𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼, 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼…𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓹𝓼𝓮

In a world overrun by the undead.

Y/n, a survivor with a sharp tongue and blades, has spent weeks (months) alone, trusting no one... why? cuz well it seems even humans with living brains have lost it.

That changes when she’s put on the spot with a gun to her head, all while she was just trying to eat an apple by none other than Ni-ki, a reckless but smart(ish) survivor.

Her first meeting starts with a gun to her head, but well rather than a bullet to her head it ends with her somehow a part of his totally normal group.

Apocalyptic Au!!!

Key note:

MY FIRST TIME WRITING HERE SO PLSSS PLS PLS BARE WITH ME cuz I am still trying to figure how shi works here

The unnoticed

To be one with ~

paring !y/n x jay

0.1, 0.2, 0.3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nervous was an understatement. She was terrified.

This wasn't just any job. This was ENHYPEN's Jungwon.

Jungwon, the one whose photo she'd had on her phone wallpaper for two years, now being his personal stylist. Not a group styling for a music show. Not a one-off fitting for a variety appearance. 

Personal.

As in, she would be touching his clothes, adjusting his collars, standing close enough to count his eyelashes.

She wanted to throw up from the anticipation.

The moment she entered the building, she felt lost. The lobby was all clean lines and soft lighting, the kind of expensive silence that made her want to tiptoe. She spotted the manager she had spoken to on the phone, and walked up to him, greeting him with a bow that was probably too deep. He didn't seem to mind.

They walked together toward the elevator, and as the doors slid shut, he jogged her through how this would go. 

She would be given an updated schedule of Jungwon's comings and goings every weekend. She would have to work according to that,early mornings, late nights, no complaints. 

After today's introduction to Jungwon himself, she would be introduced to the rest of the management staff as well. The other stylists. The coordinators. The security team. Everyone.

She nodded along, trying to look professional, but her palms were sweating inside her jacket pockets. Her heart was doing that thing where it felt too big for her ribcage. She kept rehearsing what she would say: ‘Hello, I'm Y/N, I'll be taking care of your styling from now on. Please look after me.’

Simple. Professional. Not at all revealing that she had once cried to her best friend at 2 AM about how beautiful Jungwon's smile was.

The elevator doors opened. The manager gestured for her to follow.

The hallway stretched before her, bright and sterile. Voices echoed from somewhere ahead—the low murmur of staff, the occasional burst of laughter. As they rounded the corner, she saw them: the members of ENHYPEN, scattered around a large makeup and styling area. Some were in chairs, others standing, all of them glowing under the soft LED lights. She recognized every single face instantly—of course she did. She'd spent countless hours watching their content, learning their names, their personalities, their little habits. Heeseung with his easy smile, Sunghoon's sharp elegance, Jake's sunny warmth, Sunoo's delicate features, Ni-ki's youthful energy, and then completely missing Jay sitting on the make up chair her glazed landed on Jungwon.

Jungwon. Her bias. Sitting in one of the chairs, patiently letting a stylist work on his hair. Her breath caught.

The manager pulled Jungwon aside first, speaking quietly. Y/N hung back, clutching the strap of her bag so tightly her knuckles went white. She kept her eyes fixed on Jungwon and tried to remember how to breathe. 

‘Just look at him. Just focus on him. Don't look anywhere else or you'll freeze and make a fool of yourself.’

Jungwon turned slightly and called out, "Jay hyung."

Y/N heard the name, but it barely registered. Her entire world had narrowed to Jungwon's face—his polite smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. She didn't look left. She didn't look right. She didn't glance at Jay  or what he was doing. The manager was still talking, introducing her, explaining her role, and Y/N nodded along, her gaze locked safely on Jungwon.

There was a rustle of movement somewhere to her left. A shift in the air. But Y/N didn't pay it any mind. Probably one of the members adjusting in their chair, or a staff member walking by. She kept her smile fixed, her eyes on Jungwon, her heart hammering with the sheer surrealism of being this close to her bias.

The manager finished his spiel. Jungwon extended a hand, warm and professional. 

"Nice to meet you, Y/N-ssi. I look forward to working with you."

She shook his hand—his hand, oh my god—and managed a coherent reply. "Likewise, Jungwon-ssi. I'll do my best."

Around her, the room hummed with quiet activity. Someone coughed. Someone laughed softly. Heeseung, she thought, based on the sound. But she didn't turn to check. Her focus was entirely on Jungwon, on the schedule details the manager was now recapping, on the overwhelming task of not passing out from happiness.

She didn't notice the tall figure frozen behind her, phone in hand, eyes burning into the back of her head. She didn't feel the weight of that stare. She didn't see Heeseung tap Jay on the shoulder, or the strangled "Hi" that followed, or the two of them slip toward the bathroom.

All she saw was Jungwon.

And when the manager finally led her away to meet the rest of the staff, Y/N walked on cloud nine, completely unaware that she had just become the center of someone else's universe.

waittt im lwk cooking with this jay fic

0.1 ~God save me~

To be one with ~

mentions : of blood and implied cannibalism

0.1, 0.2, 0.3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jay was deep in his phone again. I mean, he really didn't have anything else to do, did he? Not when he was stuck in a chair getting his hair and makeup done for a concept photoshoot of all things. The stylist's fingers worked through his hair with practiced efficiency, but Jay barely registered the sensation. His thumb scrolled mindlessly—social media, messages, anything to fill the silence in his head. The less he thought, the better. That was the rule.

He was so lost in the glow of the screen that he didn't notice his manager enter. Didn't notice the presence of someone new trailing behind. The manager pulled Jungwon aside first, quietly and deliberately, and Jay caught fragments of conversation through the haze of his own distraction. 

Then he heard Jungwon's voice, "Jay hyung."

Jay looked up from his phone.

Jungwon moved a little to the left, and that was when time stopped.

The new girl y/n, his brain would later supply, though at this moment she was just a shape, a presence, a wound waiting to happen just stood there. Nervous. Her eyes fixed on Jungwon, probably because she didn't know where else to look. She was gripping a small bag, her fingers tight around the strap, and she looked like she was trying very hard not to tremble.

Jay forgot how to breathe.

Not in the poetic way. His lungs actually seized. His phone screen dimmed and then went black in his hand. He didn't notice. He didn't hear his manager finish the introduction—something about "meet my new stylist," something about her name, but the words slid off his brain like water off oil. 

Fuck. No.

Jay couldn't stop looking at her. To him, she seemed unreal. Like she'd stepped out of a half remembered dream, or maybe out of his diary, the one buried at the bottom of his bed the one full of things he was never supposed to feel.

She couldn't be from here. That was the only explanation. She couldn't be real.

Jay knew he probably seemed weird, just staring. His mouth was slightly open. His heart was doing something dangerous in his chest—not the flutter of a crush, but the low, dark thrum of recognition.

The thing he'd suppressed for years. The hunger.

Heeseung tapped him on the shoulder.

The contact jolted through Jay like a static shock. He blinked, jerked his gaze away, and coughed a dry, unconvincing sound. "Hi," he managed. 

One syllable. 

Pathetic. 

He couldn't even look at her when he said it. 

Instead, he turned to Heeseung, and Heeseung was already looking at him with that look. 

The one that said: You're fucked, buddy. What the hell was that?

Jay swallowed hard and stared back down at his dead phone screen, his reflection a ghost in the black glass. His heart was still hammering. His hands were cold.

‘So much for suppression’, he thought bitterly. ‘So much for hoping it would never become real’.

Jay excused himself. He didn't even think about it, his body just moved, legs carrying him away from the chair, away from the lights, away from her. 

His heart was still doing something ugly in his chest, and he needed a door between them before he did something even more embarrassing than standing there like a fish with his mouth open.

He made a beeline for the men's restroom. 

And, of course, Heeseung followed right behind him.

The restroom, honestly, smelled nice. A perk of being an idol: you never have to deal with shitty bathrooms. There were fresh flowers on the counter, soft lighting, some kind of expensive diffuser pumping out something woody and clean. 

But that was for later, because right now Heeseung was looking. No, looking was an understatement. 

He was staring. 

Arms crossed, hip leaned against the marble counter, eyes fixed on Jay like he was a specimen under glass.

Jay let out an annoyed breath. "What."

Heeseung didn't say anything. Just raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Jay turned on the faucet just to have something to do. Cold water rushed over his fingers. He didn't need to wash his hands. He just needed to feel something other than the echo of her face behind his eyelids. "What do you want, hyung”

Finally, Heeseung spoke. "I saw you, buddy." His voice was light, almost singing, but there was a deeper level underneath. "You weren't slick. Staring as if you just saw God. I wanted to laugh so bad at you right there." He giggled teasingly, and Jay shoved his shoulder. Not hard. Just enough to make a point. 

Jay stared down at the running water, watching it swirl around his fingers, and said nothing.

Heeseung didn't let up. "But seriously. Please don't get any thoughts of her. Jeez " He dragged the word out, then added, quieter: "I still remember you telling me about your stupid obsession that day. I genuinely thought you were going to kill me. Worse yet… eat me."

Heeseung did a fake shiver, dramatic as always, wrapping his arms around himself. "Please never say 'I love you' to me. I don't want to know what that looks like in your head."

Jay scoffed, shutting off the tap. He braced his hands on the edge of the sink and looked at his own reflection, flushed cheeks, wide eyes, a mouth that had gone dry the second he saw her. 

He looked like a stranger. Or maybe, finally, like himself. "It's not like that, hyung."

Heeseung just nudged him, grinning. "Sure, buddy. You have a boner as we speak right now."

He laughed a bright, knowing sound and pushed off the counter. Before Jay could even sputter a denial, Heeseung was already at the door, hand on the handle, throwing one last look over his shoulder.

"Don't take too long," he said. "And maybe splash some cold water on your face. Or somewhere else."

Then he was gone, the door swinging shut behind him, and Jay was alone with the sound of the faucet dripping and the phantom ache of a hunger he'd spent years trying to bury.

He turned the cold water back on and splashed his face anyway.

It didn't help.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be one with ~

Jay had never dated anyone. 

Not once. 

To his family, his friends, his fellow idols, and even his most devoted fans, he always said the same thing: he wanted his first love to be his last. A romantic, almost impossibly pure sentiment that made people sigh and smile. But Jay knew god damn well that it was bullshit. 

Okay, maybe half of it was bullshit. Half of him still craved that fairy-tale ending, that one person who would be everything. The other half? That half terrified him.

Because Jay knew his love was disgusting. He thought that, often and bitterly.

It wasn't exactly disgusting in the way people might expect—no cruelty, no manipulation. It was worse. 

It was too intense. Too hungry. Having free access to the internet at a very young age does that to a person. Images, stories, whispers of things he should never have seen bled into his imagination and curdled there. By the time he understood what was happening, the wiring had already been set. His heart didn't just want to hold someone, it wanted to consume them. 

He wanted to taste the blood of the love of his life. Not to hurt—never to hurt—but to know them in a way that went beyond skin and bone. To carve them into his soul so deeply that nothing could ever separate them.

But there was no time to reminisce about that now. He was an idol. A popular one, at that; smiling on variety shows, waving at fansigns, singing lyrics about innocent first love while his own thoughts ran red. He couldn't exactly think about thirst and teeth and the copper tang of devotion while cameras were rolling, so he had suppressed that desire long ago. Buried it under schedules and handshakes and the careful performance of normalcy. He hoped it would never become real. He prayed, sometimes, that he would simply fall in love the normal way—boring, gentle, human. But the prayer never felt quite honest.

He had never told anyone about these thoughts. Well… okay, maybe he had told one member. 

And he told his diary—the one locked in the bottom of his bed, pages filled with cramped, desperate handwriting. No one else would ever read it. No one else could ever know. Because if they did, they'd see the monster hiding behind the idol's smile. And Jay wasn't sure he could survive that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THIS IS AN IDEA I HAVE FOR A NEW JAY FIC THOUGHTS!!

guys i have a jay fic in mind... BUT idk if its anyones cup of tea 😓

005. The juice

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼, 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼…𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓹𝓼𝓮

In a world overrun by the undead.

Y/n, a survivor with a sharp tongue and blades, has spent weeks (months) alone, trusting no one... why? cuz well it seems even humans with living brains have lost it.

That changes when she’s put on the spot with a gun to her head, all while she was just trying to eat an apple by none other than Ni-ki, a reckless but smart(ish) survivor.

Her first meeting starts with a gun to her head, but well rather than a bullet to her head, it ends with her somehow a part of his totally normal group.

content: niki x fem!reader ~

mentions! of drugs(kinda), mentions! of force keepping

000, 001, 002, 003, 004, 005

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

My eyelids fluttered open to golden morning light filtering through the curtains. As my vision focused, I found myself nose to nose with Niki— his sleeping face closer than I’d ever seen it. The faint scar above his eyebrow, the stubble shadowing his jaw, details invisible during our usual bickering now unavoidable in the quiet intimacy of dawn.

Something heavy rested across my waist— his arm, holding me in place like an anchor. I froze, suddenly aware of every point where our bodies connected: his knee brushing mine under the blankets, the steady rise and fall of his chest against my shoulder.

Then, without opening his eyes:

“Done staring, princess?”

Heat exploded across my cheeks. “I wasn’t—”

“Liar.” A smirk tugged at his lips as his arm tightened around me, pulling me flush against him. “Stay like this for a bit. It’s comfortable having a human raccoon.” His voice was rough with sleep, sending an unexpected shiver down my spine.

I should’ve shoved him away. Should’ve mocked him for being clingy. Instead, I hesitated, trapped between the warmth of his body and the terrifying realization that I wanted to stay.

I shift again just to mess with him.

"Mmf, stop moving," Niki mumbles into the pillow, voice half drowned in sleep.

"It’s morning," I announce, kneeling the mattress for emphasis. "I’m hungry. Up, zombie brain. Up, lazy prevert."

Niki snorts, then erupts into laughter, finally rolling upright. "Prevert?! Excuse you—" He flings an arm over his eyes, still grinning. "I was having a good dream until someone started stomping around like a hungry T-Rex—"

"Breakfast T-Rex," I correct, yanking the blanket off him. "Move."

"Ugh, why did I help you again?" Niki mutters, dragging a hand down his face.

I flash him a grin, leaning heavily on the wall as I limp toward the living room sofa. "Because you said I was too pretty to be left to die in an apocalypse," I remind him, tossing a wink over my shoulder.

"Yeah, well, looks like my standards have dropped," he grumbles.

Collapsing onto the couch, I stretch my injured leg with a wince. "Admit it. You were captivated by me."

Niki rolls his eyes, but he’s already grabbing something. "I miss the quiet," he fires back. "Which you’re really bad at providing."

The protein bar was chalky, the soup lukewarm, but in a world like this… it might as well have been a feast. We ate in silence; the only sounds were the scrape of spoons and the sound of the wind. Niki finished first, wordlessly sliding a juice in a fancy glass toward me. I took it without protest, the too-sweet liquid— a jolt against the exhaustion.

He moved like clockwork after that, tidying scraps, wiping down surfaces, his back turned just enough to avoid conversation. I stayed slumped on the couch, tossing out half-hearted remarks just to fill the quiet. "You missed a spot."

"Since when do you care about crumbs?" Niki’s replies were grunts or dry one-liners, but the rhythm of it was familiar. Comfortable, even.

I didn’t realize I’d dozed off until I woke to the weight of a blanket over my shoulders and a fresh plate on the coffee table… Well, more like soup, another protein bar, and this time with a handful of stale crackers arranged like an apology. The light through the boarded-up windows had shifted, painting the room in amber streaks. My gaze drifted to the clock. 5 PM. Had I really been out that long?

Niki was gone. I ate slowly, listening for the shuffle of his footsteps. Which I didn't, meaning he had went out.

The stale air of the safehouse clung to my clothes as I rummaged through my bag. I changed quickly, tossing the ruined garments aside; no point salvaging anything that smelled of sweat and gunpowder. Niki still wasn’t back, and I wouldn’t leave without thanking him. Not after today.

The door finally creaked open just as the last streaks of sunset vanished. Niki’s shoes thudded against the floorboards. “Hey, sorry, I got held up. My buddy found a stash of real dry aged meat. Figured why not stay the night? Pretty sure you haven’t had fresh protein in a while ?”

He wasn’t wrong. My stomach growled at the thought. “Fine,” I conceded, eyeing the darkening windows. “But only cause it’s already pitch black outside.”

Niki moved to the makeshift kitchen, the sizzle of meat hitting the pan soon filling the room. The scent of garlic and soy sauce was downright obscene in a world of zombies. He served up stir-fry with a side of rice—actual rice, not that instant crap—and we ate in rare silence, too focused on savoring each bite.

Then, with a magician’s flourish, he produced a small container from the cooler. “Want some, princess?” Frost clung to the strawberries inside, their red almost surreal against the gloom. His grin was infuriating.

I didn’t hesitate. “Hell yes.” The first strawberry bursts between my teeth—tart, sweet, almost painfully fresh. “God, I forgot what real food tasted like.”

Niki’s grin turned wicked as he leaned across the sofa. “That good, huh?” His voice dropped, teasing. “Should’ve recorded that sound. Could’ve traded it for ammo.”

I kicked his leg, but my face burned. “Shut up. You’re just jealous you didn’t get one.”

“Who says I didn’t?” He held up a second berry, glistening with frost, and bit into it slowly, eyes locked on mine. “Sweet.”

The word hung between us, heavy with double meaning.

I licked juice from my thumb, deliberate. “Maybe I’ll keep the rest for myself. Consider it a payment for putting up with you.”

“Princess,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’d miss me the second I walked out that door.”

And damn it, he wasn’t wrong.

"Ugh, whatever," I declared dramatically, flinging the blanket off. "I'm going to bed. Tomorrow, I'm out of here for sure."

Niki didn't even look up from where he was lounging. "Wash your hands first. I don't need you making my sheets and pillows sticky with your grubby fingers."

I paused mid-step, turning slowly to glare at him. "Excuse you? I'm not the one who eats like a raccoon in a dumpster."

That got his attention. Niki sat up, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he examined his fingers still glistening with whatever snack residue he'd been enjoying. "Oh really?"

I barely had time to process the danger before he was on his feet, sticky fingers outstretched like some kind of apocalyptic horror monster. "Niki, DON'T—"

Too late.

I shrieked as he lunged, darting around the couch in a frantic game of cat and mouse. "Get away from me, you animal!"

I barely had time to process the danger before he was on his feet, sticky fingers outstretched like some kind of apocalyptic horror monster. "Niki, DON'T—"

Too late.

I shrieked as he lunged, darting around the couch in a frantic game of cat and mouse. "Get away from me, you animal!"

"Make me!" he taunted, cornering me near the kitchen. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he wiggled his fingers menacingly. "Say it. Say I'm cleaner than you."

"In your dreams!" I shot back, grabbing a dish towel to shield myself.

What followed was a chaotic dance of dodges, near-misses, and breathless laughter, the kind I hadn't experienced since before the world ended. At some point, we collapsed onto the couch, a tangled heap of exhaustion and lingering giggles.

After a bit, Niki's sigh cut through the quiet like a knife. "Don't leave."

I turned sharply, searching his face for any hint of his usual teasing. There was none. Just an unsettling rawness in his eyes that made my breath stop.

"...Stay here. With my group. With... me." His voice was softer, barely above a whisper.

"Niki, I—" My words tangled in my throat. The weight of what he was asking pressed against my chest.

Suddenly, Niki stood, pacing away like he couldn't bear to look at me. "I'm sorry."

"Huh? What for?" My confusion spiked as he ran a hand through his hair, agitation rolling off him in waves.

"Remember how you passed out after breakfast?" His words came out in a rush.

A cold prickle ran down my spine. "Yeah...?"

Niki stopped dead, his back still to me. "I... put sleeping pills in your juice. Just two. Enough to make sure you wouldn't leave."

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

NOTE: my brain kinda blocked since start of june.. and now i m having ideas bursting 😥

Zombie? Or maybe it's just jay

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼, 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼…𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓹𝓼𝓮

In a world overrun by the undead.

Y/n, a survivor with a sharp tongue and blades, has spent weeks (months) alone, trusting no one... why? cuz well it seems even humans with living brains have lost it.

That changes when she’s put on the spot with a gun to her head, all while she was just trying to eat an apple by none other than Ni-ki, a reckless but smart(ish) survivor.

Her first meeting starts with a gun to her head, but well rather than a bullet to her head, it ends with her somehow a part of his totally normal group.

content: niki x fem!reader ~

000, 001, 002, 003, 004

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

The comfortable silence between us stretched until I finally spoke, still leaning against Niki's shoulder. "So... you've got a decent food stash, then?"

Niki chuckled, the vibration rumbling through me. "Planning to rob me, princess?"

"No," I huffed, reluctantly sitting up as he shifted. "Just figuring out how long I can mooch off you before my foot's healed enough to bail."

He rose to his feet with an exaggerated groan. "Such gratitude. Come on."

When he led me into what was clearly a supply room, I actually gasped. Neatly organized shelves held enough canned goods, dried meats, and bottled water to last weeks. 

"Holy shit," I breathed. "I might actually rob you now."

"Told you," Niki said smugly, leaning against the doorframe. "Four people sharing resources means we eat better than most."

I ran my fingers along a row of protein bars, marveling at the luxury. "So you just... trust each other that much?"

"We've got rules." His voice dropped into something more serious. "But yeah,We trust each other." Then, with that familiar smirk returning: "Don't worry though you're my personal stray. Wouldn't share you even if they begged."

My elbow connected with his ribs before I could stop myself. "Shut up."

We sank back onto the sofa, the springs creaking in familiar protest. Niki stretched his arms behind his head, but I didn't miss the tension in his shoulders when he asked, "So, what's the grand plan now?"

"Figured I'd head out tomorrow evening," I said, picking at a loose thread on the cushion. "Your place is close enough to the next town. And..." I shrugged, forcing lightness into my voice. "Can't exactly freeload forever. Not like there's much else to do in the apocalypse besides survive."

The silence stretched a beat too long before Niki responded, his usual smirk not quite reaching his eyes. "Oh. Well... I mean, you could stay longer. Not like I mind." He nudged my uninjured foot with his leg. "Gotta stick together, right? Especially can't let some pretty girl wander off alone."

Heat flared up my neck. "I swear to god, I'm gonna shove my foot so far up your—"

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupted, grinning properly now. But when I glanced up, something unreadable flickered in his gaze— something that made my stomach twist in a way that had nothing to do with hunger.

The fading sunlight painted gold across his cheekbones, and for a reckless moment, I wondered what would happen if I stayed.

"But, yeah I'll leave tomorrow," I said, the words tasting bitter even as I spoke them.

Niki's entire body went rigid. Without a word, he stood up so abruptly the couch cushions bounced, storming into his bedroom and slamming the door hard enough to rattle the picture frames.

I flinched at the sound, then forced a shrug. "Whatever," I muttered to the empty living room, reaching for another protein bar just to have something to do with my hands.

My fingers trembled slightly as I dug through my bag for the cracked phone, my last tether to the  good ol’ times. The screen flickered to life, illuminating faded photos: My parents smiling at graduation. The video of when I opened my acceptance letter . The acceptance letter that had felt like a golden ticket to a future that didn't exist anymore.

A particularly loud thump came from Niki's room, followed by what sounded like a boot hitting the wall. I swallowed hard, zooming in on a photo of my friends until the pixels blurred. Not noticing I was drifting to sleep.

Much much later in the night

I jerked awake to the unfamiliar weight of another body behind me. Moonlight streamed through the cracks in the boarded windows, painting silver stripes across Niki's sleeping form beside me. Before I could process this development, a loud thud from outside sent my heart into my throat.

"Niki," I hissed, shaking him roughly. "Wake up. There's something out there."

"Like hell it's nothing!" My voice came out sharper than intended. "And why the fuck are you in this bed?"

The pillow slid down to reveal one bleary, annoyed eye. "My house, my rules. Sofa's broken my back enough." He rolled onto his side. "Now shut up before you attract whatever's out there."

Another sound. This time unmistakably the scrape of metal on concrete. 

I dug my nails into his shoulder. "That's not nothing! Get your gun and check it out!"

Niki exhaled dramatically, but I saw the moment alertness won over irritation.

His hand slid under the pillow - where he kept a pistol - as he sat up. "You're worse than my ex with those midnight wake-up calls - thank god for the apocalypse, I don't have to deal with her," he muttered, rubbing his face.

The cold night air hit my face as we crept into the living room, the wooden floorboards creaking under our cautious steps. Moonlight spilled through the open front door like a silver invitation to whatever nightmare might be lurking outside. My fingers dug into Niki’s bicep hard enough to bruise.

"Jesus Christ, y/n,” Niki muttered, rubbing his tired eyes with his free hand. "That’s a reinforced steel fence out there. Nothing’s getting through unless it’s got a fucking tank and a grudge."

I ignored him, my pulse hammering in my throat as I stared at the gaping doorway. The front gate was still securely locked, but the door itself swung slightly on its hinges, whispering secrets to the wind. My grip tightened. "Niki… the door. Something’s inside—"

Suddenly, Niki straightened up like he’d been electrocuted. "Oh shit," he said, slapping his forehead with a loud smack. "I forgot—Jay was supposed to drop off supplies tonight."

For a full three seconds, I just stared at him, my brain struggling to process his words. Then, like a dam breaking, my fury erupted. "You WHAT?!" My voice cracked with the force of my scream.

Before I could properly strangle him, the overhead lights flicked on with a harsh click, blinding us both. A man, tall, broad shouldered, with bread stuffed into mouth—stepped out of the storage room.

Our eyes locked.

And then we both screamed.

It wasn’t a dignified sound. It was the kind of scream that came from the depths of your soul, the kind that scraped your throat raw and left your ears ringing. Jay fumbled with the bread as it fell from his mouth, while I nearly vaulted over the back of the couch in my panic.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Niki bellowed, stepping between us like a referee breaking up a bar fight. 

He gestured lazily between us. “Y/n, that’s Jay. Jay, this is some feral raccoon I found in a dumpster. Try not to scare her… she bites."

I gasped, offended. "Excuse you—"

Jay, still wide-eyed from the screaming match, raised his hands in surrender and started backing toward the door. "Alright, alright! Night, Niki. Nice meeting you, uh… hobo."

"I’M Y/N!” I shouted as the door swung shut behind him. The sudden silence was deafening.

Niki turned to me, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and exhaustion. His gaze dropped to where my fingers were still clamped around his arm like a vice. "You wanna let go," he said slowly, "or are we doing this ‘till sunrise?"

I released him immediately, crossing my arms over my chest. "You’re an asshole," I muttered. Niki just grinned, that infuriating, lopsided grin that made me want to both punch him and… No. Nope. Not going there.

Before I could even process my lingering adrenaline, Niki's arms hooked under my knees and back, lifting me off the ground like I weighed nothing.

"Wha—HEY!" My legs kicked uselessly as he carried me down the hallway. "Put me down, you overgrown sack of—"

"Too late for tantrums," Niki yawned, completely unfazed by my squirming. "You woke me up for a false alarm, so back to sleep princess."

I smacked his chest, but he barely flinched. "I hope you die in your dreams tonight," I hissed.

Niki's grin was infuriatingly bright in the dim hallway. "Already did. Three times this week." He kicked the bedroom door open with his foot. "But thanks for the concern, sweetheart."

The mattress swallowed us both as he unceremoniously dumped me onto the bed. I scrambled upright, ready to launch into another tirade, but Niki was already collapsing onto his side of the bed, one arm thrown dramatically over his eyes.

"Go the fuck to sleep, y/n,” he mumbled into the pillow. "Or I'll tell Jay you're actually a government experiment gone wrong."

I opened my mouth to retaliate, but a sudden yawn betrayed me. The adrenaline crash hit like a truck, and against my will, my body sagged into the mattress.

Niki peeked from under his arm, that stupid smirk still in place. "That's what I thought."

I flipped him off before turning my back to him, but not before catching the way his expression softened in the moonlight. The asshole was enjoying this, but maybe I was too.

003.Terror!

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼, 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼…𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓹𝓼𝓮

In a world overrun by the undead.

Y/n, a survivor with a sharp tongue and blades, has spent weeks (months) alone, trusting no one... why? cuz well it seems even humans with living brains have lost it.

That changes when she’s put on the spot with a gun to her head, all while she was just trying to eat an apple by none other than Ni-ki, a reckless but smart(ish) survivor.

Her first meeting starts with a gun to her head, but well rather than a bullet to her head, it ends with her somehow a part of his totally normal group.

content: niki x fem!reader ~

mentions! of assault, mentions! of dead and murder

000, 001, 002, 003, 004

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

The first thing I registered was pain. A dull throb radiated from my bandaged leg as consciousness dragged me kicking and screaming into wakefulness. Sunlight streamed through cracked blinds, painting stripes across the unfamiliar bedroom.

I pushed myself upright with a groan, the sheets pooling around my waist. For one disorienting moment, I couldn't remember where I was, until the previous day came rushing back. The horde. The injury. Niki.

My stomach growled loudly, demanding attention. Using the nightstand for support, I hauled myself to my feet, biting back curses with each limping step toward the door.

The sight that greeted me was almost... Normal. Niki slouched on the couch, tearing into a protein bar with his teeth. An empty can of beans sat on the coffee table beside a second, steaming can of corn.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty," he said around a mouthful of food, not even looking up. "Want some?" His tone was casual, but I noticed the second can already sitting on the coffee table warmed, waiting.

"No shit..." I muttered, collapsing onto the couch beside him. The springs groaned in protest as I grabbed the steaming can food. The protein bar was chalky; the corn was nearly too hot to hold.

 It was just perfect.

"You're a regular five star chef," I mumbled, popping the tab on the corn can. The smell made my mouth water.

Niki snorted, tossing me a protein bar. "Complaints go in the suggestion box—" He gestured to a non existent box with his half eaten bar, "which is currently on fire."

The corn burned my tongue, but I didn't care. Hot food. Hot food. In this economy? I caught Niki watching me from the corner of his eye, something unreadable flickering through his expression.

"What?" I mumbled around a mouthful.

"Nothing…" he said, turning back to his food way too quickly. "Just never seen someone look so erotic eating canned corn."

I flipped him off with the hand holding my spoon. He laughed, and the quiet companionship felt strange. Nice, but strange. Like remembering a language I'd nearly forgotten… the casual rhythm of not being alone.

The silence between us grew heavy, punctuated only by the clink of my spoon against the empty can of corn. I turned the metal over in my hands, watching the sunlight catch on its ridges.

"So why this place?" I finally asked. "Of all the houses to hole up in... Why this one?"

Niki paused mid bite, his protein bar hovering near his lips. For a second, I thought he might deflect, but then he shrugged.

"Team effort, kinda." He crumpled the wrapper in his palm. "There’s four other… Survivors? Friends..? We don’t bunk together, but we are close. Share supplies. Watch each other’s backs. Meet up when we can."

I raised an eyebrow. "And they just... trust you?"

A shadow flickered across his face. "We were supposed to be at the same university: two were going to be seniors, another was supposed to start a project company or some shit, and one was supposed to be my roommate… my best friend, before everything went to shit. Guess fate decided we’d get a different kind of education." His tone was light, but his fingers tapped restlessly against his knee. "Now we’re just trying not to die."

I studied him the way his jaw tightened when he mentioned the past— the careful neutrality in his voice. They weren’t just allies. They were the closest thing he had left to family.

"Huh," I said softly, looking away. "Lucky you."

Niki's gaze lingered on me for a beat too long before his smirk returned. "What, jealous? Don't worry, you're officially my favorite pain in the ass." He poked my shoulder with the wrapper. "Be honored. There's a lot of competition."

I rolled my eyes, but something in my chest loosened, making me relax.

"Like I’d stick around long-term," I muttered, shredding the protein bar wrapper between restless fingers.

Niki ignored my comment, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "What about you? Before the world went to hell."

The question hit like a punch to the gut. I stared at the sunlight filtering through the boarded-up windows, painting stripes across the dusty floor.

"Last week," I began, my voice rough, "I should’ve been boarding a flight to New York. Full scholarship. Four years of studying what I liked at the university of my dreams, with actual fucking ivy level entries on the walls." My laugh came out jagged. "Spent the first week of the outbreak curled up in my apartment wondering why I should even bother surviving— wondering if the infection would save me the trouble of putting a bullet in my own skull."

The memory of my phone’s dying glow surfaced thirty-seven missed calls, countless messages. My mother’s final voicemail, voice cracking: "Baby, please just live. However you can.", dozens of unread messages piling up. My mother's frantic voice mails. My father's last text: "Whatever happens, live."

"Then I listened to the messages," I continued, my voice steadier now. "My parents...friends...they all thought I was alive and told me to hold on that I was smart and to not just survive but live. So I decided to prove them right."

Silence settled between us, thick with shared understanding. Niki didn’t offer comfort. Just a slow nod, the kind that said he knew exactly how much those words weighed down on me.

The morning sunlight suddenly felt too bright, too revealing. 

Outside, a crow cawed. 

The world kept ending. 

We kept breathing anyway.

Niki leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "And after? When the world really went to shit?"

I picked at a loose thread on the couch, my throat tight. "I... stayed in my apartment. For a week." The memories surfaced like a replay in movies: the silence, the crushing weight of being utterly alone.

"Then one day, I heard noises below me. My neighbor, Mrs. Flores, this sweet lady who used to bring me homemade stuff… She was alive." My fingers stilled. "I don't even remember deciding to leave. I was suddenly at her door, my first human contact in..."

A dry laugh escaped me. "Turns out isolation had broken her. She came at me with a kitchen knife, screaming about how I was one of them." I flexed my right hand unconsciously, remembering the slick warmth of blood. "I had to... she didn't give me a choice."

The silence that followed was suffocating. I could still see Mrs. Flores' wide, uncomprehending eyes as she slumped to the floor. The way her floral house dress pooled around her like she was simply kneeling to tend her plants on the balcony.

"After that, I barricaded myself in for days, " I whispered. "The first kill wasn't even the dead. Just a terrified woman who used to love cooking for people who had no one."

Niki didn't offer empty comfort. Just sat there, shoulder brushing mine a silent acknowledgment of the weight we both carried. Sometimes that's better than words. Sometimes that's all there is.

“The realization hit me like a truck after a few days of locking myself in. I couldn't be the last sane person alive. With shaking hands, I packed what little I had: a change of clothes, some canned food, my pocket knife, and the sword.” I stopped, taking in a deep breath.

“The weapon store was only six blocks away. Six blocks through hell.” I could feel Niki shift beside me but I couldn't bring myself to look up from my hands that were digging into my knees.

“When I got there, the glass doors were shattered. Inside, a man in his forties  greying hair, bloodshot eyes, stood behind the counter like some post-apocalyptic shopkeeper. He didn't point his gun at me. Just stared.”

“ ‘Take what you need,’ " he had said, sliding a pistol and box of ammo across the counter. His voice sounded dead almost. “‘Ain't no use for it now.’ "

“I should have known. Should have seen the madness simmering behind his polite smile. As I turned to stash the gun in my bag, his hands closed around my throat from behind”, my voice broke slightly.

“ ‘MY WIFE IS DEAD!’ my heart began to race when he screamed. ‘YOU'LL BE HER NOW! YOU'LL LOVE ME NOW-’ ”

“The world narrowed to the pressure on my windpipe and a single thought: Kill or die.” I could feel my grip tightening on my knees leaving a mark and I could feel Niki’s stare but I had to let out.

“The gunshot was deafening in the enclosed space. His grip loosened. I didn't wait to see him fall. I just grabbed another pistol, stuffed my bag with ammunition, and snatched a military backpack from a display. I ran until my lungs burned. Back to my apartment. Back to my barricades. That night, I cleaned the blood from under my fingernails and wondered if a part of me had truly died when I killed my neighbor.”

Niki's hands settled over mine, his calloused fingers warm against my white-knuckled grip on my knees. "Jesus," he murmured, his usual smirk absent. "That's... fuck. Even I haven't been through shit like that." His thumb brushed my wrist just once, barely there. "But you're here. You're alive. That counts for something."

"Yeah, no shit I'm alive," I snapped. My shoulders sagged without permission. "And stronger than you."

Niki's laugh rumbled through me where our sides touched. "Cocky little shit, aren't you?"

"Oh please," I scoffed, but found myself leaning heavier against him, drawn to his warmth like a moth to a flame. "I survived hordes and psychopaths. Let me have this."

The words hung between us, softer than I'd intended. Niki went still, his breath catching just enough that I felt it. Then, carefully, his arm slid around my shoulders, pulling me closer until my head rested against his collarbone.

"Yeah," he said quietly, his chin brushing my hair. "You can have this."

002.Pillow talk

𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼, 𝓶𝔂 𝓵𝓲𝓹𝓼…𝓪𝓹𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵𝔂𝓹𝓼𝓮

In a world overrun by the undead.

Y/n, a survivor with a sharp tongue and blades, has spent weeks (months) alone, trusting no one... why? cuz well it seems even humans with living brains have lost it.

That changes when she’s put on the spot with a gun to her head, all while she was just trying to eat an apple by none other than Ni-ki, a reckless but smart(ish) survivor.

Her first meeting starts with a gun to her head, but well rather than a bullet to her head, it ends with her somehow a part of his totally normal group.

content: niki x fem!reader ~

000, 001, 002

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

"Ugh—fuck." My vision swam as I sat upright, the throbbing in my foot screaming in protest. The plush fabric under my palms registering a bit late… A sofa? A blanket slid from my shoulders as I took in the dim room, my bandaged leg propped on the armrest.

"What the—?"

Panic spiked through my veins like an electric shock. Bag. Sword. Gun. My hands flew to my waist… empty. "Shit!" I lunged up onto my feet, ignoring the shocking hot pain shooting up my leg. The darkness swallowed everything, shadows playing tricks as I staggered forward.

CRASH

The coffee table toppled with me, my knees hitting hardwood as a strangled scream tore from my throat. Before I could gasp, blinding light flooded the room.

"The hell—?" Niki stood silhouetted in a doorway, hair mussed from sleep, squinting at the wreckage. His body looked panicked with uneven breaths as he took in the overturned table, and me wild eyed on the floor.

"Where." I hissed through clenched teeth. "Is. My. Bag." Every word dripped venom.

He blinked, slow and unimpressed. "Behind the sofa, you sleep deprived gremlin." A yawn ."Other side."

"Oh." The fight drained out of me, leaving only the ache. I braced a hand on the floor to push up and immediately collapsed with a scream.

Niki sighed. "Fucking hell." In three strides he was there, hauling me up with an arm around my waist. His skin was a warm furnace against mine. "Next time? Ask before redecorating the floor with your face.”

A fresh trickle of blood seeped through the bandage, and I stifled back a groan. "Fucking idiot," Niki muttered under his breath as he lifted me back onto the sofa.

"Am I stuck babysitting now?", he mumbled.

"Your fault for bringing me here," I shot back, gripping the cushions as pain lanced up my leg.

Niki's hands were unexpectedly gentle as he pulled my injured foot onto his lap. "Why did yo—" 

I began, but my words dissolved into a hiss as he peeled back the bloodied bandage. His fingers worked methodically, cleaning the wound with practised efficiency.

"Look, you twisted your ankle too," he said, his eyes flicking up to gauge my reaction. "Hold onto my arm."

I gulped, wrapping my fingers around his forearm. The muscles tensed under my grip as he sprayed something cold onto my swollen ankle, the sudden chill made me jerk. "Niki, don't—!"

"What else then?" he snapped, though his touch remained careful. "You want ice? Cold water? It's the fucking apocalypse."

"Anything frozen" I mumbled, releasing his arm. "You said you had some."

He exhaled sharply but pushed to his feet. "Fine. But if you bleed out on my sofa again, I'm tossing you out with your sword."

The pain dulled to a low throb as Niki finished bandaging my wound, his fingers surprisingly steady and careful. 

I sat stiffly on the sofa, staring at my hands. "...Thanks.”

“Can you…” 

 I pause

“…my bag?" He tossed it to me without a word. My fingers trembled slightly as I dug through the contents, pulling out a cracked phone. A sigh escaped me when the screen flickered to life.

Niki hovered, arms crossed. "What the hell's so important about that thing?"

I ignored him, shoving my supplies before shoving the bag aside. The silence stretched until he broke it.

"Are you planning to sleep or what?"

"Sofa's a spine killer," I grumbled, shifting my weight. "I'll pass."

"Take the bed then."

"It's your place. I'm fine—", I tried to argue.

Before I could finish, Niki scooped me up in one swift motion, his arms locking under my knees and shoulders. "HEY—PUT ME DOWN, YOU ASSHOLE—"

"Shut up," he said, kicking open the bedroom door. "You're injured. You get the bed." He dumped me onto the mattress with more care than his tone suggested. "And don't even think about getting up ."

The pillow smelled like him… comforting even.

I scowled. "This is kidnapping."

"It's common sense," he shot back, already walking out. "Sleep. Or don't. But stay off that leg."

The door clicked shut. I stared at the ceiling, the ghost of his grip still warm on my skin.

Wtv he is on