zeroseuniverse

[zeroseuniverse]

Facts Or Fiction?

Word Count: 1.6K Summary: In which Jay wants to learn the truth behind her intentions Pairing: Jay X fem reader

The rain hammered against the glass walls of the skybridge, drowning out the noise of the city below. Jay leaned against the railing, pretending to check his phone while scanning the crowd. His contact had assured him she’d show up, but that had been hours ago. The longer he waited, the more he felt the creeping sense of regret for agreeing to meet her in such an exposed location.

She was the city’s most wanted criminal—if anyone even knew her face. The government had labeled her a terrorist; her supporters called her a savior. To him, she was a mystery wrapped in contradictions, and for reasons he couldn’t yet explain, he couldn’t stop chasing her story.

A faint reflection caught his eye. A figure emerged from the crowd, her hood pulled low to hide her face, raindrops sliding off the sleek fabric of her coat. She walked with a calculated confidence, her boots clicking against the floor. She stopped a few feet away, close enough to speak but far enough to evade a trap.

“So,” she said, her voice low and laced with suspicion. “You’re the journalist who’s been so desperate to find me. I’ll admit, you’ve got guts.”

Jay straightened, slipping his phone into his pocket. “I figured it was time someone heard your side of the story.”

Her lips twitched into a humorless smile. “My side? You think you’ll print the truth and the world will suddenly change? That’s naive, even for someone like you.”

“I’m not naïve,” Jay shot back. “I know the risks. I also know the difference between justice and revenge. I’m here to understand which side of the line you’re on.”

She stepped closer, the light catching the sharp angles of her face beneath the hood. Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, he saw something flicker there—curiosity, maybe even amusement.

“Fine,” she said. “But know this, Jay. If you twist my words, I won’t hesitate to make you regret it.”

She turned, motioning for him to follow. “Come on. Let’s see if you’re as brave as you seem.”

Jay hesitated only briefly before falling into step behind her, the weight of his recorder suddenly feeling heavier in his pocket.

Jay trailed behind her as they exited the skybridge and descended into the depths of the city. The streets here were a world apart from the sterile, drone-policed districts above. Neon signs flickered over makeshift stalls, the air thick with the smell of fried food and damp concrete.

She moved through the chaos like a shadow, her hood shielding most of her face, but it didn’t matter. People recognized her anyway.

A man selling spare parts for outdated tech straightened as she passed, nodding respectfully. A group of children darting between the stalls paused long enough to wave at her, grinning as she tossed them a small pouch—likely food credits or something more valuable.

“She’s here,” someone whispered from a nearby stall, and the woman behind it quickly tucked something under her counter, casting a wary glance around as if her presence alone could ward off danger.

Jay noted it all, his journalist’s eye catching every glance, every quiet acknowledgment. These people weren’t afraid of her. If anything, they admired her. To them, she wasn’t a criminal—she was a symbol.

“You have quite the fan club,” Jay murmured, unable to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.

She glanced over her shoulder, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “They’re not fans. They’re survivors. And unlike the ones sitting comfortably in glass towers, they know the cost of survival.”

Jay fell silent, taking in the resilience etched into the faces of the people around him. It was a stark contrast to the polished, disconnected world he usually reported on.

As they continued deeper into the district, he noticed other quirks about her. The way her fingers tapped rhythmically against her thigh, like she was always counting something—steps, seconds, maybe risks. Or how she scanned every alley and rooftop without breaking stride, her eyes sharp and calculating.

She stopped suddenly, turning to face him with an unreadable expression. “Do you always stare this much, or am I just that fascinating?”

Jay blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just…observing.”

“Careful with that. Observing too much around here can get you killed.” Her tone was teasing, but the edge in her eyes told him she wasn’t entirely joking.

They reached an unmarked door tucked between two stalls. She knocked twice in a deliberate pattern, and the door creaked open. A young woman peered out, her face lighting up when she saw her.

“You’re back,” the woman said, stepping aside to let them in. Her gaze flicked to Jay, narrowing with suspicion.

“He’s with me,” She said simply. It was enough to quiet the woman’s protests, though she continued to watch Jay like he might explode at any moment.

Inside, the space was cluttered but warm—a makeshift hub of activity. Maps and screens covered the walls, and a group of people huddled around a table, their conversation falling silent as she entered.

One of them, a grizzled man with a scar across his cheek, stood up and crossed his arms. “Bringing a reporter here, boss? That’s a new one.”

“He’s here to listen, not talk,” she replied. She turned to Jay, her expression softening ever so slightly. “At least, for now.”

Jay couldn’t decide what struck him more: the weight of her presence in the room or the trust these people clearly placed in her. She wasn’t just their leader—she was their hope.

The tension in the room was palpable. Jay could feel the weight of their stares, suspicion radiating from every corner as she led him to a quieter space—an alcove separated by tattered curtains. The hum of activity outside became muffled, leaving only the faint echo of raindrops against the roof.

She gestured to a mismatched chair near a battered table, sinking into the one opposite him. She pulled her hood back, revealing sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through him, and rested her elbows on the table.

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she began, her voice low and measured. “This isn’t a courtesy. I’m not here to satisfy your curiosity or paint myself as some misunderstood hero. I’m here because you might have a use. If I don’t like where this goes, you’ll walk out of here with nothing. Clear?”

Jay nodded, pulling out his recorder. “Crystal.”

She gave a short, humorless laugh. “Good. Now, ask your questions.”

Jay hesitated for a moment, organizing his thoughts. Then, he leaned forward, his voice steady. “You’ve been labeled a terrorist. Some say you’re no better than the syndicates you fight. What would you say to those people?”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “I’d say they’ve been drinking too much government Kool-Aid. It’s easy to throw labels around when you’re sitting comfortably, watching the chaos on a screen. But those people? They don’t know what it’s like to starve, to lose everything, to have the system chew you up and spit you out.”

Her eyes darkened, and Jay caught the way her fingers began tapping against the table—quick, precise, restless. “I do what needs to be done. If that makes me a villain, so be it.”

Jay pressed on. “And the collateral damage? The civilians caught in the crossfire—what about them?”

She scoffed. “You think the corporations and the government aren’t leaving bodies in their wake every day? The only difference is, they’ve got spin doctors to clean up the narrative. My actions may be messy, but they’re honest. Can you say the same for the people you write about?”

Jay opened his mouth to respond, but she cut him off, leaning forward now, her eyes blazing. “You call me reckless, but you’re the one printing stories about corruption and syndicate ties. How many death threats have you gotten this week? How many times have you had to look over your shoulder, wondering if you’ll make it home?”

Her words hit harder than he expected, and for a moment, he was at a loss. She leaned back again, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “That’s what I thought.”

Jay found his voice, his tone softer this time. “You make a point, but there’s a difference between exposing the truth and taking lives. You don’t seem to believe in that line anymore.”

Her gaze softened, though the fire in her eyes didn’t entirely fade. “Maybe I don’t. Or maybe I’ve just seen too much to believe that playing nice will ever change anything.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Jay studied her, noticing the subtle contradictions in her demeanor—the sharpness in her tone offset by the way her hands trembled ever so slightly when she stopped tapping. The way her eyes, no matter how fierce, betrayed a deep exhaustion.

Finally, he asked, “If you could do it all over again, would you? Would you still choose this path?”

She let out a long breath, her gaze dropping to the table. “That’s not the right question.”

“Then what is?”

She looked up, her expression unreadable. “The right question is whether I’d stop if I could.”

“And would you?”

Her lips curved into a faint, almost wistful smile. “I don’t know how.”

Jay stared at her, his recorder forgotten for a moment. In that instant, she wasn’t just the shadowy figure plastered across wanted posters or the symbol of defiance revered by the people outside. She was human—complex, conflicted, and achingly real.

“You’re not what I expected,” he admitted.

“And you’re not as naïve as I thought,” she replied, a flicker of amusement in her voice. “Maybe this interview won’t be a total waste after all.”

[zeroseuniverse]

Downturned

Word Count:1.9K Summary: in which Hobi has a bad day Pairing: Hobi X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

Rain poured relentlessly, a curtain of gray that blurred the edges of everything in sight. Jung Hoseok sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel as he let out a frustrated sigh. His shift at the hospital had been one disaster after another—a high-stress pediatric surgery that left him emotionally drained, an overbearing parent who insisted he wasn’t doing enough, and now this.

His car had decided to give up on him in the middle of the storm.

He hit the start button again, but the engine only coughed in defiance before falling silent. “Come on, come on,” he muttered, slamming his palm against the dashboard. It didn’t help.

To top it all off, his phone was dead. He’d meant to charge it during his shift, but the chaos of the day had left no room for even a moment’s reprieve. Now he was stuck, drenched from his earlier attempt to check under the hood, and shivering as the cold seeped through his scrubs and thin jacket.

“Of course,” he groaned, leaning back against the headrest. “Why wouldn’t this happen today?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. All he wanted was to go home, eat something warm, and sleep for a week. Was that too much to ask?

The sound of a roaring engine pierced through the downpour, followed by the flash of a headlight that cut through the gloom. Hoseok squinted, his heart sinking as he thought it might be another car passing by without noticing him. But the sound grew louder, closer, and then came to a halt right next to his vehicle.

A sleek black motorcycle gleamed in the rain, and the rider, clad in all black with a helmet obscuring their face, turned off the engine and swung off the bike with practiced ease. Hoseok blinked, his frustration briefly giving way to curiosity.

The rider removed her helmet, shaking out damp hair as she approached. It took him a second to recognize the face beneath the helmet, but when he did, his stomach flipped.

The paramedic he’d met on a few shared emergency calls—cool, composed, and terrifyingly competent—stood before him, holding the helmet in one hand and cocking an eyebrow.

“Need some help, sunshine?” she asked, a teasing edge in their tone that made Hoseok flush despite the cold.

“You’re...out in this weather?” he stammered, motioning to the motorcycle.

She shrugged, smirking. “I like the rain.” her gaze shifted to his car. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It won’t start. And my phone’s dead.”

She crouched slightly, peering under the hood as if she could diagnose the issue by sheer force of will. After a moment, she straightened and gestured for him to pop the hood. “Mind if I take a look? I know a thing or two about cars.”

Hoseok nodded, scrambling to release the latch. He stood awkwardly in the rain as she worked, her movements precise and assured. He couldn’t help but admire how at ease she seemed, even with water dripping from their leather jacket.

“Looks like your battery’s shot,” she said finally, closing the hood with a decisive thud. “I’ve got some jumper cables in my bag. I’ll get you started.”

“You carry jumper cables on a motorcycle?” Hoseok asked, incredulous.

“Always be prepared,” she replied with a wink, already moving to retrieve the cables.

As she worked to get his car running, Hoseok couldn’t suppress a small, amazed smile. He’d always thought she was the coolest person he’d ever met, but now he was sure of it.

Hoseok watched her crouch by the front of his car, attaching the jumper cables to the battery with practiced precision. The rain didn’t seem to bother her in the slightest; if anything, it only added to her effortlessly cool demeanor. Meanwhile, Hoseok felt every drop soaking through his scrubs, sticking the fabric uncomfortably to his skin.

“So, how bad was your day?” she asked casually, glancing over her shoulder as she secured the cables.

Hoseok let out a bitter laugh. “Bad enough that being stranded in the rain is just par for the course at this point.”

She straightened, one hand on her hip, and gave him a teasing smile. “You look like a drowned cat, sunshine.”

He groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Don’t remind me.”

She chuckled, stepping closer, her presence radiating calm assurance. “Hey, at least you’re not alone in the rain anymore.” she tilted her head. “And you have me to thank for that.”

He peeked at her through his fingers, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “I guess I do.”

She grinned, clearly satisfied with his reluctant gratitude. “Let’s get this thing running, and then I’ll follow you home. Just in case your car decides to die on you again.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Hoseok said quickly, though a part of him secretly hoped she would.

“I know," she replied, her voice soft but firm. “But I want to.”

The engine roared to life a moment later, startling Hoseok. He stared at his car in disbelief, then back at her, who was already detaching the cables with a triumphant smirk.

“There. Good as new—for now, at least.” She handed him the cables. “Keep these in your car. You’ll probably need them again if your battery’s this finicky.”

Hoseok took the cables, his fingers brushing against her for a brief moment. The contact sent a jolt through him, and he quickly pulled back, hoping she wouldn’t notice the flush creeping up his neck.

“Thanks,” he said, his voice softer now.

“No problem.” she grabbed her helmet and stepped back toward her bike, the rain cascading off their jacket. Before putting the helmet on, she glanced back at him, her expression unreadable. “You know, sunshine, you should cut yourself some slack. Not every day has to be perfect.”

Hoseok blinked, taken aback by the unexpected kindness in her tone. “I’ll...try to remember that.”

She smiled, a faint curve of her lips that felt oddly reassuring. “Good. Now get home before you catch a cold. I’ll be right behind you.”

As Hoseok climbed into his car, the warmth of the engine finally pushing back the chill, he couldn’t help but glance in his rearview mirror. She straddled her bike, helmet on, her headlight cutting through the rain like a guardian’s watchful eye.

For the first time that day, Hoseok felt a flicker of something other than frustration—something warm and steady, like the promise of a better day ahead.

The rain had let up by the time Hoseok pulled into his apartment complex, but the oppressive energy of the city didn’t ease. The towering skyline, marked with neon lights flickering warnings about curfew zones and mutant activity, cast an eerie glow over the wet streets. Hoseok had grown used to living in a world teetering on the edge of chaos, but today had pushed even his unwavering optimism to the limit.

He parked his car in the dimly lit lot, stepping out into a world still thrumming with tension. The low hum of drone patrols echoed in the distance, the harsh beams scanning the alleys for anyone foolish enough to break the government’s strict curfew. Hoseok glanced up, his reflection warped in a nearby puddle under the light of an illuminated Corps sign—a grim reminder of who ruled this fractured city.

“Yo, sunshine,” a voice called out, cutting through the quiet.

Hoseok turned to see her pulling into the lot on her motorcycle, the machine humming low like a predator stalking through the night. She swung her leg over the bike, rainwater sliding off of her sleek jacket. Her presence seemed to cut through the tension of the world around her, grounded and unbothered by the looming threat of corps drones.

“Thought I told you to take it easy on that deathtrap,” Hoseok said, his tone more teasing than scolding.

She smirked, leaning casually against the bike. “And miss the chance to rescue a nurse in distress? Not a chance.”

“Rescue might be an overstatement,” Hoseok muttered, but the warmth in his voice betrayed him.

“Sure, sure,” she replied, tugging off her gloves. “Let’s pretend you weren’t one flat tire away from flagging down a drone for help.”

The words hung heavy between them, a reminder of the world they lived in. The Corps claimed to protect humanity, but for mutants like her—and even non-mutants like Hoseok who worked alongside them—it was a thinly veiled excuse for control and oppression.

“Thanks again,” Hoseok said, running a hand through his damp hair. “Really, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t shown up.”

She shrugged, a faint grin tugging at her lips. “What can I say? I’ve got a soft spot for downturned sunflowers.”

She tilted her head, her smirk deepening. “You keep saying stuff like that, sunshine, and I might start thinking you like me.”

The thought left Hoseok flustered, but before he could respond, the distant wail of sirens reminded them both of the world they were in. He gestured toward his building. “Come on. Let’s get inside before the drones decide to sweep this area.”

Inside the apartment, the air felt heavier, insulated from the chaos outside. She shed her jacket, revealing a faint shimmer along her forearms—a telltale sign of the bioenergy she could manipulate at will. Hoseok had seen it in action once, during a supply run that had gone south. The way she  controlled the volatile energy with precision had left him awestruck, beneath the shimmer sat the silver cuff, the Corps’ way of controlling the mutants. 

“Nice place,” She said, glancing around. Her gaze settled on a small trinket near the window—a glowing orb used by mutant children as a nightlight.

“Thanks,” Hoseok replied, setting his bag down and moving toward the kitchen. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”

“Better than the underground bunkers some of us get stuck in,” She muttered, her tone light but not without bitterness.

Hoseok turned back to look at her, noting the weight in her eyes. “You know, you don’t always have to play the tough guy, right? It’s okay to let people in.”

She raised an eyebrow, leaning casually against the counter. “Says the guy who’s always putting on a brave face for the kids.”

“That’s different,” he replied softly, pouring coffee into two mismatched mugs.

“Is it?”

For a moment, the only sound was the rain tapping against the windows. Outside, the city continued its restless hum, but inside, it felt like time had paused.

“You’re good with them,” She said, breaking the silence. “The kids. It’s rare to see someone like you—a human—treating mutants like they’re worth something.”

Hoseok hesitated, his fingers tightening around the mug. “They are worth something. They deserve better than this world gives them.”

Her eyes softened, and for a moment, the walls She had built around themselves cracked. “You’re a rare breed, sunshine. Don’t let this world chew you up.”

He handed her a mug, their fingers brushing briefly. The touch lingered in Hoseok’s mind longer than it should have, but he didn’t pull away.

As they sat in companionable silence, Hoseok found himself thinking that maybe, just maybe, there was hope for the world—if people like her kept fighting for it. And as for himself, he realized he wasn’t just drawn to her strength. It was the way she made him feel like he could be something more than just another cog in the machine.

Maybe, together, they could find a way to make things better.

[zeroseuniverse]

Trouble

Word Count:1.5K Summary: Trouble follows Pairing: Jimin X Reader X Taehyung X Jungkook

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The clinic was chaotic, as always. Taehyung’s voice cut through the tense air, issuing sharp instructions to the assistants scrambling to keep up. Jimin moved like a ghost between patients, his touch soothing pain and panic with a quiet intensity. Jungkook was perched on the edge of a battered supply cabinet, his sleeves rolled up and his sharp eyes scanning the room for threats or opportunities to step in.

Then came the clamor from the entrance—shouts, hurried footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the floor. Jungkook leapt to his feet, Taehyung and Jimin freezing mid-task.

“Another one,” Jungkook muttered, already moving. “They better not bleed all over the floor again.”

The three of them reached the makeshift triage area just as a figure slumped against the cracked wall. Her ragged breath filled the room as she tried—and failed—to push herself upright. Blood streaked her side, soaking through a torn jacket.

“Move,” Taehyung barked, already assessing her injuries.

But instead of groans of pain or pleas for help, they were greeted with an unmistakable cheek.

“Well, isn’t this a welcoming party,” She said, flashing a wobbly grin. “Didn’t know I’d be getting the royal treatment.”

Jungkook snorted, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. “You’ve got a real mouth on you for someone who can’t stand.”

“Try it, sweetheart,” she shot back, her voice dripping with humor. “I’ll still out-talk you from the ground.”

Jimin knelt beside her, his touch careful as he began stabilizing her wound. “She’s cheeky,” he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

“She’s bleeding all over my clinic,” Taehyung snapped, though his hands were already moving with precision.

Despite the pain etched into her face, She winked at Jimin. “I could get used to you.”

Jimin blinked, flustered, while Jungkook and Taehyung exchanged looks.

“She’s trouble,” Jungkook said flatly.

“No kidding,” Taehyung muttered, though his hands never faltered.

As they worked, her charm never faltered either, her humor weaving through every quip, even as she winced under their care. But beneath the surface, they all recognized it—a resilience that burned bright, unyielding despite the cruel world that had battered her.

And for reasons they couldn’t quite place, none of them wanted to extinguish that fire.

Jimin’s touch was steady as he cleaned the blood from her side, his hands radiating a soothing warmth that momentarily dulled the pain. Her bravado faltered for the first time, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips. Jimin looked up, his expression gentle but probing.

“You don’t have to keep up the act, you know,” he said softly. “It’s okay to just... breathe.”

She blinked, her grin faltering before she huffed out a laugh. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.”

Taehyung’s sharp voice cut through the moment. “And those habits are going to get you killed one day.”

She turned her head toward him, arching a brow. “Haven’t yet, doc. Guess that means I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing something stupid,” Taehyung countered, wrapping a bandage around her side with practiced efficiency. “You’re lucky you didn’t bleed out before you got here.”

“Lucky or stubborn,” She quipped, her lips twitching into a smirk. “Probably both.”

Jungkook leaned against the wall, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange. “Stubborn, for sure. You’re the kind who’d crawl in here with both legs missing just to make a point.”

She winked at him. “Only if it meant I’d get to see that charming face of yours.”

Jungkook’s stoic mask cracked for a fraction of a second, a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “Flattery won’t get you out of trouble.”

“Oh, but it’s working,” she teased, despite the wince that accompanied Taehyung’s final tug on the bandage.

“She’s stabilized,” Taehyung announced, stepping back and rolling his shoulders. “But she’s not going anywhere for a while.”

Her grin widened. “Guess I’ll be your guest, then. Hope you’ve got good room service.”

Taehyung groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t make me regret patching you up.”

Jimin chuckled under his breath, adjusting her position so she could sit more comfortably. “You’re lucky we’re used to trouble around here.”

Her gaze softened as she looked at Jimin. “You’re too nice for this place, you know that?”

“And you’re too reckless for any place,” Taehyung muttered, already cleaning up the supplies.

Jungkook’s sharp eyes lingered on her for a beat longer, something unreadable flickering across his face before he straightened. “She’s not just reckless,” he said quietly. “She’s running from something.”

Her smirk faltered, and her gaze darted to Jungkook. For the first time, her charm didn’t come as easily.

“Who isn’t, in this world?” she said, her tone lighter than her eyes.

The room fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them. Jimin glanced between her and Jungkook, concern etched into his features. Taehyung’s movements slowed, his back turned as he processed the implication.

Jungkook stepped closer, crouching to meet her eyes. “You’ve got people after you, don’t you?”

She hesitated, her grin finally slipping away entirely. “Maybe,” she admitted. “But if they come here, it’s not your problem. I’ll deal with it.”

“Not anymore,” Taehyung said firmly, turning to face her. “You brought it to our doorstep. That makes it our problem.”

“And we don’t abandon our patients,” Jimin added, his voice gentle but resolute.

She stared at them, her bravado gone and replaced by something raw and vulnerable. “You don’t even know me.”

Jungkook stood, his expression unreadable. “Maybe not. But we know trouble. And for some reason, we don’t mind keeping yours around.”

For the first time in a long time, she didn’t have a response. Instead, she leaned back against the wall, letting their words sink in as the chaos of the clinic swirled around them.

The tension in the room lingered, but the trio didn’t give her much time to dwell on it. Taehyung was already issuing orders to the assistants, his voice brisk and authoritative. Jimin gently helped her shift into a more comfortable position, his hands never losing their steady gentleness. Jungkook lingered near the entrance, his sharp eyes scanning the chaotic clinic.

“Alright,” Taehyung said, wiping his hands clean on a stained rag. “You’re stable for now, but if you don’t rest, you’ll tear those stitches and undo all my work.”

She rolled her eyes, the faintest hint of her usual cheekiness returning. “I’ll be the picture of obedience, doc.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Jimin, keep an eye on her. Jungkook, I need you—”

“Hold up,” She interrupted, her tone laced with suspicion. “What exactly do you mean by ‘keep an eye on her’?”

Jimin chuckled softly. “Relax. I’ll just make sure you don’t try to play hero and get up too soon.”

Her lips twitched into a smirk. “You think I’m the hero type?”

Jungkook snorted from his post. “Hero? No. Trouble? Definitely.”

“Again with the trouble,” She shot back, her grin widening despite herself. “I’m starting to think you like having me around.”

“Let’s not push it,” Taehyung said dryly, though a hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. “Now, Jungkook, there’s a group coming in from Sector Seven. They’ve been delayed, and I want you to check on them.”

Jungkook hesitated, his gaze flicking to her. “You sure that’s a good idea? If she’s running from something, someone’s bound to come looking.”

“And if they do,” Taehyung said, his voice steely, “we’ll handle it. Go.”

Reluctantly, Jungkook pushed off the wall and made his way to the door. He paused just before stepping out, glancing back at her. “Don’t get too comfortable. This isn’t a free ride.”

She gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

With a shake of his head, Jungkook disappeared into the chaos outside.

Taehyung turned back to her, his expression serious. “I mean it. Rest. You won’t be any use to anyone if you push yourself too soon.”

“And if I decide to push myself anyway?” she asked, one brow arched.

“Then you’ll deal with me,” Taehyung replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She held his gaze for a moment before leaning back with a shrug. “Fine. But only because you asked so nicely.”

Taehyung let out a long-suffering sigh before stalking off, leaving Jimin to tend to her.

Jimin sat down on a nearby stool, his gaze soft but searching as he looked at her “You really should take it easy. Taehyung’s rough around the edges, but he knows what he’s doing.”

She studied him for a moment, her smile dimming. “You’re not used to people like me, are you?”

Jimin tilted his head, considering her words. “People who act like they don’t need help? I’ve met a few.”

“And?” she prompted.

“And most of them do,” he said simply, his voice quiet but certain. “They just don’t know how to ask.”

She looked away, her fingers idly tracing the edge of the cot she was sitting on. “Guess you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

“Not yet,” Jimin said, a small smile playing on his lips. “But I think I’d like to.”

For once, she had no quip, no sharp comeback. Instead, she let the moment hang between them, the chaos of the clinic fading into the background.

[zeroseuniverse]

Thawing Out

Word Count:1.6K Summary: He doesn't know anything if not to be a villain Pairing: Soobin X Fem! Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

Choi Soobin was a man of ice, the villain whose chilling presence could freeze entire cities in an instant. His powers were as unforgiving as the cold that radiated from him, a reflection of the emotional fortress he had built around his heart. No one dared to stand in his way—not heroes, not civilians, not anyone. He was a force of nature, one that struck without warning and left only destruction in his wake.

But even the coldest ice can crack.

It started with an artifact. Soobin had heard rumors of its power—an ancient relic imbued with elemental energy, said to amplify the abilities of its wielder beyond any known limit. His mind raced with the possibilities. With that power, he could reshape the world to his will, no longer bound by the limitations of his freezing powers. When Soobin arrived at the museum where the artifact was kept, he wasn’t alone.

She was there.

A rogue archaeologist, known for her talent in locating rare artifacts, had managed to get her hands on the same relic. But unlike Soobin, who sought to claim its power for himself, she was here to prevent anyone—villain or hero—from obtaining it. The artifact was too dangerous to fall into the wrong hands.

Soobin paused at the entrance to the room, watching her stand in front of the artifact, her back to him. The chill of his presence didn’t faze her in the slightest.

"You’re in my way," Soobin called, his voice low and commanding.

She turned to face him, your eyes sharp, assessing him with a gaze that was anything but intimidated. "You think this is your way?" she asked, a slight smirk on her lips. "You’re just like every other villain who thinks the world revolves around their whims."

A flicker of something—curiosity, perhaps—danced in Soobin’s cold, calculating eyes. "I’m not like other villains," he muttered, the air around him beginning to frost over.

His powers surged, conjuring jagged walls of ice that encased the room, trapping her inside. But she wasn’t afraid. With a quick movement, she dodged the nearest spike of ice, slipping between the walls he’d erected with ease. Soobin’s eyes narrowed.

"Impressive," he acknowledged, his voice tinged with something unfamiliar. Was it admiration?

She smiled, her movements fluid as she danced around his icy traps. "You’re not as cold as you think," she said, the words sharp enough to cut through the freezing air. "If you were, you wouldn’t hesitate."

The statement hit him harder than the cold ever could. The walls he had built, the walls he had hidden behind for so long—they weren’t as solid as he believed. For the first time, Soobin hesitated.

Instead of attacking, he stood there, watching as she vanished into the shadows, leaving him with the unsettling feeling that he hadn’t fully understood her. Or perhaps, that she had understood him better than he’d ever wanted anyone to.

Days passed, and Soobin found himself tangled in a game he couldn’t quite win. Wherever he went, she followed, slipping in and out of his reach. Each encounter left him more intrigued, more frustrated. She didn’t possess the powers of a hero—no super strength or flashy abilities—but her mind, her resourcefulness, made her an adversary he couldn’t easily shake.

Her tactics were clever, always staying one step ahead of him, challenging him in ways no one else had. And each time she evaded his grasp, she left him with more questions. What did she want? Why did she keep fighting against him?

But it wasn’t just the chase that consumed Soobin—it was her. She was unlike anyone he had ever encountered. She didn’t fear him. She didn’t back down. And in those brief moments when he allowed himself to watch her, he could almost see through the cold, see the warmth that flickered beneath her exterior.

For her, it was the same.

Soobin was dangerous, unpredictable, and devastatingly powerful. But beneath the ice, she caught glimpses of something else. Something fragile. Something human. He wasn’t the villain he pretended to be—he was a man caught in the grip of something darker than just his powers.

One night, during a storm Soobin created to destroy a city he felt had wronged him, the winds raged uncontrollably. Ice and snow tore through the streets, and in the midst of the chaos, she found herself injured—caught by one of Soobin’s erratic gusts of frozen wind.

When he found her, collapsed in the snow, something inside him stirred. He didn’t think, didn’t question it—he picked her up, carrying her through the storm to a hidden lair deep in the mountains.

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe it was because she had shown him a part of himself he had long buried. Maybe it was because, for the first time in years, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving someone to suffer.

Soobin wasn’t a hero, and he would never be one. But he couldn’t let her die.

When she woke, she found herself in an unfamiliar, cold room, but the source of the chill wasn’t Soobin’s powers. No, this time, it was something different. His presence was quieter now—less oppressive.

"You’re my enemy," she whispered, still weak from the injury.

"I know," Soobin said softly. "But I won’t let you die."

His words carried a weight she hadn’t expected. And when he began tending to her wounds, carefully and with uncharacteristic gentleness, she realized that the man she had been chasing—the villain she had believed him to be—wasn't as unfeeling as he appeared.

And maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t the only one with walls to break.

She remained in Soobin’s lair, recovering from your injuries. He treated her with an unexpected tenderness, but his coldness was never far from the surface. It was a delicate truce between the two, one based on necessity rather than trust. Yet, as the days wore on, something shifted—both in the air and between them. 

One evening, as the moonlight bathed the mountain peaks, Soobin stood by the window, his back to her. His breath formed mist against the glass, but his eyes were far away, lost in thoughts she could never fully understand.

She sat up, the blanket rustling as she shifted. "You’ve been quiet," she said, her voice soft, but not without an edge. "Too quiet."

Soobin didn’t turn around. "I’ve been thinking," he muttered, almost to himself. "Maybe that’s the problem."

Her brows furrowed, but she kept her voice steady. "Thinking about what?"

He finally turned to face her, his eyes colder than the room around him. "About everything. About why I’m not like you. Why I can’t just..." He trailed off, his words heavy with something unspoken. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the icy façade he had so carefully built cracked.

"You’re different," she said, her gaze steady, challenging. "And you hate it, don’t you? The fact that you don’t want to be the villain anymore."

Soobin scoffed, shaking his head. "I’m not the good guy, remember?" His voice was sharp, colder than any ice he could create. "I’m the selfish one. I take what I want. I do what I want. I don’t do the right thing."

She stood, her heart pounding in her chest. His words were like daggers, but she refused to let him push her away. "You’re not selfish. You’re afraid. Afraid of letting go of the only thing that’s kept you alive for so long."

For the first time, Soobin’s mask of indifference slipped, and she saw the truth in his eyes—the raw vulnerability he had buried deep within. "I didn’t ask for this," he murmured, his voice low, a mixture of frustration and something else—something softer, something almost... pleading.

She took a step toward him, her heart torn between the desire to help him and the fear of what he might do if she got too close. "You didn’t ask for any of this. But it doesn’t mean you’re stuck with it forever."

Soobin laughed bitterly, the sound empty and hollow. "You think I can change? You think I’m capable of something better?"

Her eyes locked onto his, unflinching. "I think you’re capable of a lot more than you realize."

He stared at her for a long moment, the weight of her words settling between the two. For a brief second, the icy walls around his heart wavered, as if her presence was the warmth that could thaw him. But then, just as quickly, the walls went back up. "Don’t make me something I’m not," Soobin said, his voice cold, but not as sharp as before. "I won’t be what you want me to be."

"I don’t want you to be anything," She replied quietly, stepping closer, her voice soft but firm. "I just want you to stop hiding from yourself."

There was a silence that stretched between the two, thick with unspoken words and emotions neither of them were willing to fully admit. Soobin looked away, the battle inside him waging once more.

"I’m not the hero," he said, voice cracking slightly. "And I never will be."

She reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm, grounding him. "No one’s asking you to be the hero. But maybe, just maybe, you don’t have to be the villain either."

Soobin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. The warmth from her touch was like a spark in the cold, but he pulled away before it could grow any stronger.

"I don’t know how to be anything else," he muttered, voice distant once more.

She watched him carefully, her heart aching for the man who had been trapped in his own misery for so long. "Then you’ll learn. Because, Soobin, there’s still time to choose who you want to be."

But he didn’t respond, and the silence between them felt heavier than ever.

[zeroseuniverse]

Even Pillars Fall

Word Count: 1.4K Summary: Sometimes it's okay to need help Pairing: Mingi X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The room was filled with the sharp, acrid smell of disinfectants and the faint metallic tang of blood. Mingi’s massive frame lay across the makeshift cot, his breathing uneven as she worked tirelessly to stem the bleeding. The resistance didn’t have the luxury of proper medical facilities, just repurposed warehouses and scavenged supplies. Yet Her hands moved with precision, her focus unwavering despite the odds stacked against them.

Mingi groaned, his hand twitching as if to push her away. “I’m fine,” he rasped, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him. He didn’t want to be here—pinned down, powerless, and vulnerable.

“You’re not fine,” She shot back, her voice calm but firm. “You’re lucky you’re still breathing. Let me do my job.”

His defiance faltered under her unwavering gaze. Mingi prided himself on being the resistance’s pillar, the one who shouldered the burden of their most dangerous missions. Yet here he was, reduced to a man bleeding out on a cot, utterly dependent on someone else.

Her touch was surprisingly gentle for someone who had been dealing with life-or-death situations every day. She wasn’t  just treating his wounds; she was silently telling him he wasn’t alone, that his pain mattered.

“Why do you even bother?” Mingi muttered, more to himself than to her. “You’ve got a dozen other people to save.”

She didn’t pause, her hands steady as she stitched a deep gash along his side. “Because you’re worth it. And because I refuse to lose anyone if I can help it.”

The words struck something deep within Mingi. Worth it. It wasn’t a sentiment he heard often, not when most people saw him as a weapon rather than a man.

Silence stretched between them, filled only by the faint hum of machinery and the muted voices of resistance fighters outside the tent.

“You’re... not afraid of me?” Mingi asked quietly.

She glanced up, their expression softening. “No, Mingi. I’m not. I see a man who gives everything he has to protect the people around him. That doesn’t scare me—it inspires me.”

The warmth in her voice disarmed him, more than any wound ever could. For the first time in a long while, Mingi felt seen—not as a mutant or a fighter, but as someone who mattered.

As she finished bandaging him, she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. “You don’t have to carry everything alone, you know. Let someone else be strong for you, just for a little while.”

Mingi’s throat tightened. The weight he carried felt lighter, if only for a moment, under her words.

Mingi watched her for a moment, her hands now busy cleaning up the bloodied tools on the nearby table. Her movements were deliberate, practiced, but he couldn’t help noticing the way her brow furrowed in concentration, or how the faint glow of the overhead light caught in her hair.

“You don’t have to stay,” Mingi said, his voice quieter this time. “I’ll be fine now.”

She turned, meeting his gaze with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “Is that your way of trying to get rid of me?”

He smirked faintly, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I just... i don't want you to waste your time.”

“That’s not your call to make,” she replied firmly, stepping closer. Her tone softened, a playful edge slipping in. “Besides, I’d hardly call saving your life a waste of time.”

The closeness made him hyperaware of everything—the warmth of her body, the steady rhythm of her breath, the way her eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary.

“You’ve got a habit of being stubborn,” Mingi murmured, his gaze locking with hers.

She chuckled, the sound light and unguarded. “And you’ve got a habit of pretending you don’t need anyone.”

For a moment, the world outside the tent seemed to fade away. Mingi’s usual bravado cracked under the intensity of the moment, leaving him exposed. His fingers twitched, resisting the urge to reach out, to let himself lean into the comfort she offered.

“Why do you do it?” he asked, his voice a shade rougher than he intended. “Put yourself through all this—patching us up, seeing the worst of it. You could have walked away a long time ago.”

She tilted her head, considering him carefully. “Because someone has to. And because I believe in what we’re fighting for.”

She paused, her gaze softening as it held his. “But you? You’re the reason we even have a chance. You might not see it, but you inspire people, Mingi. You remind us why we keep going.”

The words hit him harder than any blow he’d ever taken. He wanted to deflect, to downplay what she had said, but the conviction in her voice made it impossible.

“And what about you?” he asked, his tone quieter now. “Who reminds you to keep going?”

She hesitated, the faintest flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “Sometimes... I remind myself. Other times, I find reasons in the people around me.”

Her gaze dropped briefly, as if debating something, before rising again to meet his. “You’ve been one of those reasons lately.”

The air between them grew taut, charged with unspoken emotions. Mingi swallowed, his heart pounding against his ribs. He wasn’t sure if it was the lingering adrenaline, the exhaustion, or something else entirely, but he found himself leaning forward, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“You’re a dangerous person, you know that?”

She arched a brow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because,” he said, his gaze flicking down to her mouth for just a moment before meeting her eyes again, “you make it hard to remember where the fight ends and... something else begins.”

The words hung in the air, a quiet confession wrapped in layers of tension and uncertainty.

Her breath caught in her throat at the weight of Mingi's words. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much to bear, and for a split second, she forgot how to respond. She wanted to say something clever, something that would deflect, but instead, she simply stood there, heart pounding in sync with his.

Mingi's gaze softened, his usual bravado slipping away like a mask he no longer wanted to wear. He could see the hesitation in her eyes, the way she was struggling to keep the distance between them, even though every part of him—and perhaps her too—longed to close that gap.

"You should go," Mingi said, his voice hoarse, the words coming out softer than he intended. "Before I do something stupid."

She didn’t move immediately, her hand still resting gently on his arm as she studied him. There was something raw in Mingi's eyes, a vulnerability that spoke volumes more than words ever could. He was the strong one, the one everyone relied on, and yet here he was, asking for a little kindness, a little moment of care.

She shook her head slowly, her hand still lingering, almost as if she needed the contact as much as he did. "You don't get to tell me what to do, Mingi," she replied with a quiet but firm determination. "But I will tell you this—you don't have to be alone in this. Not now. Not ever."

The air between them seemed to pulse with the unsaid, the weight of their connection hanging heavy in the small tent. Mingi’s chest tightened, his heart threatening to betray him, and he let out a slow, shaky breath.

"I never wanted to be a burden," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t know how to be anything else."

Her eyes softened, and she moved closer, her hand finally slipping away from his arm as she crouched down beside him. She met his gaze, her voice steady but full of warmth. "You’re not a burden, Mingi. You’re a person—someone who needs others, just like everyone else. And that’s okay."

Mingi blinked, the words sinking into him in a way he hadn’t expected. He had spent so long pushing people away, thinking that if he kept everything buried deep enough, he could protect them from the danger that always seemed to follow him. But in this moment, surrounded by blood and chaos, her unwavering presence gave him something he hadn’t realized he needed—peace.

"Thank you," he said, his voice rough, not just from the wound but from the emotions he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in so long.

She smiled softly, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder before she stood up, looking down at him with a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. "You’re welcome. Now get some rest, okay? We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us."

As she  turned to leave, Mingi watched her go, the tightness in his chest loosening just a fraction. There was something about her—something that made him believe he might be able to carry on after all, not alone, but with someone by his side.

[zeroseuniverse]

Crazy For You

Word Count: 1.3K Summary: She sees the humans inside the mutants Pairing: Wooyoung X Fem! Reader X Yunho

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The detention facility loomed like a concrete nightmare, every inch of it designed to suffocate hope. Rows of cells stretched endlessly, their occupants subdued by dim lights and the oppressive weight of silence. The only sounds that occasionally broke the monotony were the heavy boots of guards or the faint, haunting hum of despair.

Cellblock C housed the most dangerous mutants. Or so the guards claimed. Among them were Yunho and Wooyoung, two prisoners who had garnered reputations for their defiance, even under the harshest conditions.

Yunho sat on the floor of his cell, his back pressed against the cold wall, his posture deceptively relaxed. His eyes, however, tracked every movement beyond the bars with sharp precision. Wooyoung, in the cell across from him, leaned casually against the bars, his fingers drumming a slow rhythm on the metal.

The air shifted when she walked in, the sound of her steady steps drawing both their attention. She carried a tray of food, the smell hardly appetizing, but her presence was a rare reprieve in this hellish place.

“Look who’s here,” Wooyoung drawled, his lips curving into a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Our favorite guard. Did you miss us?”

She rolled her eyes, setting down the trays. “I don’t think anyone misses you, Wooyoung.”

“Ouch.” He placed a hand over his chest, feigning a wound. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

“Cut it out,” Yunho said quietly, though there was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

She glanced between the two of them, her voice soft but firm. “You should eat. I don’t know how much longer I can keep sneaking extra food your way before someone notices.”

Yunho’s expression hardened, his gaze locking onto hers. “You shouldn’t risk yourself for us.”

“And you shouldn’t be here,” she shot back, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Neither of you deserves this.”

Wooyoung’s teasing demeanor faltered for a moment, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. “You’re a strange one, aren’t you? A guard who actually cares.”

She ignored him, turning to leave, but his voice stopped her.

“Thank you,” Wooyoung said, the sincerity in his tone a rare glimpse beneath his usual bravado.

She didn’t respond, only tightening her grip on the tray as she walked away.

Behind her, Yunho watched her retreating figure, his jaw tight. “She’s going to get herself hurt.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, his grin returning. “Then we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Days blurred into weeks in the cold monotony of the detention facility. She couldn’t explain why she lingered longer in Cellblock C during her shifts. Perhaps it was guilt, knowing that so many guards treated mutants like nothing more than rabid animals. Or maybe it was the way Yunho’s quiet strength and Wooyoung’s relentless wit reminded her that they were still human.

“Why do you keep coming back here?” Yunho asked one day, his deep voice cutting through the silence as she placed a tray of food in front of his cell.

She paused, her grip tightening on the tray as she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’re different,” he said simply, his dark eyes fixed on her face. “The others don’t care if we starve. They don’t look at us like… people.”

Wooyoung leaned casually against the bars of his cell across the hall, his grin sharp and teasing. “Maybe she’s in love with us. I mean, I wouldn’t blame her. We are pretty charming, don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes. “Charming isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Come on,” Wooyoung continued, ignoring her jab. “Why else would you risk bringing us extra food? Or stop those idiots from pushing us around?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she snapped, her voice low but firm. “I’m not like the others.”

“No,” Yunho agreed, his tone quiet but resolute. “You’re not.”

For a moment, the air between them was heavy with unspoken words. Then she broke the silence, stepping back and adjusting the strap of her utility belt. “Just… eat your food. And try not to get yourselves in trouble.”

One evening, during a routine patrol, she stumbled upon a group of guards cornering Wooyoung in his cell. They jeered and prodded at him, laughing cruelly as he stood silent, his fists clenched at his sides.

“Back off,” she ordered, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade.

The guards turned to her, their expressions ranging from annoyance to amusement. “What’s the matter?” one of them sneered. “You got a soft spot for these freaks?”

She stepped forward, her hand resting on the baton at her hip. “Leave him alone. That’s an order.”

The lead guard laughed, stepping closer to her. “You think you can tell us what to do? You’re just as much of a freak-lover as these—”

He didn’t finish his sentence. She sent a fist to connect with his jaw before he could blink, sending him stumbling back.

Wooyoung watched the scene with wide eyes before a slow grin spread across his face. “She’ll hurt him if he touches her again,” he said, his voice laced with anticipation. “And honestly? I’d love for her to lose it. On me, though. No one else.”

The other guards hesitated, their bravado crumbling under her icy glare.

“Get out,” she hissed, her voice low and venomous. “Now.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances before muttering curses and slinking away. She stood there, her shoulders tense and her fists clenched, still vibrating with anger.

Wooyoung leaned lazily against the bars, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I like it when you go psycho,” he said, his tone teasing but tinged with something darker. “But if you ever waste that energy on someone who isn’t me again, I’ll lose my mind.”

She shot him a sharp look, caught off guard by his words. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying,” Wooyoung replied with a shrug, his grin widening. “Next time, aim all that fury my way. Promise I can handle it.”

Yunho groaned from his cell, his voice low and exasperated. “Don’t encourage her, Wooyoung.”

“Oh, I’m not encouraging,” Wooyoung quipped, winking at her. “I’m begging.”

The chaos came without warning. Explosions rocked the facility as alarms blared and the walls trembled. The Marauders had launched an attack, and the prisoners were taking full advantage of the confusion.

She tried to maintain order, her heart pounding as she ushered guards and staff toward the emergency exits. She had no intention of abandoning her post, but fate had other plans.

“Hey!” Yunho’s voice called out, sharp and commanding.

She turned to see him and Wooyoung moving through the smoke-filled corridor, their expressions set with determination.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. “You need to get out of here!”

Wooyoung grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, we’re leaving. And you’re coming with us.”

Before she could protest, Yunho grabbed her firmly, holding her still as Wooyoung swiftly pressed a syringe to her arm. Her struggles weakened almost instantly, her furious glare softening into a haze as the sedative took hold.

When she woke up, her head throbbed, and her limbs felt heavy. She blinked against the dim light of a small, unfamiliar room.

“Good morning,” Wooyoung’s voice chimed from somewhere nearby. “Did you sleep well?”

Her eyes narrowed as she sat up, realizing the truth. “Did you sedate me?”

“We had to,” Yunho said calmly, entering the room with a glass of water. “You were being difficult.”

“You kidnapped me!” she exclaimed, her frustration boiling over.

“We saved you,” Yunho corrected, his tone steady. “The guards don't deserve you.”

Wooyoung leaned against the doorframe, his smile softening. “You deserve better. And we can give it to you.”

[zeroseuniverse]

Playing Your Hand

Word Count: 1.3K Summary: Don't let them call you're bluff Paring: Jongho X reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The underground casino was loud and chaotic, a cacophony of laughter, curses, and the clinking of chips echoing off the smoky walls. At the heart of the commotion, Jongho sat at a table, leaning back in his chair, a sly smile curling at the corner of his lips. His fingers danced across a deck of cards, shuffling them with a practiced ease that mesmerized even the most seasoned gamblers.

Across from him, a burly man slammed his fists on the table. “You’re bluffing,” he growled, his face red with fury.

Jongho tilted his head, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. “Am I?” He let the question linger, his voice smooth and unhurried.

The man hesitated, his gaze flickering between Jongho’s calm demeanor and the pile of chips on the table. Finally, with a guttural snarl, he threw his cards down. “Fine. I fold.”

Jongho chuckled softly, revealing his hand—a pair of nines. “What can I say? Sometimes, you just have to trust your instincts.” He scooped up the pot, ignoring the venomous glares of the other players.

From the shadows, she watched the scene unfold, her arms crossed and her expression unreadable. She’d been sent to retrieve Jongho for a mission, but as usual, he was wasting time playing games.

“Are you done showing off?” She asked, stepping forward. her voice cut through the din, drawing Jongho’s attention.

He looked up, his smile widening when he saw them. “Weasel,” he said, his tone dripping with faux charm. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act so surprised. You knew I’d find you here.”

Jongho rose from his seat, pocketing his winnings. “And here I thought you might finally admit you enjoy my company.”

“I enjoy your ability to follow orders,” She shot back. “Which, by the way, you’re terrible at.”

The other gamblers murmured among themselves, sensing the tension between the two. Jongho ignored them, focusing entirely on her. “Relax,” he said, his grin never faltering. “I’ve got everything under control.”

“Right,” she said dryly. “Just like last time, when your ‘control’ nearly got us killed.”

Jongho’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly. “That was a fluke.”

“Sure it was.”

The banter might have continued, but the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted them. Both of them turned to see a group of armed enforcers entering the casino, their eyes scanning the crowd.

“Looks like we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Jongho muttered, his hand instinctively reaching for the deck of cards in his pocket.

Her gaze hardened. “This is why I hate working with you.”

“And yet, here you are,” Jongho said with a wink. “Come on, partner. Let’s show them what we can do.”

Without waiting for a response, he flicked a card toward the nearest enforcer. It glowed briefly before exploding in a flash of light, sending the man sprawling.

She sighed, summoning a pair of daggers from the bracelet on her wrist, a convenient power she had borrowed from a friend. “You’re lucky I’m good at cleaning up your messes.”

The two moved in perfect sync, their abilities complementing each other as they took down the enforcers. Jongho’s cards created controlled chaos, forcing their enemies into disarray, while her precision strikes ensured they didn’t get back up.

As the last enforcer fell, Jongho turned to her, his expression smug. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

She glared at him, the daggers in her hands dissipating into wisps of energy. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” Jongho said, offering a mock bow.

She shook her head, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s just get out of here before more of them show up.”

Jongho fell into step beside them, his grin widening. “Whatever you say, partner.”

They walked out of the casino together, their bickering fading into the night as they prepared for the next challenge. For all their differences, they knew one thing for certain: when it came down to it, they made one hell of a team.

As they both slipped into the maze of alleyways behind the casino, the tension between them lingered like an unspoken challenge. The faint glow of streetlights barely cut through the shadows, but neither of them seemed fazed. This wasn’t their first narrow escape, and it wouldn’t be their last.

Jongho pulled his deck of cards from his pocket, fanning them out with a flick of his wrist. “You know,” he began, his tone teasing, “if you’d let me handle things my way from the start, we wouldn’t have needed to waste all that energy back there.”

She shot him a glare, her steps quick and deliberate. “Your way involves gambling with lives, Jongho. You take risks without thinking about the consequences.”

He arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “You mean I take calculated risks. There’s a difference.”

She stopped abruptly, turning to face him. “Calculated? You threw an exploding card at someone in a crowded casino. That’s not calculated—that’s reckless.”

Jongho stepped closer, the space between them shrinking. His voice dropped to a low murmur, the playful edge gone. “And yet, here we are. Alive, unscathed, and one step ahead of the people hunting us. Maybe my methods aren’t so bad after all.”

Her  eyes narrowed, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. As much as Jongho’s recklessness frustrated her, there was no denying his effectiveness. He was a gambler in every sense of the word, but somehow, he always seemed to come out on top.

“Fine," she said after a long pause. “You’re good at what you do. But don’t think for a second that means I trust you.”

Jongho chuckled, the tension easing as his smirk returned. “Trust is overrated anyway.” He twirled a card between his fingers, the faint glow of energy crackling around its edges. “Besides, I think we work pretty well together, don’t you?”

She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” Jongho shot back, tucking the card away. “Guess that makes us even.”

Before she could respond, a distant rumble reached her ears—a sound that set her nerves on edge. They both turned toward the source, their senses on high alert.

“More enforcers?” she asked, her hand instinctively brushing against the bracelet on their wrist.

Jongho’s expression grew serious as he listened to the sound. “Could be. Or it could be someone worse.”

She didn’t need him to elaborate. They both knew that their enemies weren’t the only ones with dangerous abilities.

“Let’s keep moving,” she said, her voice firm.

Jongho nodded, his usual bravado tempered by caution. “Stay close.”

They moved through the alleys with practiced ease, their footsteps silent against the uneven pavement. Despite their bickering, there was an unspoken understanding between them—a bond forged through countless battles and close calls.

As they neared the outskirts of the city, the rumble grew louder, accompanied by flashes of light in the distance.

“Looks like someone’s having a bad night,” Jongho remarked, his tone light despite the tension in his posture.

She glanced at him, her eyes sharp. “Let’s hope it doesn’t become our problem.”

But deep down, they both knew better. Trouble had a way of finding them, no matter how hard they tried to avoid it.

[zeroseuniverse]

High Praise

Word Count: 1.3K Summary: In which they don't have to like each other to respect each other Pairing: San X Fem!Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

She adjusted the cuff on her wrist, feeling the familiar weight of her bracelet as she leaned against the crumbling wall of the ruined building. Her fingers brushed over the delicate etching on the silver band—ornamental to anyone else, but a weapon in her hands.

"You're late," came a sharp voice behind her.

She rolled her eyes before even turning. "Nice to see you too, Choi," she said, smirking as she caught San’s unimpressed gaze. He stood with his arms crossed, his sleek combat gear immaculate despite the chaos of their surroundings.

“Some of us like to be prepared,” he said, his tone clipped.

“And some of us don’t waste time overthinking every step,”she shot back, pushing off the wall and striding toward him.

San’s jaw tensed, but his expression didn’t change. “We’re heading into hostile territory. If you can’t keep up, you’ll be a liability.”

Her smirk widened, her bracelet shifting into a thin dagger in her hand with a faint shimmer of light. She twirled it effortlessly before it disappeared back into the cuff. “Don’t worry about me, Captain. I’ll pull my weight.”

San’s eyes flicked to the weapon and back to her face, his gaze unreadable. “Just make sure you don’t pull the rest of us into trouble with you.”

Before she could retort, their comms crackled to life. “Team Alpha, status check,” a voice barked.

San pressed a finger to his earpiece. “Team Alpha, in position,” he replied. Then, glancing at her, he added, “We’re moving out. Stay close.”

She gave him a mock salute. “Yes, sir.”

San didn’t respond, already turning to lead the way through the rubble-strewn streets. She followed, her steps light and sure as her eyes scanned the area for threats. She wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she respected San’s precision. He was maddeningly thorough, and that attention to detail had saved their team more than once.

But that didn’t mean she had to like him.

The team grouped near the remains of an old plaza, its once-beautiful fountain cracked and dry. As she and San arrived, the others were already discussing the mission.

“We’ve got a patrol sweeping the area ahead,” said Jongho, the team’s heavy-hitter. “Three squads, heavily armed. They’ve got a supply cache we need.”

“And traps, no doubt,” San said, his tone grim. “We’ll approach from the west. Fewer entry points, but better cover.”

She crossed her arms, leaning against a broken pillar. “Or we go from the south, hit them where they’re least expecting it. Risky, but faster.”

San shot her a look. “Risky is right. We can’t afford casualties.”

“And we can’t afford to waste time,” she countered. “They’ll call for reinforcements the second they spot us. You know that.”

The tension crackled between them as the rest of the team exchanged glances. Finally, San sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. South it is. But if this goes sideways, it’s on you.”

She grinned, pleased with the victory. “Don’t worry, Choi. I’ve got this.”

As the team moved toward the southern approach, she couldn’t help but glance at San. He was focused, his movements precise, his eyes scanning every shadow. She hated how much she admired that about him.

“What?” he asked without looking at her, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

“Nothing,” she said quickly, though her smirk returned. “Just wondering if you ever relax. Or is that too much to ask?”

San’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Not when I’m babysitting.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re reckless,” he shot back, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone now.

Their banter was cut short as the first patrol came into view. Her bracelet shifted into a curved blade in her hand, its surface gleaming faintly. She shot San a quick glance.

“Ready, Captain?”

San drew his weapon, his expression serious once more. “Try not to get in my way.”

“Try to keep up,” she replied, and together, they charged into the fray.

The moment she moved, the chaos began. Her blade, summoned from the delicate bracelet on her wrist, gleamed as she threw herself into the fight with precision and grace. San was right behind her, his own movements a sharp contrast—measured, efficient, and devastating.

The patrol’s first squad barely had time to react before she was upon them. Her blade morphed mid-strike, growing into a spear that swept through two guards in one fluid motion. Behind her, San neutralized a third with a single, precise strike to the neck, his eyes scanning for their next target.

“Two more on the left!” San barked.

“Already got them,” she quipped, her voice light despite the tension. With a flick of her wrist, the spear collapsed into a set of throwing knives, which she sent flying into the shadows. A muffled cry followed, and she smirked. “You’re welcome.”

San shot her a look but didn’t waste time responding. Instead, he surged forward, taking out another guard with brutal efficiency. “Focus,” he said sharply.

“I am focused,” she countered, dodging a blow from an approaching guard. Her blade reformed into a long sword, and she parried the attack with ease. “I just happen to multitask better than you.”

“Multitask your way to staying alive,” San muttered, catching the blade of an attacker with his own weapon before twisting and disarming them.

Their teamwork, though unspoken, was undeniable. Her unpredictable fighting style complemented San’s disciplined approach, and together, they dismantled the patrol with ruthless efficiency. The air was filled with the sounds of clashing steel and shouts, but soon, only silence remained.

As the last guard fell, she exhaled, letting her blade dissipate back into her bracelet. She turned to San, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Not bad, Captain. I might even say you’re improving.”

San arched a brow, clearly unimpressed. “You call that subtle?”

She shrugged. “Sometimes subtlety is overrated. We got the job done, didn’t we?”

Before San could retort, Jongho’s voice crackled through their comms. “Team Alpha, status report. You’ve got reinforcements heading your way—ETA two minutes.”

San cursed under his breath. “We need to move. Now.”

“Agreed,” she said, though her grin hadn’t faded. “Lead the way, Captain.”

They regrouped with the rest of the team near the edge of the plaza, the stolen supply cache in tow. As Jongho updated them on the incoming reinforcements, she caught San watching her out of the corner of his eye.

“What?” she asked, arching a brow.

San shook his head, his expression unreadable. “You’re reckless,” he said finally. “But... you held your own out there.”

She blinked, surprised by the uncharacteristic compliment. “Wow. High praise from Choi San. Should I be flattered?”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he muttered, already turning away. “Just keep doing your job.”

Her smirk returned as she fell into step beside him. “Admit it. You’d miss me if I weren’t here.”

San didn’t respond, but the faintest twitch of his lips gave him away.

As night fell and the team set up camp in the ruins of an old warehouse, she found herself sitting by the fire, idly fiddling with one of her rings. It was one of her less-used weapons, but its intricate design always brought her comfort. She glanced up as San approached, his expression guarded as always.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Just checking on the perimeter,” he replied, though his gaze lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.

She raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you were going to thank me for saving your ass back there.”

San crossed his arms, the firelight casting shadows across his sharp features. “You didn’t save my ass.”

“Sure I did,” she teased. “You just won’t admit it.”

San sighed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are,” she said, her tone softer now. “Admit it, Choi. We make a good team.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, with a faint smirk of his own, he said, “Maybe. But don’t let it go to your head.”

She laughed, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time, San found himself smiling in return.

[zeroseuniverse]

Learning To Trust

Word Count: 2.2K Summary: In which trust is earned Pairing: Lee Felix X Gn! Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The city was a maze of steel and shadows, its skyline etched against the midnight sky. Every alley, every corner, hid secrets that could shatter lives, secrets Y/N had come to understand all too well. They had learned the rules of survival in this chaotic world: trust no one, take no chances, and never, ever hesitate when a target presents itself. The mission was simple: intercept the shipment, destroy the tech, and disappear before anyone noticed.

Y/N crouched behind a stack of crates, watching the convoy as it slowly inched through the abandoned warehouse district. The cargo—experimental technology designed for mutant control—was the kind of thing that, if left unchecked, could shift the balance of power. The government, with its ruthless pursuit of dominance, had no problem using and abusing those with powers that didn’t fit into their vision of the world. That was why Y/N was here.

But tonight, something was off.

The convoy was guarded, far more heavily than usual. Armed men stood alert at every corner, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. Y/N could feel the tension in the air, a kind of anticipation that came just before the storm. They couldn’t afford to fail this time—not when so much was at stake.

As the convoy pulled to a stop, Y/N took a deep breath, preparing to spring into action. But then something caught their eye—an unexpected detail. At the back of the convoy, a figure moved with such precision, such fluidity, that Y/N couldn’t help but pause.

He was unlike the others. While the guards moved with practiced caution, this man… he was different. He moved like he belonged in the shadows, but also like he didn’t fear them. His posture was relaxed, almost too casual for someone guarding high-value cargo. There was a strange grace to his every step, a fluidity that didn’t belong in a world of blood and violence.

His eyes flicked upward, scanning the area with the kind of awareness that immediately put Y/N on edge. It was at that moment that they realized he wasn’t just another hired muscle. He was something else. Something… more.

Y/N’s instincts kicked in, but before they could take another step, the man—Felix—caught their gaze. His eyes, sharp and calculating, met Y/N’s in a brief, electric moment of recognition.

And then, in an instant, he was gone.

He moved so fast it was like he vanished into thin air. The next thing Y/N knew, they were dodging bullets, their plan falling apart in a blur of motion. Felix had outmaneuvered them with a speed that defied logic, a blur of precision and intent. The ambush was a failure before it even began.

Felix reappeared, his silhouette a dark streak against the backdrop of flashing lights. His smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes, was almost playful as he slowed to a stop in front of Y/N, his tone light. “You’ve got skills. I’ll give you that. But you’re just not fast enough.”

Y/N’s heart raced, their mind working to make sense of the chaos unfolding. This wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill job. This wasn’t just another courier. Felix was far more than that—and his effortless grace was starting to make sense.

Felix’s gaze softened, as if he were studying Y/N’s reaction. “What’s your deal, anyway?” he asked casually, wiping a streak of dirt from his jacket as if nothing had happened. “Are you here for the tech, or are you just trying to mess up my day?”

Y/N narrowed their eyes. “What’s in the shipment?”

Felix shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. “I’m just the messenger. Not like I’m keeping track of all the details.”

That was when Y/N realized the truth—Felix had no idea what he was really delivering. He wasn’t just a courier. He was being used, just like all the other mutants. But unlike them, Felix had no clue.

Before Y/N could process any further, gunfire erupted from the rival faction that had been lying in wait. The ambush was no longer a matter of intercepting a shipment. It was about surviving the next few minutes.

Felix darted forward, his speed leaving Y/N momentarily stunned. Without thinking, Y/N followed, ducking behind cover just in time to avoid a spray of bullets. Felix, meanwhile, moved like a blur, taking out enemies with swift, brutal efficiency, his every move a graceful dance of destruction.

Y/N’s mind raced. Felix was fast—faster than any human should be. But it wasn’t just his speed that had caught their attention. It was the way he fought, with a kind of artistry that made it clear: he had been trained for this. His every strike, his every dodge, was a carefully choreographed movement.

The chaos subsided briefly as they found temporary shelter in the old warehouse. Felix grinned, shaking his head as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Guess we make a good team,” he said, as if everything that just happened was no more than a fleeting inconvenience.

Y/N didn’t respond at first. They were still processing the implications of their encounter. Felix was no ordinary courier. He was more—much more—and yet, he didn’t even seem to know it. He was a tool, being used by forces far beyond his understanding.

“Do you even know what’s in that shipment?” Y/N asked, their voice low.

Felix gave them a puzzled look, then shrugged. “Like I said, I’m just the guy who runs from point A to point B. Not my problem what’s in the box.”

Y/N stared at him, frustration and guilt bubbling up inside them. Felix didn’t know. He was just another pawn in the syndicate’s game, and he didn’t even realize it.

But Y/N knew. They had to stop this. And somehow, Felix—this stranger with the grace of a dancer and the speed of a ghost—had just become part of the equation. Whether he realized it or not, they were in this together now.

The question was, would Felix ever understand the truth before it was too late?

"Stay close," Y/N muttered, holstering their weapon. "We need to get out of here."

Felix flashed a grin. “You really think you can keep up?” he teased, but there was something unspoken in his voice—something that made Y/N hesitate.

For the first time since they’d met, Y/N wasn’t sure if they could trust themselves to keep him safe.

As the night deepened and the echoes of gunfire faded into the distance, the tension between Y/N and Felix hung thick in the air. They had escaped the ambush, but the mission was far from over. Y/N knew they needed to get out of the city, to regroup and figure out their next steps. But that meant they had to rely on Felix—an unknown factor in a world full of shadows.

They moved swiftly through the back alleys, each step calculated, each corner a potential danger. Felix, still too casual for the gravity of the situation, stayed close but maintained a certain distance, watching Y/N with quiet curiosity. It was clear he wasn’t used to being on the defensive, especially not with someone who seemed as skilled as Y/N. Yet there was something in his demeanor—an energy that suggested he was more than capable, just not fully aware of the weight of the situation.

“So,” Felix broke the silence, his voice light despite the circumstances, “you never answered my question. What exactly are you after in all this?”

Y/N glanced at him, eyes narrowing. “The tech,” they replied flatly. “It’s dangerous in the wrong hands.”

Felix laughed softly, his voice carrying a hint of disbelief. “Yeah, I figured that much. But there's got to be more to it. You don't go around risking your life just for a tech shipment, right?”

Y/N hesitated. They didn’t trust Felix, not yet. But something about the way he looked at them, with that mixture of innocence and defiance, made their walls start to crack. “I’ve seen what people like you go through,” Y/N finally said, their voice quieter now, “mutants... they use you. Experiment on you. I’m here to stop that.”

Felix paused, his expression softening. He took a few steps forward, matching Y/N’s pace, and for a moment, there was a flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You’re not like the others, are you?” His voice was low, thoughtful. “The ones who just take down any target without thinking about it.”

Y/N didn’t answer immediately. They weren’t ready to admit that Felix had a point. But as they glanced at him—his sharp features illuminated by the dim glow of the streetlights—they couldn’t help but wonder if Felix had somehow seen through their hardened exterior.

“You don’t trust me, do you?” Felix continued, as if reading Y/N’s thoughts. He wasn’t prying, just stating a fact, and somehow, that made his words hit harder.

Y/N met his gaze, biting back the words they were about to say. "It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just—”

Felix raised an eyebrow. “Just what?”

Y/N paused. “I don’t trust anyone.”

Felix’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “Well, that's fair. I mean, trust is a tricky thing in our world, right?”

The words hung in the air, but Felix didn’t press. He seemed to understand that sometimes silence spoke louder than any attempt to fill the space. And so they walked in silence, the only sound being the distant hum of the city.

Eventually, they reached an abandoned safe house on the outskirts of the city. It was small, nondescript, but it would serve their purpose for now. Y/N was quick to check the surroundings, confirming that they weren’t being followed, before slipping inside. Felix followed without question, his usual easygoing demeanor dimming slightly as he surveyed the interior. The starkness of the room didn’t seem to faze him, but his gaze flickered toward Y/N.

“I’m assuming you’ve got supplies?” Felix asked, leaning against the wall casually. But there was a note of something else in his voice, something Y/N couldn’t quite place.

Y/N nodded, moving toward the small table in the corner where they’d hidden food and medical supplies. “There’s enough for both of us.”

Felix didn’t move, watching Y/N with quiet intensity. The way he observed them made Y/N feel like there was more to him than the easy smiles and lighthearted banter. There was something underneath it all—something darker, a depth that Y/N hadn’t seen yet.

When Y/N returned to the table, Felix finally broke the silence again. “You know,” he began, his tone less playful, “if you’re not here to stop me, then what’s your endgame? If you hate what the government’s doing, then what’s your plan?”

Y/N hesitated again. “To dismantle their operations,” they said simply. “To protect the people they’re trying to control.”

Felix nodded slowly, processing the words. “And me? Where do I fit in?”

“You’re not just a courier, Felix,” Y/N said, voice steady. “You’re part of their experiment. You just don’t know it yet.”

Felix’s expression faltered, but only for a split second, before it returned to its usual nonchalance. He took a deep breath, pushing himself off the wall. “So you’re saying I’ve been used? Like some tool?”

Y/N nodded, choosing their words carefully. “Yes. But you don’t have to stay their pawn.”

The air grew thick with the weight of the unspoken truth, and for a long moment, neither of them moved. Felix stared at Y/N, his expression unreadable, before slowly exhaling. “I don’t know if I can just… walk away from this. That's all I’ve known.”

“You can,” Y/N replied quietly. “But it starts with trusting someone else.”

Felix didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he moved toward the table, eyes scanning the supplies, but not for the first time, there was a flicker of something more in his gaze—something raw and uncertain.

“I’ll need your help,” Felix said, his voice quieter than usual.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, but before they could respond, Felix added, “I’m not a kid. I can handle myself. But I’ve never done this before. All the running, the avoiding, the… trust.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the rawness in his words. Despite everything, despite their wariness and doubts, something about Felix’s vulnerability stirred something deep within them. They couldn’t deny it anymore—maybe, just maybe, Felix was starting to show them the kind of trust that might just change everything.

“We’re in this together now,” Y/N said, their voice steady, unwavering. “And if you want out, I’ll help you. But you have to trust me too.”

Felix looked up, their gazes locking once again. And for the first time since they’d met, Y/N felt a flicker of hope—a spark that, against all odds, could ignite something real.

Felix’s lips twitched into a hesitant smile. “Guess we’ll see where this goes, huh?”

Y/N nodded, a quiet sense of agreement settling between them. They didn’t know what the future held, but for the first time, they weren’t facing it alone. Together, they would walk through the darkness and come out the other side.

And maybe, just maybe, they’d find a way to redeem the world they’d been fighting in.

[zeroseuniverse]

Dance of Familiarity

Word Count: 1.4K Summary: In which rivals are turned into allies Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

The neon-lit city hummed with a pulse of danger, its streets lined with shadows and secrets. Beneath the buzz of illegal deals and whispered alliances, a storm was brewing—one that would threaten to unravel the delicate balance of power.

She had always prided herself on staying out of the underworld’s mess. A bounty hunter for hire, she’d worked the fringes, always calculating, always detached. Her reputation was built on precision, taking down targets with a mix of skill and efficiency. No emotions, no attachments—just the job.

But tonight was different. The contract she’d accepted felt... off, like a wrong turn down an unfamiliar alley. The target was a rogue assassin, someone who had been dismantling high-profile crime lords like clockwork, leaving bodies in his wake. No one knew his name. No one knew his face. All she knew was the trail of chaos he left behind, each kill more graceful than the last.

The job was simple—or so it seemed. Track him, kill him.

She had followed the breadcrumbs to a run down warehouse at the edge of the city, the scent of rust and rot in the air. Her eyes scanned the area, picking out every detail, every movement. She’d been hunting killers long enough to know when things didn't feel right.

The moment she stepped into the building, the air shifted—like the world had held its breath.

She’d barely noticed the shadow darting across the rafters above, a quick movement almost too fluid to track. Before she could react, a blur of motion descended, and she was face to face with the one person she never expected: the rogue assassin.

Hyunjin stood still, his backlit figure framed by the dim light filtering through the cracked windows. His eyes locked onto theirs, the faintest flicker of recognition crossing his face, though whether it was curiosity or something else, she couldn’t tell.

"Didn't expect company," Hyunjin’s voice was smooth, like velvet, yet laced with danger.

Her grip tightened on her weapon, but she didn't fire. Not yet. This wasn't just any target. There was something about Hyunjin—something different.

"You've been killing our clients,"She said, her voice steady, betraying nothing of the storm brewing beneath her calm exterior. "I’m here to put an end to that."

Hyunjin smirked, the glint of a blade flashing in his hand, his movements a slow, deliberate dance. "I’m not your enemy. Not unless you make me one."

And in that moment, she knew this wouldn't be like any other hunt.

A deadly game of cat and mouse began, each of them testing the other’s limits, their movements a blur of precision and grace. Every strike, every counter, seemed more like an intricate performance than a fight for survival.

But the moment the ground shifted beneath their feet, they both knew they were no longer alone. A third party—rival syndicate operatives—had entered the fray.

It wasn’t about the mission anymore. It was about survival.

As the chaos erupted around them, Hyunjin offered a brief glance, the unspoken challenge clear in his eyes: “We fight together, or neither of us makes it out alive.”

For the first time in years, she hesitated, caught between the urge to fight and the strange pull of an unexpected alliance.

The sound of gunfire echoed through the crumbling warehouse, and the once tense, calculated fight between her and Hyunjin morphed into something chaotic. The rival syndicate’s operatives flooded in, their weapons drawn, intent on silencing both of them.

Hyunjin didn’t flinch. His every move was fluid and precise, as if this was nothing more than a familiar dance. But her instincts were sharper than most—she had no choice but to adapt quickly, her mind racing.

In the midst of the chaos, Hyunjin's movements began to change. Where his strikes had been lethal, now they seemed... restrained. He wasn’t going for the kill shots anymore. His every motion was a carefully calculated move to incapacitate, to subdue, and not to finish the job.

It was subtle, but she caught it—a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a momentary look that passed too quickly to decipher.

A sudden realization hit her like a punch to the gut. Hyunjin wasn’t here to eliminate her. He wasn’t even here for the syndicate’s contract. Something deeper, more personal, was driving his every action.

But before she could process the thought, one of the rival operatives made a dangerous move—aiming directly at her.

Instinct kicked in. Hyunjin lunged forward, faster than she could react, taking the bullet meant for her. The impact sent him crashing into a stack of crates, the air thick with the sound of his breath escaping in sharp gasps.

"Hyunjin!" her voice broke through the din of the battle, her focus snapping to him. He lay there, vulnerable, blood seeping from the wound.

She rushed to his side, ignoring the gunfire still ricocheting around the warehouse. He was breathing, but barely, his hand clutching the bullet wound in his side. His face was pale, his usual cold demeanor slipping for the first time since their encounter.

“You... should’ve let me die,” he managed, his voice rasping with pain.

“Not a chance,” She said, her hands working quickly to apply pressure to the wound, staving off the worst of it. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes flitted between her and the approaching enemies. “They’re coming for you next. They won’t stop until you’re—"

"Then we leave," she interrupted, her eyes flickering to the shadows as she dragged Hyunjin to his feet. "We don’t have time for this."

But as they turned to run, something struck them both at the same time—a figure in the shadows, hidden just beyond the edges of their vision. Someone had been watching the entire time, someone who shouldn’t have been there.

A woman stepped into the dim light, her eyes cold and calculating. Her features were sharp, her movements smooth like she was part of the night itself. She was dressed in black, the faint shimmer of a blade at her hip—one that seemed eerily familiar.

Y/N froze, her pulse quickening. She recognized her.

"Well, well," the woman said, her voice smooth like Hyunjin's but colder, more menacing. "You thought you were the only one tracking him down?"

Y/N’s throat went dry. The woman was no stranger. She was the one who had hired her.

"You," Y/N growled, her grip tightening on Hyunjin’s arm as realization dawned. "You set me up."

The woman’s smile was dark, almost cruel. "Not exactly. I just... provided the right incentive. You see, I don’t care who kills him. I just need him gone. But I’ll admit, the two of you working together has been... entertaining."

Hyunjin struggled against Y/N’s hold, his gaze flicking back to the woman. "You knew," he whispered, a flicker of understanding passing between them. "You knew I was dismantling your empire."

The woman’s lips curled. "And you were never meant to get this far. Hyunjin. And you," she turned her gaze to Y/N, "Well, you’re just a pawn in a much bigger game."

The realization struck Y/N like a thunderclap. The woman wasn’t a contractor. She was the one pulling the strings, the real mastermind behind everything. She had orchestrated the entire scenario—the rogue assassin, the rival syndicates, even Y/N’s involvement—just to clean up a loose end.

Everything she had believed about this mission was a lie.

The world around them tilted as Hyunjin pushed himself to his feet, his eyes locked onto the woman with burning fury. "You’ve been playing us both from the start," he said, his voice low and deadly. "But you’ve underestimated one thing."

"What’s that?" The woman arched an eyebrow.

Hyunjin smiled—a dark, dangerous smile. "I never play by the rules."

Before she could stop him, Hyunjin lunged, his movements so swift and graceful that the woman didn’t have time to react. In a heartbeat, the blade he had hidden in his coat was in his hand, and with one swift motion, he sent it flying.

The woman barely had time to dodge, but not fast enough.

The blade sank into her shoulder, and she staggered back, fury flashing in her eyes.

"Game’s over," Hyunjin muttered, his voice cold with finality.

But Y/N could see it now—the uncertainty in his eyes. The fight wasn’t just about survival anymore. It was about something far deeper, something far more personal than either of them had realized. They had both been players in a game they didn’t fully understand, and now the stakes were higher than ever.

Now, there was no turning back.

[zeroseuniverse]

Maniacs II

 Word Count: 2.4K Summary: She's put in danger after the syndicate calls on her for help part 2 Pairing: Lee Know X Fem! Reader X Yang Jeongin

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

It started with the small things. A rusted car she’d been eyeing for transportation suddenly had a full tank of gas when she returned with a siphoning hose. The nosy shopkeeper who had been grilling her about her origins grew eerily quiet the next time she visited. A gang of mercenaries that had dogged her trail for miles abruptly abandoned their pursuit without explanation.

One night, as she set up camp in the ruins of a building, she found a tin of military-grade rations tucked into her bag. She froze, staring at the pristine container. It wasn’t hers—she would’ve remembered stealing something this good. For a moment, panic gripped her. Had someone searched her belongings? Was she being tracked?

She scanned the area, her sharp eyes combing the shadows, but there was nothing. No movement, no sound but the wind through shattered windows. Reluctantly, she opened the tin, the hunger in her belly overriding her suspicion.

“Whoever you are,” she muttered, her voice echoing in the empty room, “thanks for the meal. But stay out of my stuff.”

A faint laugh sounded somewhere beyond the ruins, low and almost imperceptible, carried away by the wind before she could register it.

As days passed, the interventions grew harder to dismiss. Strangers who seemed too curious about her met sudden misfortune. Supplies she desperately needed always appeared when she was about to give up hope. The feeling of being watched became her constant companion.

She tried to trick them—doubling back, staying hidden for hours, even setting traps. But whoever it was, they were always one step ahead, never revealing themselves but always there.

One night, as she lay under the faint light of a cracked moon, she whispered to the emptiness, “You don’t have to hide. If you want to protect me, at least have the guts to show yourself.”

A soft breeze rustled the leaves above her, the only response to her challenge. But as she drifted to sleep, a faint figure lingered in the shadows, watching over her with quiet determination

The rations weren’t the only thing. A day later, she found a carefully folded jacket in her pack. It wasn’t hers, but it was warm and smelled faintly of cedar and something sharper, something familiar.

Her fingers brushed the fabric as unease slithered down her spine. She knew this scent. It belonged to Jeongin, though she couldn’t fathom how it had found its way to her now.

She pressed the jacket to her face, inhaling deeply despite herself. The familiarity was intoxicating, stirring feelings she thought she’d buried. But beneath the comfort was an unsettling undertone—a reminder of his unpredictability.

“You’re losing it,” she muttered, stuffing the jacket away. Still, that night, when the cold seeped through the cracked walls of her shelter, she draped it over her shoulders, pretending she didn’t feel like he was wrapping her in his arms.

Her suspicions hardened into certainty after the encounter at the abandoned marketplace. She’d been cornered, a group of desperate scavengers sizing her up like prey.

“This can go easy, or it can get messy,” the leader drawled, his knife gleaming in the dim light.

But before she could act, one of the men fell forward with a choking gasp. Blood bloomed across his shirt as the others scrambled, searching for the unseen attacker.

A low laugh echoed through the desolation—a sound that made her blood run cold. She recognized it.

The remaining scavengers bolted, leaving her alone in the eerie silence. She turned slowly, scanning the shadows, and for a split second, she thought she saw him. A figure, slim and poised, melted into the darkness before she could confirm it.

Her voice trembled when she called out, “Jeongin?”

The shadows didn’t answer, but a single white card was left on the ground where the figure had stood. It was blank, save for the faint impression of her name, written in ink so dark it looked like it had bled from the page.

She couldn’t deny the truth any longer: Jeongin was following her. Protecting her. Manipulating her.

And yet, she couldn’t summon the anger she should have felt. Instead, she lay awake at night, turning over the memories of him in her mind—the way his hands lingered a little too long when he passed her a weapon, the way he always stood just a bit too close, his sharp eyes studying her like she was an unsolvable puzzle.

She hated how her heart raced at the thought of him. It wasn’t fear, at least not entirely. There had always been something magnetic about Jeongin, something that made her want to unravel the chaos lurking beneath his composed exterior.

But now, that chaos has taken on a life of its own. The careful, precise way he intervened in her life without revealing himself wasn’t just protection—it was obsession.

“You don’t need me, Jeongin,” she whispered into the dark. “So why can’t you let me go?”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜

The alleys twisted into shadows, and the distant hum of city life dulled her senses. She was careful, always careful, but tonight, unease lingered like a second shadow.

The café she’d chosen was near empty, its neon sign buzzing faintly. She slipped into a corner booth, scanning the room out of habit. The waitress barely spared her a glance as she placed a steaming cup of coffee on the table.

Her thoughts wandered—back to the warehouse, to the sound of bullets ricocheting and the strange calm in Minho’s gaze. And then to Jeongin. The way his grin stretched just a little too wide, like he was constantly teetering on the edge of something dangerous. She shook her head, brushing the memory away.

But the feeling persisted, like she was being watched.

Her hand hovered near her concealed blade as a shadow moved at the edge of her vision. A figure approached—male, broad-shouldered, and wearing a hood low enough to obscure his face. She tensed, fingers curling around the hilt, ready to strike.

The man stopped a few feet away, tilting his head like a predator studying its prey. Then he stepped forward, his hood slipping back just enough to reveal Jeongin’s grin.

“You don’t miss a thing, do you?” he drawled, sliding into the booth across from her uninvited.

Her pulse spiked. “You followed me.” It wasn’t a question.

He shrugged, his grin never faltering. “Didn’t take much effort. You’re predictable.”

“I left a note,” she bit out, her grip on the blade tightening under the table. “Clear instructions.”

“Sure,” Jeongin said, leaning back and spinning a knife between his fingers like it was an extension of his hand. The blade caught the light, flashing menacingly. “But I don’t really like following orders. Especially not from someone so… interesting.”

Her stomach twisted, not just from fear but something deeper—a sickening realization that Jeongin wasn’t just here to scare her. He was playing a game, one she didn’t understand.

“Why are you here?” she asked, forcing her voice to stay steady.

His grin widened, but his eyes darkened. “Because you’re not as safe as you think you are. And because, well…” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, the knife still twirling. “I wanted to see if you’d run again.”

Her blood ran cold. “I’m not running.”

“Good,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Because I’d hate to have to chase you. Though I’d probably enjoy it.”

Her chest tightened, her instincts screaming at her to leave. But something about the way he looked at her—a mix of menace and fascination—rooted her in place.

“Stay away from me,” she said finally, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension.

Jeongin laughed, the sound grating and too loud for the quiet café. “You really think you can get rid of me that easily? Sweetheart, you’re stuck with me.”

And just like that, he was gone, slipping out of the booth and into the shadows as quickly as he’d appeared. The hum of the café returned, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

But as she turned her gaze back to her coffee, her heart sank. Etched into the wood of the table was a small, precise carving: a knife blade. A silent reminder that Jeongin’s protection was anything but comforting.

The carved blade on the table seemed to mock her. She ran her fingers over it absently, her mind spinning. She needed a plan—something that didn’t involve being cornered by a maniac like Jeongin or getting dragged deeper into the Stray Kids syndicate.

“Didn’t think you’d show up here of all places.”

Her head snapped up at the sound of Minho’s voice, smooth as silk but edged with something sharper. He stood by her booth, one hand tucked into his jacket pocket, the other holding a takeaway coffee cup. His dark eyes swept over her, lingering just long enough to make her feel exposed.

“How did you—”

He cut her off, sliding into the seat Jeongin had vacated moments before. “This city isn’t as big as you think it is. And you’re not as invisible as you like to pretend.”

The weight of his gaze felt heavier than Jeongin’s manic grin had. With Jeongin, she’d felt the wild unpredictability of a storm. Minho, on the other hand, was calm—controlled. But that calm was a mask, and she had no intention of peeling it back.

“Let me guess,” she said, trying to match his nonchalance. “You’re here to check on me. Or maybe to make sure Jeongin doesn’t try to stab me in broad daylight.”

Minho smirked, his free hand tracing the edge of the table. “Jeongin’s… complicated. But I’m not here for him.”

Her brow furrowed. “Then why are you here?”

“To remind you that you’re not alone in this mess,” he replied, his tone deceptively light. “And to warn you—Jeongin doesn’t do anything without a reason. If he’s watching you, it’s because he sees something worth protecting. Or something worth breaking.”

Her stomach churned, but she kept her expression neutral. “I don’t need his protection. Or yours.”

Minho chuckled, low and unhurried. “That’s cute. But I’m not offering protection. I’m offering advice.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Don’t underestimate him. He’s dangerous in ways you can’t even imagine. And if he’s decided you’re his new project, you’d better figure out how to handle it before it’s too late.”

She swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over her like a lead blanket. “Why are you telling me this?”

Minho’s smirk softened into something resembling sincerity. “Because I’ve seen what happens when Jeongin gets too attached. And because…” He paused, his eyes darkening. “I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire.”

The sincerity in his voice was disarming, but she forced herself to stay wary. Minho was just as much a part of the Stray Kids as Jeongin, and trust was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

“I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, her hand still resting on the concealed blade under the table.

Minho’s smirk returned, but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Sure you can.” He stood, his movements fluid and deliberate. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He turned to leave, but as he reached the door, he glanced back over his shoulder. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his voice carrying easily across the room. “Don’t make it too easy for him. Jeongin gets bored when the chase is over.”

And then he was gone, leaving her alone in the booth with the coffee growing cold in front of her and the carved blade in the table as a chilling reminder.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Her nights were always restless now. The weight of the secrets she carried and the dangers she navigated left little room for peace. Her latest job, a courier mission gone wrong, had her mind spinning with anxiety. The streets were quieter than usual, the eerie silence gnawing at her nerves as she took a detour through the shadowy alleys of the city.

It wasn’t long before she felt it—a presence, heavy and oppressive, trailing her like a second shadow. Her steps quickened, and her grip on the strap of her bag tightened.

“Are you running from me?” The voice was familiar, teasing, yet unsettling.

She stopped abruptly, spinning on her heel. Jeongin stood at the edge of the alley, his face half-shrouded in darkness, but his crooked grin was unmistakable.

“Following me again, Jeongin?” she said sharply. “Don’t you have better things to do than act like a lost puppy?”

He stepped closer, his movements languid but deliberate. “I’m not following,” he said, the grin fading just enough to reveal something darker beneath. “I’m guarding. Big difference.”

“From what?” she shot back. “Your own delusions?”

He tilted his head, studying her with unnerving intensity. “If I wasn’t watching, you’d already be dead.”

Her heart skipped a beat, but before she could retort, another voice interrupted, cutting through the tension like a knife. “A little dramatic, don’t you think, Jeongin?”

The sound of it was both startling and oddly reassuring. She turned to see Minho stepping into the alley, his calm presence a stark contrast to Jeongin’s volatile energy. His hands were tucked casually into his pockets, but his sharp eyes missed nothing.

“Minho,” she breathed, relief washing over her.

Jeongin’s grin vanished entirely, replaced by a glare. “What are you doing here?”

“Keeping things from getting messy,” Minho replied smoothly, though there was a sharpness to his tone that wasn’t lost on her.

“Messy?” Jeongin echoed, stepping closer to Minho. “I think you mean ‘interesting.’”

Minho’s lips curved into a faint smile, but his gaze remained locked on Jeongin. “Interesting doesn’t work for everyone. Some of us prefer a little stability.”

The tension between them was palpable, crackling like static electricity. She felt caught in the middle of an invisible battle, their words as much a weapon as any blade.

“Enough,” she said finally, her voice firm. “Both of you.”

Jeongin’s gaze shifted to her, his intensity softening for just a moment. “You don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, his voice low. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

Minho scoffed softly, the sound almost imperceptible but cutting. She glanced at him, unsure whether to find comfort or irritation in his calm detachment.

“And you think you’re the good guy?” she asked, crossing her arms.

Minho’s smirk returned. “I didn’t say that.”

The three of them stood in silence, the air thick with unspoken words and unacknowledged feelings. Her pulse raced, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the fear Jeongin inspired, the trust Minho offered, or the inexplicable pull she felt toward both of them.

[zeroseuniverse]

Let Me Love you

Word Count: 922 Summary: In which Minghao protects you from a creep Pairing: Minghao X fem reader

It had been an ordinary trip to the bookstore at first. She’d  been eagerly scanning the new releases, lost in her thoughts, when she felt the prickle of being watched. A slight shift in the air, a subtle weight that felt too heavy. When she glanced up, she saw him—a man who had been lingering near her for a while, his gaze fixed on her in a way that made her skin crawl.

She quickly tried to shake it off, telling herself that maybe she was just overreacting. But every time she turned a corner, there he was—standing too close, staring just a little too long. She felt trapped. When she reached for a book on a high shelf, she couldn’t help but feel him getting closer, his presence no longer just a vague discomfort but something palpable. She hurriedly grabbed the book, her heart racing.

That’s when she heard it.

"Everything alright?" The voice was warm, low, and steady—a contrast to the unsettling energy that had built up around her.

She turned to find Minghao standing behind her, his familiar face the calming presence she didn’t even realize she needed. He gave her a soft smile, his eyes immediately scanning the store, aware of the tension in the air.

Without a word, he took a step closer to her, his body subtly shifting between her and the man who had been following her. He leaned in just enough to speak low enough for only her to hear. "If you're uncomfortable, I can walk you out."

She blinked, startled at the quick shift in his demeanor. Minghao, who had always been calm and composed, now stood with an intensity she hadn’t seen before. It was clear—he wasn’t just a friend offering to walk her out. He was protective, determined, and more than willing to make sure she was safe.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice shaky but thankful. "I… I don’t feel safe with him around."

Minghao’s expression softened, a faint frown tugging at his lips as he glanced back toward the man, who had noticed the shift in her attention. The stranger hesitated, but still, he lingered. Minghao gently took her hand in his, his fingers warm against your skin. "Let’s get you out of here."

With Minghao's presence like a shield, she felt a small wave of relief wash over her. His protective nature, his silent confidence, reassured her in ways that words couldn’t. The creep didn’t follow as she and Minghao walked out of the store, but she could still feel his eyes on her. She didn’t care. Not with Minghao by her side.

Once they stepped outside, the cool evening air hit her  and she felt herself relax just a little. Minghao didn’t let go of her hand, his fingers still gently wrapped around hers .

"You’re safe now," he murmured, his voice quiet but certain.

She turned to him, catching the earnestness in his eyes. His gaze was soft, but there was something in it—something deeper than just concern. It was a tenderness that made her heart flutter, a quiet affection that went unnoticed by anyone else but felt so tangible between the two of them.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn’t know what I would have done without you."

Minghao’s thumb brushed against her hand as he gave her a gentle, almost teasing smile. "It’s what I’m here for, right? To keep you safe." There was a playful glint in his eyes, but his words held an undeniable sincerity.

They both stood there for a moment, the weight of the situation slowly melting away as she realized just how much Minghao meant to her. He had always been there for her, but something about the way he cared for her in that moment made her heart race in a way it hadn’t before. It wasn’t just friendship anymore. There was more—something deeper, something unspoken but understood.

Minghao took a step closer, and without hesitation, he gently cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing over her skin. "I don’t like seeing you scared," he said softly, his voice low and filled with an emotion you hadn’t quite put a name to. "I want to be the one to protect you, not just today, but every day."

Her breath caught in her throat as his words sank in. The realization hit her like a wave—Minghao wasn’t just her friend. He cared for her more deeply than she’d ever imagined. And maybe, just maybe, she felt the same way.

You took a step closer to him, your heart pounding. "Minghao, I—"

Before she could finish, he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, lingering kiss. It was tender, a promise—a silent vow to protect, to care, to be more than just a friend. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and they both stood there for a moment, their breaths mingling.

"I’ve always wanted to be more than your friend," Minghao whispered, his voice barely audible. "But I needed to make sure you felt the same way."

Her heart fluttered as she realized the truth—she had always felt it too. And now, it was no longer just a feeling she kept buried in your chest.

"I do," you whispered, your fingers tightening around his hand. "I really do."

Minghao’s smile was everything she had ever wanted—a mixture of relief, affection, and something deeper. "Then let me love you." he murmured, pulling you close once more.

And this time, she didn’t hesitate.

[zeroseuniverse]

Sprint

Word Count: 499

Summary: Loving on purpose

Pairing: Jun X Fem Reader

As the two best friends sat together on the couch, a cozy blanket draped over their legs, Jun couldn’t help but turn to her, his heart beating faster than usual.

"Hey," he started, his voice soft. "Can I ask you something?"

She glanced up at him, eyes warm and inviting. "Of course. What’s on your mind?"

He hesitated, unsure of how to put his feelings into words. "Do you think it’s possible to fall in love on purpose?"

She raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "What do you mean?"

Jun took a deep breath, his gaze steady on hers. "I don’t want you to fall in love with me by accident. Because we fall... and sometimes, that’s out of our control. I want you to walk toward me first, then sprint towards me. I want you to love me on purpose."

Her breath caught for a moment, and she looked away, processing his words. Jun waited, his fingers gently gripping the edges of the blanket, unsure of her response.

She took a deep breath, her expression softening. "Jun…"

He reached out, placing a hand on hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "I’m not rushing you," he said gently. "I just want you to know that I adore you, and I always have. I care about you so much. And if I had to choose, I’d rather have you love me because you chose me, not because it just happened."

Her heart raced in her chest, her mind running a mile a minute. She had always known Jun was special, always known that he had been there for her in ways no one else ever had. But what he was asking… it was different. It was everything she had always wanted, yet never dared to hope for.

"You’ve always been there for me," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You’ve always cared so much, and I—"

Jun squeezed her hand gently, his eyes filled with understanding. "I know. And I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know how much I mean it."

She met his gaze then, her eyes full of warmth and something more—a softness she couldn’t ignore. "I know, Jun. And… I think I’ve always loved you. Just didn’t know how to say it. But I think I’m ready to love you on purpose."

A soft, joyful laugh escaped Jun’s lips as his heart swelled with relief. "Really?" he asked, his voice a little more breathless than usual.

She nodded, her smile growing brighter. "Really."

Jun leaned in, his forehead resting gently against hers. "Then I guess this is the moment where we both walk toward each other."

"And sprint," she added, her voice playful yet sincere.

"And sprint," he agreed, his lips curving into a tender smile.

In that quiet moment, with their hands intertwined and hearts laid bare, they both knew this was just the beginning—a love that wasn’t by accident, but by choice. And that, Jun thought, made it all the more beautiful.

[zeroseuniverse]

Irresistible

word count: 576 Summary: Ten is a menace Paring: Ten Lee X fem reader

She just wanted peace and quiet to read a book , but maybe with Ten she’d never get that, the man was certainly something. With a mischievous grin on his face he spotted her sitting by the window, absorbed in her book, the perfect picture of concentration. But Ten knew better. He knew that beneath the focused eyes she was very aware of his presence—especially when he had his usual effect on her.

As he approached her table, he couldn’t resist teasing. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he said, leaning down just close enough for her to feel his breath on your ear.

She jumped slightly, dropping her book, and turned to glare at him. “Don’t you realize I’m trying to ignore you?” she muttered, picking up her book and trying to refocus on the pages in front of her.

Ten chuckled softly, sitting down across from her without an invitation. “I do. I just don’t like it.”

She shot him an incredulous look, trying to suppress the smile threatening to creep onto her face. “Of course you don’t,” she said dryly. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer ‘irresistible,’” he replied, his grin widening. “Come on, just admit it. You can’t ignore me even if you try.”

She huffed, crossing your arms over her chest. “I’m doing just fine, thank you very much. You’re the one who keeps interrupting.”

Ten leaned back in his chair, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Interrupting? I’m just here to keep you company. You’re the one trying to pretend I’m not here.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to go back to her book. But Ten wasn’t going to make it easy. He started tapping his fingers on the table rhythmically, knowing it would get under her skin. The sound was oddly soothing but infuriating at the same time.

With a sigh, she put her book down, finally giving in. “Seriously, Ten. What do you want?”

His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward slightly. “Just a little attention,” he said in a mock-innocent tone. “I don’t get to spend much time with my favorite person, do I?”

She tried to look stern, but her lips betrayed her, curling into a smile. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her voice lacked the usual annoyance.

“I know,” he said, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “But you like it.”

She shook her head, pretending to be exasperated. “Fine, fine. I give up. You win, as always.”

He beamed at her, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. “I knew you’d come around eventually,” he teased, his gaze softening. “But just so you know, I didn’t have to try too hard. You’re always easy to win over.”

“Not true,” she replied quickly, though her cheeks flushed slightly. “You just have a way of being… persistent.”

“Persistent, charming, irresistible,” Ten listed off, a playful glint in his eyes. “All of the above.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible to ignore, you mean,” he corrected with a wink.

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the soft chuckle that followed. “Fine. But next time, don’t expect me to be this nice about it.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ten said, leaning back in his chair and flashing her a grin. "But I’ll take what I can get."

As the two of them shared a quiet moment, she found herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, having Ten around wasn’t all that bad after all.

[zeroseuniverse]

Silly Antics

Word count: 453 Summary: Taeyong is just a giant baby Pairing: Taeyong X Fem reader

Lee Taeyong sat on the couch, his face scrunched in mock agony, clutching his arm as if it had just suffered a traumatic injury. His normally composed demeanor was nowhere to be seen as he pouted, glancing toward the kitchen where his girlfriend was preparing dinner.

"Baby!" he called, voice dramatically high-pitched. "I need you!"

She paused chopping vegetables, raising an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "What happened now?" she asked, turning around with a sigh.

Taeyong gingerly stood up, trying to keep his movements exaggeratedly slow. "I think I might have—" He winced, clutching his chest. "—broken something."

She rolled her eyes but still made her way over to him. "Really? You look perfectly fine."

"But I’m not!" Taeyong insisted, his voice tinged with mock desperation. "You swore to protect and heal the sick, aka me, so you have to help me!"

She crossed her arms, trying not to laugh. "Oh, did I? I don't recall making such a ridiculous oath. But I suppose if it’s life-threatening, I’ll have to help."

"It is!" he declared dramatically, flopping back onto the couch. "I might need stitches, or at least some serious attention. This injury could change the course of our entire relationship."

She raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching as she tried to suppress her amusement. "Oh, is that so? Well, let’s see how bad this ‘injury’ really is."

She knelt down beside him, gently pulling his hand away from his so-called “wound,” which turned out to be nothing more than a slight scrape on his arm from brushing against the corner of a table. She couldn't help but snicker as she carefully dabbed a little antiseptic on the tiny cut.

Taeyong winced dramatically, despite how minuscule the injury was. "Ow! This is awful, baby. You’re supposed to be fixing me, not torturing me!" He reached for her hand, holding it to his chest. "I trust you with my life, you know. This is a true test of our relationship."

She shook her head, unable to hide her smile. "And I never thought I would regret that oath."

Taeyong pouted, his lip sticking out as he continued to play up the situation. "I’ll need lots of cuddles to recover, and you have to stay by my side. If you leave, the injury might get worse, and then you’ll really regret it."

She tried to keep a serious face but was failing miserably. "Oh, I’m sure the ‘injury’ will get better in about two minutes, Taeyong. But alright, I’ll stay. I’ll even give you one free cuddle session."

"One?!" he gasped. "I’ll need at least three to make a full recovery."

She rolled her eyes, standing up. "You’re insufferable. But fine, three cuddles. That’s the deal."

[zeroseuniverse]

Comfort O'Clock

Word Count: 564 Summary: A simple story about Dino being comforting his new girlfriend Pairing: Dino X Fem Reader

Dino sat on the couch, staring at his phone with a furrowed brow. His girlfriend had been unusually quiet all day. When she walked into the living room, he could tell something was off. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red as if she'd been holding back tears.

“Babe?” he called out softly, his voice laced with concern.

She looked up at him, her eyes welling with tears before she quickly turned away, wiping her face. “I’m fine,” she muttered, though it was clear from her trembling voice that she wasn’t.

Dino stood up, pacing back and forth in a frenzy. He had never been in a relationship where emotional moments like this had occurred so often, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Just then, his phone buzzed. It was from Joshua, his older bandmate and someone he turned to for advice in these kinds of situations.

“She's crying, what do I do?” Dino typed quickly.

A few seconds passed before Joshua’s reply came through: “Go comfort her.”

Dino stared at the text, confused. “How do I do that?”

Joshua’s response was immediate: “Start with a hug.”

Dino blinked at the screen, his cheeks flushing. He was still new to the whole idea of comforting someone like this. They hadn’t even been together for that long, and here he was, fumbling his way through the ups and downs of a relationship.

“Wait—what?” he muttered under his breath.

“Start with a what!?!” Dino repeated in disbelief, it was that simple? But he didn’t know forsure how she felt about touching yet they were still in an awkward beginning phase, getting to know each other's likes. 

He walked slowly over to where where stood, her back to him. His heartbeat was louder than usual, and his palms were sweating. “Babe?” he asked gently, stopping a few feet away.

She didn’t respond, but he noticed her shoulders shake slightly as a sob escaped her. Dino took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage Joshua had suggested.

His hands hesitated, unsure of how to approach. He glanced down at his phone again, Joshua’s advice staring back at him. With a deep breath, Dino gently wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her into a soft embrace.

She stiffened at first, clearly taken aback, but after a few seconds, her body relaxed, and she leaned into him, letting out a shaky sigh. Dino’s heart beat wildly as he held her close, unsure if he was doing the right thing but knowing it was what she needed.

“I’m sorry,” She whispered, her voice muffled against his chest.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Dino said softly, brushing a hand through her hair in an attempt to comfort her. “I’m here for you, okay?”

She nodded slowly, tears still falling, but the tension in her body seemed to ease as he held her. He wasn’t sure what else to say or do, but he stayed with her in the quiet moments, letting her feel the warmth of his embrace.

As the minutes passed, she finally spoke up. “Thank you for... being here,” she murmured, her voice hoarse.

Dino smiled softly, his heart swelling with a warmth he had never experienced before. “Always,” he promised.

And for the first time that evening, he felt like he truly understood what it meant to be there for someone.