hello! i saw that you’re writing for aouad characters as well. can i request oh joon-yeong x fem!reader in a high school apocalypse setting (yes, the og.) where they take turns to watch over for zombies since one of them might barge in and bite everyone? it was joon-yeong’s shift, yet reader insists that she’ll be occupying his supposed-to-be role, since she saw how exhausted joon-yeong was. feeling grateful, he opted to accompany her instead. over time, reader grew tired, that she didn’t notice her head slumping over his shoulder. you can add anything else if you want. thank you!
(Oh Joon-yeong x fem!reader | apocalypse setting | hurt/comfort | one-shot)
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The classroom was dark, save for the moonlight streaming through the cracked windows. Shadows danced across the floor, cast by makeshift barricades and desks piled haphazardly against the doors. The night outside groaned with the wind—and sometimes, things that weren’t the wind.
And, apparently, Joon-yeong.
“I’ll do it tonight,” she said quietly, kneeling beside where he sat slumped against the wall.
He didn’t open his eyes at first. Just furrowed his brows, like even resting was painful now. His glasses were smudged and tilted slightly on his nose, and his school blazer had long since been used to patch up a bleeding classmate.
Still, he shook his head. “It’s my turn.”
“You’ve barely slept in two days,” she whispered. “You’re losing it. Let me take it tonight.”
He opened one eye and gave her a look. “We’re all losing it.”
“You’re arguing,” he muttered, but the fight in him was weak.
She sighed and gently reached out, fixing his glasses on his face. His gaze followed her hand before dropping again, lashes lowering.
He didn’t thank her. Not verbally. He just slowly got to his feet, then sat back down—this time by the window, not alone.
“You’re staying?” she asked, surprised.
He shrugged. “If a zombie breaks in, you’d scream and wake the whole block.”
She huffed, trying not to smile. “You’re rude.”
They sat in silence for a long time after that. The kind of silence that came only in exhaustion and survival. The kind that wrapped around them like a blanket—tense, but safe. For now.
Every creak of the floor made her flinch.
“You don’t have to be brave all the time,” he murmured, not looking at her.
She blinked at him. “Says the guy who offered to make a Molotov cocktail from soy sauce and a rag.”
“You were trying to impress me.”
That earned a breath of laughter from her. A short one, but real. The first in days.
Eventually, the tension settled into something softer. The stars outside twinkled like they didn’t know the world had ended. And the school—filled with the echo of too many goodbyes—felt oddly still.
She leaned back against the wall beside him, her legs stretched out, head tilted.
“I think I’m gonna pass out,” she whispered.
“Then sleep,” he murmured.
“But I said I’d take the shift…”
“I’m watching with you. Technically, still your shift.”
She gave a soft hum of agreement, eyes fluttering shut.
Neither of them moved for a while.
And then, without warning, her head dropped onto his shoulder.
Not because he didn’t like it. But because his heart hadn’t beat that hard in days. Not from fear. Not from running. Just... her.
She smelled like smoke and citrus soap—probably from some half-used bottle found in the locker room. Her hand brushed his knee in her sleep, and she murmured something he couldn’t hear.
He didn’t dare shift, afraid to wake her. Afraid she’d move away.
So instead, he let his head tilt gently to the side, resting lightly against hers.
And for the first time since the outbreak started, the noise in his mind dulled.
Maybe the world was ending.
But right now, she was warm and close, and he’d keep watch a thousand nights if it meant holding onto that.
