allowing his yearning for you to dictate his sanity, but no scars could ever mar your soul. No matter how many he bears himself.

His trembling servos find the fabric of your shirt and gently tug at it. Enough to send a signal, not to frighten. If you pull away—he’ll shatter.

"Hey," he begins. You glance at him briefly, but your eyes quickly return to the screen. He tugs harder, practically pawing at your stomach now, desperate for attention. "Please, I don’t want to watch the movie anymore. We can finish it another time, can’t we?"

He knows he’s repeating himself, using the same lines he always does. It’s cheap and undignified, unworthy of someone whom even Optimus Prime considered passing the Matrix to. But his need has consumed him, taken over his frame and spark, which craves you so intensely that static buzzes in his audials. Every molecule of his being chants your name, begging for you.

He moves closer, exerting pressure. It’s a dangerous game, one that could easily irritate you. But he’s so desperate he has to play his cards on this gambit.

"I promise we’ll finish it next time, okay? [Name], please, I need you."

"We could also finish it tonight, hmm?" you offer.

"But I already missed the most important part."

"You’re smart—you’ll catch up on the plot." He sees your playful smile, teasing him with your intentions. But this time, he’s too overwhelmed to join in the game.

One servo continues tugging at the edge of your shirt while the other slides beneath it, cautious and precise—while he still has the control to be so.

You finally give in, unable to focus on the film any longer.

"Alright, I’ll hold you to that," you warn, finally turning your head toward him.

What greets you are wide, pleading optics, shimmering with need. Begging for you. Beautiful, but deceptive. Luring you into a trap. Or maybe you’ve already been ensnared? Enchanted into letting him do more—letting his servo wander further up, finding its way to your chest.

"Incorrigible," you murmur, tilting your head slightly to one side, exposing your neck—his canvas for the evening. "But at least I’m not sleepy anymore."

"Good," he purrs near your neck. Warm, processed air brushes against your sensitive skin. "I’m going to show you how much you mean to me. I’m afraid it’ll take a very long time."

Servos press tightly to your body, while dentas leave their mark, creating art from love bites—one of his favorite human inventions. Such a pity he couldn’t bear them himself—would flaunt them proudly if he could.

"I wish they lasted forever," he whispers, kissing the bruised skin, already intoxicated by your closeness, even though it’s only a fraction of what he craves.

"And I don’t," you admit. His response is a hurt whine, but Smokescreen quickly resumes his work, moving slightly higher. His marks always came out messy, more like bites than love bites, but he was so proud of them that you couldn’t bring yourself to criticize him. At least, not directly.

"One of my friends noticed them once. She thought I’d been mauled by a wild animal."

You feel him smile against your skin because it’s an accurate description of his love. Wild, untamed.

"Sorry," but it's also unimaginably tender. "But you like them, right? I’m good at this, aren’t I?"

"You’re unmatched, love."

Not sensing the sarcasm, he holds you tighter, as if he wants to merge you both into one being. Feels his trembling spark yearning for a bond, a union with yours. And while you can’t grant him that, the mere act of sharing the most intimate, vulnerable parts of himself is satisfactory. Not enough, because nothing ever will be. Just like the love bites, the most blissful interfacing, or kisses and cuddles. They work for a brief moment, a fraction of existence. They fill the void, which begins emptying the moment you part.

"I need more," he groans. "Please. I need you."

"I wish you were this eager about watching movies."

You reach for the remote because yet another movie attempt has ended in failure. Your boyfriend doesn’t appreciate your effort to put some distance between you, even for a few millimeters. His servos hold you firmly in place, and his dentas possessively catch your neck. Luckily, you don’t have to reach far.

"We’ll manage next time," he promises, though the absent tone of his voice makes it clear he’s lying. You know he won’t last. He’ll falter at the start, trying to make up for lost time by showering you with affection, though it’ll only be a fraction of what he wants to give.

"Hard to believe that."

"Mhm, love you too," he mutters, utterly enraptured by your closeness.

[skzdreamer13]

AHHHHHHHHHHH I love HYUNJINS new haircut!!! AHHHHHH

okay….hear me out…..

Can you pls write a Hyunjin fic of him getting his new haircut without the reader knowing? And she ends up LOVING IT…. And then like snuggling at the end…

only if you have time ofc or if you want to 😍😍

Love this

Give me love

Oh my god yes lol I've been looking for an excuse all day to write about kiwi Hyunjin!

This turned out a bit angsty but it's still very cute and I hope you enjoy! 🖤

Idol!Hyunjin x Reader

Info ~ Angst, reassurance, insecurities, cuddling

Hyunjin has been nervous all day. He pretty much lied to you this morning about what he'd be doing today and he felt guilty. It was eating him up.

But he also didn't know how to tell you that the hair you love to run your fingers through, braid, tie up, and play with would be gone when he came home later. You always told him you love him no matter what and that you always find him beautiful and attractive. Yet it's eating him up that, this decision he's making might change your mind.

But he needs a drastic change. His hair has been long for too long and it was starting to become obnoxious. Was this an extreme change? Yes, absolutely! But it's what he needs and he knows it, he just hopes you understand and still love him despite it.

~

You're sitting on the couch when you hear the creak of the entryway door. Hyunjin said he was going to the dance studio to practice, but it's only been about two hours, too soon for him to be back. Normally he'd be gone for anywhere from 4 or more hours. Maybe he forgot something.

Standing up from the couch, you're wrapped in a blanket as you walk down the hallway to meet your boyfriend.

"Did you forget-" your words die on your tounge. You look up as he pulls his hat off.

Gone. His hair is gone. For a moment you're conflicted sad that it's gone and simultaneously utterly intranced by his beauty with said new hair style. The way his face takes more of a spotlight, his nose line sharp, cheeks full and flush from the cold air. His eyes borderline cat like. Though his eyebrows are sharp they are furrowed waiting for you to say something, anything.

He looks like he's holding his breath his shoulders up and tense, his back perfectly straight in his puffy coat. His chest rising and falling in short sharp breathes, like your next words could make or break him.

You step closer and you watch his body tense at your movement. Closing the space between you two, you place your hands on his strong jaw line and his eyes go slightly wide. You rub your thumb on his cheeks, the stubble from his face that he didn't shave this morning scratchy against your fingers.

"Jinnie you cut your hair! It's beautiful! You didn't have to lie to me." Your voice is excited and bright but soft and sincere seeing the panick in his eyes. Your words and touch ease him and all his emotions flood as tears well up and flood his eyes.

He can't stop it as a chocked sob racks his body and he hunches over to rest his head in the crook of your neck on your shoulder. You hold him tight and wrap your arms around his large frame. Your hands rubbing up and down his back as he cries. Sweet soft words leave your lips to sooth him as he lets the relief wash over him.

He had no reason to be afraid, he knows something as trivial as a hair cut won't make or break your love for him. But the betrayal of his fans last time he cuz his hair, the awful things they said about him. How many of them abandoned him over it? How many people reduced him down to his looks? He couldn't take a blow like that from you. It breaks your heart to see him this distraught about something as trivial as a haircut.

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Hyunjin says, his voice pouty and soft as he lifts his head and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

"I'm not going anywhere silly." You say and pull away from him to look into his beautiful dark chocolate brown eyes. He is still in his puffy outside coat.

You place your hands on either side of his face again, bringing his forehead down to yours. You wipe stray tears from his cheeks with your thumb as he takes a deep breath collecting himself.

You help him take off his jacket and place it on a chair as you grab his hand and guide him, slightly dragging him as he follows you slowly, into the living room.

He sits on the couch and you sit beside him, draping your legs overs his so you're almost sitting in his lap but not quite. Now that you're in the light of the house you get a good look at him realizing not only did he shave his head but he's bleached it blonde!

"Jinnie, I need you to know I'm in love with your new hair!" You say excitedly, over enthusiastic as to try and perk up his mood. You want him to feel confident and happy in his decision. He should, he looks amazing.

A small smile plays on his lips as you bring your hands up to run it across his round head. His hair is soft yet prickly. It's such a fun texture, you could run your hands across it all day.

"I don't know why I was so scared." His voice is regaining its full bodied sound slowly and your satisfied that you've convinced him of how much you love this new look on him.

"I don't know why you were either." You curl up into his chest, legs still draped over his as you listen to his rapid heartbeat begin to relax.

"You know im going to be touching your head nonstop now, right?" You say and he chuckles.

"I had a feeling."

Masterlist

Request ~ Open

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[maudie-duan]

Summary: What happens when the man you've loved since childhood decides he's ready to settle down, but it turns out you are no longer his forever. How would you cope with the sudden engagement? For Blair, it's a hard pill to swallow, knowing that the beautiful girl smiling in all his pictures will get her forever. I guess it's a blue Christmas this year.

A/N: I have to make a confession: I hate Christmas music, but the first time I heard Sabrina Carpenter's 'Cindy Lou Who' I knew this was my kind of Christmas song. I love a sad song, and this song feeds my "angsty soul," So please give it a listen before you read. This whole story is my interpretation of the song. Hope you like it. Happy Holidays enjoy!!!!

Requests: Here

Word Count: 6K

Warning: Mentions of Sex, Strong Angst and Langue, Family Dynamics, Mentions of Pregnancy, Heartbreak.

I don’t think sneaking my ex-boyfriend out of my parent’s house is the best look for anyone on Christmas morning, but technically, it’s still Christmas Eve if you haven’t gone to sleep yet, right?

To be fair, he was the one knocking on my window, stumbling his way to my bed. Casually, bringing up the past, circling back to things I thought I had already unpacked with my best friend after I scrolled his girlfriend’s social media, backtracking five years, to be honest, she had me broader line obsessed.

He made his way to my bed and in between my legs, touching place and sharing space in the best way we knew how, and that’s the funny thing about having history with someone—sometimes it makes it harder to say no when it’s knowingly what you want the second they step foot into a place that once served as a sanctuary to you both—a garden where words weaved trust, that turned into secrets, carving out a space of our very own; a world that we created and while he wasn’t my first kiss he was everything else.

I’ve lost track of how many times our words of forever were passed between our mouths, tangled in shared breaths of “I swear until the day I die, I’m yours.” When you’re young, you believe it because it’s all you have—and we took that with us when we thought we were ready for the world—two foolish kids on an endeavor to forge these grown-up dreams of a grand gesture without a second thought, only relying on the word “love,” like love could weather any storm.

The hardest lesson we learned was that love isn’t always enough. Sometimes, you can love someone with all your being and forget that they’re not a possession—but a person. Was that our mistake? I don’t know, but we wanted to be our own people at some point and find ourselves outside of only identifying as “we.” 

Let me tell you, that’s a hard pill to swallow, and from time to time, I still find myself choking on it, especially when it is obvious we still click—we didn’t need sex to know that we still worked, fit together like a puzzle that had been forgotten, and dusted off, only to find that you still had every single piece. Still, when Harry tried to kiss me goodbye, I pulled away.

“Hey—what is it…tell me?” he asks

“Nothing…it’s just late. You know how my mom is about Christmas morning.” I lie because the reality of his leaving is starting to sink in. I’m not ready for him to leave, but we both knew that there would be an ending to this.

He laughs, attempting to shrug his jacket on, and I glimpse the joy of the familiar memory dance across his features, “Yeah, she can be kind of crazy, right?”

“Yeah—but not any crazier than your mom,” I laugh. 

“Hey now—actually…you know they kind of feed off each others crazy…” He says, fighting to find the sleeve of his jacket, and when I reach to help, something falls from his pocket, a loud thud clashing against the hardwood floor. I look down, thinking he knocked something off my shelf, but then I see it.

We both stare at the ground, a small box lying in the space between us, “You shouldn’t have…” I declare, bending down—Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking—You know this tends to happen when you rely on your wit to get you out of awkward situations. I thought it would be cute and clever. I would open the box, and it wouldn’t be exactly what I knew it was—a ring, but not just any ring—the ring.

“Hey—hey—hey…give me that,” He jokes, trying to turn it into a game, but I’m in too deep to give it up. I can only focus on getting a peek at the ring, which is now a broken promise, and right this second, I’m desperate enough to open this box—basque in the feeling of the “what if” this was mine.

I turn away, shoving his hand out of the way, compulsively straining to get a look at this ring, immediately getting aggressive when he tries to reach over my shoulder. “Stop Harry—” I urge.

“Come on, Blair—this isn’t funny…” He says, unamused, but he’s too late, and as I shove my elbow into his ribs, the box is flipping open, the glint of the diamond catching the light of the moon shining through the window. He stops then because what’s the use, right? Here it is—the ring—perfect, everything I would have wanted. It’s almost like a slap in the face, like he looked back on one of the many pictures I sent over the years, thinking one day this would be me. 

The ring is stunningly beautiful. There is so little light yet it’s drawn to every facet; immaculate, precise cuts creating the perfect sparkle. There is nothing humble about it, but nothing seems to be humble about him anymore, including his life choices—and here I am, holding my breath, afraid to move, listening to his flustered exhale when I slam the box closed, a loud clap shut. 

Without a word, I nudge him away from me, “Blair, listen—I was going to tell you…”

“When—? Before or after we had sex, Harry…Is that what this was?” I yell.

He panics and cups a hand over my mouth. It’s not hard, but it annoys the hell out of me, and I wrench his arm away, forcing him toward the window, “Don’t you fucking do that—you don’t get to do that—”

“I’m sorry—but seriously, Blair, let’s not wake your family,”

I let out a dry laugh, “Oh—trust me, they would understand—” I seeth.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Blair, that’s not fair—I don’t know what this was…I just really wanted to see you—” he says, raking a hand through his hair, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he licks his lips, running a hand down his face as he turns away.

“What do you want me to do? This is the way it’s supposed to work out. You know my family …I don’t really have a say. You know that—”

“Please—Harry—you’re almost 30 years old. You don’t think you have any say in your life?”

He turns around, a condescending laugh filling the space, “You of all people should understand…”

“Well—I thought I did…but I don’t think I do anymore. It just doesn’t make sense…none of this seems to make sense anymore. I don’t understand how we could be perfectly fine one day, and as soon as your dad put you on the path to be a partner at his firm—which we both knew would happen—” I start.

He shakes his head, pinching his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, contemplating my words, “Help me make it; make sense. When we knew all along what the path was going to be. Were did “WE” get lost because I did nothing but support you, and then you went away on that trip with your family—”

“And you’re on about this again…” he interrupts, words cutting like knives because this was the theme of some of our biggest arguments.

I’m shaking my head this time, confusion inching through my brain, straining to grasp for details I thought I packed away. “Now that’s not fair…” I force, my throat burning with the effort of biting back tears. 

“Listen—this is my fault—” he says, reaching for the box, “I shouldn’t have come. I knew this would be a bad idea, but I just—”

I grasp onto the box, wanting to catch his eyes. I want to see the regret, “Tell me, does it hurt you, hurting me…I could have waited for your mom’s Facebook post…I know she’s over the moon with her…just fucking smitten that’s she’s everything and more—”

“I should go,” he says, his eyes darting to the window before he slides the box into his pocket. He opens the window, and the cold breeze flits into the dark room, reminding me of how little I have on. My eyes float to the bed, already mourning us like a fading memory—disappointment crawling up my spine, the sick twist of regret already tearing at my emotions as tears fill my eyes.

“Yeah, this was a bad idea…” I tell him, choking on the words, and I can feel my body starting to tremble. I want him gone, forever, to leave and be with his girlfriend, who will get him in the daylight. Who will kiss the mouth of the man I love for the rest of her life—and I’m sick—sick with the thought of them—and damn—This was easier when there was distance when I could pretend he didn’t exist.

“I’m sorry, bee—” He whispers, a slight trimmer in his voice as he reaches out to me, and let him because if this is all that is left. I want that last kiss. I want a kiss from the lips that were once mine, but when he pulls me in, I reach for his face, and he interjects, grasping my hands in his, denying me my one last wish.

“Harry…” I whisper, hot tears burning my eyes, “It’s just you and me right now…” I plead because he has that look of goodbye in his eyes; the reality setting in, like me standing here in his old tee-shirt, is too real for him—The cold draft of the air brings the world in with it. Yes, I feel it too, but his hands are so warm, his face is so sweet and kind, and I know what he’s about to do.

“Bee—” He tries, swallowing hard, like the words are stuck in his throat, tears drawing in his eyes, and he rubs his lips together, shaking his head as his eyes dart to our hands, and I grip his hands harder because he’s going to leave—he’s going to leave, and I’m never going to get his back; This man—the love of my life. There’s never a time he hasn’t had me, and he’s going to leave, he’s going to move on, and he will still have me because I could never let him go.

And when the tears spill over and fall down his cheeks, my body aches with a longing that’s so deep in my bone it hurts—my love for him hurts so fucking bad that I don’t think I’ll ever not love him or not want to be with him. He’s standing here breaking my heart all over again, and I still love him. I still want him always and forever like he fucking promised me because he did promise, and now she gets him; she gets to have my always and forever.

Now he’s pulling away, and I won’t let him go; I can’t let him go. “Bee…please…” he begs softly.

“I love you,” I cry out, “I love you so much, H—” and he pulls me into his body, letting me sob into his chest, my hot breath seeping into his body, and I breathe him in, trying to memorize our scent, but it there like muscle memory something I could never forget.

“You know I love you, Bee…” he breathes, pressing a warm kiss to the top of my head, “You know I will always love you, but you know that we can never do this again…”

His words slice through my pain, filling me with rage, and he’s right. We can’t do this ever again; he doesn’t get to have me like this and go back to her—and I’m so fucking mad at myself for falling into his trap because I’ve been so good. I can’t even remember the last time I talked to him. He knew what would happen when he knocked on my window, and I was so stupid to let him—yet here he is still wielding his power. 

“You have to go,” I tell him, trying to force myself from his arms, and Harry’s grip tightens.

“I’m sorry, Bee—”

“No—this was wrong—this was all wrong, and you shouldn’t have done this…we shouldn’t have done this—”

I push him toward the window, angry adrenaline a trimmer in my fingertips when I bring a shaky hand up to tuck my hair behind my ear, “You did this to us…” I tell him.

“I’m—” he starts, and I know he’s just going to try and apologize, but that will never be enough, not when I know what happens next—and what? Did he use me? Did he feel sad and come looking for my sympathy?

“Leave—” I spit.

“Bee…come on—”

“Leave!” I say louder, loud enough to send an echo through the room. He stiffens, his panic reaching his face, and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Fine—” he hisses, his hair falling into his face as he bends his body halfway through the window. Harry doesn’t even look back; he doesn’t even give me a tiny morsel of hope, and I don’t know what I was expecting. Then Harry is out the window, and I slam it shut, swiping the curtains closed.

“Merry fucking Christmas, you Asshole…” I breathe, falling onto the bed to cry. 

…

Here’s the thing about Christmas in my house: we wake up and celebrate, and nothing else is allowed. It’s the one time of the year when my mom is allowed to live in the delusion that everything is merry and bright. There’s no space to be sad. She’s up with the rising sun, her hair perfectly manicured, her make-up set for pictures, wrapped in a festive robe she just “rolled out of bed” in, and then she’s on to two more outfit changes. 

So this morning, when I woke, ready to welcome her joyful cheer, I was surprised to see none. I found her standing at the sink, my dad leaning against the counter like I had just interrupted a fight, maybe some disagreement they didn’t want me part of. My first thought was that they knew. They saw Harry leaving, or maybe my voice had carried, and they heard me arguing with him.

It was like being a teenager all over again as I walked toward the coffee maker to pour myself a cup. Without fail, the clink of the dish against the stone countertop ricochets through the thick silence in the room, making me jumpy; the slurp of the pour is interrupted when my mom speaks. “All I’m going to say is let’s get through this day. I don’t want to talk about it. We can call all touch base once everyone is gone—Bee, will you stay longer this time or not?” 

I’m in the midst of taking a sip, and the hot liquid hits my top lip, burning me as my eyes move from my dad to my mom in question, confused by whatever this is that I walked in on, “I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stay longer…I have a project—”

“Can you—?” she asks flatly like you better say “yes.” 

I look to my dad, who raises his brows, eyes widening, and he blows out a breath, his lip puffing as he brings his coffee to his mouth, “Fine.” I answer because it doesn’t seem like there’s any other option.

And that was it—She switched up her mood as quickly as the conversation ended. I stood there sipping my coffee, mentally preparing, and that’s how we carried on, pushing it under the rug.

It started with presents, each gift given its proper praise, mom all smiles, dad snapping pictures, my sister nudging my shoulder as a constant reminder to keep up the show, and it was perfect—it was— but every time the camera flashed. I could feel myself drifting to the thought of all the pictures that would greet me when I opened my phone—How her red lips and long dark hair would steal my breath, her beauty outshining us all. 

She became the jealous quake in my bones at the thought of Harry down on one knee, entrancing my thoughts, repeatedly threatening to pull me out of the moment—and now my mom is shouting from across the room, bidding for my attention, as I try and swallow the persistent lump burning a hole in my throat, making every word a battle of will to say the most straight-forward sentence—and it wasn’t fair; It wasn’t fair that I got to sit with it all day—a reel of memories cascading through my mind, always the slightest reminder to remind me of the past.

The smallest gestures, a deep-seeded pain strangling my insides; all my dad had to do was glance down at his watch. The watch Harry gave him when he turned forty or every time my mom tucked her behind her ear, I caught sight of the diamond earrings he got her and his mom, making them both laugh the last Christmas we all shared because that was our thing—it almost doesn’t seem real that our moms used to be best friends, nowadays it feels like a lifetime since they even shared one word, my mom growing bitter the day Harry broke my heart.

A sudden breakup can wreck anyone, and inherently, our families became the collateral damage, causing a complicated ripple through our families, a rigid divide that none of us knew how to address, let alone manage any semblance of a relationship; maybe that was our fault. I couldn’t be his friend. It hurt too much to try and mask my feelings, to manipulate them into something they weren’t, like right now—how I’m torturing myself, scrolling through social media, almost hoping I’ll see the pictures I know his mom will post. Perhaps it will be what I need; to rip the bandaid off, the right push I need to fucking move on because I don’t know how much longer I can live in the misery of what was and wasn’t.

Dissasoiating—the word of the day—a single word that could describe my whole day because somehow it’s dinner, and I’m sitting around the table trying to piece together the lapse in time I’ve lost. All it takes is one look at my mom to straighten up and be present. I don’t even know what they’re talking about, nor do I care, but when my cousin Jenny asks me to pass the potatoes, and the light captures the glint of her new engagement ring, my stomach drops, the hideous ache of jealousy climbing up my spine, and I’m sick again, my stomach turning at the thought, that maybe he’s already done it, maybe he’s asked her and she’s wearing his ring on her finger, and they’re sitting around the table; and every time she takes a bite it reflects the light from the chandler, everyone smiling because what a happy time, what a perfect day; what a bright fucking future they have.

This time, I can’t control it; it’s all too much, and I’m scraping the chair back, politely excusing myself, then bounding to the upstairs bathroom, yanking my phone from my pocket—and without a passing thought, I’m doing it—I’m calling Harry—by the first ring, I’m in panic mode, pacing back and forth, willing myself to end the call, trying to keep the phone from sliding down my sweaty palm.

I’m all adrenaline as I force the phone against my ear, the ring getting louder, and each time it rings, a gnarled knot of guilt builds in the depth of my belly. I keep looking to the toilet on the verge of falling to my knees and heaving anything that made its way to my stomach—then Harry forwards the fucking call to voicemail, and tears are spilling over my lids, my whole body hot, like maybe I’ll combust right here, explode with the fury of heat rising in my body.

I’m surprising myself when I press his name again, bringing the phone back to my ear, and I hold my breath, waiting for the first ring. It rings and then rings again, and by the third ring, I think I might get through—and it’s all a joke because yeah fucking right—By the fifth ring, I’m second-guessing myself again, shame eating away at my flesh, and then he’s forwarding the call again—my shame flying out the window.

Okay, yes, maybe this is the part where I tell you I should be embarrassed—but fuck it, I’m calling again, losing myself a little more each time he forwards my call. By the 8th call, I’m tormenting myself, a pitiful excuse of a human on the ground so caught up in my own grief that I don’t even hear my sister knocking on the door. The knock sounds, making my heart leap in my chest, the fear of being caught ripping through like an earth quack, and I’m up, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror, not even recognizing the person looking back at me. 

I haven’t felt this desperate since we broke up, like an anxious tick buzzing under my skin. The humiliation of it all is a time bomb, counting down the seconds until it ignites inside me—and I’m there. I ignore the steady stream of knocks and crouch down like the monster I’ve become because I can’t look at myself and do what I know I’m about to do—it’s my one last stance, and I shoot Harry a text:

“Your a fucking coward!” I send and then realize I used the wrong fucking “your,” and my pride won’t let me go out like this. I send a quick “you’re” to fix my mistake and watch the screen, knowing he is now more aware of his than before. When the line changes from “delivered” to “read,” I watch the tiny dots collect in the corner of the screen, awaiting his reply—they appear and disappear several times until it finally stops altogether, and he leaves me on read.

Just as I’m about to send “fuck you!” my sister opens the door, pushing the bobby pin she used to pick the lock back into her hair, and closes the door behind her. “Dude, whatever is going on right now—you need to get it together—it’s one fucking day, okay…that’s all mom asks for, and she’s down there growing impatient. So seriously…if you’re up here freaking out about another dude you met on a dating app—like this isn’t the time—”

“I had sex with Harry—” I confess right then and there because I know this will be the only thing that will make her understand.

“No—” she says, pulling a handful of toilet paper from the roll, “We’re not doing this right now…” She wipes the tears from my face and forces me out of the bathroom and into my room.

“You have two minutes to get your shit together. I need Mom to be in a good mood today…listen, I have big shit going on too, but you don’t see me up here crying—” and she’s right. I saw her pregnancy test in our shared bathroom trash. She must have been panicked when she half-assed her wrapping job on her test. I know I taught her better than that, but this was what I needed to pull myself back up.

I came down the stairs with a smile. Everyone in the sitting room was having coffee and dessert; this was the last stretch. This is all we had left, and then I can check my phone that my sister made me leave upstairs—and so I would drone on keeping up with conversations, tossing out witty remakes, bringing laughter and joy to everyone around, and when my mom sent me a genuine smile, I felt myself smiling back, enjoying the company of my family; and when dad slipped me the “good” eggnog I realized that there’s nothing better at taking the edge off then alcohol.

Four eggnogs in on an empty stomach, and I was working the room, exaggerating about my life and all the projects I’ve taken on at work, dodging questions about my dating life, and when my grandma brought up Harry four times, dammit, I didn’t even flinch, I just kept the conversation moving, filter out the emotions coursing through me like a breeze on a sunny day, right before a summer storm sets in. I even kept it cute and classy when cousin Jen took her engagement ring on a tour around the room, gutting me like a fish when she said, “I never thought I would get married before you…you know…like you and Harry were like “it” you know—” and I’m smiling again, getting a nod of approval from mom when she hears me congratulate Jen again, admiring her beautiful ring.

By eggnog five, I’m switching to “what he’s having,” I shout to my dad as I watched him pour, maybe whisky over the rocks, a shallow pour, but it packed a punch. I knew it was time to dial it back when I found myself leaning over Jenny, who was flipping between her social platforms, landing on Facebook, where I know for a fact Harry’s mom would be posting, taking care to tag everyone in each photo—which brings me back to the time when dear ole’ cousin Jenny started following Harry. It was Christmas break, we had just turned fifteen, and I could tell she had a crush on him. She spent all Christmas break following us around, cornering him anytime she could get him alone; I had to share my bed with her that Christmas, and I remember how miserable I was without the gift of Harry crawling through my window on Christmas Eve.

It’s wild to think of how feeble my grasp on time was when we were young, how a couple of weeks could feel like an eternity; it’s been less than a day since I saw him last. How am I supposed to go a lifetime of never hearing his voice again, to look into those green eyes that have seen me through so many changes, not to feel those hands that have cradled me like a child, held me like a lover, squeezing and pulling me into shapes that fit him; arms that carried and lifted me to heights that I could never have reached on my own—and maybe I speaking figuratively because no one has carried me at my worst or lifted me at my best until I was the best version of myself, but isn’t funny how the people that bring out our best know exactly how to rally the worst parts of us.

Mom taps her dessert spoon to her glass, grabbing everyone’s attention. It’s time for her big send-off speech. My eyes dart to my sister leaning against the fireplace, rolling her eyes, “I just want to start by saying I’m so thrilled that you’ve all chosen to spend this joyous holiday with us…you all know this is my absolute favorite holiday and every year I look forward to spending it with each and every one of you—” she tells us raising her glass, and everyone knows what’s coming next and as she starts her final lines— the same lines she uses every year—my sister sends me a wink mouthing the lines in unison with our mother.

“There’s no time like Christmas to let you know how appreciated you are. I feel honored to call you family…” and her hook, line, and sinker is, “May the light of Christmas warm your hearts this holiday season and remember love is the true spirit of Christmas—” 

My throat burns as she finishes, “And always know how much I love you and always will…so before I start getting too emotional, I better cut myself off—” she laughs, wiping a tear from her eye, and as much as I hate how crazy she gets about Christmas, she really is amazing at being so selfless; to give everyone such a beautiful day, and I’m so grateful for her and my family, and then the doorbell rings taken everyone by surprise. We all freeze, eyes moving around the room because we’re all here, and no one is expecting anyone.

“Fred—” my mom calls to my dad. “Are we expecting anyone else?” 

My dad’s reaction is slow, but he launches himself from the chair and excuses himself. When he comes back, he looks bewildered, half-tipsy as he shrugs his shoulder to tell us no one was there—and that was that. No one blinked an eye—yet my first thought was Harry, and I felt myself slipping because the whole day had passed; certainly, theirs was over by now, and the thought had me breaking my own heart, picturing her in his old bed, the whole family tucked away in their rooms, still riding out the high of such a magically joyful day.

And she’ll kiss his lip and say, “I love you.” He’ll lay her down in the bed I gave myself to him in, and he’ll make love to her like he loved me last night, and there is no end; there’s no end to the torture of it all because how can one person fuse themselves to every fiber of my being—and more importantly how could I still allow it?

As the last guest passed our threshold, Mom, being the gracious host she was, sent them off with candies and cookies, and I stood there wishing I was more like her, like my sister, who could always pretend, who knew how to wear “the smile” like a badge of honor. I wondered why this all had to be so hard. Why is love all or nothing? Why can’t we flip a switch and “poof,” it’s gone?

I watched my mom close the door, my siblings dispersing, and my dad already making his way back to his chair, but my mom just stood there. She let out a heavy sigh, her once perfect posture decompressing as she held on to the doorknob, “Oh Bee��” she said, eventually turning around to face me, and suddenly it looked like the weight of the day had finally caught up to her beautiful features, now tired—a mournful pinch between her brows, pursuing her lip while her eyes roamed my face. I’m trying my hardest to keep it together because there is something about that look a mom can give, that “I can fix everything with a hug” look.

“Do you need anything…I didn’t sleep very well last night. I was thinking of calling it early. if that’s okay?” I ask

“Oh honey, don’t worry about it…it’s been a long day for everyone,” she states, unbuttoning the first two buttons of her silk blouse, that mourful look still lacing her features.

“Let’s just deal with the clean up tomorrow…sound good, baby?” she tells me, slinging an arm around my shoulder, “I know today was hard for you…Thank you for being such a good sport. I’m so proud of the way you handled yourself. You did a beautiful job, sweetie.”  Her words catch me off guard, and I turn to face her, my throat burning at the thought that she knows everything.

I swallow hard, opening my mouth to let out the words building up, but I can only manage a small whimper. “Listen, honey,” Mom starts, and I’m already a puddle in her arms, wanting my mommy to make it all better.

“I’m not going to lie and say it gets better, but one day, it’s not going to hurt as bad as it hurts right now, and eventually, when you find someone new—” 

I gasped out a sob then, her words hitting every sore spot on my body, “Shhh—Shh—I know baby, I know—but listen,” She said, cradling my face in her hands, “I know that this isn’t what you want to hear—”

“But one day you will find someone new, and they’ll be just enough to get you over that last slump of pain, and maybe if you’re lucky enough…which I know you are…Harry will become a pleasant memory of the past, baby, because both of you were so lucky to have what you had. Not everyone will get to say they had a love like the two of you shared, and that is so so special, honey, so special—”

The tears are rolling down my cheeks faster than my mom can swipe them away, and it’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep myself upright, “I love him so much—” I push past the sob, shuttering through me.

“I know, honey, I know—one of the hardest lessons we can learn is to let the people we love go, let them go so they can be free, and if it’s meant to be, they’ll come back—”

“I can’t, Mom, I can’t do it,” I cry, trying to bury my face into her shoulder, but she has a firm grip on it. Blair Marie, you are so strong, honey, and we are all here for you. You can do this, okay?” she says, nodding her head up and down.

“Okay?” She asks again, and I nod in agreement, “Listen—between you and me, we’re going to have our hands full anyway, right? Don’t think I don’t know about your sister—she’s next.”

I’m stunned into silence. “Yeah, I know. That’s how I felt at first. Honey, I love you. I am here for you. Now go get some rest…” she says, pushing me toward the stairs.

“Oh—and hopefully, we aren’t expecting any unexpected guests this evening….”

I shake my head, “I—” 

“Yeah, slamming your window at the crack of dawn is a dead give away—”

Somehow, she manages to get a smile out of me, and I roll my eyes, ready to make my way up the stairs, “Hey, Mom, thank you for making today so beautiful…it really was beautiful.” I tell her.

“Oh—! And Mom, thank you for those kind words. I love you.” she smiles, placing a hand over her heart, and we share a look of knowing—and without a doubt, that woman managed to lift my spirits—again. She’s too good at that; she is father fucking Christmas.

And while my heart still felt heavy, I felt like I could get through this night. I would march into my room, head straight for my phone, and turn it off; there would be no doomsday scrolling. I would take a shower, hell maybe even take a hot bath to rid myself of this day—Maybe I would even start packing away everything in my childhood room that reminded me of him, set myself up for the next year, and seriously, it was amazing how quickly the motivation surged up my chest; almost bursting at the seams with the very thought of it.

So by the time I turned my knob, I was ready, so fucking ready—But as the door clicked open, a cold chill grazed over my wrist. All I saw was my curtains billowing back and forth with the breeze flowing in and out of my window, and I rushed over to shut the damn window because I didn’t remember opening it, but maybe my sister opened it while I was fixing my make up earlier and that’s when I hear it:

“Bee—” 

I slam the window shut, panic rushing through me, every limb of my body shaking with it as I turn toward the sound. And there he is, the love of my life, sitting on the edge of my bed, hunched over with his face buried in his hands, and when he looks up. I can tell he’s been crying, and he pulls a small box from his pocket and places it on the nightstand, right next to the very same box that held his future, and all he says is, “I couldn’t do it—”

[lilbrainbigheartz]

Xmas headcanons of Stu Macher as your boyfriend 🎄

m.list

Stu is that guy who’s way too much into Christmas.

-He has no shame in being obnoxiously romantic during the holiday season. Expect him to hang mistletoe above your locker so he can swoop in for kisses between classes.

-Stu brings mistletoe to every group hangout and always finds a way to dangle it over your heads. He’s relentless, and the group teases you both endlessly for it, but he doesn’t care. “I’m just following tradition, babe!”

-he will also fill your or Billy‘s locker with tinsel as a prank. Billy and you: "really?" Stu:"this place‘s like christmas!" (Yes I just quoted him from the movie. Yes I did.)

-On a snowy day, Stu drags you outside for a snowball fight. He’s relentless but also ridiculous—throwing himself into snowdrifts, pretending to “die” dramatically when you hit him. When you both collapse from laughter, he brushes the snow off your cheeks and kisses you until your nose turns pink.

-just expect to have snowballs thrown into your face all the time (that lil shit)

-The group does a Secret Santa, and Stu goes all out for yours. Even though he’s terrible at keeping secrets, he gets you something surprisingly thoughtful—a gift that perfectly reflects an inside joke or a memory you share. He will do anything to get you for secret santa cuz why the hell not? If someone else has you, he will beg them to switch with him (or else they‘re dead)

-At group hangouts, he always pulls you into his lap, even if there’s an empty seat. He spends the entire movie or game night whispering jokes in your ear and kissing the side of your face until Tatum throws popcorn at him to get him to stop disturbing the others during the movie.

-During a Christmas baking night with the group, Stu “helps” you decorate cookies but ends up eating half the frosting or making inappropriate designs. He sneaks frosting onto your nose just to have an excuse to kiss it off (honestly I‘d forgive him)

-he‘d buy two plushies that are either two couple-ish snowmans or penguins and then say "Look guys! That‘s me and Y/N!😍" and then hang it as christmas decoration on the tree!

-he will totally burst into christmas songs like Mariah Carey. Either trying to hit the high note "IT‘S TIMEEE" Or singing to you "ALL I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS IS YOU!"

-After a day of chaos with the group, Stu pulls you aside for some alone time. He takes you outside where the snow is falling softly and wraps his arms around you. “I know I’m a handful, but you make this whole Christmas thing way better, babe,” he says, leaning in for a kiss.

Christmas is the time we spent with our loved ones and you are definetly his beloved one!<3

[magnagaruzenmon]

Merry Axemas

Oh Dino! Oh Dino! or should I say Great Demon Emperor? you messed up because I Love when you do zombie stories, and you do you ridiculous high energy jokey narration I love you for (platonically like a brother) and Eunbi my my this is quite the christmas gift. Yeah you're making this a series. Go on now shoo. Start cooking. I look forward to the first chapter.

But it was only meant to be a wrap up... Sigh...Damn it… I guess it’s a series now.

A new perspective

Sakura grabbed her arm. “Chowon, we have to go!”

“I’m not leaving him!” she snarled, her voice raw with emotion.

The group hesitated, torn between their loyalty to Chowon and their survival instincts. Finally, Leo spoke, his voice heavy with regret. “We don’t have a choice. He wouldn’t want us to die here.”

The group began to retreat, dragging Chowon with them. She fought them every step of the way, but eventually, they relented leaving her, her eyes never leaving the direction Dinozen had been taken.

An hour later, Chowon sat alone by the charred remains of a tree, her knees pulled to her chest. Her mind raced, torn between worry for Dinozen and guilt for letting the group leave without her. She knew they would need a slayer but she expected Dinozen to come back any moment, and then they would go and tell off their group.

The sound of approaching footsteps made her tense, her hand instinctively going to her knife. A figure emerged from the shadows—a tall man with dark skin and a calm, almost disarming smile.

The person approaching her is me… yeah that's me your new and improved narrator. I approached the young woman who sat frozen, which was surprising to me to see someone so alone, but I guess I couldn't say much either because I was also very much alone. Her eyes were level with me though as she pulled her knife. I raised my hands above my head and replied, "Not a zombie. Just a traveler," the young lady looked at me suspiciously. She looked me over for any signs of infection or malice, but all she found was my goofball smile. But to her credit, she didn't let her guard down,

"Who are you?"

“Daihouzan,” I responded. The young lady eyed me suspiciously before asking what I was doing?

“Um, scavenging. If you can’t tell we are in the middle of the awesomepocalypse pocalypse pocalypse,” I responded while adding the echo for dramatic effect. The young woman scowled at me, and I replied “Woo tough crowd,”

“Do you think this is a game?” She growled angrily

“Uh, kinda,” I replied. “At least that’s how I’m treating it so I don’t get PTSD,” I added. The young lady eyed me confused I shrugged as I sat next to her, "So what seems to be the problem?"

"My friend is gone," she said, sadly, and I listened to her tell her story.

I felt bad because I had seen firsthand how people treated slayers and it wasn't the kindest always. Especially if they went into a rage, but I had been around enough slayers at this point to see them as people.

"Well, how about this we wait for your boyfriend (chowon growled at me saying that) oh okay mate, and if he's not here in the next 8 hours we go looking for him," I suggested. The young lady scowled and then said

"Okay, but you better not hold me down,"

I laughed and said, "Darling I am not just a monster hunter I am the monster hunter in these parts. I have seen more zombies than you have probably slain. I am a legend out here," the young lady finally laughed and said,

"If you are so much of a legend how come I don't know you," I clasped my hands together and said,

"you know what fair," before we began our wait.

At the fourth hour, hunger gnawed at me, and I decided to take a break from our quiet vigil. I headed into the safehouse and rummaged through what little remained. Among the scraps, I found instant ramen and a packet of vanilla tea. Not exactly gourmet, but in times like these, it was practically a feast. I prepared enough for both of us, though the young woman—still nameless to me—hadn’t said much the entire night.

When I returned, she sat by the same charred tree, her gaze fixed on the horizon as if willing something—or someone—to appear. I handed her the food, and though she accepted it, her movements were slow, her expression distant. She ate dourly, her eyes never meeting mine.

I settled beside her, eating in silence for a while. But something about her tugged at the edges of my memory, like a song you can’t quite place.

“Hey,” I started hesitantly, breaking the stillness. “What did you do before the outbreak?”

She paused mid-bite, her brow furrowing as though the question had stirred something painful. “I was a singer,” she said simply. “In a K-pop group.”

The pieces fell into place like a lightning strike. “Wait… are you Han Chowon? From Lightsum?” I blurted, the name tumbling out before I could stop myself.

Her head turned sharply toward me, and for a moment, her guarded demeanor cracked. Then, reluctantly, she nodded.

“No way,” I breathed, the realization hitting me like a truck. “Holy crap. I saw you guys when you did your show in LA! You were amazing. Seriously, I still remember how electric that performance was. And wow, you’re… you’re even prettier up close, even with this whole lioness vibe you’ve got going on.”

Her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment, though her expression remained cautious. Still, there was a flicker of something—maybe amusement, maybe warmth.

Beside her, I could almost feel an invisible presence, a low purr of approval from that "lioness" persona she seemed to carry. Even though I couldn’t explain it, I knew she had accepted my presence, at least for now.

She shifted uncomfortably, her voice quieter as she asked, “So… what’s your pre-outbreak story?”

I leaned back against the tree, letting out a small chuckle. “Nothing nearly as glamorous as yours,” I said. “I worked in records and did stunt work for movies. You know, falling off buildings, crashing cars, setting myself on fire. The usual.”

Chowon raised an eyebrow, her skepticism briefly overtaking her guardedness. “Stuntman, huh?”

“Yeah,” I said, a little sheepish. “I ran with my mentor, Jacob, who’s actually a Slayer now. In the early days of the outbreak, he took me under his wing and taught me everything I needed to survive. He’s the reason I’m still alive, really.”

There was a faint spark of interest in her eyes now, though it was still wrapped in layers of suspicion and exhaustion. “Where’s Jacob now?” she asked.

“Off doing Slayer things, I guess,” I said with a shrug. “Haven’t seen him in a while. But you know, he always said surviving wasn’t just about staying alive—it was about finding something worth protecting. Sounds cheesy, I know, but it stuck with me.”

Chowon’s gaze drifted again toward the horizon, her hands tightening slightly around the cup of vanilla tea. “Something worth protecting…” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, the silence between us felt less like a void and more like a shared understanding. Two people, broken in different ways, trying to find meaning in a world that had lost its own.

“Well,” I said, breaking the spell gently, “if your lioness persona approves, maybe we’ll survive this crazy apocalypse together.”

She didn’t laugh, but the corner of her mouth twitched—just enough to count as a win.

At the sixth hour, I knew it was time to stop waiting and start acting. Dinozen wouldn’t just rescue himself, and the longer we stayed idle, the more likely something terrible had already happened. I went to work, methodically preparing for the search. Weapons, check. Supplies—water, rations, the usual—check. I double-checked the straps on my shield, making sure everything was secure.

As I was finishing up, a low, guttural noise broke through the stillness. My head snapped up, ears straining to pinpoint the source. It was coming from the yard. Grunting, shuffling, and a growl that sent a chill down my spine.

I grabbed my shield and sword, Wicked Edge, and bolted outside. What I saw froze me in place for a split second. Chowon was locked in a brutal struggle with a bruiser zombie—a hulking, grotesque beast easily twice her size, its mottled skin stretched tight over grotesque muscles. It swung its massive arm at her, and she barely dodged, her knife looking pitifully inadequate against its bulk.

Without hesitation, I charged in, shield first. The impact of my rush slammed into the bruiser with a bone-crunching thud, sending it staggering back. Its neck twisted toward me at an impossible angle, its soulless eyes locking onto mine as it let out a guttural roar.

The bruiser charged, its enormous frame bearing down like a runaway train. I raised my shield just in time, absorbing the impact with a deafening clang that reverberated up my arm.

Before it could recover, I moved with practiced precision. With a single, powerful swing, I sliced through the bruiser’s midsection, cutting it clean in half. Blackened, viscous ichor spilled onto the ground as the top half of its body collapsed in a grotesque heap.

Breathing heavily, I turned to Chowon, who stood frozen, her knife still clutched in her hand. Her eyes were wide, not in fear but in surprise, maybe even awe.

“Sword Saint of Invincibility,” I said, pointing a thumb at myself with a grin. Chowon’s expression shifted, her guarded demeanor melting just slightly as a flicker of something else—approval, maybe—crossed her face. I could almost feel her inner lioness purring at the display of force.

Her gaze drifted to Wicked Edge, taking in its jagged, unnatural design. “What is that?” she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity.

“Oh, this?” I said, lifting the weapon for her to see. “It’s something I put together. Made it out of zombie parts and bone. I call it Wicked Edge.”

Chowon’s eyes lingered on the blade, her interest unmistakable. “You made it yourself?”

“Yup,” I said, sheathing the weapon with a flourish. “Every Slayer needs a signature weapon, right? Figured I’d put all those horror movie props and stuntman skills to good use.”

Her lips quirked upward, just a little. “Not bad.”

“Not bad?” I feigned offense, placing a hand over my heart. “I just saved your life with that ‘not bad’ weapon!”

She let out a soft, amused huff, though her lioness aura still clung to her like a second skin. “Thanks,” she said, her tone quieter but sincere.

“No problem,” I replied, giving her a grin. “Now, you ready to help me find Dinozen? We’ve got work to do.”

She nodded, determination hardening her features. And for the first time, I felt like we weren’t just two strangers thrown together by circumstance. We were a team. Or at least, we were getting there. Chowon nodded as she got up and she followed me. the two of us travel in the direction that she saw Dinozen taken in.

The road stretched long and empty ahead of us, the only sound was the crunch of gravel beneath our boots. Chowon was walking slightly behind me, her gaze lingering on the weapons strapped across my back and hanging from my belt. I could feel her eyes moving between them—curiosity and perhaps judgment in her steady gaze.

I smirked to myself. “You can just ask, you know.”

Chowon stiffened slightly, caught in the act. “Ask what?”

“About my weapons. I saw you eying them,” I said, slowing my pace to walk beside her.

She glanced at me, her expression guarded. “They’re… unusual. You make all these yourself?”

“Every single one,” I replied, pride evident in my voice. I reached over my shoulder and unslung the massive axe strapped to my back. The blade gleamed with an icy sheen, faint frost forming along its edge. “This here is Leviathan. Inspired by God of War, if you’ve played it.”

Her eyes narrowed, clearly unimpressed by the game reference, but her inner lioness stirred as she studied the weapon itself.

“It’s made from the bones and claws of a glacial bruiser,” I continued, twirling it effortlessly before planting it into the dirt. “The frost effect comes from glands I harvested from its throat. Hits like a truck and freezes anything it cuts.”

Chowon stepped closer, running a hand lightly along the blade’s edge. Her lips twitched in what might’ve been approval. “You made this from scratch?”

“Yup. Takes a while, but hey, it’s worth it when it can save your life.”

I put Leviathan back and pulled two short swords from my waist, their handles connected by chains that clinked softly as I moved. “These are the Blades of Chaos. Another shoutout to God of War—you’re sensing a theme here, right?”

The chains rattled as I spun the blades in a smooth, almost hypnotic motion, the tips glowing faintly with a fiery red hue.

“They’re made from a pair of burning runners I took down. I forged their ribcages into the blades and kept their internal heat sacs for the fire effects. They’re not as strong as some of my other weapons, but they’re fast, and the chains make them versatile. Good for keeping zombies at bay.”

Chowon tilted her head, watching me demonstrate a few moves with them. Her inner lioness practically purred in approval. “Resourceful,” she admitted.

I grinned, holstering the blades. “That’s one way to put it. Now, this beauty…” I unslung Wicked Edge, my personal favorite. A bone sword and shield combo, both jagged and intimidating. “This one’s my bread and butter. The sword is made from the femur of a bony behemoth, and the shield is its skull. Got ambushed by one a while back—it didn’t walk away.”

Chowon’s eyes flicked to the shield, noting the jagged edges of the skull and the faint traces of dried blood etched into the bone. “Looks… brutal.”

“It is,” I replied with a wink. “But also durable. The shield’s saved my life more times than I can count, and the sword’s sharp enough to slice through even armored zombies. Plus, there’s something poetic about using the undead’s own body against them.”

Chowon gave a small nod, clearly impressed despite herself. Her lioness let out a low growl of approval in the back of her mind, and I could sense her warming up to me—if only slightly.

“And last but not least…” I reached for the spear strapped to my back. “ Gae Bolg. Another mythology-based weapon. But this one’s got a modern twist.”

I held the spear out for her to see. Its sleek, polished shaft was lined with intricate carvings, and the tip gleamed with a metallic sheen. “Made from the spine of a bone mapper and the claws of a butcher. The real kicker? It can use rifle ammo and project shrapnel at lethal velocity .”

“Like a rifle?” she repeated, her eyebrows raising in surprise.

I tapped a small trigger mechanism hidden near the grip. “Yeah, this baby can fire off rifle rounds. The zombie bone acts as a natural accelerant, and I’ve got the mechanism rigged to launch projectiles with minimal recoil. Perfect for both long-distance video calls and the more intimate dinner dates I can find myself in.”

Chowon’s hand brushed the shaft, her lioness practically purring at the craftsmanship. “You made all these from nothing but zombie parts?”

“Zombie parts, scavenged scrap, and a little ingenuity,” I replied. “When the world’s gone to hell, you work with what you’ve got.”

Her gaze lingered on the spear before shifting to me. “Impressive. I can see why you’ve survived this long.”

“High praise coming from you,” I teased, slinging Gae bolg back onto my back.

She smirked slightly, the edges of her guarded expression softening. “Don’t let it go to your head, Sword Saint.”

“Oh, it’s already there, I saved a slayer there’s no greater achievement,” I said with a grin, resuming our walk.

As we continued down the road, I noticed her glancing at me more often. Her lioness seemed to hum with approval, as though silently acknowledging me as someone worth her attention. It made traveling with her much easier as she opened up a bit more to me.

We found the safe house just as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world into shadows. It was a squat, half-collapsed building, the windows boarded up and a flickering lantern glowing faintly inside. Chowon had been quiet for the past half-hour, her lioness seemingly tense, as if sensing something.

I tightened my grip on Gae Bolg as we approached. “Huh looks promising right?”

Chowon nodded, her expression unreadable. She pushed the door open without waiting for me, her usual cautious demeanor replaced by something raw and urgent. I followed close behind, the weight of the moment settling over us both.

Inside, the air was stale and musty, the faint scent of old wood and dried blood lingering. A figure sat slumped at the far end of the room, near the glow of the lantern. He was hunched over, staring at his hands as if they held some great mystery.

Chowon’s breath hitched as she stepped forward. “Dino…”

He looked up, his face partially obscured by shadow. For a moment, I thought he recognized her. But then, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Do I… know you?” he asked, his voice uncertain, like someone trying to piece together a puzzle with missing pieces.

“Oh goody,” I said sarcastically as my mind made the logic jump.

Chowon froze, her lioness recoiling in shock. “What do you mean? It’s me, Chowon. You—” She stopped herself, taking a shaky breath before continuing. “It’s me,” she repeated, softer this time.

Dinozen shook his head, wincing as he rubbed his temples. “I… I don’t remember. I don’t remember anything before waking up here.”

Chowon turned to me, desperation flickering in her eyes. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Looks like short-term amnesia,” I said, kneeling beside him to get a closer look. His pupils were dilated, and he flinched when I touched his shoulder. “Probably trauma from whatever that fire-breathing bruiser did to him. Could’ve been physical or just the stress. Either way, memory loss isn’t uncommon in situations like this.”

Chowon dropped to her knees in front of Dinozen, her hands hovering as if she wanted to grab him but was afraid he might pull away. “Dino, it’s me. I’m your partner your equal. We’ve been through everything together. You have to remember.”

He stared at her, his face conflicted. “I… I’m sorry. I want to, but… I can’t. It’s like there’s this fog in my head, and I can’t see through it.” I could see something underneath the surface of his mind stirring but it was being blocked. Probably a concussion.

Her lioness growled softly, a sound Dinozen and I could sense, and I watched as Chowon swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you remember.”

Dinozen’s gaze softened slightly at her tone, but there was still no spark of recognition.

I stepped back, giving them space. “He might need time,” I said, leaning against the wall. “And rest. This safe house seems secure enough for the night.”

Chowon nodded, though her focus never left Dinozen. “We’re not leaving him.”

“… do I look like an idiot?” I said dumbfounded. Chowon didn’t appreciate my tone and I quantified with one muck lighter, “Wasn’t planning on it,” I replied.

As the minutes passed, I set up camp near the entrance, keeping an eye on the room. Chowon stayed close to Dinozen, speaking to him in hushed tones, trying to jog his memory with stories and little details about their time together.

I couldn’t hear all of it, but I caught bits and pieces: how they met, the fights they survived, the way he always stood between her and danger. Dinozen listened intently, though the frustration in his eyes grew with each story he couldn’t recall.

After a while, he looked at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could remember. You seem… important.”

Chowon’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, she looked utterly defeated. But then her lioness stirred again, resolute. She reached out, finally taking his hand in hers.

“You’ll remember,” she said firmly. “And until you do, I’ll remind you every single day if I have to.”

Her determination was something to behold. Even at this moment, with the man she clearly cared about staring at her like a stranger, she refused to give up.

I leaned back, arms crossed, and muttered to myself, “Damn, you’re one hell of a woman, Chowon.”

Her lioness let out a low growl of agreement, and I couldn’t help but grin. We got ready for the night and all took corners to sleep. Chowon stayed with Dinozen. As we were getting ready to sleep the whole building fell quiet.

The room was silent except for the occasional creak of the safehouse settling. Dinozen sat across from Chowon, his brows furrowed as he tried to process the bits of his past she’d shared. Chowon stayed close, her hand still resting over his, refusing to let the distance between them widen further.

Then, a crackle broke the quiet.

I turned sharply toward the source of the noise—my comm radio. I grabbed it from my pack, adjusting the dial until a voice came through, muffled but audible.

“…Any survivors in Zone Twelve, this is CDC. We’ve secured a secondary evacuation route. Repeat: there is a secondary evacuation route heading southbound from Sector Echo-Five. Extraction is available at dawn. Ensure any Slayers are accounted for to assist with transport security.”

Chowon’s head snapped toward me, her eyes wide. “Evacuation route?”

Dinozen perked up too, though he still looked a little dazed. “They’re still running evacuations?”

“Looks like it,” I said, keeping my tone neutral but hopeful. “Echo-Five is only a day’s travel from here if we’re fast. We could make it before dawn.”

Chowon hesitated, glancing back at Dinozen. “You think we should go?”

I gave her a long look, weighing my words carefully. “This isn’t just about us. It’s about helping the people out there who still need it. The CDC is trusting Slayers to protect the convoy.” I gestured to Dinozen. “He’s a Slayer, even if his memories are fuzzy. And you’re no slouch yourself.”

Dinozen straightened slightly as if reminded of a part of himself he hadn’t lost. “If we can help people… we should go.”

Chowon frowned, her lioness growling softly in disagreement. “But you’re not at full strength. What if something happens?”

I stepped in, my tone light but firm. “That’s what I’m here for. Between the three of us, we’ve got a better chance than most. And hey, worst-case scenario, I’ll just make another weapon out of whatever tries to kill us.”

Chowon shot me a glare, but the tension in her shoulders eased a little.

“Fine,” she said, relenting. She turned back to Dinozen, her expression softening. “But if you start feeling worse, you tell me. No playing hero.”

Dinozen nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll try to remember that.”

I clapped my hands together, breaking the moment. “Alright, then! We’ve got a plan. Get some rest now, because once we leave, it’s full speed ahead. Ready break” I said as we finished our makeshift huddle.

The three of us began packing up in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. For Dinozen, it was likely the struggle to piece together his fragmented memories. For Chowon, it was the battle between her protective instincts and her trust in him. And for me?

Well, I couldn’t help but feel like the universe had put me in the right place at the right time. These two were something special, and if anyone could make it through this mess, it was them.

I glanced at Wicked Edge, already secured on my back, and muttered under my breath, “Looks like I’m in for another adventure.”

As we packed up, Chowon broke the silence. “There’s something you should know,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with an edge of defiance.

Dinozen and I both turned to her, curious. She tightened the straps on her pack and squared her shoulders, her lioness flickering in her gaze.

“I’m a Slayer too,” she said simply.

Dinozen blinked, his brow furrowing in confusion. “You… you’re a Slayer?”

I raised an eyebrow, more intrigued than shocked. “Huh. Explains the whole lioness aura thing. But why didn’t you say anything before?”

She shot me a look. “It’s not exactly the kind of thing you just tell people. Slayers don’t have the best reputation, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Dinozen rubbed the back of his neck, looking down. “I guess that makes sense. People… don’t trust us.”

Chowon softened at his tone, stepping closer. “That’s exactly why I didn’t say anything. But I’m done hiding. You’re not the only one who’s had to deal with the stigma. I’ve been fighting just as hard to prove I’m more than the monster people see.”

I leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a small grin tugging at my lips. “Well, well, the lioness reveals her claws. Makes sense, though—you’ve got the same fire in your eyes as he does.”

Chowon smirked faintly, though her gaze was still on Dinozen. “I became a Slayer later, after the outbreak. It wasn’t something I chose, but it happened. And it doesn’t make me any less human.”

Dinozen looked up at her, a flicker of admiration in his expression. “You’re… incredible,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes but smiled, the tension in her posture easing. “Save the flattery. We’ve got a mission to focus on.”

I pushed off the wall, clapping my hands once. “Alright, now that we’ve got that out in the open, let’s move. Two Slayers and one Monster Hunter? I’d say we’ve got this covered.”

Chowon gave a small laugh and shook her head. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

With that, we finished packing and prepared to head out, the weight of the world still heavy on our shoulders but lightened slightly by the truth now shared among us. For the first time, it felt like we were stepping forward as equals, ready to face whatever came next—together. After a good night’s rest full of pleasant dreams we got up early and headed off. While the slayers were clearly outpacing me I did keep up to the best of my ability. It was just hard competition when you’re competing against superhumans.

As we moved closer to the evacuation point, I noticed Dinozen’s stride slow. His eyes, glowing faintly with that predatory intensity I’d come to recognize, darted toward me, lingering on my leg and foot. Chowon must’ve picked up on it too because she stopped walking, her gaze sharp and focused as she studied me.

“You’re limping,” Dinozen said, his voice quieter now but laced with something deeper.

I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It’s nothing. Just another day in paradise.”

Chowon tilted her head, her lioness instincts practically visible in her gaze as she noticed the scars running across my arms and neck. The jagged bite marks, the claw slashes, even the more recent wounds I hadn’t had the chance to properly clean up.

“You’ve been bitten,” she said, her tone low and edged with suspicion.

Dinozen’s eyes narrowed as his predator side came closer to the surface, studying me with that same primal scrutiny. “And clawed,” he added, his voice carrying an undertone of disbelief. “Those aren’t old scars either.”

“And stabbed, and bled on, and puked on…the list goes on and on really,” I said, Chowon and Dinozen didn’t appreciate the humor and brought their weapons to me.

I sighed, rolling my shoulders as if to shake off the weight of their stares. “Alright, alright. Look, I know how it looks, but trust me—it’s not what you think.”

Dinozen stepped closer, his golden eyes narrowing further. His predator was fully awake now, assessing me like I was an enigma it couldn’t quite solve. “You’re not a Slayer, then what are you?”

I chuckled. “Nope. Not a Slayer. Not superhuman. Just your average, everyday guy.”

Chowon’s lioness flickered in her gaze as she folded her arms. “Explain. Now.”

I stopped walking and faced them both, raising my hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Truth is, I can’t turn into a zombie.”

Chowon’s lioness tensed, clearly unsettled. “What do you mean, you can’t turn?”

“It’s genetic,” I explained, letting the words come slowly so they’d sink in. “I was born without the gene that makes a person able to turn. Zombies can bite me, claw me, hell, even try to gnaw my arm off, but I won’t turn. Doesn’t matter how bad it gets…well as long as they don’t eat me. I haven’t found anyone who can come back from that,”

Dinozen’s predator flared again, his eyes locking onto me with newfound interest. I could feel it—the instinctual, primal part of him sizing me up, testing whether I was worth respecting or dismissing.

“You’re immune,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “That’s… rare.”

“Yup,” I replied, popping the ‘p’ for effect. “Not a Slayer, just a guy who lucked out in the genetic lottery. Lucky me, huh? Or maybe it’s bad luck as I’d probably be dead now and not have to worry about” I gestured to the world around us, “all of this,”

Chowon’s lioness narrowed its gaze, her body tense as she processed this. “If you’re immune, why are you still out here? You could’ve stayed somewhere safe.”

I let out a hollow laugh, the kind that barely hid the exhaustion beneath it. “Safe? Well to be honest I thought more of the world was gonna fall so I never saw a reason to leave the Dead States of America. Besides, if I can’t turn, that means I’m better off out here helping people who can’t say the same. Someone’s gotta do it. Not every group can have slayers you know,”

Dinozen’s predator seemed to settle then, its gaze shifting from suspicion to something closer to approval. It was subtle—the way his posture relaxed, the faint nod he gave—but I caught it.

“You put yourself in danger for other people,” Dinozen said, his voice steady but carrying that predatory respect.

“Yeah, well,” I replied, scratching the back of my neck. “Someone’s gotta be the monster hunter. Might as well be me.”

Chowon’s lioness seemed to relax too, though it wasn’t entirely at ease. She nodded slowly, her gaze softening as she spoke. “You’re braver than I thought.”

I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “Don’t get used to it. I’m still gonna make fun of you every chance I get.”

Dinozen’s predator lingered for a moment longer, then seemed to settle back into him. When he spoke again, it was with a faint smile. “You’re not bad, Daihouzan. Not bad at all.”

We started walking again, the tension between us replaced by a quiet understanding. Dinozen’s predator had found something it could respect, and Chowon’s lioness seemed to begrudgingly agree. For the first time, I felt like we were on even footing—a team, not just people thrown together by circumstance.

As the evacuation point came into view, I glanced at the two Slayers beside me. An odd trio, sure, but I wouldn’t trade them for anything. Well, maybe for a warm bed and a hot meal, but that’s beside the point.

We arrived at the rendezvous point earlier than expected, which was just fine by me. Keeping up with Slayers was exhausting. They had boundless energy, endless chatter, and a knack for making everything a spectacle. Meanwhile, I preferred my energy reserved for battles, not theatrics. As we waited in the eerie quiet, the sound of a struggle floated in from the east.

I sighed heavily. “Here we go again.”

Chowon and Dinozen were already moving toward the noise, their senses honed to detect danger like predators ready to strike.

“Wait!” I called, rising reluctantly to my feet. They stopped, looking back at me impatiently.

“They’re coming this way. Don’t waste your energy running over there. You’ll just tire yourselves out.”

Dinozen grunted in acknowledgment, while Chowon hesitated before nodding. They both stayed put, their bodies tense and ready for the inevitable. The sound grew louder—a combination of growls, shouting, and the distinct rumble of something large and enraged.

When the first figure burst through the treeline, it was exactly what I expected: a grotesque mutator zombie, its body twisted and bulging with muscle, its movements erratic yet disturbingly fast. Behind it, a group of survivors—no, Slayers—struggled to keep it at bay.

The mutator’s beady eyes locked onto me, and it let out a deep, guttural growl, its claws tearing into the earth as it stomped forward.

I groaned, rolling my neck as I stepped forward to meet it. “You dare challenge the Immortal Righteous Sword Saint of Invincibility, Daihouzan?” I bellowed dramatically, slamming my fist to my chest.

Everyone—Slayers included—stared at me like I’d grown a second head. Dinozen raised an eyebrow, while Chowon pinched the bridge of her nose.

“What?” I said, glancing back at them. “Y’all can yap too. Let me have fun. This is one of my few joys in life.”

The mutator roared again, louder this time, mocking my theatrics. I smirked and roared back, throwing in a little snarl for good measure. The beast charged, and I stepped forward, pulling the Blades of Chaos from my waist. The fiery chains glinted in the fading sunlight as I spun them, the flames licking hungrily at the air.

The fight was brief but brutal. The mutator lunged, claws swiping wildly, but it was no match for the whirlwind of flames and steel. The chains wrapped around its limbs, cutting deep, while the fire consumed its rotting flesh. With a final swing, the beast collapsed in a smoldering heap.

“Another one bites the dust,” I muttered, sheathing the blades as I bent down to scavenge. Among the remains, I found a few components for the weapon I was working on—a katana inspired by Vergil’s Yamato from Devil May Cry. I just needed an Odachi blade to complete it.

As I straightened up, the rumble of the CDC Super Train reached my ears. The massive, fortified convoy pulled into view, its sleek, armored cars a stark contrast to the chaos of the world around us. The Slayers and their group quickly boarded, and I followed, collapsing onto the floor the moment we were safely inside.

Before anyone could react, I raised a hand weakly and said, “Not turning. Just tired.”

The group relaxed, though some shot me wary glances. As the train began to move, everyone settled into the car, finding their own spaces. I drifted off briefly, but the sound of raised voices pulled me back to consciousness.

“I can’t believe you forced us to leave you!” Jihyo’s voice rang out, sharp and filled with anger.

“You left Dinozen!” Chowon fired back, her tone equally heated.

“Yeah, and we all paid the price!” A young woman with auburn hair—Nagyoung, if I remember correctly—growled next to Jihyo. “We were overrun at the next safe house with no Slayer to help us out.”

“We all got bit! Lucky for us, we were already Slayers!” Nagyoung added, her frustration spilling over.

“Hey,” I cut in, sitting up and rubbing my eyes. “Can y’all save the aggro for zombies? I was trying to sleep.”

One of the men—Donny, I assumed—turned to me with a glare. “You stay out of this!” he snapped.

I scratched my head lazily and gave him a bored look. “I don’t think you’ve got the combat acumen to back that threat, bruv, but hey, take your shot.”

The tension in the car grew thicker as another man—Leo—stepped forward, his expressionless aggressive but no less serious. “And who are you, exactly?”

I sighed, stretching dramatically as I stood. “Sword Saint of Invincibility. Combat Celebrant of Victory. Lord of Joy and Apex Hunter Extraordinaire—Daihouzan.” I gestured grandly. “And I’m not intimidated by your little show. I’ve fought way too many things to be scared of recently evolved Slayers.”

The room fell silent, save for Chowon and Dinozen, whose inner predators stirred. Their gazes showed a mix of respect and amusement. The others, however, looked at me like I was insane.

“Listen,” I continued, brushing off their reactions. “If no one has anything nice to say, let’s just keep it to ourselves. All this is gonna do is lead to conflict, and I don’t want to be the one mopping up body parts.”

Reluctantly, the group settled, muttering under their breaths as they returned to their seats. I found an open spot but realized it wasn’t empty. A woman sat there, dressed in a cowgirl outfit that reminded me a little of Tifa from Final Fantasy VII.

She looked up and smiled, extending her hand. “Hi, I’m Eunbi.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wow, you’re, like, really pretty,” I blurted before I could stop myself.

She chuckled. “Thank you. Also, good job stopping them from fighting.”

I nodded, still trying to process her presence. “Thanks.”

“You’re Daihouzan, right?” she asked, tilting her head.

I frowned. “How’d you know?”

Her grin widened. “I heard your whole introduction over there. You’re very dramatic.”

I chuckled, relaxing. “Hey, I earned the nickname. I’m gonna flaunt it.”

“Fair point,” she said with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with amusement. For the first time in what felt like ages, I felt something other than exhaustion—a strange, flickering sense of connection.

As the train rumbled forward, the tension in the car began to dissipate. Chowon sat quietly, but her unease was palpable. I could tell she wasn’t used to seeing her friends so confrontational—or so changed. Dinozen, ever the quiet observer, sat beside her, a steady presence as her fingers tapped nervously on her knees.

The air in the car felt thick, almost electric. Slayers always had this sort of energy, and as someone who’d been around them for far too long, I could tell something was off. Not wrong exactly, but… different.

I was just starting to nod off again when a sharp gasp snapped me awake.

Chowon was on her feet, staring at Nagyoung, who was hunched over and clutching her chest. Her auburn hair clung to her forehead as beads of sweat formed along her temples. Jihyo was next to her, holding her shoulders.

“What’s happening to her?” Chowon asked, panic creeping into her voice.

“I don’t know!” Jihyo exclaimed. “She was fine a second ago!”

Nagyoung groaned, her body trembling as her muscles seemed to ripple beneath her skin. Her fingers dug into the armrest of her seat, leaving dents in the metal.

“She’s evolving,” I said calmly, leaning back against the wall.

“What?” Chowon turned to me, wide-eyed.

“Relax. It’s normal for newly bitten Slayers,” I explained, waving a hand dismissively. “Their bodies are still figuring out what kind of apex predator they’re going to become. It’s not pretty, but it’s part of the deal.”

Before Chowon could respond, another groan echoed through the car. This time, it was Donny, Nagyoung’s boyfriend. His head was tilted back, his eyes glowing faintly as veins pulsed along his neck. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and his nails had started to darken into sharp, claw-like tips.

“Okay, this is getting weird,” Dinozen muttered, his gaze flicking between the two.

The train car felt like it was vibrating on a different frequency now. Leo let out a grunt, doubling over as his arms flexed involuntarily. Beside him, Sakura steadied him, her expression calm despite the fact that her own transformation was starting—her pupils narrowing into slits and her movements becoming unnaturally graceful.

Jihyo winced as her girlfriend, Venus, clutched her arm, her skin shimmering faintly as if the light was refracting off it. Even Mikey and Chaehyun weren’t spared—Mikey’s hair seemed to darken unnaturally, and Chaehyun’s normally delicate features hardened, her nails digging into the fabric of her seat.

“Everyone… everyone’s changing,” Chowon whispered, her voice trembling.

I stood, dusting off my coat and walking to the center of the car. “Alright, listen up!” I said, clapping my hands loudly. “This is just evolution doing its thing. Y’all are Slayers now—fully fledged apex predators. It’s not a big deal. You’ll feel stronger, faster, and more dangerous. Maybe you’ll grow claws, fangs, or wings. Who knows? Point is, you’ll get through it.”

“You’re acting like this is normal!” Chowon snapped, glaring at me.

I shrugged. “Because it is normal—for Slayers. You’re just not used to it.”

“But… all of them?” she said, her voice breaking. “Jihyo, Nagyoung, Mikey… even Sakura?”

“They got bit,” I said plainly. “The Slayer gene kicked in, and now they’re apex predators. Simple as that. You’re looking at the new food chain, Chowon, and your friends are officially at the top.”

Chowon’s gaze darted between her friends, who were now writhing, grunting, or grimacing through their transformations. It wasn’t just physical—there was something primal in their eyes, something animalistic and raw.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” she muttered, sinking back into her seat.

Dinozen, who had been quiet all this time, placed a hand on her shoulder. “Neither did we,” he said softly. “But it’s who we are now. And so are they.”

Chowon looked up at him, her expression conflicted. Before she could respond, Nagyoung let out a sharp cry, and suddenly the air shifted. Her body went still, her breathing slowed, and when she looked up, her glowing eyes were sharp and focused. She flexed her hands, the claws retracting and extending as if testing them out.

“Whoa,” Nagyoung muttered, examining herself. “This… feels insane.”

The others began to stabilize as well, their transformations complete. Donny stretched, his muscles taut beneath his shirt, while Leo cracked his neck, looking oddly serene despite the faint glow in his irises. Venus’s skin shimmered faintly before fading, and Sakura moved with a fluidity that was almost unnerving.

“I feel… powerful,” Jihyo murmured, her voice laced with awe as she flexed her fingers.

“Well, congrats,” I said, crossing my arms. “You’re officially Slayers. Welcome to the club.”

Chowon’s hands trembled as she looked at them. These were her friends—her family—but now they were something else entirely. For a moment, she looked like she might cry, but then she took a deep breath and stood.

“Alright,” she said, her voice firm. “If this is who you are now, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

Dinozen nodded approvingly, and the others looked at her with newfound respect. Even in the chaos of their transformation, Chowon’s determination cut through like a beacon.

As the train continued on its journey, the car settled into an uneasy quiet. But the air still buzzed with the latent energy of predators in their prime. This was a new beginning—for them and for Chowon. And something told me that things were only going to get more complicated from here.

As the train finally settled into a steady rhythm, the tension in the car eased. Chowon’s friends were still adjusting to their new reality as Slayers, but for now, the transformations seemed to have stabilized. I, on the other hand, was more interested in finding my way back to some peace and quiet.

Sliding back into my seat, I was met with Eunbi’s warm smile. She looked unfazed by the chaos that had just unfolded—a Slayer herself, her calmness in the face of danger was almost unnerving.

“Back so soon?” she asked, her tone light and teasing.

I shrugged, leaning back against the wall. “Figured I’d come back to the only sane person on this train.”

She chuckled at that, her hand resting lazily on the armrest. “How do you know so much about zombies and Slayers?” she asked, her head tilting curiously. “You didn’t even blink back there.”

I sighed, folding my arms over my chest. “Let’s just say I’ve been in the Dead States of America a long time. Seen a lot, fought even more.”

Her brow lifted in interest, her smile widening. “Like what?”

“Oh, you know, the usual,” I said with a wry grin. “Regular zombies, Apex mutators, Raider packs. Once fought a hive of those weird spitter things that can blind you with their goo. Nasty business. But Slayers?” I nodded toward the rest of the train car. “Slayers are a whole different animal. You learn quick when you’ve got to survive alongside them.”

Eunbi studied me for a moment, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And yet you’re still here, perfectly fine. Either you’re the luckiest man alive or you’re tougher than you look.”

I smirked. “Maybe both.”

“Maybe,” she echoed, leaning her chin on her hand. “So, what’s the weirdest thing you’ve fought?”

I considered that for a moment, my gaze drifting to the ceiling. “There was this one mutator… it had four arms, each one bigger than my torso. Looked like something out of a nightmare. Took me three days to track it and kill it, and even then, I was down to my last bullet and one good arm by the end of it.”

Eunbi let out a low whistle. “Three days? Sounds like it almost got the better of you.”

“Almost,” I admitted, a small smile tugging at my lips. “But it didn’t. That’s the thing about this place—you either adapt, or you die. Me? I adapt.”

She nodded thoughtfully, her smile never wavering. “I can see that. You’ve got this… unshakable thing about you. Like no matter what happens, you’ll find a way through.”

I raised a brow at her. “Is that your Slayer sense talking?”

“Maybe,” she said, grinning. “Or maybe I’m just good at reading people.”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Well, whatever it is, you’re not wrong. I’ve been through too much to quit now.”

Eunbi leaned back in her seat, her gaze steady on me. “I think I like having you around, Daihouzan. You’re interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” I said, smirking. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” she assured me, her grin softening into a genuine smile. “You’re not like most people I’ve met. You’ve got stories. I can tell.”

I didn’t respond right away, letting her words hang in the air. It wasn’t often that someone looked at me and saw past the bravado and the theatrics. But Eunbi… she seemed to get it.

“Stick around,” she said after a moment, her tone light again. “I want to hear more of them.”

I leaned back, crossing my arms. “We’ll see if you can keep up.”

Eunbi laughed, the sound soft and melodic, cutting through the lingering tension in the car. For the first time in what felt like forever, I allowed myself to relax. Maybe, just maybe, this train ride wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

That feeling was quickly squashed as we arrived at the refueling station. The refueling station had an eerie stillness about it, despite the shuffling of the undead. Willamette, Colorado—of all places—was a name I hadn’t heard in years, but the sight before me quickly reminded me why I avoided it like the plague.

“An absolute piss show,” Jacob’s words echoed in my head as I took in the scene.

A massive horde of zombies stretched as far as the eye could see, and at the center of it all stood the Rage Cage—a sinister contraption of steel and wires, pulsating with an unsettling red glow. It was built to amplify the infection, driving any Slayer caught in its radius into a feral, uncontrollable fury.

As the train came to a stop, I groaned, already knowing what was about to go down. Chowon, Eunbi, and the others looked at me with confusion until I broke the silence.

“Alright, listen up,” I said, taking Leviathan, my trusty axe, off my back. “I’m going to need all of you to stay in the train car while I handle this.”

“Wait, what?” Chowon asked, her brows furrowing.

Eunbi crossed her arms. “Why are we staying behind?”

I pointed at the Rage Cage with my axe, the glowing monstrosity casting an ominous light over the scene. “That,” I said. “That’s a Rage Cage. It messes with Slayers and amps up your infection until you’re just as much of a danger as the zombies. And I, for one, prefer not to get mauled by any of you. So, you stay here, looking pretty, while I handle the horde.”

I could see the protests forming in Jihyo’s and Venus’s eyes, but before they could speak, Eunbi stepped forward.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked, her voice softer, less confrontational than the others.

I sighed, gripping Leviathan tighter. “No, not really. But I don’t have much of a choice.”

Without waiting for a response, I opened the door and stepped into the fray.

The first few walkers were easy enough—slow, stumbling dead, barely more than target practice. Leviathan sang as it cleaved through rotting flesh and bone, the frost-etched blade cutting cleanly. I moved through the crowd like a storm, carving a path and dropping bodies with every swing.

Then came the Butchers.

These hulking monstrosities were larger than the average Apex, their muscles grotesquely swollen and their mouths filled with jagged teeth. They moved with alarming speed, but Leviathan was faster. I sidestepped the first one, swinging the axe into its torso and freezing it solid before shattering it with a follow-up strike.

I was just catching my breath when I heard a voice—calm, familiar, and thoroughly unwelcome.

“Ah, I should have known you’d be here,” it said, cutting through the chaos.

I groaned, already knowing who it was. Turning, I saw her: Mrs. Konrad.

Standing on the observation platform of the Rage Cage, she looked as immaculate as ever, her pale green eyes glowing faintly in the overcast light. She was dressed in a tailored suit and heels, her appearance at odds with the apocalyptic nightmare surrounding us.

“Please don’t do this,” I said, exhaustion seeping into my voice. “I’m leaving. You win. You and your super Slayers can have the States. I’m done fighting you.”

Mrs. Konrad smiled, her expression equal parts amusement and condescension. “Oh, Daihouzan, you misunderstand. It’s not about winning. It’s about teaching.” She gestured toward the train. “You’ve gathered quite the collection of Slayers, haven’t you? They need guidance, my guidance.”

I rolled my eyes, gripping Leviathan tighter. “So, what? You built a Rage Cage to teach them a lesson?”

She smiled wider. “Of course. They need to feel the full fury of their powers, to understand what they truly are.”

“Jacob asked me not to harm you,” I said my voice hardening. “So I won’t start this fight. But if you keep pushing, Konrad, I will put you in the dirt.”

Her laugh was cold and sharp, echoing off the steel walls of the station. “Always so dramatic. I suppose that’s what makes you Jacob’s protégé.” She turned toward the generator powering the train. “Fine. I’ll leave your Slayers alone—if you can withstand the onslaught.”

With a wave of her hand, she activated the gate holding back the next wave of Apexes. I groaned, pulling out my phone.

“What are you doing?” she asked, curious.

“Getting the proper music,” I said, scrolling through my playlist until I found the track I was looking for. I hit play, and Ice Nine Kills’s only Christmas song blasted through the speakers.

Mrs. Konrad laughed again, the sound oddly genuine. “You would have made an excellent Slayer.”

I shrugged, my eyes fixed on the approaching Apexes. “Blame genetics. I was born without the necrophage gene.”

“Pity,” she said, leaping away with an impossible grace, her heels clicking as she disappeared into the shadows.

The Butchers and other Apexes charged toward me, their roars drowning out the music. With a sigh, I adjusted my grip on Leviathan and muttered, “Guess it’s time to earn my keep.”

The battle began anew, and the chaos surged around me.

A lasher whipped its impossibly long tongue at me before I grabbed it and cut it off with Leviathan. Before bashing its head in with the pommel of the axe. I then turned my focus to three spitters coming my way. I closed the distance as I jumped above one before embedding the axe blade in its head dragging it through the rest of its torso before throwing the axe into the other acidic bile body the blade instantly froze the organ causing the spotter to explode on a puff of ice. I grabbed Leviathan having mowed down through most of the hoard before booting up the refueling machine. As it happened I felt a weird sensation on my arm to see a Shambler head gnawing on it. It was only the head and it had no teeth so it was only gnawing on me with gums. I rolled my eyes and tore it off me. Then I walk back to the train while finishing off the rest of the zombies before entering.

Eunbi was the first to see me as I stumbled back toward the train car, sweat dripping down my brow and Leviathan dragging along the ground behind me. She smiled warmly, her expression one of admiration mixed with a hint of relief. “Well, that was impressive,” she said, her tone light but sincere.

I sighed, exhaustion weighing heavy on my shoulders. “Impressive huh? Must be high praise coming from a slayer as pretty as you,” I muttered, collapsing into a seat as the automated train roared to life and sped off, leaving Willamette and its horrors behind. Eunbi smiled and said,

"Considering all I have seen impressive is right." before leaning into my shoulder as I fell asleep. Her warmth was comforting.

The train ride continued, with more survivors boarding at each stop. Every refueling station brought new faces, new stories, and an overwhelming mix of emotions. Slayers made up a significant portion of the passengers, their newfound powers creating a strange, uneasy dynamic. Not for me since I had been in the dead states of America for a while, and saw how the dead evolved. Some were adjusting better than others, but there was an undeniable tension in the air. Old rivalries surfaced, egos clashed, and the train car felt like a powder keg waiting for a spark. Lucky for me nothing ever did

I mostly stayed on the sidelines, keeping out of the way as groups formed and reformed around me. It was easier that way. I wasn’t really part of their world anymore Especially as we moved closer to civilization. Oddly enough I felt this existential dread creep up as we got closer.

I glanced out the window, hoping for a glimpse of Jacob at one of the stops. He’d taught me so much about surviving this world, about fighting back when everything seemed lost. But stop after stop, there was no sign of him.

I leaned back and closed my eyes, the motion of the train a dull hum in the background. “Hope you’re doing alright, old man,” I murmured to myself.

As the train finally reached its destination, I stepped out into the sprawling new base in South Korea. It was a surreal sight: a blend of American military precision and Korean urban ingenuity. The juxtaposition of East and West was jarring but strangely harmonious, a testament to humanity’s ability to adapt even in the face of apocalypse.

Our little group stood together for a moment, taking in the scene. Chowon, Dinozen, Eunbi, Jihyo, and the others—all of us had shared something profound throughout our time in the dead states. We’d fought together, survived together, and in some ways, grown together.

Eunbi was the first to break the silence, pulling everyone into a group hug. I laughed, caught off guard but not resisting. For a brief moment, the weight of everything we’d been through lifted.

When we broke apart, I grinned and said, “Well, I guess that’s the end of the awesomepocalypse.”

Eunbi smiled, her eyes bright despite the weariness etched into her features. “Awesomepocalypse,” she echoed as if savoring the word. “I like that.”

With that, we parted ways, each heading toward a different screening process. We didn’t make promises to keep in touch, but there was an unspoken understanding that we would always carry a piece of each other with us. One Year Later

I hadn’t expected much contact from anyone after we went our separate ways. Life had a way of pulling people apart, especially after something as transformative as what we’d been through. But Chowon and Dinozen surprised me. Every week, without fail, we gathered at my home for dinner.

Those dinners became a cornerstone of my new routine. Chowon and Dinozen had adapted to civilian life with remarkable grace. Their experiences as Slayers had left them more confident, and more assertive. Chowon, in particular, had channeled her newfound drive into her career. Under her watchful eye, Lightsum had transformed into a powerhouse, rivaling even Cube’s other flagship group, (G)-IDLE, in popularity.

Dinozen, for his part, had found a surprising knack for storytelling. He’d started writing a graphic novel series about the apocalypse, blending his experiences with a healthy dose of fiction. It was raw, emotional, and oddly hopeful—a reflection of the man himself.

So when a Christmas party invitation from none other than Jihyo of TWICE fame arrived in my mailbox, I was more than a little taken aback. I hadn’t heard from Jihyo since the train ride, though I’d occasionally caught glimpses of her in the news. She’d thrown herself back into her work, leading TWICE with the same determination that had carried her through the apocalypse.

I wasn’t sure what to expect as I stepped into the party, but one thing was clear: life had moved on, and we were all finding our own ways to thrive.

As I stepped into the party, the familiar hum of chatter and laughter greeted me. The venue was beautifully decorated, bright lights twinkling like stars in a sky that felt too close for comfort. It was strange, how such a festive atmosphere felt so distant after everything we’d been through, but I couldn’t help but be drawn in by the warmth of it all.

I barely made it past the door when the room suddenly erupted into cheers. At first, I thought I’d walked into the wrong party, but then I saw the familiar faces: Eunbi, Jihyo, and a few others from the Slayer community, all waving and grinning. It was like the whole room had been waiting for me.

“Yo, Daihouzan! You made it!” Eunbi’s voice rang out over the noise, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Jihyo, standing next to her, was grinning too, her eyes sparkling. “Daihouzan! It’s been too long!” she called out, her voice warm and inviting, full of the same energy she’d always had.

The crowd around them clapped and cheered, and I felt an unexpected flush creep up my neck. For a moment, I stood there, feeling like I was the one who’d just won a battle. People were genuinely happy to see me.

I raised my hand in a half-hearted wave, not quite sure how to respond to the warm reception. “I, uh… didn’t know I was this popular,” I said, trying to hide the amusement in my voice.

“Are you kidding? We’ve all been hearing stories about you,” one of the slayers, a younger guy with short black hair, added with a grin. “We have been hearing tales about the sword saint of invincibility all night’ he has quite the reputation around here.”

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. “Sword Saint of Invincibility, now there’s a throwback… I don’t know about all that. Just doing what needs to be done.”

From behind, I heard Nagyung’s familiar voice, laced with that playful edge she always carried. “Since when did you get so humble? When we met you, you had an ego the size of five spitters,” she teased as she walked up with Donny by her side.

I turned to face them and shrugged with a faint smirk. “Life changes people,” I replied simply, though the glint in Nagyung’s eyes told me she wasn’t buying it entirely.

Donny nudged her and added, “He’s just trying to be all Zen now. You know, a mysterious hero. The sword saint, wandering the Earth, helping where needed.”

“Or avoiding everyone because he’s terrible at keeping in touch,” Nagyung quipped.

Before I could defend myself, the crowd’s cheers began to quiet, but the energy in the room remained vibrant. The looks on people’s faces—the recognition, the shared understanding—made something in my chest feel lighter. These weren’t just random strangers; they were comrades, survivors, people who knew what it meant to endure and rebuild.

Eunbi, who had been standing nearby, slipped an arm around my shoulder and leaned in with a grin. “Come on, get a drink and enjoy yourself for once,” she said, her voice playful but warm. “You’ve earned it.”

I smiled at her and nodded. “Alright, alright. Lead the way.”

She guided me to a table where a couple of drinks were already waiting. As I sat down, she leaned back in her chair, her expression curious but filled with pride. “So, I hear you’re the lead villain rider on the new Kamen Rider series, and you’ve been writing for Ultraman too,” she said, excitement coloring her voice.

I nodded, picking up one of the drinks and taking a sip. “Yeah, actually, I got the job because Jacob saw me on a Rider show. He was so glad to see me alive and kicking, that he pulled some strings. He went back to stunt work after helping find the cure, and Tsuburaya picked him up like that,” I said, snapping my fingers. “He’s been killing it so far, and I’ve been helping out where I can.”

Eunbi’s smile widened. “That’s amazing. You’ve really built something for yourself.”

“Well, you’re not doing too bad yourself,” I said, gesturing to her. “I hear you’re killing it in your modeling career.”

She laughed softly and nodded. “Yeah, the pay’s great, and I’ve gotten to travel a lot. But…” Her smile faltered just slightly, and she hesitated.

I raised an eyebrow. “But what?”

She glanced down at her drink, swirling it idly before looking back up at me. “Well, my favorite Sword Saint never came to visit me. Or even stayed in touch,” she said, her tone light but with an edge of something deeper.

I sighed, letting out a quiet laugh. “Well, it would’ve been hard to just show up and say, ‘Hey, I’m the model’s friend. I’m allowed to be here.’”

“It actually would have been that easy,” she countered, tilting her head at me. Then she added with a sly grin, “I put you on all of my plus-one lists, hoping you’d show up.”

I squinted at her, leaning forward slightly. “Why would you do that?”

Before she could answer, Dinozen and Chowon appeared, pulling up chairs and sitting down with exaggerated sighs. Chowon gave me a knowing look, her tone full of mock exasperation. “Because she likes you, dummy.”

“Obviously,” Dinozen added, grinning as he reached for one of the drinks on the table.

Eunbi’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, and she shot them a look of mild annoyance. “I could’ve said that myself, you know.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of their statement. “Wait, what?”

“Wow!,” Chowon said, shaking her head with a laugh. “You really are clueless sometimes.”

Eunbi buried her face in her hands for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Well, there it is,” she said, looking back at me, her expression both sheepish and amused. “They’re not wrong.”

I stared at her, my mind racing to process what I’d just heard. Then, slowly, a smile crept across my face. “You know,” I said, leaning back in my chair, “you could’ve just told me.”

“Yeah, well, where’s the fun in that? Besides it would have been tough finding you with all your jet setting, and being an action hero” she shot back, her grin returning.

The table erupted into laughter, a lively buzz of conversation and camaraderie filling the room. But as the noise swirled around us, I caught Eunbi’s gaze. There was something different in her expression—soft, almost wistful. She leaned closer, her voice barely audible over the chatter.

“Hey, can we go somewhere more quiet?” she asked.

I nodded without hesitation, rising from my chair as she grabbed her jacket. The party seemed to recede into the background as we stepped outside into the crisp night air. The quiet hum of the city was a welcome reprieve from the noise, and we began walking side by side. The glow of holiday lights danced off the frost-covered pavement, creating a serene, dreamlike atmosphere.

After a few minutes, Eunbi broke the silence. “You’ve grown quite quiet,” she said, her voice gentle.

I laughed, the sound carrying a tinge of self-awareness. “Well, so has life. I haven’t faced a zombie since Christmas last year, and now with the cure and those gene stabilizers for slayers, a lot more people are immune. So… I guess I’m back to being normal.”

Eunbi let out a soft sigh, her breath visible in the cold air. “You’ll always be special to me, even though you’re not a slayer,” she said, her voice sincere.

I glanced over at her, the warmth in her words catching me off guard. Before I could respond, she stopped walking and turned to face me. Her hand reached up to caress my face, her fingers cool against my skin. Her frown deepened slightly, concern etched in her features.

“Why didn’t you reach out?” she asked, her tone tinged with both hurt and curiosity. “Dinozen and Chowon were always talking about how hard you were working, but they also said you seemed… adrift. Like you were using work to fill a void.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. I sighed, running a hand through my hair as I searched for the right way to explain. “Well, it’s just that I don’t really know who I am anymore. So much of my identity was tied to my reinvention as the sword saint, and now that’s kind of… gone.”

Eunbi listened intently, her eyes never leaving mine. A small smile tugged at her lips as she reached for my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Well then,” she said as we reached her apartment, “how about we rebuild your identity with a new title?”

I blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

She opened the door and stepped inside, shedding her jacket as she turned back to me. Her expression softened, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. “As my boyfriend,” she said teasingly.

Before I could respond, she closed the gap between us, pushing me gently onto her couch. The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater and the beating of my own heart. She leaned in, her lips brushing against mine in a kiss that was both confident and tender.

For a moment, the weight of the past year—the doubts, the uncertainties, the endless questions about who I was—faded away. In that kiss, there was clarity, a promise of something new. As she pulled back slightly, her eyes met mine, and I saw nothing but warmth and certainty in her gaze.

“Eunbi…” I started, but she silenced me with a smile.

“Shh,” she whispered. “We’ll figure it out together. Just… stay here with me tonight.” I nodded wordlessly as she began kissing me again. As her boldness and passion increased I could feel her hands dipping under my shirt.

"Bold are we?" I proposed and Eunbi smiled,

"I have been waiting for you this last year and now I got you," she said mischievously before nibbling on my ear. Her warm mouth set my veins on fire, and that was all before she lifted up her shirt.

"fuck!" I exclaimed staring at her chest that was exposed. Her nipples were hard and taut as she stared at me with hungry eyes. Without a word, she undid my pants and wrapped her tits around my rock-hard manhood. I moaned as her soft flesh enveloped me. Eunbi smiled as she continued her fucking me with her tits.

"Oh do you like that?" she said teasingly. I moaned again nodding wordlessly as she kept going hypnotically up and down. The experience was so intense I was unsurprised with how fast I was nearing climax. Eunbi smiled as she kept going as if encouraged by my unraveling, but just as I was about to hit the peak Eunbi stopped and I groaned.

“Holy fuck,” I cry out. Eunbi gets up her chest lathered with precum.

“I’m not gonna let you off that easy,” she coos devilishly.

I groan and she says, "Now I am gonna ride you until all you can say is my name. Do I make myself clear?" I nod and Eunbi sighed

"Words Darling," she cooed and I barely mustered a "Yes Mam," Eunbi frowned at that. As she got up and took off her bottoms. she then straddled me before saying,

"that makes me sound like an Old Lady. Do I like an old lady?"

"No," I said haggardly. Eunbi smiled as she continued grinding on my crotch at an evil pace.

"Good Now figure something else to call me," she said

I ran the list through my head and decided on Madam as it felt the least "Oedipus Coded". Eunbi's eyes stared into mine. Her red Sclera made her brown eyes really pop.

"I am waiting Daihouzan," Eunbi said,

"I am sorry madam," I quickly corrected and Eunbi smiled.

"Ooh I like that," Eunbi said as she slowly sank on my cock. I groaned as she bottomed out. She smiled before saying, "Fuck you so…fuck" she said as her body spasmed. Her walls tightened reflexively as she tried milking me for all I was worth.

"Did you just cum?" I asked confused. Eunbi's breath was labored but before she could even recover she was riding the hell out of me as she took me deeper and deeper inside of her.

"Fuck you just fit right," she moaned as she bounced up and down. Now not gonna lie the way her breasts bounced hypnotized me a bit. Unable to control myself I took one into my mouth. Eunbi lost in the pleasure groaned relentlessly as she continued riding me. Her tempo was frenetic as she chased yet another high. Her moans? Apoplectic with hungered lust (trust me I should know all about apocalypses, and anger)

"fuck where have you been all this time," Eunbi groaned as she kept riding. Her walls tightened again as she moaned. "Fuck what are you doing to me." She moaned as she came again. Unable to take any more of her vicious pace and Exploded inside her tight cavern. Eunbi moaned as we both rode out our peaks with each other.

"Fuck." I said.

"Fuck taking things slow. fuck that! You're moving in with me," Eunbi growled possesively before bringing me in for another kiss.

Shortly after we passed out, and I was woken up by Eunbi's dog Geumbi licking me.

"Oh well, she likes you. that's a plus." I sighed as I got up, and was reminded of my dog that I had before the awesomepocalypse. You know what the more I look back on it the more it sucked. I was always tired and fighting and lost so much." despite that I put it beside me as I got up. Eunbi was in the kitchen drinking a Sprite cranberry which made me laugh as she put on Christmas music. I walked to her and she smiled.

"you know we are gonna need a new name for you since you can't be the Sword Saint of Invinvibilty anymore."

I thought for a moment then said, "Since I mostly play villains… How about Great Demon Emperor Diabolos?"

Eunbi rolled her eyes and then, said"You're lucky I like you being over the top," she groaned before kissing me, and said, "I'll take it for now."

Before we could do anything else there was a knock on the door. Eunbi and I looked at each other confused as we scrambled to look decent. When she opened the door I said the following words,

"Oh fuck oh no oh fuck,"

[cherub-berry]

⋆˚࿔ Dating Porco 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ | Attack on Titan

Pairing: Porco Galliard x gn!Reader

Summary: Want to know what dating Porco feels like? Well, no worries, old chap! I've got the fic just for you!

Content: fluff with a bit of angst, mention Of YumiHisu, mention of Marcel, No beta we die like Bert, bad grammar

Word count: 1k

Notes: I'm trying a different theme for my fics (you could say this is like a test fanfic)

Porco is known to have a sharp tongue and very brash attitude. He's never one to hold back on insults, and call someone out on their bullshit. Whether it's his fellow warriors or a soldier, he can come across as arrogant, dismissive, and downright rude. However, with you, he's a completely different person. His tough exterior melts when you're around and he becomes unexpectedly protective and preceptive. 

He still keeps his edge—his sarcasm and stubbornness are still there, but it's reserved just for others. With you, he’s surprisingly gentle, his cruel remarks no longer meant to hurt but rather to tease in a playful way. His action speaks louder than words, he will wrap an arm around you in public, especially in a crowded area, so you won't get lost or get separated from him.

At times, Porco's possessiveness becomes clear, especially when you get close to the other Warriors or random soldiers. He may act distant or frustrated, not hiding his irritation when he notices their attention on you. While he doesn’t openly admit it, his protective side kicks in, and he subtly keeps an eye on you, ensuring that no one gets too comfortable. 

Porco’s love language is physical touch and acts of service, and he shows his affection through these in subtle yet meaningful ways. He enjoys touching you often, whether it’s a hand on your back or a gentle squeeze of your hand. When you’re walking together, he’ll instinctively hold your hand, guiding you to your destination with a firm but gentle grip. It’s his way of keeping you close and making sure you’re never lost, both physically and emotionally. Porco's acts of service comes through in the ways he quietly takes care of you without making a big deal about it. He wants to make your life easier. For example, he will take the initiative to handle tasks you're too tired or stressed to deal with. Whether it is housework, errands, or even just opening a jar of jam he will do it without you asking. To him, showing love through action is more genuine than anything else, he takes pride in being a reliable boyfriend. 

Porco runs hot, both literally and figuratively. He has a naturally warm body temperature, which often makes him sweat more than others, especially during training or in stressful situations. It's not uncommon for him to feel uncomfortably warm after a long day of fighting or sparring, and he’ll often complain about it, grumbling as he wipes sweat off his brow. When you cuddle with Porco, his body heat is more than enough to keep you warm—so much so that you won’t need a heater during the winter. His naturally warm temperature makes him the perfect source of comfort on cold nights, and as you snuggle close, you'll feel the heat radiating from him, instantly soothing the chill.

Porco’s biceps are a point of pride for him, though he doesn’t always show it. As a warrior, his training is intense, and his muscles reflect the hours he’s put into honing his strength. His biceps are particularly noticeable when he's wearing his uniform, the fabric of his sleeves stretching just enough to highlight the toned, powerful muscles beneath. Though he acts nonchalant about it, he’s secretly proud of the work he’s put in.

He’s also the type to lightly tease you about his strength, perhaps making a show of flexing his arm when you’re near, just to get a reaction out of you. Though his arrogance comes through, it's also a playful gesture—a way for him to boast without saying it outright. When he catches you glancing at his arms, he might smirk and give a cocky remark, all while secretly enjoying the attention, even if he won’t admit it.

Porco’s flirting style is sharp, teasing, and often wrapped in sarcasm. He’s not the type to be overtly sweet or romantic, but he knows how to push your buttons in the best way possible. His flirtation often comes through as playful banter, with just the right mix of confidence and arrogance. He’ll throw a quick remark like, “You know, I usually don’t put up with anyone, but for you, I might make an exception,” or “Try not to get too distracted by my good looks.”

Porco is surprisingly shy in his own way. While he may come off as tough and arrogant around others, with you, he’s a more reserved and bashful man. He struggles to express his vulnerability, so whenever you show him affection in private, he becomes flustered. He’ll blush and quickly respond with a snarky remark to cover up his feelings, but deep down, he absolutely loves it. Though he finds it difficult to admit, those moments of tenderness mean a lot to him, even if he tries to hide it behind his usual tough exterior. 

Porco wants to keep your relationship private, but at the same time, he has a strong desire to show the world that you’re his. He’s afraid that people might perceive him as weak because of his love for you, even though he doesn’t believe love makes someone weak. He doesn’t want anyone to think less of him, especially not his fellow Warriors or his late brother, Marcel. Deep down, he fears that Marcel, in particular, would be disappointed in him for allowing his emotions to show, even though Porco’s love for you is something he treasures deeply. This internal conflict makes him more guarded about your relationship, trying to balance his desire to protect you with his fear of what others might think. 

Every time Porco experiences a vision of Ymir showing her affection for Historia, he feels a deep sense of envy. He envies how Ymir was never afraid to express her love, regardless of what others thought. Unlike Porco, who hides his feelings out of fear of judgment, Ymir was fearless in her love for Historia, even when it put her at odds with others. To Porco, Ymir’s ability to love openly, without worrying about how it would make her appear to others, stands in stark contrast to his own struggles. He wishes he could be as strong and unafraid as Ymir, who, in the end, found courage and conviction in her love for Historia, even in her final moments.

In conclusion, 10/10 would date, fuck, marry

[sunnyie-eve]

50 | Alone

Series: Unexpected

Paring: (Matt Sturniolo x OFC Brock!) (Chris Sturniolo x OFC Brock!)

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: fliting, hinted smut

| MASTERLIST |

"Pizza, pizza, pizza. I love pizza." Dani sings as her and Matt wait for their pizza. "I'll just ask for a bottle opener." She sees Matt trying to open her drink, "It's okay, Matt." She tells him but he goes to use his teeth, "No. Don't do that. I'll just ask. Please don't. Your teeth Matt." She keeps trying to stop him, "I don't want you messing them up."

"Watch."

"What if you break a tooth?" She asks as he gets the cap off, "I hate you make me worry." She groans then decides to joke with him, "Oh, what else that mouth do?" She smirks so he does too making her giggle.

"You'd like to know wouldn't you?" He makes her laugh more. When she stops she makes a face to think about it making him laugh again, "You're inappropriate today."

"Guilty as change." She puts her hands out in front of her acting like she was ready to get arrested.

"Let just go film." He grabs her hand to drag her out.

"It's Matt's turn again!" Dani shouts clapping her hands as he goes to take a bite of his pizza slice, "Bad timing." They both laugh. "Today we get to ask each other anything." Dani lets the viewers know.

"So when the hell are you moving out of our house?" Matt jokes with her.

"Okay, wow, that's rude." She says making him chuckle, "The day I die. Do you want me to leave?" She asks him.

"Of course I don't want you to. You're not allowed." He tells her truthfully.

"Honestly, I haven't even thought about moving out." She says before taking a bite of her pizza, "I feel at home with you guys. You know." She adds and Matt sees the mess on her chin.

"You got..." He reaches over to wipe it over her with a napkin, "There's sauce."

"Thanks."

"You're good." He lets her know. "Are you a brunette?" He asks since he had no earthly idea if she was or not.

"Naturally." She laughs nodding her head.

"Naturally."

"I've been dying my hair black since I was 15." She tells him the the viewers.

"Look at this couple. He thinks he's too cool to hold his girlfriend's hand." Matt looks at the couple coming their way.

"My boyfriend better hold my hand. And I better be on the inside of the sidewalk." She says letting him know what she prefers, "I love a gentleman who puts his lady first." She looks at him looking at her.

"Really?" He plays dumb.

"No, the ones who ignore me." They both laugh at that.

"Got it." He nods his head, "He'll dump you. You're a lot to handle." He looks back over at her.

"You really want to be demoted don't you?" She tilts her heads with a smile, "Some friend you are. I'll make Chris first."

"Okay." He laughs looking forward.

"You would lose it if I did that." She laughs knowing how he is especially now with them being together.

"Of course I would. I'm first." He looks over to her with a big smile.

"If anyone complains about this video being short blame Matt." Dani leans forward to tell the viewers then turns her head to look at him, "Umm." They share a look then both turn their heads away giggling.

"Don't look at me like that." He keeps laughing shaking his head.

"You had the look-," Dani starts.

"YOU WISH!" He shouts at her and they just look at each other and Dani tries to control her smile as he leans closer to her, "In your dreams." He whispers.

"I can't take this anymore." She laughs at him shaking her head at him a bit.

"That's what she said." He smiles at her.

Dani turns her head away slowly, "I walked into that..." She sighs leaning back in her seat. Matt continues to laugh at Dani taking the L one that one, "Guys make sure you like this video if you like Matt. Comment below who you want next or what you want to see." She tells the viewers before looking at Matt, "Thank you for coming."

"Of course, anytime."

Dani starts to smile before giggling, "That's what she said!" She claps her hands before cracking up then ending the recording.

When they finish they decide to get fro-yo since Matt wanted to try the place they passed by, "Mine looks ugly." Dani looks at her fro-yo

"No it doesn't." He shows that his looks similar in color.

"What did you get again?" She asks forgetting.

"Sour apple and watermelon."

"Are you creaming over it?" She giggles as she asks him.

"Mmm, no." He chuckles a bit.

Getting back home the two learn Chris was out with a friend of his and a few other guys and wouldn't be back till way later, and Nick was getting ready to leave to go spend the night with Madi. "So what am I supposed to do?" Dani walks into Nick's room.

"You two will be home alone for who knows so make a move on Matt." Nick smiles at her as he packs a bag.

"Seriously?"

"Yes, seriously. I know we already had our talk about you two...but please Dani, for you're dear friend, you love to death, get with my brother." He begs her, "At first, I hated the thought now look at me."

"Nick, can we not do this again?" She begs him now.

"I'm not against the idea of you two being friends with benefits just saying." He adds giving her a look.

"Nicholas!" She shouts at him, "Oh my god, just leave so I don't have you anymore." She laughs is room making him laugh.

"Nicholas huh?" Matt says from the couch trying to find something to watch.

"He said he's not against the idea of you and me being friends with benefits if we won't get together." She lets him know and his jaw drops.

As Nick comes down to leave he smiles at the two, "Have fun." He gives them a look then wink making the two shake their heads at him.

Whatever Matt put on to watch, Dani didn't care for it so she was just on her phone till she got a notification a package was left at the door, "It's here!" She jumps up to go get it.

"What's here?" Matt keeps his eyes on the TV.

"Something from work I got." She rejoins him, "For each of you." She adds before pulling out the posters she asked for, "A specific one for each of course."

Matt snatches the one he knew was for him, "I thought you basically said no." He holds it close to his chest making her laugh.

"I thought I would be nice for once. This one is for Nick and this one is Chris's." She points out the other two.

"Yeah, Chris doesn't need one of you lingerie but I hate the pose. Nick's is decent, why don't you switch them?"

"You want a poster of me in a cute lace lingerie dress in Chris's room compared to one of me in booty shorts, with no ass showing, and a long sleeve shirt?" She gives him a look not understanding his logic.

He ends up agreeing with her before rushing to his room to put the poster up so Dani does the same with the other two in Nick's and Chris's room before going to her room to change. Once she was changed she sits at the end of the bed knowing Matt would go find her.

"How are we gonna ex-," He freezes in place as he sees her in the same lingerie from the poster he got and the mall.

"Yeah, they also sent me this as well since it's the best seller thanks to me."

Matt finishes stepping into her room shutting the door behind him and locks it just in case Chris did decide to come early, "You're fucking terrible." He walks over to her.

"I've been hinting all day that I'm tired of waiting for this and now it can happen since no one is home." Dani stands up meeting him halfway pulling him down into a kiss, "If you don't wan-," 

Without missing a beat, he attacked her lips with his own and she melted from the immediate relief. She moves her hands up from his chest to the base of his head, and as his tongue danced along with hers, she pulled gently at his hair. Suddenly his hands moved from her waist to grip her ass as he effortlessly lifted her up into his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist and he stumbled towards her bed.

[kayharrisons]

No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her [Bjorn x fem!reader] [2 of?] [18+]

Chapter summary: you eagerly await your boyfriend's arrival back in 12.

A/N: HI GUYS been a minute since I posted for this one ahaha, we're switching to Reader's pov for this one!!! I'll be going back and forth between their POVs, it's very fun for me >:3 MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL!!!

Chapter Warnings: PTSD, mentioned character death, Capital being Weird to minors, general Hunger Games themes

The train isn't late, but it certainly feels like it, as you stand on the platform waiting for your boyfriend to return home, to return to you.

You'd had faith in him this whole time, known he'd come back to you.

The only time you'd had even a little bit of doubt was when Navarro had died.

You'd been damn near catatonic as you watched her die right before your eyes. As you watched Bjorn have to watch his sister die in front of him.

You'd been afraid he was going to join her, for a little bit.

Losing Tyler and Kay last year had made him angry, bitter at the world outside of you and Navarro.

Losing her may just break him entirely.

The platform is mostly empty, people had wanted to stop by, to cheer Bjorn as their first proper winner. But missing work would result in lashings, and so it was you and a handful of peacekeepers.

Bjorn had no family left to greet him. His mother having died in a mining collapse earlier this year, and his father...

He'd been caught stealing supplies from the sickbay, for Bjorn who had been dreadfully sick one year. He'd been hanged for it.

Bjorn had been nine.

You can still remember the sight of Mr Henriksen's body swaying to and fro from the Hanging Tree, before your mother had pulled you away, before he'd been cut down.

It's not a sight you forget.

You shiver at the memory, rubbing your arms as you anxiously bounce on the balls of your feet.

It isn't long before the train arrives, before it squeaks to a halt. The Peacekeepers flank the door, security for the Victor inside.

Bjorn steps off of the train shortly after.

His hair is closely cropped at the sides of his head, his mop of hair trimmed neatly to just above his brows. He's clad in a dark coat with matching pants, Capital's finest wool by the looks of it, warm, cosy. His shoes are polished to perfection, gleaming in the dimming light.

His eyes are hollow, though, when you meet them. Hollow and full of agony, of grief, of longing for-

You crash into one another in an instant, the pair of you collapsing to your knees as sobs overtake you both.

\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

His home in Victor's Village is barren, to be honest.

Bjorn hadn't had a lot of possessions beyond his clothes and the furniture in his and Navarro's home.

Her things have been left in a guest bedroom, untouched. You imagine it'll be that way for quite some time.

For now, though, you lock the door, you stoke the fire, and you sit beside Bjorn as he stares into the flames.

"Where's she buried?" he asks, voice hoarse, the first words he's spoken to you all day.

You suck in a breath, ducking your head down briefly. You'd been a wreck the day they'd delivered Navarro's coffin back to District 12, incoherent with tears as you tried to picture where Bjorn would want his sister to be laid to rest.

"Top of the hill," you answer quietly, fidgeting with a button on your dress. "She'll always get the sun up there and... it's close to your mom, I thought she'd like that."

Bjorn nods, throat bobbing hard as swallows. "She would." he agrees, gruff, just as quiet as you.

Silence, for a few minutes, save for the crackling of the fire.

"Bjorn-" you begin, ever so gently. He abruptly stands, shrugging off his thick coat.

"Need a drink." he grunts, moving from the living room and to the kitchen, door swinging shut in his wake. Your brow furrows, worry curling at your belly, clawing up your throat.

You don't follow after him. You know when he needs his space, can tell when he needs to be left alone.

So you leave him be, for now.

You'll give him today, let him cope how he needs to. You'll remain here, by his side, even if it's in separate rooms, just in case he turns to you for comfort.

You know him better than anyone. You know it won't be happening today.

He'll shut himself up in one of the many bedrooms of this house, will drink himself to sleep, will sob and scream through his grief and though it pains you, you will leave him be.

Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow you will open the door for him, will be there waiting with open arms.

Tomorrow, you hope, will be kinder to him.

[prismichannah]

[quietwingsinthesky]

people are saying he « led her on » because he did. the fact that he kissed her in the first episode set the tone for the rest of the season and if you can’t perceive the flirting I’m sorry but how?? he didn’t make anything clear he sent the craziest mixed signals in the world. there’s nothing revolutionary about claiming that Martha was being pushy toward someone who was clearly not interested it’s 1) weird to claim in what it suggests about her 2) factually not true.

I wasn’t gonna respond to this at first because the top half of this ask is pretty much just individual interpretation and I don’t really care about it. Like, no, to me, the Doctor doesn’t seem especially flirty towards Martha. He’s just sort of Like That. That’s his damage, you know, Mr. I need to traumadump on anyone who tolerates being around me for more than five minutes. Mr. If I don’t develop an intensely codependent emotional bond with the companion I have currently I’ll die. It doesn’t read to me as him trying to lead her on because that bit’s honest, and he does it with damn near every companion he’s ever had.

And if nothing else, because we do see Ten when he tries to flirt intentionally and he’s a fuckin dork about it. Kind of guy who looked up romance in the dictionary and took notes. Kinda guy who draws diagrams to maximize kissing potential. It would have been obvious even to me (<- romance-blind as all fuck) if he was flirting with Martha on purpose because he’s not smooth at all; he flirts like he’s gotten lines in a play and he’s super excited to be the main star.

But anyway, as I was saying, that’s just how I see it. And if you see it different, no skin off my back, I just disagree.

But I take umbrage with you putting words in my mouth. I never said Martha was pushy towards him. Because yeah, she’s not. If I implied that she was, then it was a result of poor phrasing on my part. Martha’s not at fault for what she feels, for wanting there to come something of it. No more at fault than the Doctor is for not returning those feelings. It’s a bit weird that you’re assuming that I think one of them has to be the bad guy here when that was the opposite of what I was saying. My point was: When it comes to their romantic subtext of their relationship, it’s weird to pretend like either of them are to blame for them not being in a relationship at the end of s3, and even weirder to assert that as part of why Martha supposedly wouldn’t like the Doctor afterwards when they’re. friends. they continue to be friends into s4.

Martha’s not pushy. She has a crush on her friend. It happens. He doesn’t return it. This also happens. Both of these facts are pushed to the extreme because he’s a time-traveling alien with poor emotional skills and she’s put herself in the position of needing to help him from minute one of meeting each other. That’s why it’s fun to watch, because the Doctor is both so open and so unavailable in turns, because Martha’s feelings for him grow and change as she knows more about her Doctor until she decides to step back.

I don’t know, man. You seem to be coming at this as if one of them has to be The Problem™️. I don’t think either of them is, not so definitively. I think boiling their relationship down to that is reductive and an insult to the way they both grow over s3, to Martha’s choice to continue to be his friend while also establishing her own boundaries, to the fact that the Doctor is able to let her go without immediately trying to kill himself afterwards when she’s not there to catch him.

[spaciebabie]

listening 2 asmr is so fucking embarrassing sometimes b/c ill be in public and get recommended submissive boyfriend licking your ear asmr even though i have never once listened ta stuff like that b4 in my life

[wfuckshit42]

here's my hot take

[deejadabbles]

I saw you mentioned Quizilla in your tags and I just want to say I literally blasted back in time omfg. The HOURS and HOURS I spent taking fandom quizzes and reading fanfics on that site? Unreal. I totally forgot the name of that website and have been trying to remember it for ages. So thank you 😂

OMG SAME! I can not tell you how many times I refreshed the search bar for "who is your [insert fandom here] boyfriend/girlfriend" because I was always desperate for strangers to tell me who I'd be paired with in my fave series XD I think it was also the second site I ever posted fics on (ff.net being the first). I'm glad I could help you remember the name, I think about that site a lot lmao

[widevibratobitch]

.

[cicada-dyke]

I’ve been planning my Barbie outfit for months and I was gonna patch some hearts on a flaired pair of jeans and we were all gonna dress up but I haven’t been feeling like myself the past week so I don’t have the motivation nor the materials and one of the girls in the group just asked to bring her homophobic boyfriend along so I guess shorts and a band t shirt it is