tee⋆. °⛧

fics

song mingi x f!reader

genre: dark romance, zombie apocalypse

cw: death, violence, slight mentions of g0re, abandonment, grief

wc: 2.5k

a/n: we've unlocked a new character!!! (its a neo LMAOOOOO) also apologies for no chapter yesterday! i went to a party and got extremely drunk... i told myself i would upload when i got home but i literally passed out...

hopefully todays chapter makes up for it <33

happy reading ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

mlist

── .✦

chapter 5

The playground is a ghost of what it used to be. Swings creaking in the wind, paint flaking from rusted metal, weeds curling around the legs of a half-collapsed slide. Wind whistles through the hollow tunnels of the jungle gym like it’s remembering laughter that isn’t there anymore.

I sit on a swing, gently rocking back and forth. Mingi’s on the swing beside me, legs stiff, eyes trained on the ground.

The chain groans as I twist slightly, glancing his way. “I know they hurt you, but… do you ever miss your friends?”

He stares at the ground, like the question cracked something open.

The silence stretches long enough, I think maybe he won’t answer.

But then, without a word, his hands tighten around the swing’s chains.

His mind’s somewhere else.

The sun dipped low over the horizon, bleeding gold and orange across the sky. It washed the quiet skatepark in a warm, sleepy light — the kind that made everything feel infinite.

Mingi sat atop the quarter pipe, knees tucked to his chest, his chin resting on them as he stared out into the fading light. His friends were scattered around him, sprawled across boards, feet dangling, breath still heavy from hours of skating.

“I wanna leave this town,” he said suddenly, his voice low, barely above the wind.

Hongjoong skated smoothly up the pipe, the wheels of his board grinding softly against concrete before he skidded to a stop beside him. “What was that?” he called out, smirking. “Song Mingi wants to leave? That’s not like you at all.”

“I’m serious,” Mingi murmured, not meeting his eyes. “There’s something out there. Waiting for me. For us. I can’t stay here if I want to go pro. I just... I need more than this place.”

“Then let’s go,” Yunho said easily, lying on his back and watching clouds drift past. He turned his head to glance at Mingi. “Wherever you go, I’ll come with.”

“Same here,” Jongho added, flipping his board upright with one foot. “It’s not like I’m in love with this dump.”

“And me,” Wooyoung chimed in, spinning lazily in a circle on his board.

San leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Obviously me too. I can’t let Mingi run off and get famous without me.”

Jongho crinkled his nose and pointed. “You can stay here.”

“Hey! Watch your mouth.” San grumbled, throwing a punch at Jongho’s arm. Jongho ducked it, laughing.

Yeosang finally spoke, his voice calm and thoughtful. “You’re all acting like we’ll live forever.”

Silence fell over the group for a moment.

“We will,” Seonghwa said softly, leaning back on his hands, eyes on the sun. “We have to.”

They all sat quietly, breathing in the last moments of daylight, dreaming big and talking loud, thinking tomorrow would never come.

Mingi looked down at his hands. They were scraped from hours of skating, dirt under his nails, sweat cooling on his brow.

He didn’t know it then, but this would be one of the last sunsets they’d ever share like this.

And he missed them — God, he missed them.

The swing shifts as he exhales.

I glance at him. “You don’t have to answer.”

His eyes met mine, like the answer was hidden somewhere in them. And in that look alone, I knew. He missed them. Deeply, terribly, with every part of him.

My chest tightens. I want to reach for his hand, but I don’t. I just let the silence sit between us.

A gust of wind rushes through, making the swing chains groan. The sky is darker now, clouds thickening above.

I hop off the swing, brushing dust from my jacket. “Come on,” I say softly. “We should keep moving.”

We’d been walking for what felt like forever, the sun casting long, bruised shadows across the cracked road. There hadn’t been a sound but the wind and the occasional soft scrape of Mingi’s foot behind me.

“I never told you about me,” I said suddenly, needing to hear something other than silence.

Mingi tilted his head just slightly, listening.

“I grew up with my dad and little sister. My mom died when I was six. It was sudden. Aneurysm.” I didn’t know why I was telling him this, but it spilled out like water from a cracked cup. “After that, we were tight. The three of us.”

The wind whispered through broken fence posts. Mingi kept his eyes on me.

“When everything happened—when the cities fell, and the power went out—my dad said he was taking my sister to find supplies. He told me to wait. I did. I waited for three days.”

My voice cracked. “They never came back.”

I looked away. I didn’t want to see pity in his eyes—but when I glanced back, all I saw was understanding. Quiet sorrow. Not pity.

He reached out slowly, unsure, and brushed his fingers against mine, just enough to say, I'm here.

I exhaled the breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding.

We stood there for a moment in the silence, just the two of us and the wind. Nothing needed to be said. The pain wasn’t gone, but somehow it felt... a little less sharp.

Then, wordlessly, we began walking again.

The road shifted beneath our feet. In the distance, a squat, square building hunched near the edge of a dried-up field. A garage.

The sign above it was cracked and barely hanging on, the paint faded and peeling. But the words were still just visible beneath the grime: AUTO 127.

“Let’s check it out,” I murmured. “Maybe there’s shelter. Or supplies.”

We crept closer. The sound of metal clinking reached us first. Someone was inside.

I stepped around the edge of the open garage slowly, pressing my back to the crumbling brick. Mingi did the same, looming behind me like a silent shadow.

Inside, a young man was hunched under the open hood of a car, sweat beading on his brow as he fiddled with the engine. Grease smudged his hands and jaw. Tools were strewn everywhere, some laid out carefully, others tossed aside.

He cursed, then stood up straight, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

And then he saw us.

His eyes locked on mine for half a second—then flicked behind me, to the massive form of Mingi.

“GET DOWN!” the guy shouted.

He dove for a wrench, spun around, and rushed us.

“BACK OFF HER!” He was charging fast, murder in his eyes.

“STOP!” I screamed, yanking my gun from my waistband. “DROP THE WRENCH. NOW!”

The guy froze, wide-eyed, wrench still lifted. His breathing was wild, his chest rising and falling like he’d just sprinted a mile.

“Put it down,” I repeated, steadier this time. “Please. You're misunderstanding.”

“Are you kidding me?!” he yelled. “That’s a Stalker!”

I didn’t lower the gun. “He hasn’t hurt me. Not once.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying. You're in shock or something. Is he controlling you?”

“He’s not. I’m fine. I chose to travel with him.”

The stranger’s hand trembled on the wrench. His eyes flicked between me and Mingi.

Mingi hadn’t moved once. He just stood there, watching, his eyes locked onto me.

“Put it down,” I repeated, more gently. “Please. You don’t need to be afraid.”

“I should be afraid!” the guy snapped. “He’s one of them! He’s not even human!”

“I know what he is. But he’s also something else. He saved my life. More than once.”

“Saved it why? So he could keep you for later?” His voice cracked, like it even hurt to imagine trusting someone like Mingi. “You don’t see what he is?”

I stepped forward. “Look at me. Do I look afraid?”

His grip loosened slightly.

“I’ve slept beside him. He’s bled for me. He almost died for me."

He stared. “Almost died?! He's already fucking dead!"

I didn’t answer. Just waited.

After a long, awful pause, he finally let the wrench drop. It hit the ground with a heavy clang.

He stepped back, hands raised. I lowered the gun slowly.

He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re out here playing house… with a zombie.”

“His name is Mingi,” I said simply.

The guy ran a hand through his hair. “Okay. You’re not insane. Just deeply... confused.”

I almost smiled. “You’ll get used to him. Maybe.”

He looked between us again. “So… he doesn’t bite?”

“Not unless provoked.”

Mingi tilted his head, confused. I held his arm lightly. “He’s fine. He gets defensive, that’s all.”

The guy gave an uneasy chuckle. “Well, damn.”

“Name?” I asked.

“Mark. Mark Lee. You?”

“Y/N. And this is—”

“Mingi,” he said. “Yeah, I got that part.”

He took a slow step forward, still tense, still visibly unsure.

“You try anything,” he warned Mingi. “And I will drop you. I’ve killed worse.”

Mingi said nothing. Just blinked, calm and collected.

I sighed. “Let’s all just take a breath.”

Mark looked at me, really looked now. “He’s not just a pet, is he?”

“No,” I said softly. “He’s not.”

––

Mark kept his distance, but his eyes flicked constantly to Mingi, like he was waiting for him to lunge.

He wiped sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his hoodie and leaned back against the old car he was working on, half the hood gutted, wires and tubes spilling out like exposed veins.

Mark peers over cautiously. “Are you sure we can trust him…” he muttered, voice low. “What if he kills us in our sleep?”

“Yes… for the hundredth time.” I sighed, stepping in front of Mingi just slightly. “I was with him for a month. In his house. Alone. He never hurt me, didn’t even try. He’s not like the others.”

Mark looked unconvinced, running a hand through his hair.

“Where are you two even heading?” he asked finally, nodding toward the road.

“Novara,” I said. “Or at least… we’re trying to get there.”

At the mention of the name, something shifted in his expression. His hands froze on the wrench he was holding.

“Novara,” he repeated under his breath. A strange quiet fell over him. He turned away for a second, his voice tighter when he spoke again. “I was heading there too. With someone.”

“Johnny,” he said after a pause. “My best friend. We made it out of the city together. Scavenged, fought, survived. Just us for weeks.” His voice was soft now, like he was remembering something warm that had long since cooled.

“But he got bit.”

I said nothing, holding my breath.

“I tried to find help, meds, anything. He told me not to. Told me to make it quick.” Mark’s eyes didn’t lift from the concrete. “So I did.”

My chest tightened.

He nodded toward the back of the garage. “I buried him out there. Figured it was better than just leaving him on the floor like trash.”

Mark stepped around the car, leading me towards the side door. The wind kicked up dust and rust-coloured leaves as I followed him around the back. The earth was rough and dry, but I saw the grave immediately. A wooden plank stuck into the dirt, Johnny’s name scratched in jagged handwriting.

“I talk to him sometimes,” Mark said quietly. “Makes it easier.”

We stood there for a long moment.

“You should come with us,” I said gently, not looking at him.

Mark glanced sideways. “You sure?”

“We could use another pair of hands,” I said. “And you seem pretty handy with cars. Plus… you deserve to keep going. For Johnny.”

Mark didn’t answer right away. But after a long breath, he gave a soft nod.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Yeah. Let’s go to Novara.”

He turned and started walking back toward the garage, one hand dragging along the rusted trunk of the car with a sort of casual affection. “We can take this beauty,” he added over his shoulder.

I raise a brow, half-laughing. “Will it even start?”

Mark grinned, already climbing into the driver’s seat. “Let’s find out.”

The moment he turned the key, the engine gave a painful sputter—then another.

Mark slapped the dashboard. “C’mon, don’t make me look bad.”

With another twist of the key, the engine choked to life. Not smoothly, but it ran.

“Thank fuck!” Mark cheered, pounding the steering wheel, “Knew she still had some fight left.”

I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. Mingi, standing quietly near the back of the car, tilted his head at the sudden noise. He looked… startled. A little uneasy.

“Relax,” I said to him gently. “It’s just the engine.”

He blinked, then slowly moved closer, eyeing the vehicle, his fingertips brushed the chipped paint.

“Got enough gas to get us a few miles,” Mark said, hopping back out. “But we’ll need to stop somewhere soon and scavenge more if we’re aiming for Novara.”

He opened the trunk. “You guys have supplies?”

“Some,” I replied. “Not much.”

“We’ll stock up on the way,” Mark said, grabbing a dusty tarp and tossing it aside. “There’s a few pit stops west, but we’ll have to be careful. Most of the stations have been picked clean or turned into nests.”

The word nests made my stomach turn.

“We’ll make it,” I said, more to myself than anyone.

Mark nodded once, serious again. “Then let’s get moving. I’ll top off the coolant and patch the tires before we roll.”

As he disappeared deeper into the garage, tools clanking faintly, I glanced over at Mingi. He was still standing beside the car, his hand on the side mirror now, staring at his reflection like he didn’t recognise the person looking back.

“That’s you silly,” I laugh softly, poking his cheek “You look very handsome today,”

He blinked, slowly turning his head toward me with the most confused expression, like he wasn’t sure if I was joking or broken.

I laughed under my breath. “I mean it.” I gave a playful flick to the collar of his shirt

Mingi tilted his head, then touched his own cheek where I’d poked him. His brows furrowed as he squinted at the mirror again. Then, with the most awkward sincerity, he attempted to pose, tilting his chin up, puffing out his chest slightly like he’d seen someone do in a movie once.

I nearly doubled over. “Oh my God…are you flexing right now?”

He nodded once, very seriously.

I giggled, wiping under my eyes. “You’re not allowed to be scary and cute.”

For a moment, we just stood there, breathing each other in, surrounded by rust and dust and the gentle hum of possibility.

“I like you like this,” I whispered. “When you’re soft.”

hongjoong

seonghwa

yunho

yeosang

san

mingi

wooyoung

song mingi x f!reader

genre: dark romance, zombie apocalypse

cw: death, violence, slight mentions of g0re, abandonment, grief

wc: 2.3k

mlist

── .✦

chapter 4

The house was silent when we left.

Not the eerie kind of silence, but the kind heavy with emotion. With grief. The kind that settles in your chest and lingers there, quietly aching.

Mingi stood in the hallway for a long time, his hand resting on the doorframe like it hurt to let go. He looked over his shoulder one last time.

His mom’s room was still open upstairs, the scent of old perfume lingering faintly behind us.

I didn’t rush him. Just waited, backpack slung over one shoulder, fingers quietly twisting the ring on my hand.

Eventually, he stepped forward. Paused at the wall where old photos still hung — sun-bleached, crooked.

He touched the frame of one. A family portrait. The edges were chipped. His eyes lingered on it longer than anything else.

Then, slowly, he turned to me.

I gave him a small nod, and we pushed the front door open together.

The world outside was grey with early mist. The grass in the yard had grown wild, dandelions swaying in the breeze. We stepped off the porch and into the overgrowth.

He didn’t look back.

The road ahead was cracked and uneven, overrun with weeds and vines.

We walked slowly at first. Not because we were tired, but because it felt wrong to rush. Like we were still tethered to something behind us.

Mingi stayed close, his shoulder brushing mine from time to time like a silent reassurance. His gaze flicked constantly between the shadows, always watching. Listening.

We passed rusted-out cars on the roadside, their doors flung open like someone had left in a hurry and never returned. Broken signs. Faded graffiti. The skeleton of the world, still standing.

Sometimes, we found remnants of people — notes scrawled on torn paper, pictures in shattered frames, a child’s shoe half-buried in the dirt. I tried not to look too long. Mingi always paused.

Midway through the afternoon, we found shelter in an abandoned gas station. The roof had partially collapsed, but the back room was dry, and the shelves still held a few sealed cans of food.

Mingi picked one up, sniffed it, then handed it to me with a grunt of approval. I smiled.

We sat together on the floor, backs against the cool concrete wall, watching dust swirl in the shaft of light coming through the busted window.

He reached into his pocket and pulled something out — a tiny toy dinosaur. I blinked.

“You kept that?” I asked, grinning.

He nodded, placing it gently between us.

“It’s stupid,” I said. “But I kind of love it.”

Before either of us could react, the sharp crunch of gravel outside made us both freeze. I held my breath.

Mingi tensed, eyes narrowing.

It passed. Or maybe it never stopped at all. Maybe it was just another echo of this broken world, always shifting, always watching.

Mingi rose to his feet with a soft squeak of the floor beneath him, dragging his body over to the window. The glass was clouded with years of dust, the outside world little more than a dull blur beyond it. He lifted a heavy hand, wiping a slow, uneven arc across the pane with his sleeve, then leaned in, squinting.

Still nothing. Just the dark.

With a small grunt, he pressed a fingertip into the grime and began to trace a shape. The dust clung to him, thick and grey beneath his nail. He paused, examined it, then started again — this time more deliberately.

A star.

He sneezed, the sound sudden and loud in the quiet room. His shoulders jerked, and he blinked rapidly, startled by himself.

I giggled, unable to help it. The sound broke the stillness gently, like a bird landing on a branch. “Bless you,” I said, walking over. “Is that a star?”

He nodded without looking at me, eyes still fixed on the window as he slowly traced another beside the first — uneven but sweet, like a child’s drawing. One little point overlapped with the other, and he hesitated, then smudged it with the side of his hand before starting over.

“I love the stars,” I said softly, stepping closer so our shoulders touched. “There’s so many. A whole world out there… galaxies we’ll never see. Planets untouched by war, untouched by this.”

Mingi didn’t respond, but I could feel his attention shift entirely to me, his head tilting ever so slightly.

“There’s a version of the universe where none of this happened,” I continued. “Where you and I are just… people. Normal people. Watching the stars, wondering what else is out there, instead of what we’ve already lost.”

His chest rose with a long, uneven breath. He didn’t speak, but something in his eyes softened, just enough for something else to peek through. Something warm.

I reached out, gently curling my fingers around his. Cold, as always, but familiar now.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s stargaze.”

He tensed, fingers tightening just slightly in mine. He made a low sound — his quiet way of saying no. I turned toward him, pouting dramatically.

“Oh come on,” I laughed. “We’ll be fine! Just a few minutes.”

Mingi looked away, jaw tight, like he was weighing the risk. I gave his hand a small tug, and when that didn’t work, I leaned in and gave him the eyes — the big, pleading, impossible-to-say-no-to eyes.

He sighed. Not a frustrated sigh, more like a surrender.

With a soft huff, he let himself be led, shoulders slouched in defeat, but a twitch of something amused tugging at his mouth. We walked towards the door, the old hinges groaning as I pushed it open.

Outside, the night stretched endlessly above us.

The sky was a velvet black, pinpricked with glittering stars. The kind of sky that made you feel small in the best possible way.

I pulled him down beside me in the overgrown grass, the stems tickling our legs as we lay back. Mingi moved stiffly, arms crossed at first, eyes darting like he expected something to leap from the shadows. But after a while, I felt him begin to relax.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” I whispered.

He nodded, the faintest movement.

A soft breeze stirred the grass. Crickets sang somewhere far off. For a long moment, we were still.

But his hand never left mine.

We lay in the grass as the night deepened, the stars above blooming brighter and sharper.

I pointed upward; my arm draped across Mingi’s chest. “That one,” I whispered, tracing a pattern in the air. “See the crooked one there? That’s Cassiopeia. And right there is Orion. You can always spot him. The three stars in a row? That’s his belt.”

Mingi’s gaze followed my hand, fascinated. His eyes were wide and soft, soaking in the sky like he wanted to memorise every inch of it. I could feel him gently echoing the motion, fingers brushing the air beside mine, like he was tracing the constellations too.

“Beautiful,” I murmured.

But the moment shattered.

A sharp rustle. A crack of movement just behind us.

I sat up. “Mingi…?”

Before I could say more, a shape lunged from the shadows. It crawled low like a beast. I barely had time to scream. It pinned me to the ground, its weight crushing my ribs, breath knocked from my lungs.

Its face was grotesque, skin peeling, jaw twitching unnaturally as blackened teeth gnashed inches from my throat.

I whimpered, eyes squeezing shut in pure terror. Then suddenly the weight was gone.  

He crashed into the stalker like a storm, tearing it off me with a snarl that didn’t sound human. His body slammed into it again and again until they hit a nearby utility pole. I scrambled backwards on my hands, chest heaving, vision blurred with panic.

It didn’t fight back for long. Mingi tore it apart piece by piece.

His fists came down like iron, tearing away at layers of rotting flesh until it could no longer move. He let out a scream that tore through the lot, guttural and raw, a sound that didn’t belong to the boy I had fallen asleep beside.

He sank his hands into the creature’s chest, and the sound it made turned my stomach inside out. I turned away, choking on my breath. When I looked back, the thing was nothing more than a pile of torn limbs and exposed ribs, the grass soaked dark beneath it.

Mingi crouched over it, shoulders heaving, covered in blood.

I couldn’t speak.

His head snapped toward me. For a moment, he didn’t move. He just stared at me.

Then, slowly, recognition returned.

He blinked.

His shoulders slumped.

And with a quiet grunt, he staggered upright, swaying on his feet.

I ran to him.

“It’s okay,” I said breathlessly, reaching for him. “You’re okay—”

But Mingi’s hand closed around my wrist, not pulling me away, but guiding me. Desperate to get me inside.

He shoved his shoulder into the gas station door, stumbling through it. His blood smeared across the wall as he caught himself, leaving a streak of red on the peeling paint. His body moved like it no longer belonged to him.

He didn’t speak. Just turned, eyes scanning the room until they locked onto the nearest shelf.

“Mingi, wait—” I say in a panicked voice, darting forward as he reached for it.

He let out a low, ragged breath and shoved with everything he had left.

The metal shelf screeched across the floor, dragging broken glass and dust with it. It slammed into the door with a harsh clang that echoed through the empty building.

And then he dropped.

His knees hit the floor hard.

“Mingi!” I dropped down beside him.

He was barely upright, body trembling, mouth slick with blood — not his. His chest rose in short, sharp bursts, and I could feel the panic clawing up my throat again.

I bolted to the sink, turned the tap. It coughed once, then gave a sputter of cold water. I soaked a rag, running it under the stream until my fingers numbed.

Back at his side, I pressed the damp cloth to his mouth. The blood came away in dark smears, and I kept wiping. His lips, his chin, his chest. It was everywhere.

His heart was racing. I could feel it when my hand brushed against his shirt. It was too fast. Too loud.

That’s when I broke.

Tears welled up and spilled over, falling silently at first, then in sobs that I couldn’t swallow. I dropped the rag, wrapping my arms around him, crawling into his lap as if I could shield him from the world. My cheek pressed to his chest, wet with sweat and blood.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered through tears. “I’m so sorry…”

He didn’t speak. Just held me, arms tight around my waist.

––

I stir, eyes fluttering open, squinting as I’m blinded by the sunlight. My head is still resting on Mingi’s chest as I listen to the sound of his heartbeat, almost studying it.

I shift slightly, and his arms tighten around me instinctively — like letting go might mean losing me.

Slowly, I lift my head, blinking against the light as I look up into his face.

“Did you sleep?”

He shakes his head once, eyes scanning the room, still narrowed, alert. He’s on edge, even with the sun rising and no danger in sight.

“You stayed awake all night?”

No answer. Just a glance toward the blocked door and a small nod.

I reach up, brushing a bit of dried blood from the edge of his jaw, my fingers light. His eyes flick to me, and for a moment, the tension in his body eases. Just slightly.

I sit up slowly, stretching the stiffness from my limbs. Mingi stays where he is, leaning back against the wall, drained but watchful.

I rummage through my backpack, my fingers closing around the worn, folded map. Unfolding it carefully, I hold it up in front of us, the thin paper creaking softly.

The map is crudely drawn but clear enough. A big, bold “You Are Here” arrow points to the suburbs where our journey began — a jumble of streets and dead ends. My eyes drift westward, scanning the jagged lines of roads.

Then I spot a tiny icon labelled “Gas Station — Quick Stop! Get a Snack! Rest!”  complete with a cartoon gas pump wearing a goofy smile. It’s oddly light-hearted, almost out of place here, surrounded by the bleak landscape.

“This is where we are,” I mutter to myself

Even more bizarre, little cutesy stalker illustrations are scattered around the map — wide eyes, goofy grins, and speech bubbles shouting, “Watch Out!” and “Sneaky Stalker Ahead!” It’s almost insulting to how real and dangerous they’ve been. I can’t help but roll my eyes.

Mingi watches quietly, his gaze flickering between the map and me.

I fold the map back slowly, determination setting in. “Looks like we’ve got to keep heading west.”

I stand up, brushing the dirt from my knees. “I’m just gonna check the backroom—see if I can find anything useful.”

Mingi nods quietly, his eyes still scanning the shadows. I slip inside, the floorboards creaking underfoot.

Inside, I find a few things: an old handgun with ammunition tucked under a pile of rags, a couple of rusty knives, and a battered box of matches. Not much, but better than nothing.

I gather them quickly and step back out just as Mingi starts pushing the heavy shelf away from the door. His movements are sluggish, each step seeming to cost him more effort than the last.

“Woah, wait,” I say firmly, noticing how weak he is from last night’s events.

I scan the room spotting a window near the back. Without hesitation, I grab a can from a nearby shelf and hurl it hard. It smashes against the glass, shattering in a spray of sharp shards.

“Come on,” I urge, “we can climb through here and keep moving.”

We slip through the jagged opening carefully, the cold air hitting us as we step outside.

song mingi x f!reader

genre: dark romance, zombie apocalypse

cw: death, violence, slight mentions of g0re, abandonment, grief

wc: 2.4k

mlist

── .✦

chapter 3

The peace didn’t last. It never does here. Not in a world that forgot how to be kind. A world rotting from the inside out.

Morning light broke through the shattered window in thin streaks, decorating the floor where Mingi and I had fallen asleep, backs pressed to the wall, fingers still intertwined.

For a moment, I let myself pretend we could stay– that this place could be enough. That it could be ours. But the silence outside sent a chill down my spine. The kind that meant something was watching. Or waiting.

Mingi stirred beside me, his fingers tightening around mine. He let out a soft sigh, turning his head slowly to meet my gaze. What next? His eyes asked it without words — full of fear, trust, and something else I didn’t have a name for.

I gave him the smallest nod. “We have to move,” I whispered.

A small whimper escaped his lips.

“It’s okay,” I said, squeezing his hand tightly. “I know where we’ll go.”

It had been a week ago when I found it. I’d been scavenging in a house two streets over, desperate for anything edible. Most places had been stripped bare, but this one was too quiet… untouched.

I stepped into the living room and froze. A skeleton sat slumped in a rocking chair by the window, its jaw wide open in a silent scream, fingers still curled around a crumpled piece of paper.

A map.

I cringed, carefully prying it from the brittle bones, shaking off the dust, the dried blood, the last fragments of whatever horror had happened there.

The cover was somewhat readable.

Your Future. Your Safety. Your Novara. Brought to you by the Department of Civil Continuity, Novara Sector

I had kept it hidden from Mingi since the day I found it.

Tucked into the back pocket of my shorts, folded crisp and small like a secret I wasn’t ready to share. I knew he wouldn’t be thrilled about moving on — not after everything this place had meant to him. But maybe this would help. Maybe it would give him something to hope for.

I reached back and slowly pulled it out, smoothing the creases with my fingers.

“Look,” I said gently, turning it so he could see.

His head tilted, eyes narrowing as I pointed to the bold, glossy print on the front: NOVARA — Your Future. Your Safety. Your Novara.

I flipped it open, revealing the inside — a cartoonishly colourful map sprawled across the page, complete with illustrated buildings, winding “safe routes,” and smiling stick-figure families.

It looked more like an amusement park guide than a survival document.

“Here,” I murmured, tracing a path with my finger. “They say there’s food, medicine, shelter… protection.”

Mingi leaned closer, brow furrowed.

His eyes scanned the page — landing on one of the little bubble captions stamped near the border in a playful red font.

“Watch out for Stalkers — They Bite!”

My stomach turned. The way they joked about it. Like this was a game. Like people like Mingi weren’t even people at all.

I glanced at him.

He was still staring at that line, jaw clenched. I couldn’t tell if it hurt or if he’d simply expected it.

“It’s stupid,” I said quickly. “I don’t care what they think. You’re not like them.”

He didn’t respond, not right away. Just slowly reached out and touched the page, fingertip hovering near the word Novara.

“She saved you. You promised her, you would make it to Novara.”

Yunho’s voice echoed in his skull like a siren, sharp and cruel. His stomach lurching at the possibility of making it to Novara and finding him there with the others.

The friends that watched the light dim from his eyes and did nothing to stop it.

The memory clawed its way to the surface — Yunho, face pale in the darkness, whispering lies as Mingi bled out. As the others turned their backs. As he died alone.

A growl built low in his throat, barely human. His breath became harboured, ragged, aggressive.

“Mingi?” I reached for him, alarmed.

He didn’t look at me. His eyes were glassy now — wide, black, wild. The way they had been that first night.

He still remembered.

He hadn’t forgotten what they had done.

“Hey, hey… you’re okay,” I whispered, pulling him closer. “We don’t have to move if you don’t want to.”

His hands curled into fists. The paper crumpled under his grip. Then… his eyes met mine. Searching. Pleading. Like he already knew what I wanted. What I needed.

He lifted a shaking hand, the rough pad of his thumb dragging gently across my cheek. The tension in his frame slowly unravelled.

And then he nodded.

Just once.

I leaned forward, resting my forehead against his. “We’ll leave tomorrow morning,” I whispered, “We have to protect each other.”

His eyes fluttered shut, his fingers curling gently around mine. Then, slowly, he lifted his other hand and pressed it flat against my chest, just over my heart.

I froze, breath catching.

He stayed there, feeling the steady thrum beneath my ribs like he was memorising it. As if that beat meant something. As if it grounded him.

His lips parted, a single word rasping out so softly I almost missed it. “Safe.”

I placed my hand over his. “Safe.”

––

The next morning, I jolted awake to the feeling of Mingi shaking me gently.

“Are you okay?” I mumbled, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “We don’t have to go just yet.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he took my hand and quietly led me upstairs.

We stopped in front of the one room that had always been off-limits.

I turned to him, unsure. “But… I'm not allowed in here?”

His hand stayed on the doorknob, unmoving. I remembered that first week — when we were still learning each other’s boundaries, still trying to coexist in the ruins of what used to be a home.

It was early morning, the sky stained with red and orange hues that bled in through the windows. I had been exploring the house bit by bit, learning its creaks and shadows, letting curiosity guide my steps.

There was one door I hadn’t tried yet. One room left untouched.

I reached out, fingers brushing the doorknob.

In an instant, I was yanked backwards, hard. I gasped, crying out as Mingi snarled, stepping between me and the door with a feral noise that didn’t sound even remotely human.

He stood there, blocking the entrance, chest rising and falling in sharp bursts. His eyes were cold, filled with something primal.

“I…I’m sorry,” I stammered, tears prickling in my eyes. “I won’t go in. I promise.”

My voice cracked as I backed away, trembling. I turned and rushed down the stairs, heart thudding painfully in my chest, curling up tight at the base of the stairwell, knees to my chest.

I didn’t know what had just happened or why that room mattered so much. I just knew I had crossed a line.

From my place on the floor, I heard the boards creak again, but not towards me. Towards the door.

I watched in silence as Mingi staggered past me and slipped out the back door, into the overgrown yard. His steps were heavy, uneven, but I could see the way his hands moved, searching through the grass for something, his breath visible in the cold morning air.

He returned minutes later, ducking back inside with dirt-streaked hands.

I flinched, but didn’t move.

Then he knelt in front of me, his head low. Slowly, he held something out between his palms.

A small bunch of dandelions — crushed slightly, but bright against his grey skin.

“S...sorry,” he mumbled, voice hoarse, uncertain.

I blinked through the tears I hadn’t realised were still falling.

“Thank you,” I said softly, taking them from him with shaking fingers. “It’s okay. You didn’t mean to scare me. But please… don’t do it again.”

He nodded slowly, eyes never leaving mine. Then, with a soft touch, he reached up and wiped away one of the tears still clinging to my cheek.

He breathes slowly, whole body shaking as he turns the doorknob. The door groans with age as he slowly pushes it open.

The air inside is still — heavier somehow, like it hasn’t been disturbed in years.

Dust floats in the morning light, cutting through faded curtains. The room is soft, quiet, untouched. A sanctuary sealed off from the rot of the world outside.

A bed sits against the far wall, its floral quilt still carefully tucked in, the corners neat as if the owner might come back and sleep in it any minute. Beside it, a wooden nightstand holds a lamp with a chipped base and an empty teacup rimmed in dust.

There’s a vanity in the corner, old and delicate, its mirror slightly fogged. A few bracelets hang from the frame, tangled with age. A comb. A dried flower pressed between the pages of an open book.

And the scent — light, powdery. Faint but still clinging to the space like a memory that refuses to fade.

Mingi staggers inside, feet dragging across the floor. He crosses to the bed, then collapses onto it with a soundless thud, burying his face deep into the pillow. He inhales sharply, like the air itself might carry her back to him.

“Mom,” he mumbles, voice muffled and broken.

I step into the room cautiously, almost afraid to disturb it. “This is your mom’s room?” I ask gently, crouching beside the bed.

He lifts his head just enough to look at me. His eyes are glassy, and somehow, even more human than before. My chest aches.

Without thinking, I run my fingers through his matted, soft hair.

“You miss her a lot, huh?” I whisper.

He nods once.

“I miss my mom too,” I murmur, and for a moment, the silence between us feels sacred. Not empty but shared.

Mingi rubs his eyes roughly, sitting up and making his way to the vanity. The stool creaks softly beneath him as he plonks down, dragging his fingers across the dusty surface — over old lipsticks, scattered hairpins, a comb missing a few teeth. He picks up a small bottle of perfume, spraying it once into the air.

The scent hits like a memory. He breathes it in deeply, letting out a calm, relaxed sigh.

He sets the bottle back down, then opens the top drawer, rummaging through it until he lets out a soft grunt of satisfaction. He lifts something small and delicate into the light.

“A ring?” I ask, tilting my head. “Was it your mom’s?”

The tiny diamond catches the sunlight, scattering faint rainbows across the walls. Mingi stands and slowly crosses the room to me. He takes my hand, gently slipping the ring onto my finger.

“I can’t take this,” I whisper with a soft laugh, admiring how it gleams. “It’s not mine.”

But Mingi shakes his head. His fingers linger on mine for a moment, and I can tell he’s not just giving me the ring. He’s remembering something.

“This is nice Mom,” Mingi said, turning the small ring between his fingers. “Where did you get it?”

His mother smiled from where she sat at the vanity, brushing her long dark hair. The morning light framed her in a warm halo. “Your father gave it to me when we were teenagers,” she said fondly. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Then why don’t you wear it anymore?”

She held up her hand, wiggling her fingers. “Doesn’t fit. These old things have grown too much,” she laughed, shaking her head.

“Oh…” Mingi frowned, running his thumb over the diamond. “So what are you gonna do with it?”

“I thought I might sell it,” she mused, then paused. She turned toward him, her eyes soft. “But maybe I won’t.”

She reached out and gently closed his hand around the ring. “You keep it,” she said. “You give it to the girl you fall in love with. Someone who steals your heart.”

“I don’t know if I’ll ever fall in love,” Mingi muttered, face scrunching.

“Of course you will.” She laughed, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head and pulling him into a hug. “And when you lock eyes with her… you’ll know.”

“I’ll lose the ring,” he grumbled, looking up at her. “You know I will.”

“You’re right,” she teased, ruffling his hair. “You misplace everything.”

With a playful sigh, she took the ring back and tucked it into the drawer of the vanity. “It’ll be right here. Safe. Just promise me one thing.”

“What?” he asked, already halfway pouting.

“Promise me you’ll give it to a nice girl.”

“I promise!” he groaned. “Mom!”

She burst out laughing, wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I prayed for a girl and ended up with two stinky boys,” she sighed dramatically, kissing his cheek. “But I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Mingi’s fingers brush mine again, eyes flickering between the ring and my face. I can feel the weight of a memory in the air between us. Something precious passed from one life into another.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper, gazing down at the diamond glinting on my finger. My chest tightens. “Thank you.”

I look up at him, eyes shining, and for a moment, he just stares. Like he’s trying to memorise the shape of my face.

On impulse, I rise onto my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his cheek. His skin is cold, as always, but for a second… I think I feel something warm underneath.

Mingi goes still.

His eyes blink wide, lips parting slightly, like he’s not sure what just happened — or maybe like he’s trying very hard not to make a sound about it. His hand twitches at his side before slowly reaching up to touch the spot where I kissed him, as if the sensation might’ve been a dream.

He doesn’t speak, but I can see it in the way his shoulders rise too high, the way he glances away then back again. He’s flustered.

If he could blush, he would be glowing red.

I smile wider, watching him try to keep composed.

“You okay?” I tease gently, tilting my head.

He gives the tiniest nod, still pressing his fingertips to his cheek. Then he grunts softly, almost embarrassed, and turns away just enough to hide his face, though his hand finds mine again, lacing our fingers together.

Still silent. Still smitten.

song mingi x f!reader

genre: dark romance, zombie apocalypse

cw: death, violence, slight mentions of g0re, abandonment, grief

wc: 1.5k

a/n: i was listening to 2 specific songs on loop while writing this chapter lmao so i included them in the story! feel free to listen to them if you want!

Blue Catharsis by Them & I

The Moon Song by beabadoobee and Oscar Lang

chapter 1 did extremely well considering i created my blog yesterday so thank you guys so much! i'm really enjoying writing this story, im not sure how many chapters there will be just yet, i do know how the story will end however! but yeah, thank u again for reading, liking, following my heart is very happy!!! enjoy chapter 2 <333

mlist

── .✦

chapter 2

The sky outside was a dull grey, thick with mist and silence. Morning hadn’t come just yet.

Mingi still leaned against my shoulder. His breathing had slowed, gone shallow, like the rise and fall of something not quite alive but not ready to stop existing either.

I hadn’t slept.

Jay’s blood was still drying on the floor downstairs. The house was quiet now. Too quiet. I could still hear it, though—his scream, the crunch of bone…

I’d buried him.

Not well. Just a shallow patch of dirt in the overgrown garden behind the house. I didn’t even have a proper marker. Just a rock. Just his name. That’s all I could do.

Mingi hadn’t helped. He just stood at the top of the steps, watching with eyes I couldn’t read. But when I’d come back inside, cold and shaking, he was still there. He hadn’t left me.

Now, hours later, I sat cross-legged beside the ruined bed, gently setting the torn photos on the floor between us. I’d tucked the one of his mother back into his hand. He wouldn’t let it go.

“Do you remember her?” I asked softly, not expecting an answer.

Silence.

Mingi blinked slowly. His gaze stayed locked on the photo.

“Do you remember… who you were?” I whispered. “Before all of this?”

His head tilted, that slow, haunting movement. He raised a trembling hand and pointed at his chest.

“Mingi.”

I nodded. “Yes. That’s you.”

Then his hand lifted again. This time, he pointed at me.

“Princess.”

I couldn’t help but smile, even through the exhaustion. “Still going with that, huh?”

He gave the smallest, most broken sound that might have been a laugh. Or a memory of one.

I reached beside me, picking up the torn photo, the one of him and his best friend. “You liked to skateboard?” I asked softly, trying to pull him back to something warm. Something safe.

His eyes followed my finger to the image, and then slowly turned to the corner of the room where the broken skateboard still lay, half-buried beneath dust and debris. His gaze lingered there, heavy with something that felt too human for someone who shouldn’t be.

He nodded once, barely. His jaw tightened, and he looked away.

“Were you good?” I asked gently, trying to keep my voice light.

He nodded again, mustering up a tiny smile.

“I wish I could skateboard.” I chuckle quietly, studying the picture again. I notice some wired headphones draped around his neck.

I glanced back at Mingi, tilting my head, “You like music too?”

Mingi’s eyes followed mine to the picture. His lips parted, like he might speak, but no sound came out.

Instead, he slowly reached beneath the hem of his ruined hoodie, fumbling for a moment before pulling something out.

A crushed, half-working MP3 player dangled in his hand — screen cracked, wires exposed, but still intact.

He stared at it like it was a relic from a life he barely remembered. Then, carefully, he pressed one of the buttons. It didn’t play anything, just gave a weak, staticky click.

No power. No sound. But the way he held it… it didn’t matter.

A ragged gasp left his lips as he staggered back to his closet, rummaging around before pulling out a Walkman and a tape.

He plonked back down beside me grasping the photo of his mom pointing to her.

“Mom’s.”

“This was your mom’s? She gave it to you?” I ask, gently taking the tape. The label was faded but still readable in smudged ink:

Mingi Mix

I popped open the Walkman, slid the cassette inside, and clicked it shut. The wheels turned, slow but steady, and when I hit play… music crackled to life.

I offered him one headphone, slipping the other into my ear.

Mingi pointed to the tape, then to himself.

“You made this mix?”

He nodded, eyes fluttering shut as a soft guitar began to play. A hint of a smile tugged at his lips as he began to hum — low, shaky, but in tune.

“Do you remember the song name?” I whispered.

He opened his eyes, voice strained but sure: “Blue… Catharsis…”

“That’s a big word for a Stalker to say,” I joked, nudging him gently.

He let out a breathy noise, something between a laugh and a sigh. The sound of someone remembering how to be alive.

And then, without hesitation, Mingi slowly slipped his hand into mine.

I glanced down, watching our fingers intertwine — his cold, scarred, deadly pale ones lacing with mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. The next song on the mixtape began to play, distorted by age but unmistakable.

I smiled. “The moon song?”

Mingi sat up a little straighter. “Moon,” he echoed

“Yeah, I love this song.” I looked at him in surprise, caught off guard by the glimmer in his otherwise hollow eyes.

It was like something had sparked, a light at the end of a deep dark tunnel. Like the name meant more than just a memory. Like the music still lived somewhere inside him.

“You like this song?” I asked gently.

Mingi nodded again, slower this time. Thoughtful. Then, he placed a trembling hand over his chest.

“Safe,” he whispered.

My breath caught.

“You feel safe when you hear it?” I asked.

He nodded once more. Then leaned in, pressing the side of his head gently against mine, both of us sharing the sound through old, static-filled headphones.

And for the first time in days, the silence of the world outside didn’t feel so loud.

–––

I began to feel at ease after a month of sheltering in Mingi’s home — or what was left of it. Time had folded in on itself here, days blending into one another, but even with the rotting walls and sagging ceilings, it had started to feel… safe. Familiar.

I had struck up the most unlikely friendship with a Stalker.

We listened to music, shared what scraps of food I could scavenge, and even tried playing card games — though Mingi wasn’t exactly a pro. His fingers were too stiff, his memory frayed at the edges. Sometimes he’d just stare at the cards, brow furrowed in deep concentration, like he was trying to remember why they mattered.

Still, he always smiled when I laughed.

One morning, while rummaging through the kitchen drawers, I found a half-roll of duct tape. My heart leapt. I rushed to grab his broken skateboard from the corner and spent an hour patching it together — layers of tape, prayer, and sheer stubbornness holding it in one piece.

When I held it up to him, grinning like a kid, he tilted his head in curiosity.

“Teach me?” I asked, holding the skateboard high for him to see.

He stared for a beat too long, like the word itself was echoing in the hollow places of his mind. Then, slowly, he reached out and took both my hands.

Together, we staggered across the ground floor. The floorboards groaned beneath our weight, furniture reduced to obstacles in our impromptu skate lesson. Mingi shuffled like a newborn deer, movements stiff and uncertain, but his grip on my hands never wavered. His eyes locked on mine, quietly telling me:

I’ve got you. I won’t let go.

I squealed, caught between terror and excitement, wobbling as I rolled a few shaky inches. Mingi made a low huffing sound, maybe a laugh, maybe concern. Hard to tell with him. But I laughed anyway.

We crashed into a half-collapsed armchair, landing in a heap of tangled limbs. He froze instantly, eyes wide as if he’d hurt me.

“I’m okay,” I gasped, breathless with laughter. “I’m okay, I swear.”

Mingi blinked, then offered a slow nod. His lips twitched into the ghost of a smile — a crooked, broken thing, but still so human.

He reached out with a shaky hand, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear.

The gesture was careful. Gentle. As if I were something fragile, something important.

My breath hitched.

For a second, I forgot the rot in the floorboards, the bloodstains down the hall, the monsters we both used to run from — one of whom now sat in front of me, cradling my face like I was the last good thing in the world.

“You…” Mingi croaked, voice raw. “Safe.”

My chest tightened.

He looked down at our hands, still loosely clasped, then back at me — searching, almost pleading.

“I am,” I whispered. “Because of you.”

His shoulders dropped slightly, like the tension in his bones had released just enough to let something softer in. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to mine.

And though his skin was cold, it didn’t feel wrong.

We sat there in silence, breathing together — a Stalker and a girl who should’ve run long ago.

But I didn’t.

chapters 2 and 3 of almost alive will drop at 11pm uk time! i hope you guys enjoy!! <33

update: might be a bit later now since tumblr wants to glitch out on me...

song mingi x f!reader

genre: dark romance, zombie apocalypse

cw: death, violence, slight mentions of g0re, abandonment, grief

wc: 3.5k

mlist

── .✦

chapter 1

“Y/N! HURRY UP!” Kai snapped, impatience sharp in his voice

I huffed, juggling both bags in my arms. “I’m sorry!”

“Jesus…” Nari laughed, rolling her eyes. “She’s so useless. Jay, why did you even let her tag along?”

Jay’s jaw tightened. “I felt bad, okay? She had no one. And yeah, she helped me before... but now? I’m starting to regret it.”

“She’s nothing but a pretty face.” Kai sneers “What use is that during a zombie apocalypse, huh? You know, some of us,” He starts gesturing to Nari and himself “Don’t want to die?!”

“Your eyes look like they’re about to bulge out of your head!” Jay rolls his eyes “You need to chill out!”

“What are you guys talking about?” I say with a smile dropping the bags letting out a small sigh “Those are heavy!” I laugh

“Oh nothing!” Nari responds, sarcasm dripping from her voice

Jay stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Look, Y/N, it’s not just about strength out here. It’s about survival. You gotta keep up, you’re slowing us down.”

I swallowed hard, feeling their eyes on me like I was some dead weight. “I’m trying,” I whispered.

Kai crossed his arms, smirking. “Trying isn’t good enough anymore.”

Nari rolled her eyes again, flicking a piece of dirt off her sleeve. “Maybe if you didn’t stop every five minutes, we wouldn’t have to wait.”

I bit my lip, the sting of their words sinking deep. But I wasn’t ready to give up.

“Sorry.” I say “I’ll be faster from now on.”

“Good.” Jay smiles sympathetically

He looks around, the suburb filled with abandoned houses.

“Think we could stop here?”

“If we board everything up, we could crash here for a few weeks. We have enough food to last a month,” Kai adds

Jay nodded, eyes scanning the quiet street. “Yeah, it’s risky, but we need a break. No point running ourselves into the ground.”

Nari shrugged, folding her arms. “Just don’t let this place turn into a trap. You know how these quiet spots get.”

I swallowed nervously, looking at the cracked windows and faded paint on the houses. It wasn’t home. But maybe it could be safe.

Kai was already moving, pulling boards and nails from his pack. “Let’s get to work. We need all hands on deck if we want to last.”

I forced myself to push the doubt aside and stepped forward. “I’ll help.”

Jay glanced at me. “Good,” he said simply. “We’ll need it.”

I step forward to our new ‘home’, reading the plaque next to the door.

“The Song Family…” I whisper to myself, cautiously turning the door handle and stepping inside

“Hope there’s not a Stalker in there!” Nari shouts laughing

“I hope there is.” Kai mumbles

I brush off the nasty comment, coughing as the thick dust and mould invade my lungs. This place reeked of forgotten memories.

I take a cautious step inside, the floorboards creaking beneath my feet.

Jay followed closely behind, his eyes scanning every corner. “We’ll clear it out and make it safe,” he said firmly.

Kai dropped the bags by the door and pulled out a crowbar. “I’ll check the windows and reinforce the doors.”

Nari stares at me with her arms folded “You said you would help Y/N? What are you gonna do?”

“I’ll check upstairs for now, see if I can find any supplies,” I nod bravely heading to the second floor

“I’ll check upstairs!” Nari mimics rolling her eyes “And make sure you stay there, deadweight.” She mumbles

“Bitch.” I say under my breath. Nari and her attitude was starting to get under my skin. I shake off the negativity slowly opening the first door.

I pushed the door open, the hinges groaning like a warning. Inside, the room was barely recognisable, a ghost of the life that once filled it. Broken windows were boarded up haphazardly, cracked glass shards still clinging to the frames. Layers of thick dust covered every surface, while patches of mould crawled along the peeling wallpaper like dark stains of forgotten memories.

Posters that once brought colour and energy were torn and faded, a skateboard lay cracked and covered in dirt, a pair of scuffed sneakers rotting beside it. The desk was strewn with tattered notebooks, their pages so damp and smeared, you could barely make out the words.

A battered bed sagged under an old, worn blanket, stained with age and neglect. The silence was heavy, broken only by the faint drip of water somewhere deep in the house.

I spotted some scattered photographs on the desk and picked one up gently, brushing off the dust.

The first showed two boys, both tall and grinning like idiots. You could tell they were the kind of friends who didn’t need to speak to be understood. They had their arms slung around each other’s shoulders. One was laughing and pointing to the person behind the camera, while the other gripped a skateboard, leaning into his friend like he was the anchor that kept him grounded.

“Three, two, one… say… San smells like shit!” Jongho laughs holding the camera

Yunho bursts out laughing, pointing to San who skids to a hault on his skateboard, glaring at Jongho.

“What did you say?” San yelled, his voice cracking  

“JONGHO!” Mingi laughed rolling his eyes, leaning into Yunho “Don’t be so mean!”

I look down, my heart clenching at the broken, moulded skateboard on the floor.

This had to be his room, I thought, tracing a finger gently over his face in the photo. He was handsome, undeniably, but there was something more. Something warm in his smile, something steady in the way he stood. He looked like someone who made people feel safe. Someone good. Someone who mattered.

I moved to the next photo, a soft laugh escaping me. It was the same boy with his mother squishing his cheeks between her hands. He looked thoroughly annoyed, while she gazed at him with unfiltered love.

“Mom!” Mingi groaned as his father snapped the picture. “I’m not a baby! You can’t just squish my cheeks whenever you feel like it!”

“You’ll always be my baby,” she smiled, planting a kiss on his cheek. “My beautiful boy.”

“MOMMY!” he whined, red-faced.

From the side, his older brother rolled his eyes. “You definitely act like a baby.”

The final photo showed a group of eight boys crammed together, the boy who owned this room stood front and centre, cake smeared across his face, a crooked Burger King crown perched on his head. His laughter was caught mid-breath. Pure joy frozen in time.

“I can’t believe you guys!” Mingi grinned, wiping frosting from his cheek as globs of icing dripped down his hoodie. “That was my birthday cake!”

“Don’t worry,” Seonghwa chuckled, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Wooyoung made you another one…that you can actually eat!”

“I hope you like it… Actually, no. You will like it,” Wooyoung huffed, arms crossed. “I spent forever on that thing!”

“I love anything you make, Woo,” Mingi laughed, throwing his arms around him in a playful hug. His eyes were bright, radiating a warmth and peace that only came from moments like this. “I love you guys.”

I wipe a tear from my eye, my thumb brushing over the warped edge of the ruined photograph. The boys in the image still smiled, unaware that the world they lived in had long since crumbled.

“Are you crying?”

I jump, startled by Jay’s voice behind me.

“No,” I answer too quickly, blinking hard. “The dust... it’s messing with my eyes.”

He doesn’t call me out on the lie. Instead, he steps closer, eyes scanning the photo in my hand.

“Did you know him?” Jay asks, quieter now. There’s no judgment in his voice—just something gentler, like curiosity tinted with regret.

I shake my head. “No. I just... these photos. They made me feel something. Like I could hear their laughter, feel how alive they were.”

Jay studies me for a moment, then looks around the ruined bedroom. “This was someone’s life,” he murmurs. “Feels wrong, stepping through it like ghosts.”

I glance down at the photograph again, then place it gently back on the desk.

“Do you think he made it?” I ask quietly.

Jay doesn’t answer right away. He looks at the broken window, the mould creeping up the walls, the shattered skateboard.

“I don’t know,” he finally says. “But if he didn’t... he wasn’t alone. That much is clear.”

The silence hangs in the air.

“Come on,” Jay says, nodding toward the stairs. “We should grab what we can and head back before they start wondering where we are.”

I take one last look at the room, and then I follow him out, the weight of that unseen past pressing gently against my chest.

We reach the bottom of the stairs and are immediately greeted by Kai’s obnoxious voice.

“Were you two making out up there or something?” He sneers

“No, dumbass,” Jay snaps, brushing past him. “We were looking for supplies.”

“Didn’t find anything, unfortunately,” I add, voice quiet.

“Useless,” Nari spits, not even trying to hide the venom in her tone. “Well, Kai and I did most of the work, obviously. So now we relax, I guess.”

“Who’s keeping watch then?” Jay asks, crossing his arms.

“Y/N. Since she did fuck all just now,” Kai says, shoving a worn handgun into my hands. The metal feels like it weighs a thousand pounds.

“I was looking for supplies,” I argue, gripping the weapon tightly.

Kai rolls his eyes. “Yeah? And found what, exactly?”

Nari cackles. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t shoot herself by accident.”

“Kai, you’re with me,” she adds, already making her way toward the door. “Jay, you babysit. You’re good at that.”

Jay’s jaw tightens. “Who put you in charge? I took you in, remember?”

“Blah, blah, blah. I don’t give a fuck,” Nari sings, strutting out the door with Kai at her heel.

“Assholes,” Jay mutters under his breath, checking the chamber of his handgun. “I’m gonna sweep the nearby houses. Might be something left.”

“I’ll come with—”

“No.” His voice cuts through mine, firm and final. He steps closer, placing both hands on my shoulders.

“You’re staying here.”

I blink, confused. “But I—”

“You’re a burden, Y/N.” He says it softly, like he’s trying to cushion the blow as if saying it gently will make it hurt less.

My breath catches in my throat.

“You’re sweet. But sweet doesn’t keep people alive,” he adds before turning and walking off without another word.

I stand there, gripping the gun Kai shoved at me like it’s some sort of joke. The silence creeps in again, thick and suffocating. Outside, the sun has started to dip behind the trees, and the house groans with age and wind.

Left alone, I sit near the boarded-up window, watching the shadows stretch long across the broken streets.

––

“We need to find a way to get rid of her.” Nari mutters peering through to boarded-up windows “She’s slowing us down big time, plus she’s just annoying as fuck!”

I clenched my jaw, seated just out of view in the corner. My fingers curled tighter around the grip of the gun. Every word scraped against my skin like sandpaper.

Kai laughed under his breath, leaning beside her. “She’s deadweight. Honestly, if something came through here and dragged her off in the night, I wouldn’t stop it.”

They were silhouettes against the orange-tinted sky outside, their figures outlined by the dimming sunset bleeding through cracked boards. I wanted to scream, to tell them I heard everything, but my chest was too tight. Instead, I sat frozen in my own silence.

Jay returned twenty minutes later, the soles of his boots scuffing against the warped floorboards. “Nothing good out there,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “Just emptiness.”

He gave me a short glance. No warmth this time. Just... tiredness.

Then we heard it.

A low groan. Wet. Guttural. Wrong.

All of us froze.

Nari turned first, her face tightening. “What the hell was that?”

Another groan — closer now. Followed by a heavy thud against the porch steps. The boards creaked under weight that shouldn’t be there.

And then…

Screaming.

Nari’s voice tore through the air. Raw. Terrified. “GET IT OFF ME—!”

Jay moved instantly, gun raised. “Get behind me. Now.”

I jumped, stumbling a step back before pressing myself behind him, the cold metal of the gun in his hands the only thing between us and whatever was out there.

“HELP ME!”

Kai’s voice. But already it sounded... wrong. Wet. Weak. Gurgling.

I winced, eyes wide as the sounds on the other side of the door became unmistakable — tearing. Ripping. The sickening squelch of flesh being pulled apart.

“Kai…” I whispered, barely audible. My stomach churned. The scent of blood was already seeping through the cracks in the door.

Jay didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

And outside, the screaming stopped.

Jay exhaled slowly, then took a step back.

“I’m leaving.”

“What?” I turned to him, panic flaring. “I’m coming with you.”

He didn’t look at me when he answered. His voice was flat. Cold.

“No. Find your own way. I’m not dying because of you.”

He turned and made a beeline for the back door, checking the clip in his gun.

“Jay—” I stepped after him, heart pounding.

He didn’t turn around. “Stay upstairs. Lock the door. If you’re lucky, maybe it’ll pass you over.”

He yanked open the back door—

—and was met with something tall. Hulking. Covered in blood.

It was fast. Too fast.

The creature grabbed him before he could even raise his gun.

Jay shouted, struggling, but the thing drove him into the wall with bone-shattering force. His scream cut short as its hand slashed across his chest, deep and brutal, teeth sinking deep into his neck with a sickening crunch.

I screamed.

Jay’s body hit the ground like a ragdoll, blood already pooling.

I whimpered, dropping my gun, rushing upstairs, slamming the door shut.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I sob as I hear staggered steps making their way towards the door.

Thud.

A slow, dragging step against the creaking stairs.

Another.

It was coming.

I looked around, desperate for anything — something to wedge against the door, something to fight with, anything.

The room offered nothing but ruin: broken furniture, mould-ridden blankets, torn posters fluttering in the breeze from a cracked window. The memories that once made this a sanctuary now looked like a forgotten grave.

Bang.

The doorknob twitched.

I yelped, backing away from the door, breath catching in my throat.

Another bang.

The hinges groaned. The wood creaked.

“Please don’t hurt me…” I whimpered, shrinking into the corner, my arms wrapped tightly around myself.

The Stalker stepped into the room.

He was tall with broad shoulders and long limbs that moved unnaturally, like they were no longer his to control. Dried blood caked his neck and chin. His clothes were torn, stained, clinging to his muscular frame like a second skin. And yet… he didn’t lunge. He didn’t growl.

He barely looked at me.

Instead, he shuffled past, slow and unsteady. And then, to my utter confusion… he climbed into the bed.

With a low groan, he pulled the tattered blanket over his body, mould and dust rising around him like a cloud. He curled slightly toward the wall, knees drawn in, shoulders hunched. One hand gripped the edge of the blanket like a child trying to get comfortable.

I blinked, too stunned to breathe. My heart thudded so loudly it echoed in my skull.

What… was I looking at?

“Huh?” I whispered, slowly rising from the floor, my legs trembling beneath me.

The Stalker didn’t react.

He just… laid there.

I took a cautious step forward.

Then another.

He stirred, a soft twitch of his fingers against the mattress. His head turned just slightly, cheek pressed to the pillow. His lips moved soundlessly, like he was speaking in a dream.

I inched closer, heart pounding, reaching out a finger to tap.

His eyes shot open, letting out a horrendous groan.

I screamed, backing up into the corner once again, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

The Stalker pushed himself up, swinging his legs off the bed and locking his gaze on me. He tilted his head, almost like a confused puppy, before wobbling forward.

I swallowed hard as he knelt before me, heavy breaths filling the silence.

“Your… room?” I whispered, voice trembling. “Your home?” I shakily made a little house shape with my hands, desperate for some connection.

Using all his strength, he nodded a yes with a grunt.

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask

He shakes his head no.

I noticed a glint of silver around his neck and cautiously reached toward it. He flinched, eyes wide with fear, backing up slightly.

“I won’t hurt you… I promise.” I extended my hand slowly, palm open.

He took it—his hand surprisingly warm, grounding, despite everything. With care, I reached for the tag resting against his chest. It was worn and scratched, but the engraving was still visible.

"My Mingi. I will always love you. With love, Mommy."

I read it softly. “Your name is Mingi?”

He nodded once, eyes meeting mine. There was something raw in them. Wild, feral, but also painfully human. Familiar.

“Mingi,” I whispered, tasting the name.

He gave a small, broken smile. A ghost of the boy he used to be.

“N… name,” he rasped, voice hoarse. He pointed a shaky finger at me.

I hesitated, pulse racing. “Y/N.”

“Y/N?” he echoed.

“Yes. Y/N,” I said, smiling gently.

But Mingi shook his head. “Princess.”

“Huh? No, not princess. It’s Y/N.”

“Princess,” he insisted again, slowly pushing to his feet with an awkward stagger.

I watched as he moved to the closet, digging through old boxes until he pulled out a battered cardboard crown. He turned to me, walked back, and placed it delicately on my head before kneeling.

“Princess,” he said again, softer this time.

I let out a shaky laugh, gently removing the crown to inspect it. “You’re funny… and sweet.” But as I turned it over in my hands, my smile faded. It was the same crown from the photograph.

My heart caught in my throat.

I scrambled across the room to the desk, grabbing the three ruined photographs. I held them out to him.

“This is you?” I asked.

Mingi took the group photo with trembling hands. Eight boys frozen in a moment of laughter, cake smeared, joy unbroken. But his fingers tightened. His expression darkened.

With a sudden growl, he threw the photo across the room.

“Not your friends?” I asked carefully. He said nothing, just breathed heavily, eyes wild.

I picked up the second photo. Mingi stared down at it, eyes darting toward the broken skateboard across the room.

He trembled.

I swear… I’ll come back for you.

The memory whispered through the air. A promise left to rot.

Mingi let out a guttural, furious sound. He bit down on the edge of the photo, ripping it in two with his teeth.

“Liar,” he spat.

I swallowed hard, holding up the last photo.

“Is this your mom?” I asked gently.

His breathing slowed.

Mingi stared down at the photo, not moving, just watching. His hand hovered above it like he didn’t dare touch it, afraid it might disappear. The fury that had twisted his features only seconds before slowly melted into something softer… something devastating.

Carefully, he took the photograph from my hand.

His thumb brushed over the image of her face. His mother, her smile wide as she pinched his cheeks, was frozen in a moment of pure love. His shoulders trembled. A faint, broken sound left his throat, something between a sigh and a whimper.

“M…Mommy…” he croaked, voice barely more than air. His knees buckled as he sat heavily on the floor, eyes glued to the image. “Mommy…”

I knelt beside him, unsure if I should speak, unsure if touching him again would scare him. But something about the way he held that picture, the way his fingers trembled, made my chest ache.

“I think she loved you very much,” I whispered, unsure why I was saying it, only knowing he needed to hear it. “She still does. Wherever she is.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, carving a clean path through the dirt and dried blood. And then another.

He looked at me.

Not like a monster, not like a Stalker. Just a boy.

“Gone,” he murmured.

“I know…” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

The room was quiet, just the two of us breathing in that broken space. The posters on the walls fluttered in the breeze from the shattered window. The crown sat in my lap. The photo trembled in his grip.

Then, softly, he leaned his head against my shoulder.

And despite everything—the blood, the horror, the deaths, I didn’t move away. I let him.

Because in that moment, I didn’t see a creature. I saw Mingi. And he needed someone.

Maybe… we both did.

── .✦

song mingi x f!reader

genre: dark romance, zombie apocalypse

cw: death, violence, slight mentions of g0re, abandonment, grief

wc: 2.1k

mlist

── .✦

prologue

"Do you think we'll ever make it?" Mingi’s voice was quiet, barely rising above the crackle of the dying fire. He looked over at Yunho, his best friend, the only one who still seemed to carry hope like it wasn’t weighing him down.

"We've been on the road for so long... I’m starting to think there’s nothing left to find."

He glanced at the others scattered around the camp.

San and Jongho were locked in another petty argument, their voices sharp and tired. Hongjoong and Seonghwa hovered nearby, trying to keep the peace like always, exhausted, but still trying. Further off, Wooyoung and Yeosang sat side by side, half-focused on preparing dinner, half-laughing at something only the two of them seemed to find funny.

How can they still laugh? Mingi stared into the fire, the weight of everything pressing down on his chest. Don’t they see what’s happening? How close we are to falling apart?

“We’ll make it there.” Yunho wraps his arm around Mingi, squeezing him tight “As long as we’ve got each other.”

Mingi sighed, frustrated. “I just…I miss home, I miss my bed, I miss…” He paused, then blurted, “I miss Burger King.”

Yunho bursts out laughing, doubling over and clutching his stomach. “Burger King? Really? Out of all the food in the world, including your mom’s… Burger King?”

“Ok… maybe my mom tops Burger King,” He chuckles, the laugh short-lived. His expression dimmed as he winced, the thought of her tightening something in his chest. “I miss her.”

He reached beneath the collar of his shirt and pulled out a worn dog tag, the metal cool against his skin. Etched into the back, just barely visible in the fading light:

My Mingi, I will always love you. With love, Mommy x

He closed his hand around it, knuckles whitening as he clutched it tight. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes, but he didn’t let them fall.

“She saved you.” Yunho speaks softly “You promised her, you would make it to Novara.”

“I know.” Mingi nods solemnly, “Who am I to break a promise?”

“There’s the boy I know!” Yunho clasped Mingi’s hand in a firm, familiar grip. “You’re my brother till the end. We’ll make it there, alive, together.”

“YEAH!”

The pair let out a shriek looking behind them.

“Wooyoung.”

“What?” He laughs throwing his arms around the pair, “I love you guys! I wanted to be included… and if you want to eat then…”

Before he could finish, the boys sprang to their feet, bounding over to Yeosang like two excited puppies.

“Be nice to me.” Wooyoung huffed, cracking a small smile before jogging over to join them.

“Woah! Relax!” Yeosang laughed as Mingi and Yunho panted, catching their breath. “There’s enough to go around!”

“I am starving!” Mingi complained as Yeosang handed him a warm bowl of soup. He sat down on a nearby log, eyeing the food. “This better be good.”

“San’s already on his fifth bowl,” Yeosang said, nodding toward the boy slurping away like he hadn’t eaten in weeks.

“Woah, Wooyoung, this soup is amazing!” San smiled, spoon halfway to his mouth. “What did you put in it?”

Wooyoung and Yeosang exchanged a quick, awkward glance.

“Squirrel,” Wooyoung mumbled.

“WHAT?!” Hongjoong practically shouted, face twisting in disgust. “HOW COULD YOU?!”

“It was all I could find, I’m sorry!” Yeosang pleaded. “I know you love squirrels… but it’s hard out here, man!”

Hongjoong whispered, barely able to meet their eyes, “I just ate two bowls of my favourite animal…”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around him comfortingly. “You’ll live.”

“But… it was good, right?” Wooyoung asked with a hopeful smile that immediately faded under Hongjoong’s scowl.

“Don’t worry, Hongjoong,” Jongho smirked, grinning from across the camp. “I’m on hunting duty next… Maybe I’ll find a black cat for us to—”

“FUCK!”

Jongho yelped and darted away as Wooyoung chased after him, mock-angry. “BRING ME BACK A BLACK CAT TO COOK AND I’LL KILL YOU MYSELF!”

Mingi laughed, leaning back as a small smile tugged at his lips. For a moment, the weight pressing down on him lifted, replaced by the warmth of laughter and the chaos of friendship.

“You good?” Yunho asked, his voice gentle.

Mingi glanced over at him, returning the smile. “Yeah.” He said softly. “Never been better.”

__

“So, who’s on watch tonight?” Hongjoong asked, glancing around the camp.

“San and I,” Jongho said, giving San a playful shove.

Seonghwa facepalmed. “You can’t be serious… You two? Really? We’ll die!”

“Hey!” San protested, puffing up his chest. “I’ll have you know that me and little man over here are the strongest duo out of everyone!”

“Little man?” Jongho repeated in disgust

“What?” San rolled his eyes. “You’re the baby of the group!”

“I’M BIGGER THAN YOU!” Jongho shot back, raising his voice.

The banter continued, but the laughter was thin, tinged with exhaustion and unease.

Night was creeping in, shadows stretching longer. The forest around them grew quiet, the usual night sounds fading as if holding its breath.

Mingi shifted uneasily, the dog tag pressing against his chest. Something in the dark felt off.

“Alright, break it up,” Hongjoong said, standing and stretching. “Watch starts now. San, Jongho—keep your eyes sharp. Everyone else, sleep well. We move on tomorrow.”

The two nodded, grabbing their weapons.

“I’m bigger than you!” San mimics

“Shut the fuck up! You’re so annoying!” Jongho whines, their voices becoming quieter the further they walked.

Mingi watched them disappear into the tree line, heart tightening. The world was growing colder.

“Come.” Mingi was pulled out of his daydream by Yunho punching his shoulder, “We have to be up by dawn.”

Mingi nods, following his friend.

“Come on.” Mingi was pulled from his daydream by a light punch to the shoulder. Yunho stood beside him, already stretching and shaking out his arms. “We’ve gotta be up by dawn.”

Mingi nodded and followed him back toward the fire, where the others were already settling in, some curled up in blankets, others lying flat on the cold ground, silent under the stars.

The fire crackled low behind them, its warmth fading. In the distance, the trees rustled just a little too much.

Mingi glanced back over his shoulder.

Something felt… off.

Yunho nudged him with his elbow. “Bro, what is with you? You’re so tense.”

Mingi hesitated before answering.“I don’t know. Something just doesn’t feel right tonight.”

“Maybe you feel anxious since we’re moving on tomorrow.” Yunho suggests, “We were here for a while, but we can’t get too comfortable.”

Mingi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “You’re right.”

He laid down slowly, the cold earth seeping through the blanket beneath him.

“Everything will be fine once the sun rises.”

___

“Okay but…” San muttered, flicking his switchblade open and shut, the metallic click echoing in the night air, “What if a Stalker was, like… a really hot girl? Would you still kill her?”

Jongho turned his head slowly. “Are you stupid?”

“I’m just saying!” San flashed a grin. “Maybe she still remembers how to love. Maybe all she needs is—”

“A bullet,” Jongho interrupted, tone flat. “To the head.”

“I could fix her,” San declared, rising from his overturned crate flexing his muscles “How could she resist me?”

Jongho scoffed, sliding a fresh shell into his shotgun. “She’d take one look at you and bite your head off. Be serious.”

“You’re just jealous. A hot Stalker wouldn’t even look your way.”

Jongho gave him a long, deadpan stare. “I can’t believe I’ve been stuck on watch with you. I want Yeosang back.”

“You love me really,” San grinned, nudging his shoulder. “I’m the best big brother in the world.”

“No. I actually hate you.” He smiles sarcastically

“Is that so? Well—”

Snap.

The sound was sharp and sudden, unnaturally loud in the hush of the forest.

San froze mid-sentence, his grin vanishing. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Jongho was already moving, eyes locked on the darkness just beyond the tree line.

“Get behind me,” he said through gritted teeth

“Are you serious? I—”

“Now.” Jongho snapped, louder this time. “I’m the one with the gun. Not you.”

San swallowed hard, tightening his grip on his knife before stepping behind him.

“I’m right here,” San murmured, his voice quieter now, steadier. “I won’t let anything touch you.”

Jongho’s hands were trembling slightly around the weapon. Whether it was fear or adrenaline, he didn’t know. The shadows in the woods felt heavier, like they were moving.

Branches rustled again.

Too close.

Too heavy.

“You hear that?” San whispered.

Jongho gave a short nod. “It’s circling us.”

Something wet and heavy dragged against the earth, just out of sight.

Then it groaned.

A low, guttural sound— inhuman, broken, hungry.

Jongho’s blood ran cold. He turned just enough to speak over his shoulder.

“Get ready to run.”

But they weren’t fast enough.

The figure lunged from the dark—limping, jerky, snarling.

San shouted. Jongho fired.

The gunshot shattering the silence.

__

Mingi bolted upright, chest heaving, hand pressed tightly over his heart. His pulse was racing, thunderous in his ears.

“Did you hear that?” he gasped, eyes wide as he scanned the camp. The others stirred around him, groggy and confused.

“What the hell…” Yunho muttered, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“It sounded like a gun…” Seonghwa said, already rising to his feet. He squinted toward the treeline, the faint glow of the fire casting long shadows around them. “Wait…I see something.”

Figures emerged from the dark.

San and Jongho, running full speed towards them.

“GET UP! GET UP NOW!” San was screaming, flailing his arms. His face was pale, wild with panic.

“STALKERS!” Jongho shouted behind him, the word cutting through the camp like a blade.

The peaceful night shattered.

Mingi didn’t even think, he was on his feet, dragging Yunho up beside him.

“How many?!” Hongjoong yelled, voice sharp as he armed himself.

“Three…no, maybe more! They came out of nowhere!” Jongho skidded to a halt, chest heaving. “They’re fast!”

“We have to move!” Seonghwa shouted, already tossing bags toward Yeosang and Wooyoung.

The first one broke through the trees.

Limping, snarling, hollow-eyed and covered in dried blood, its jaw hanging open at an unnatural angle.

Mingi grabbed Yunho’s wrist and pulled him forward. “DON’T LOOK BACK!” he yelled. “JUST RUN!”

“FUCK!” Yunho gasped as a Stalker’s claw raked across his side, tearing through fabric and skin. Warm blood trickled down, sharp and burning.

“KEEP GOING!” Mingi screamed, his voice raw with desperation as Yunho faltered, his steps slowing under the pain. He stumbled, breath ragged, every movement a battle.

Without hesitation, Mingi dropped beside him, gripping his arm. “You’re not stopping here. Not on my watch.”

Yunho’s eyes flashed with pain and fear, but he nodded, pushing himself upright.

A guttural snarl tore through the night as the Stalker lunged again. Mingi stepped in front, yanking Yunho back just in time.

“Get up! We have to—”

A sharp bite tore into Mingi’s neck. He gasped, staggering but holding firm, shielding Yunho with every ounce of strength.

“NO!” Yunho screamed, panic flooding his voice.

A loud gunshot rang out as Jongho fired his shotgun, striking the Stalker in the head. The remaining Stalkers retreated, their guttural groans fading into the woods.

“Mingi…” Yunho whispered, his voice trembling as he watched his best friend twitch and convulse on the ground. “We’ll get you help, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

“Yunho,” Hongjoong’s grip tightened on his arm, voice hard but pained, “He’s done for. We have to go.”

“No.” Yunho shook his head fiercely, tears streaming down his face. “I’m not leaving him. We can’t.”

Mingi groaned, reaching out desperately for anyone, for something, to stop the inevitable.

“Please…” His voice was weak. Tears welled in his eyes. “I can’t… be… like them.”

Blood pooled from his mouth as darkness began to close in.

“Yunho get up.” Hongjoong says firmly, wiping tears from his eyes

“I…” He sobs as Yeosang and Wooyoung drag him up by his feet “Mingi…”

“KEEP MOVING!” Yeosang yells, his grip tight as he hauls Yunho forward.

Mingi’s eyes flicker open one last time, glassy and distant, his chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths.

“DON’T MAKE ME LEAVE HIM!” Yunho sobs, his voice breaking as he strains against the hands pulling him away.

“Yunho, we don’t have a choice!” Wooyoung shouts, his face pale but determined. “If we stay, we all die. You have to trust us.”

Tears stream down Yunho’s cheeks as he glances back, locking eyes with Mingi’s fading gaze.

“I swear… I’ll come back for you,” he whispers hoarsely.

song mingi x f!reader

summary: After the world ends, love gets... complicated. You find yourself trapped with a Stalker — a type of zombie that remembers. Not everything. Just enough to be dangerous. Just enough to feel. As you both set off toward the last known safe haven, Novara, a fragile bond begins to form between the living and the undead, built on music, memories, and something neither of them fully understand. But in a world that kills what it fears, love may be the most dangerous thing of all.

genre: dark romance, zombie apocalypse

cw: death, violence, slight mentions of g0re, abandonment, grief

a/n: hello!!! this is my first ever fic lmaooo why am i so nervous to post this HELP????? but yeah... this is kinda inspired by the movie warm bodies i guess? not exactly but its a similar concept. also inspired by tlou or just any zombie apocalypse movie, game, tv show etc. i've currently written up to chapter 2 but i'll be posting the prologue and chapter 1 just to see how they do and if the crowd likes it! (if a crowd ever forms...) enjoy!! <33

current word count : 15.7k

── .✦

prologue

chapter 1

chapter 2

chapter 3

chapter 4

chapter 5

chapter 6