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#also contains a gender neutral 'friend' character you can do what you want with

totaldramafan-lauri · 5 months

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Make Use Of Me (chapter 1, preview)

Dec. 7 EDIT: ONCE MORE, WITH BRAVERY THIS TIME. No more chickening out. You can read this thing FOR REAL now. Sorry for being weird, and now....sorry if this wasn't worth it. XD

O-OK...here goes....

First thing's first: I am not expecting a lotta people to read this. I'm not asking people to read this. At this point, I'm making this mostly as a passion project, and if anyone enjoys it, it'll be a really cool bonus. My writing style isn't gonna be for everyone, and the characters I write aren't the most....popular characters in the CRK X Reader community, and I imagine this isn't really something a lotta fans'll be demanding more of.

This is LONG. This one chapter is 56 pages long. I am a VERY wordy writer,

So......why'm I posting this preview? Well....partially as an interest gauge for people who WOULD wanna read it, but...mostly as a motivator. As something to remind myself of whenever I get lazy. After all....I can't quit after I made the first chapter public, right? By doing that, I put myself out there...And, hey, I even tagged it, so, if by the off chance, someone did read it, I'm basically promising them more eventually.....

But, again, I'm not forcing anyone to read this.

Not only is it long, but.....This first chapter is probably my least-favorite thing I've ever written. By posting this chapter by itself, I'm testing to see if it does its job of making people wanna read the rest, cuz....right now, I'm not so sure how well it succeeds at that.....

This is the boring part of the story. It's a bunch of setup, and me jumping through hoop after hoop after hoop to just get everything started. I know setup is important and all, but....I'm already a very wordy writer, so....oof....There is some interesting stuff that happens, but it takes a while to get there.

I-I....kinda hate it, actually. The only reason I didn't scrap it is that I didn't realize I hated it until I was about halfway through it and the "good part" hadn't started yet. And I still spent a month writing the thing, so....I finished it.

I'm tagging this...as an experiment. If you wanna read this, go ahead. W-well, read my tags first, THEN go ahead. XD

All I can really say in this chapter's defense is that....I do try my best to salvage it. It's just setup, but I TRIED to make it interesting. And everything that seems like it didn't go anywhere, will later. This isn't the whole story, it's just the beginning of what's gonna be a BIG story. Anything that seems weird in this chapter, gets explored in the other chapters. This does set up a bunch of stuff that becomes important later (The friend character shows up later, the Colosseum becomes relevant later). This chapter is boring, but I tried not to make any of it pointless.

For the future: I'm aiming for five chapters. Chapters 2 and 3 will be a series of smaller vignettes that take place over the course of a few years, chapter 4 will be the climax, and chapter 5 will be something of an epilogue. After that, there will be two endings to choose from (which will make sense when we get there).

This probably won't be my favorite thing I've ever written, but it will be the most ambitious thing I've ever, and probably will ever, write. I haven't written something like this before, and it's all to flesh out this story and make it believable.

Right now, I.....I want to finish this. I'll probably still be writing this in February at the rate I'm going, but...at this point, I've put too much into it to give up on it. However, I'm STILL not completely ruling out the idea of my motivation dying before then. It COULD happen. So, what I'm planning to do is...setting a short-term goal of finishing chapter 3. After I do that, I'll post the first three chapters on AO3 together, and work on the rest. That way, even if I don't finish it, I'll at least have it over half done, and chapter 3 will end on a somewhat high note.

So, yyyyeah....Not a lotta people will read this preview. Overly wordy writing style + boring setup part of story + 56 pages long + assumed lack of interest for X Readers of this character (At least, I haven't SEEN many simps for her, m-maybe I'm wrong, I might be, I-I haven't checked any tags cuz I've been nervous, b-but it doesn't make my writing any better. In that case, this is my first time writing her so I'm trying super hard to do her justice >//////<)

I-if you wanna read this, and see if this first chapter does a good job of making you wanna read the better chapters, then...Go ahead.....

Some notes:

-This is still not the final draft. It's finalized enough for me to share, but I'm still not considering it finished. Even tho I'm working on chapter 3 right now, I STILL go back and edit this, even very recently. So, chances are, even if the story is finalized, small details and sentences are still subject to change. I know for a fact that there are still SOME placeholder bits in here that will change after I get some stuff cleared up. Recently, I even considered chopping off an entire section to make it shorter. I decided not to, but hey, it could still happen. I don't wanna waste anyone's time. The first chapter of a story, even if it's boring, is still very important, and I wanna make sure it's the best version of itself.

(A-and yes, this means that I've finished chapter 2 as well. The reason I'm not sharing it is that, unlike chapter 1, it was finished VERY recently, so I might still need to give myself time to edit it. From what I have, tho, I do like it a LOT more than chapter 1. There are some parts of chapter 2 that I'm legit proud of.)

-Even tho this first chapter is completely clean, I-I should mention that....this fic is for adults. The full version, at least. Chapters 3 and 4 are gonna contain some light N/S/F/W moments (the "fade to black" variety, so nothing explicit) and there'll be other slightly racey comments here and there. Just a heads-up. I'm gonna be uncomfy with minors reading this.

Th-that's all? I-I think that's all.......O-OK, so......h-here goes..... E-enjoy....

#fics by lauri #fanfic preview #WARNING: UNFINISHED #THIS IS JUST THE FIRST CHAPTER #......AND ITS STILL A LONG READ #cookie run x reader #crk x reader #golden cheese cookie x reader #gender neutral reader #also contains a gender neutral 'friend' character you can do what you want with #basically i got inspired by that part in her bio that mentions how...#....shes always looking to add more loyal subjects #and it made me imagine the story of an outsider who gradually integrates into the kingdom and earns her approval #so its an underdog story basically #and there a LOT that the reader gets put through #reader is shy and socially awkward but can also be a bit more sarcastic than the other reader characters ive written #im aiming for a BIT more comedy than usual since its my first crk fic that doesnt take place in the humorless dark cacao kingdom XD #but yeah reader is a ball of anxiety #they get panic attacks later on #pre canon #VERY VERY VERY pre canon #takes place DECADES before canon #before um....the lost city became lost #its not virtual #no errors no avatars #just a technologically advanced city #power imbalance and god complex stuff all over the place cuz fghdhgfhdhfgh im weak for that part of her #also contains some themes of verbal abuse (from nameless characters toward reader)#and like i said it has some adult moments later on #contains a lot of time skips

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nthee · 3 months

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I DON'T KNOW IF I'MA SEE YOU AGAIN . . .

summary: a slight, or well, not-so-slight blunder led to the unfortunate events of him losing his memory — his memory of you and anything related to you.

characters: riddle roseherts, silver, lilia vanrouge

contains: angst with a bit of fluff, gender-neutral mc (uses second person view aka "you"), the reader blushes (described to be flushed)

notes: title is from see you again hehe :) i just thought it kind of had amnesia trope vibes idkkk dont ask me why atp, inspo comes from anywhere fr. also SURPRISE IM BACK let's ignore the fact that it's been 5 months tho i was so burnt out :(

⌗ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

“Let me help you with that. [...] What? You're staring.”

“Ah, it's... it's nothing, sorry.”

The close proximity is enough to make you go insane. Perhaps it's better if you just took the time to actually fix your tie this morning. That way, he wouldn't be so close! So close that...

Oh Seven, what if he hears my heartbeat?! Ack, calm down, calm down! I don't want to scare him of, what if he thinks it's — I'm creepy?!

“You seem flushed, [Name]. Are you alright?” his movement stills while holding onto your tie, and you mentally facepalm.

Riddle's hand makes its way to your forehead, the back of his hand pressing onto your skin, before realizing he's wearing gloves. He clears his throat at the mistake, opting to feel your temperature using the back of his wrist — the exposed skin between his sleeve and glove.

“Temperature is normal... a little bit warm, but nothing serious.”

“I'm alright! It's nothing, really.”

Too close, too close, too close!

Riddle retracts back, almost as if he could hear your pleas. He sighed, clearing his throat as his eyes wander around — look everywhere, anywhere but them, Riddle.

“I should — ah, we should get to class...” you reminded. You mirror his actions, averting your gaze.

“Right. Class.”

He offers an arm, one that you graciously take without a second thought. “Let me escort you there. I did hold you off for several minutes.”

Excuses! Riddle's mind yells. You're falling for them!

He doesn't care in the slightest — just as long as you're there to catch him. Though he knew you for a grand total of five days, he knows you'll be there.

⌗ SILVER

“Have I... met you before? I have, haven't I?”

A bittersweet laugh escapes your lips, startling Silver in front of you. You pull yourself together, smiling as you gaze into his eyes — the same eyes you'd lose yourself in, letting the time pass doing just that.

“Once upon a dream, right? That's what you were going to say?” you wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, thankful you laughed first before the waterworks arrived. Thank goodness, he can't see me sad.

Silver's eyes brightened, his eyelashes fluttering in disbelief. “It's... it's you. I meet you in my dreams! Everytime I close my eyes, I... I see you.”

His hands are softly holding yours as he speaks, his thumb tracing your skin delicately — like you were glass, or a treasure. It's enough to make you swoon, just as he's always done before.

“Don't leave my side.”

He thinks it's selfish to ask that from a stranger. But you are no stranger. You know the truth, but he suspects it's destiny — that you've actually met, talked, danced before, only well, it was in his very own dreamland.

You can feel the tears again. Maybe this isn't so bad? Or, at the very least, this isn't the end.

“I wouldn't even think of it.”

⌗ LILIA VANROUGE

“Are you a friend of Silver's? I don't think I've seen you around before.”

Those words were uttered before you could even process the initial news of Lilia's predicament — before your heart could even let it sink in.

You could only choke back the words threatening to slip off your tongue, lest it sound like utter crap to someone who just lost his memories.

You and I are more than friends. You play— well, played lighthearted tricks on me. I fell for them. I fell for you.

“You... could say that,” was all you could muster up. There was no point in explaining more, he wouldn't understand them.

There was understanding to his nod, a subconscious feeling of something nestled deep in his heart.

“Are you troubled? You seem to be.” his tone is soft, yet firm. Lilia had always been that way; a mentor, father (or, father-like to ones who don't know he was actually one), shoulder to cry on, wise fae to depend on...

A lover. Was a lover.

Now, all was left was Lilia before he even got to know you.

Lilia Vanrouge, a schoolmate of yours, once again.

← | © nthee, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, adapt, and use my work in anything that associates directly with ai.

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moonlit-horrors · 7 months

Note

Do you think that you can make angst and fluff head canons for Tim Wright and/or Evan Myers???

☼︎ Angst and Fluff Headcanons ☼︎

⊹ฺ Requested by a lovely Anon! ♡

⊹ฺ Characters: Tim Wright (Marble Hornets); Evan Meyers (EverymanHYBRID)

⊹ฺ Contains: Fluff and angst (duh, haha); Allusions to mental illness; References to possession; Gender neutral Reader; No use of (Y/N); SFW

⊹ฺ Note: Sorry if this took forever! <3

—

✧ Tim Wright

⊹ฺ Before I get into it, I love him so much, I just want to kiss all over his face.

⊹ฺ Tim is the best person to nap/cuddle with. He is so warm and holds you so closely, it's impossible not to feel loved.

⊹ฺ He has sleepy parent friend energy - like, he will gladly smile and nod at what you do, but will also get so nervous depending on what it is. As ready to smile and nod as he is, he is also fully prepared to sigh at you and your plan.

⊹ฺ Periodically disappears (as Tim does) and no matter how long he's gone, he always feels so bad and you are the first person he reaches out to.

⊹ฺ In that same vein, Time goes back and forth between seeking you out and isolating himself when he's low; he wants to be around you (his safe space), but he also doesn't want to put you in harm's way.

⊹ฺ When he's travelling around with Jay, he tries to come and see you any time he can. It's all far and few between, but he tries his hardest.

⊹ฺ Speaking of things more "Marble Hornets related", Masky hesitates when he sees you. While Tim would love to think his alter wouldn't hurt you, that doesn't stop him from trying to take control back to keep you safe.

⊹ฺ Tim gets so nervous whenever you cough. His body tenses and he feels like his heart stops.

⊹ฺ No matter where he is, he always makes sure to call or text right at midnight on your birthday. He loves you so much, and therefore, has to be the first person to tell you.

⊹ฺ Guys, I love him so much, you don't understand, haha.

✧ Evan Meyers

⊹ฺ Poor thing, holy shit.

⊹ฺ Loves holding your hand and carrying you around. He can't explain it, but carrying you around is so fun for him.

⊹ฺ Teases you a lot; seeing your smile or hearing your laugh just make his day twenty times better.

⊹ฺ Loves watching horror movies with you or playing horror games - he's always hoping something scares you enough for you to grab onto him, haha.

⊹ฺ Speaking of, Evan is absolutely your biggest protector. If he wasn't already trigger happy about kicking the asses of demons and cosmic/eldritch horrors, you would definitely be what kicks that off.

⊹ฺ Makes Jeff and Vinnie to swear they'll look after you if anything happens to him.

⊹ฺ Thinks about keeping his distance from you a lot to keep you safe. It never works, though. He misses you and worries about you too much.

⊹ฺ He makes sure that you know where all of his knives are and how to use them. He wants you to be able to have a fighting chance if he's not around, whether that's physically, or because his body's being used against his will.

⊹ฺ Would love to one day have a family with you (if you also want one), but also knows how slim the chances of that happening are. He doesn't trust himself enough, either.

⊹ฺ Evan always makes sure that he falls asleep after you. He's gotta make sure you're safe and sound before he rests.

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shootingmorningstar · 1 month

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⠀╰┈➤ WRITER INTRO @@ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ welcome, welcome .ᐟ 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 to be making your acquaintance, my loves. you can call me 𝐤͟𝐢͟𝐭͟𝐭͟𝐲͟. i am 𝟐͟𝟎͟ yrs old && use 𝐬𝐡𝐞 ／ 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 prns. my favorite colors are 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 && 𝐫𝐞𝐝 and i adore all things 𝐡͟𝐨͟𝐫͟𝐫͟𝐨͟𝐫͟. goth girl && lover of 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐬. the art in my profile picture was drawn for me as a gift from my dear friend 𝐛͟𝐮͟𝐧͟𝐧͟𝐢͟ of my favorite hazbin oc 𝐞̀͟͟𝐭͟𝐢͟𝐧͟𝐜͟𝐞͟𝐥͟𝐥͟𝐞͟ ͟ -- you m͟a͟y͟ hear me talk of her or share art on occasion. 𝐧𝐨𝐰, allow me to take you on a 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐫 of my page, hm .ᐣ

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

⠀ ⠀ ╰┈➤ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ i'll be writing everything from 𝐡͟𝐞͟𝐚͟𝐝͟𝐜͟𝐚͟𝐧͟𝐨͟𝐧͟𝐬͟ 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬͟𝐜͟𝐞͟𝐧͟𝐚͟𝐫͟𝐢͟𝐨͟𝐬͟ to ͟𝐟͟𝐢͟𝐜͟𝐥͟𝐞͟𝐭͟𝐬͟ ͟ && 𝐨𝐧͟𝐞͟𝐬͟𝐡͟𝐨͟𝐭͟𝐬͟.͟ a small note ahead of time ; fic requests take m͟u͟c͟h͟ more energy to write. they will likely take a decent amount of time 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞. i will happily take both sfw & 𝐧͟𝐬͟𝐟͟𝐰͟ requests, so 𝐧͟͟͟𝐬͟͟͟𝐟͟͟͟𝐰͟͟͟ ͟𝐜͟𝐨͟𝐧͟𝐭͟𝐞͟𝐧͟𝐭͟ WILL be present on this page. 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, in an effort to keep my page friendly to 𝐞͟𝐯͟𝐞͟𝐫͟𝐲͟𝐨͟𝐧͟𝐞͟, nsfw posts will be tagged accordingly and hid under a cut. i ask that minors 𝐝𝐨 𝐧͟𝐨͟𝐭͟ 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭 with such posts. that being said .ᐣ be as thirsty in my requests as you want, darlings.

⠀ ✧˚ · while this is mainly an x͟ ͟r͟e͟a͟d͟e͟r͟ blog, i am also open to c͟h͟a͟r͟a͟c͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟x͟ ͟c͟h͟a͟r͟a͟c͟t͟e͟r͟ requests, as well as c͟h͟a͟r͟a͟c͟t͟e͟r͟ ͟m͟a͟t͟c͟h͟u͟p͟s͟. for match-ups, send me details about 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 or your 𝐨𝐜 and i'll pick the character i feel you're 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 paired with. can be platonic, too.

⠀ ✧˚ · now that that's out of the way ; 𝐨𝐧𝐞 more thing. i have the most experience in writing both 𝐟͟𝐞͟𝐦͟𝐚͟𝐥͟𝐞͟ && 𝐠͟𝐞͟𝐧͟𝐝͟𝐞͟𝐫͟ ͟-͟ ͟𝐧͟𝐞͟𝐮͟𝐭͟𝐫͟𝐚͟𝐥͟ readers, 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 in nsfw, so they are what i'm most comfortable writing for. this does 𝐧𝐨𝐭 mean i am against taking 𝐦͟𝐚͟𝐥͟𝐞͟ reader rqs. i just want to inform that like fics, they will likely have a l͟o͟n͟g͟e͟r͟ ͟c͟o͟m͟p͟l͟e͟t͟i͟o͟n͟ ͟t͟i͟m͟e͟.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

⠀ ⠀ ╰┈➤ 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐈'𝐋𝐋 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ i will be taking requests for 𝐚͟𝐥͟𝐥͟ hazbin hotel characters minus v͟a͟l͟e͟n͟t͟i͟n͟o͟, and 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 helluva boss characters. this blog is 𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐜𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, but i enjoy hb as well.

⠀ ✧˚ · alastor is 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 aroace, and so he will remain so in my works -- but both asexuality and aromanticism are 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐬, so he is capable of engaging in both, but it will be mentioned && handled with respect.

✧˚ · * like alastor, angel dust has a more strict sexuality -- i will n͟o͟t͟ be accepting romantic requests with angel dust and a 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫. gender neutral and male only .ᐟ

✧˚ · * 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 is the author's favorite. ♡

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ╰┈➤ 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ any requests containing ͟𝐭͟𝐚͟𝐛͟𝐨͟𝐨͟ ͟／ ͟𝐢͟𝐥͟𝐥͟𝐞͟𝐠͟𝐚͟𝐥͟ tropes, kinks, ships or relationships will be ͟𝐢͟𝐦͟𝐦͟𝐞͟𝐝͟𝐢͟𝐚͟𝐭͟𝐞͟𝐥͟𝐲͟ ͟𝐝͟𝐞͟𝐥͟𝐞͟𝐭͟𝐞͟𝐝͟.͟ ͟ unhealthy relationships can be explored and will be marked accordingly, but 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 crossing those boundaries will be accepted.

✧˚ · * i am 𝐨𝐧𝐞 writer, and i am not currently looking for admins. be polite with your rqs and do 𝐧𝐨𝐭 rush me. your rq will 𝐧𝐨𝐭 be written if i feel pressured to do so. just 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞. i struggle with mental health issues and will not always have the energy to write.

✧˚ · * do not condone homophobia, transphobia, etc of any sort. this blog is a 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞 for all.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ╰┈➤ 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ MASTERLIST LINK ; HERE.

✧˚ · * LATEST REQUEST ; LUCIFER & FEMALE READER DRESSING UP AS ROGER & JESSICA RABBIT.

✧˚ · * REQUEST STATUS : 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍.

✧˚ · * Enjoy my work? I'd love to hear your thoughts, or simply just to chat. I can be found on twitter on @/Kiittytime.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

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mediocrevideopodcast · 1 month

Note

First I need you to know I absolutely love the way you write rocky! He feels so in character!

Second I saw requests are open so speaking of rocky: imagine if reader was a wealthy client who helps fund the speakeasy but they're only really there for rocky

like everyone else thinks it's pretty obvious they're into him but I imagine rocky would be clueless lol

(can be neutral or fem pronouns, whichever you prefer :) )

A/N: Thank you so much! I'm always worried that I'm a little too heavy-handed with his speech patterns, so I'm glad that it comes off right! And wow, I loved this idea so much! I got a little bit carried away with this it, actually -- never let it be said that I don't love this silly cat. Buckle in friends, it's gonna be a long one -- 3.4k, to be exact. Thank you all for all of the lovely asks and reblogs thus far -- because as much as I love writing, it's all of you that keep that fire burning when times get rough. Enjoy!

Content Warnings: None! Gender neutral reader, no pronouns or presentation indicators used.

Deafening raindrops turn into quiet pitter patters as you descend the long, spiraling staircase into the speakeasy. Comforting and familiar walls lift your spirits from the dreary outside world, caked in gloomy clouds and ever-growing smog. You wipe your boots on the doormat as you reach the bottom of the stairs, frowning a little when you notice just how far the mud splashed up the leather.

What a shame -- you'll have to clean them off when you get home tonight. Lord knows how your coworkers love to gossip, and with how calm things have been lately, they're just itching for something to discuss. Like how the head doctor has mud on their evening boots… after a heavy rain. How scandalous.

You're pulled from your thoughts by the gentle voice of the doorman, peering over at you with a hint of concern -- Horatio, you think his name was? Sweet boy.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?"

You tear your eyes away from your shoes, smiling kindly.

"Of course," you chirp, "Just a bit of mud. Do be careful when you head out tonight. That suit looks nice on you, I'm sure you wouldn't want it getting dirty."

He straightens his posture at the compliment, adjusting his cufflinks with an endearing -- if not a little overenthusiastic -- nod. Content, you smooth out your outfit and move forward once again. You stride through the door, flashing your pin for formality's sake, and slink into the main room with a neatly contained excitement of your own.

Red satin curtains line the wall, contrasting beautifully with the natural grey stone -- the Lackadaisy speakeasy has a unique atmosphere, and despite having seen it no less than a hundred times, it never ceases to light a twinge of admiration within you. You weave between the towering stone pillars, letting your eyes rake across the room as you pad towards the bar. But… something is missing. Or, more aptly, someone.

The barstool squeaks in protest when you plop down at the bar, brows furrowed. Although before you're allowed to stew in your disappointment, a drink is placed in front of you. You look up, meeting eyes with the tall cat in front of you. Victor Vasko, resident bartender, for lack of a better word. He glowers down at you, although you know him well enough by now -- it's hard to be intimidated when you know his scowl is all but carved into his face.

You're also acutely aware that you're one of the last benefactors of St. Louis' finest speakeasy.

You slide a ten across the bar -- more than enough to cover drinks for the night, if not everyone else's too -- before swirling the drink in your glass. The amber liquid dances just shy of the rim before settling back down against the ice -- it's liquid gold in these parts, and they call it that for more reasons than one. You don't miss the subtle widening of Victor's eyes as he pockets the money and moves to the other end of the bar, presumably to clean -- or more aptly, shatter -- a handful of glasses.

Sweetness cascades over your tongue when you raise the glass to your lips -- it's a far cry from the common coffin varnish. That is to say, it's a luxury reserved only for new patrons… and those with deep pockets. You smile to yourself, savoring the taste. It's not the greatest drink in the world. Even a priest could tell you that. It's bitter, and burns in a way that tells you that its creator would really prefer to put the "fire" in firewater over anything else… and yet you couldn't fathom going anywhere else. It's not like you're aiming to get drunk here, anyways.

"So," Zib drawls, lumbering onto the bar stool next to you, "What's a man gotta do to get a drink around here?"

You huff a laugh into the glass, rolling your eyes. "Sorry, I only buy drinks for pretty boys."

He leans forward onto the bartop, leaning his head on his arms and gazing at you. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils lazily tracking your glass as you raise it to your lips. It's hard to tell if he's just tired, or if he's already gotten a headstart on drinking tonight. You'd put money on the "all of the above" option, if you could.

"I can bat my eyelashes if you want," he says. "Jesus Christ, shut up," you laugh, swatting at him but waving down Victor nonetheless. He stomps over, rolling his one visible eye, but acquiesces and pours him a drink at your soft smile. It's clearly a cheaper alcohol, but Zib doesn't seem to mind. He seems to prefer it, if anything. He takes a strong drink, sighing at the burn. He pulls himself up from his crossed arms, leaning back with a groan.

"Thank God, I don't know enough violin to pull anything else off. Or Shakespeare."

"Hey!" You sputter, kicking his leg beneath the countertop, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, nothing." He hums, pausing. Sips. Tilts the glass. "Just that you seem to have a favorite here, no shame in that. Other than the fact that you've chosen the strangest man in all of St. Louis to set your sights on."

"Excuse me, for one, I don't play favorites. And two, he is-- he isn't…" Swirling the liquid around in your own glass, you furrow your brow. When nothing comes to mind you take a sip of your own, thinking.

You know well enough that your protests are just for show at this point. It's become a near-daily point of banter between the two of you, considering how obvious you are in your affections. Many moons have come and gone since Wick showed you the Lackadaisy, but unlike the astral body, your interest in Rocky Rickaby has never waned.

It's hard to remember what kickstarted your affections for him -- maybe it was his natural lyricism, or perhaps his flair for theatrics. Maybe it was his unwavering spirit, or his penchant for getting into trouble. If you asked Wick, you're sure he'd tell you that you were simply attracted to the danger he brings with him, but he's never seen the way his eyes sparkle when he's excited. He's never seen the way he glows when he's truly happy -- not like you do, anyways. Maybe it was a combination of all of those things and more. What you do know is that…

"He's got his own charm. He's different, yes, but I like different. But again," you say, looking at him over the rim of your glass, "I don't play favorites."

Zib chuckles, shaking his head, but says nothing. You wait one breath, then two.

Silence.

You scoff, muttering to yourself. "Set my sights on… You make it sound like I'm picking out a dog at the pound."

He grins, and you sense that you've fallen directly into his trap. Damn it.

"He'd bark if you asked him to."

"Oh, you reprobate," you exclaim, laugh tinging the edges of your words. You swat at him once again, this time making contact. You'd like to say he choked on his drink, or sputtered at your attack, but this has become such a song and dance that really, you'd be more surprised if he didn't expect it. "You're incorrigible, you know."

"Just being honest," he says.

You shake your head, sipping lazily at your glass before slipping back into easy conversation. It's nice to simply chat the hours away with him -- despite his dour outward demeanor, he's quite good at keeping a conversation going. His taste in literature doesn't hurt much, either, nor does your own affability towards his own theatrics. For as much shit as he gives Rocky, he isn't all too much better in the drama department.

You weren't always treated so casually -- the memory of Mitzi all but batting Zib and Rocky away from you still brings a smile to your face. Hell, you're sure if Mitzi heard the dreary remarks falling from Zib now, she'd pick up the broomstick again… if only for her own sanity. But once it became clear that you'd sunk your claws into their best -- and up until recently, only -- rumrunner, the air changed.

You don't have to guess why -- everyone's been plenty clear about it.

'If Rocky hasn't driven you away yet, there's not much anyone else can do to scare you off.'

You cast a look over your shoulder every now and again, glancing at the door, aflutter with anticipation. It's impossible to hear the rain this far down into the cave system, although it's unlikely that the rain has let up at all considering the torrential downpour you weathered just a few short hours ago. You nervously bite at your lips, forcing your head back into the conversation.

'It's just the storm holding him up,' you tell yourself.

You vaguely realize that somewhere along the way your simple affection and interest has bloomed into something more all-consuming, and you can only hope that Zib doesn't catch your sudden fluster. Best to file that thought away for later.

-----

It's half past midnight when Rocky waltzes through those towering wooden doors, caked damn-near head to toe in mud. His suit seems to have taken the brunt of it, although the drying flakes embedded in his fur and the single symmetrical pair of clean streaks along his lapel tell a story all on their own. He clasps two bottles in his hands, mysteriously absent of any dirt or grime.

Calvin is hot on his heels too, pupils pinpointed with what you assume are the remnants of adrenaline. He too comes through the door with bottles of what you presume is liquor, although he certainly has an… abundance compared to Rocky. Because for Rocky's two, Calvin anxiously clutches no less than eight bottles to his chest. He practically waddles through the door, more out of fear than exertion. He, however, is almost entirely clean of grime… save for his pant legs, which are all but drenched.

Once Calvin is past the doorway Ivy comes skipping through too, hands wrapped around her own pair of bottles. Her wardrobe seems to be in slightly worse condition than Calvin's. Mud dapples her sweater, and the twigs tangled in her fur so abundant that you could probably call her a fire risk. But she seems joyful nonetheless as prances past Calvin and falls in line right behind Rocky in his march towards the bar. You realize in the back of your mind that she's chatting happily with Calvin behind her, although the words turn to water in your mind as you gaze at Rocky. If he's noticed you yet, he gives no indication. His tail, slicked thin with muck, flicks happily behind him. Small drops of mud hit the stone floor, causing Calvin to flinch back and clutch the bottles tighter to his chest. There must be a story there, you think to yourself.

You huff out a laugh -- partially out of amusement, and partially out of relief. You'll have to ask for the story of tonight's escapade later on.

"Praise be to the rain, protector of your ever faithful moonlight servants," Rocky finally reaches the other end of the bar, placing the bottles down with a thunk. He spins, his back towards you as he casts a hand in the air with a flourish. The smile that stretches across your face is painfully lovesick, if the way Zib nudges you gives you any indication, but you pay him no mind as you lean forward to watch the show.

"For such modern ventures, we need no stream to wrench forth our gold from the Earth, dearest raindrops. Rather, it is you, oh dearest clouds who bring us such prosperity, such joy. It is--" he spins back towards you, locking eyes. He stiffens, blinking owlishly. A moment passes before his eyes sparkle in that perfect way you've come to adore, fangs peeking beneath his lips as his expression changes into a grin, and then a beam.

"You," he moves across the floor towards you, stretching his arms out for a moment before realizing his state of dress and letting his arms fall back at his sides. His tongue darts between his lips, practically buzzing with excitement as he pads towards you.

(You briefly catch the shocked looks of his, quite literal, partners in crime. Eyes wide, the two look at each other inquisitively, then at him, then back at one another. Clearly they're shocked at his willingness to drop his monologue, and the feeling is mutual. It makes the smile stretch further across your face, and you realize that if he hadn't silently retracted the offer, you would have accepted the hug, velvet be damned.)

You spin your stool to face him, pushing your drink to the side with a wave in his direction. And it should be illegal for anyone to be so damn cute, because the way he lights up -- at your acknowledgement? At your excitement to see him? -- sends a hot flush through your cheeks that has you melting from the inside out. Up close you realize that despite (somewhat) clearing himself of mud, he wasn't able to keep entirely dry from the rain. Water drips down his nose, and you fight back the obnoxiously domestic thought of drying his fur for him. Tender looks and loving touches, of hands carding through fur… It's soon replaced by the vision of him toweling off himself, and Christ, something so mundane shouldn't be so damn attractive. That too, you tuck away for later.

He stops at your feet, eyes crinkled with mirth.

"I didn't think you'd still be here," he says, leaning against the bar countertop. Although he quickly notices the muddy stain he's left, and while he does pull back to attempt to clean it… it's not like there's much clean real-estate left on his suit to wipe with. You giggle -- honest to god, giggle -- at his antics, and just like that his attention is pulled back to you. He leans back against the countertop, resting his face against his hand. It squishes his cheek with a boyish charm, ears flicking towards your voice. It's cute. He's cute.

"Well, I wouldn't want to miss my favorite…" Heat rises to your face at your own use of the word 'favorite.' Zib will never let you live this one down.

"...Musician."

Said cat snickers behind you, and oh yeah, you really aren't living this one down. It takes a lot of willpower not to shove him off the barstool then and there. But Rocky simply waves his free hand at him before turning it upwards, fingers splayed. It's clear that he's attempting to be casual in his body language, but the energy in his voice and barely hidden beam ousts his joy at your praise.

"Pay him no heed, dearest muse. Now, what form of entertainment would you desire tonight? Pick a key, any key! Through spoken word or melodic strings--"

Any other night you'd be enraptured with his rambling, but tonight you seem to get lost in his words. Your eyes rake across his face, taking in the little details that make him, him. You're only a little ashamed at the way your eyes keep darting to his lips while he speaks -- truthfully, you're more embarrassed at the longing it sparks within you. Maybe you should have taken the time to unpack this earlier, but alas. You force your eyes upwards, taking in how his own bright blue ones shine with excitement, before letting them fall once again.

And Rocky is nothing if not unique. The bridge of his nose tells stories beyond your imagination -- no matter how many times he tries to tell you their stories. They all just seem too wild to be true -- littered with little dots and lines that you could connect like constellations, they convey decades worth of life. A knife trick accident here, a wire snap there… allegedly, a horde of bees created many of the smaller dots. An experiment from youth gone wrong, he said, but you can't imagine he'd do anything different if presented with the opportunity again. Your lips upturn at the thought, and let your eyes roam to his cheeks: his fur bounces with every word he speaks, but even still, you can see little uneven patches. A thin line here and there, not quite reaching skin; a patch that's just a fraction shorter than the rest; all from recent incidents that simply came a little too close. But on his left cheek there's something new, something that you've never seen before.

There's one last streak of mud on his face that, clearly, he had missed. You're so focused on the mark that you hardly even feel yourself move to grab your handkerchief.

"--But in an art such as this, moderation is for the weak. If you'll give me just five minutes I'll have--"

He stills at your gentle touch, halting his speech for the second time tonight. His fur is softer than you expected, despite its dampness from the rain outside. You tilt his head upwards by just a fraction, your thumb and index gently holding his chin in place. Stricken with a sudden wave of adoration, you drag your thumb experimentally across what you can reach. The movement is so painfully fond and oh, so close -- just millimeters away from his lips. It's a gentle action that lasts no more than a second -- hell, maybe you didn't even realize you were doing it -- but it feels like a lifetime to him. He thought he'd get used to the lightheadedness that you always seem to inflict upon him, but he couldn't be more wrong. And before he has any time to recover, you're dabbing at his cheek with a silken cloth.

And for all your observations tonight, you end up missing the way his breath catches in his throat. You miss the way he leans into you by just a fraction, how his eyes widen at your softness; how they take to memorizing every contour of your face in awe; how he melts in your hold, like he's never been held with such kindness before. He doesn't think he has.

And that's nothing to say of all the things you can't see -- how his heart leaps into his chest, pounding so hard he's half sure you can see it through his shirt; how he prays for the world to stop just as it is now, so that he could enjoy this for just a few more seconds. How he's so sure that he's dreaming, but far too joyful to even consider pinching himself awake.

He's so enraptured with your touch that he hardly even processes your movements. It's only once you lean in -- close, so damn close, so easy to close the gap -- to get a better look at the spot that he finds his voice again.

"Oh, you don't have to, it's--" he curses himself for stumbling, for being so breathless in your presence, considering your previous praise for his eloquence. He doesn't know why you keep coming back here, why you keep entertaining him as you do, but he's not going to complain. He swallows, counting to five before starting again with renewed, albeit artificial, confidence. "I'm sure that lovely, lovely silk piece cost you quite the pretty penny."

And this time, it's your turn to blink owlishly. You look at the cloth, then back at him, before laughing softly. And just like that you're leaning back in, once again coaxing the mire from his face. It's silent between the two of you for just a moment, so quiet that you damn near forget where you are. And in a moment of courage, you up his face in full. You feel his jaw clench beneath your hand, emboldening you to push just a bit further. You catch his eye, smiling softly.

"You know money doesn't mean a thing to me, Rocky," you murmur, just loud enough for the two of you to hear.

A million words are left silently humming in the gap between you, a million words you hope he can pick up on in your silence. 'Not when it's you,' you think to yourself. 'I'd give up every penny for just another second with you.'

There's a glimmer in your eyes that can only be described as fond, and he basks in it before you turn back to your task. This time, he doesn't stop you.

#lackadaisy x reader #rocky rickaby x reader #lackadaisy rocky x reader #lackadaisy imagines #roark rickaby x reader #divider by @cafekitsune #you know with how often i write about rainy days you'd think its raining a lot here. it isn't. i just have a rainy jazz playlist.

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parvulous-writings · 2 months

Text

Miasma // Halsin x Reader

Summary: Halsin's rescue of Thaniel goes drastically wrong. Gender Neutral reader (they/them pronouns where they had to be used)

Warnings: Angst, character death, no resolution/comfort. Depictions of grief, anger. Violence. Wonky pacing, maybe? Unresolved ending, also - sorry for the hurt in advance!

Words: 3.7K

Notes: My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

"The magic is delicate." Halsin had warned - the words now rang in your mind like a knell. "I will need your help if I am to survive- the portal will sap my strength." You had vowed to aid him - to defend the portal that Silvanus had helped him to create. And you had tried. You'd thrown almost every spell that you knew into the shrouded, cursed dark that surrounded your party and the portal, done near everything you could think of to keep the danger at bay. But, somehow, it wasn't enough. Something had gotten through your defenses, though you could barely recall what exactly it was. An arrow? A crow, touched and warped by shadow? The more you dwelled upon the thought, the more your chest began to tighten. What did it matter, what it was that ruptured the portal and caused it's premature collapse? No matter the form of the assailant, it did nothing to change the chain of events that had since then transpired. A gentle voice breaks you from your spiralling thoughts; "At least he is with Lady Shar, if nothing else..." You feel your face contort into a scowl at Shadowheart's words - Halsin was not a worshipper of Shar, why would he be happy that he is with the lady of sorrow? If anything, you thought, it would enrage him that the one who's shadows had laid claim to him, was the one he would be 'with'. But you say nothing to Shadowheart, you know for a fact that the only things that would pass your lips would be words of venomous spite. Not that you didn't like Shadowheart - you were actually quite fond of her, she usually would say things how they were, without sugar-coating them. But in this instance, using the name of Lady Shar to try and bring you some false comfort only made you feel worse.

The trek back to camp was coated in a stony silence. The rest of the party were waiting for you to say something, some words of wisdom or hope, but you said nothing. You did not wish to speak. All you wanted to do was ignore the grief that had settled into your heart. To shove it down, and ignore it. But you couldn't. You and Halsin had become close after you and your rag-tag team of friends had saved the Emerald Grove from the goblins. He had given you advice on how to get to Moonrise Towers, and had offered his aid on the journey. Of course, you had said yes - initially because you knew you'd need all the help that you could get, but as time wore on, and you spent night after night talking with him, you couldn't deny the fact that it was starting to feel like something more was blooming between the pair of you - and Halsin refused to deny it either. Though nothing between you and the druid had been made official to the others, he had told you time and time again; 'When I have righted what has been wronged, and the Shadow curse lifted... Then, we can focus on one another, my heart.' You had thought about those words often - they had spurred you on when you had first entered the shadow cursed lands, knowing that this, this was the place where you could finally end Halsin's century of distress, and fretting.

And yet it had all gone wrong in an instant.

The silence had followed your group into camp, and settled itself amongst you all as if it were a friend, and not some unwanted and unwelcome state. Even Astarion had stopped his quipping and teasing upon seeing your dour expression. He had never seen you in such a state - not even when he had accidentally woken you when he had gone to feed on you one night, almost three months ago at this point. That night you had been mildly disgusted initially, but you were definitely willing to let him feed from you if it was going to help his prowess in battle. You had been optimistic, in truth, despite the dangers. That was something about you that was always apparent, and always had been. Though some of your travelling companions had thought you... Not all there, at first, you had managed to prove quite a few times that you were persistent enough to almost always pull through.

You had made a direct line for your tent, ignoring the attempts of Karlach to approach you, and hopefully comfort you a little bit. The fabric flaps drew together behind you as you retired to your one place of isolation. The tiefling was confused, and a mite hurt, at the fact that you had just completely blanked her. You had never done that before - the worst you had ever done was tell her to stay in camp for a while, and more often than not, you had good reason to do so. Her gaze fell upon Wyll and Shadowheart, two of the companions who had set off with you that morning, before she began to march over, determined to know who or what caused you to become so withdrawn. "What the hells happened out there?!" Karlach could hardly contain the irritation that bubbled in her chest, spilling into her voice. Wyll was the first to speak, his face a mask of self-reproach. "Halsin was trying to retrieve Thaniel - the spirit of these lands..." He began to explain, glancing briefly to Shadowheart, who's lips were fixed in a clear frown. "Right..." Karlach said slowly, "... I'm assuming something went wrong, by the look on everyone's faces..." "... We weren't able to defend the portal he had entered entirely... It collapsed, and... He's gone." Karlach's face fell as it all clicked into place in her mind. That's why you were acting so strange. "... Oh." Was all she could manage. She couldn't even muster up any rage at the circumstance, she was just stunned. She hadn't had a chance to get really close to Halsin, but he was a nice guy, there was no denying it. He had been courteous to all of them - a kind hearted soul, who always lent an ear to anyone who needed it. To Karlach, he had been a good laugh. Most evenings, on the short walk back to their tents, she and him would share a good few jokes with one another before retiring to rest. The loss of the druid would weigh heavily on her, though not as heavily as it would do you. Wyll cleared his throat, glancing towards your tent. "I think I may try and speak with them..." Shadowheart scoffed at this, causing Wyll's head to turn. "Good luck," Were the only words that the half-elf offered him, her voice dripping with sarcasm, before she turned away, marching herself right back to her tent to isolate herself for a while. Karlach followed suit, with nothing of meaning left to say. She meandered back to her own tent, seeking to settle herself down in the mountain of various pillows she had stored in there, to have a good cry.

Wyll did not return to his tent, however. Like he had said, he was going to try and talk with you. Try being the operative word. There had been a handful of times that you hadn't exactly been open to talking with anyone, and Wyll fully expected to be one of those times. He tried to peer through the tiny gap left between the flaps that marked the entrance to your tent, but to no avail. He cleared his throat quietly to announce his presence - but there was no answer from him. He carefully parted the fabric before him, crouching down a bit to get closer to you. Your tent was the smallest out of the whole group's, purely for the reason that, before the adventure began, you didn't have a lot to bring with you. Even now, with so much more to your name, you are more likely to leave some of your belongings with your fellow party members. "Go away." Your voice was low, not quite a threat, but close. "I don't want to talk to anyone, about anything. Leave me be." "You know," Wyll began to speak, completely ignoring your request, "I don't think Halsin would want you to spend any time moping after him..." You started to push yourself up into a seated position. Even in the dark, Wyll could imagine the look on your face; a deep set scowl, eyes narrowed and glaring daggers at the perpetrator who dared disturbed your 'peace'. In this case, of course, that was him. "You have no right to-" "Yes, I do." Wyll's voice was calm, despite your ire. "I'm your friend - one of your closest by your own admission, if I remember rightly..." He said as he crawled into the tent to join you - in the hopes of making you feel a little bit less alone. "I know you and Halsin were close..." Close wasn't exactly the word that the warlock had in mind, but he didn't want to rub salt in the wound. You had lost a man that you loved, and Wyll knew that grief wasn't an easy thing to deal with. "But, we did what we could - defended him and that portal as much as we were able to... He didn't ask for anything more..." "But he did - he asked us for his help to heal the-" "I know... But that was before we got overwhelmed by shadow-cursed harpers, and Gods know what else..." Wyll interrupted. "We did what we could, and he'd be happy with that... Even if we didn't manage to heal the curse..." His voice was tinged with a hint of sadness, despite trying to ease your pain. "He wouldn't want you to sit here, isolating yourself as punishment... But I understand you need time to mourn.. So, how about, tomorrow morning, you and I go for a walk around the outskirts of camp? We can talk all things Halsin.." You consider it for a moment, before nodding quietly. "Good.." Wyll smiled in response to your acceptance - there were times when you could be extraordinarily stubborn. He'd seen it himself at various points on your adventure together, and he was quite glad that he didn't have to be on the receiving end of it. "I'll bring your dinner to you, if you'd prefer not to join the rest of us..." You nod again, and Wyll begins to shuffle out of your tent, leaving you be for the evening.

You didn't join the others for food that evening - not that there was much to join. The group sat mostly in silence as they ate, all starting to feel the absence of their druidic friend. Lae'zel did try to make conversation, having found that her ideals didn't exactly align with Halsin's, she didn't get as close to him as some of the other had done in the same time. However, no one could find it in them to respond, besides Astarion, who snapped at her to stop talking for a moment. Even he was feeling down about the loss of Halsin - even if he had only grown 'fond' of the wood elf because he found him amusing. But the time night had fallen - or at least, what the group had all assumed to be night, as both night and day looked eerily the same under the shadowcurse - everyone had returned to their tents to rest.

The night - like so many before that you had all spent in the shadow-cursed lands - was cold, and very very quiet. The dead branches of various trees clashing against one another were the only sounds to be heard. No birdsong could be heard for miles. That was unless you counted the raspy sounds from the undead birds that sometimes came close to camp. They'd scurry away before they got too close, though. But there was something, off in the distance, that was slowly making it's way closer and closer to camp. Of course, no one was really aware of it until it was right on your doorstep. You had initially thought that the heavy footfall approaching your tent in the middle of your rest was Karlach - she'd often come over to you after a long, hard day. "Karlach," You spoke, your voice slightly muffled against the rough material of your makeshift pillow. "Now really isn't a good time.. Go back to your own tent." You expected to hear the footsteps retreating after this. Karlach was never one to try and encroach your personal space, especially after such a blunt request. However, this wasn't the case with this now unknown intruder. Something twigged in your mind that this might not be someone who meant well. Either that, or Karlach really wanted to have some company. You started to push yourself up onto your elbows, and when your eyes finally managed to focus on the figure slowly starting to crawl it's way into your tent, you could have sworn you heart stopped.

Halsin.

Immediately you were alert - were you still dreaming? No, you couldn't be, it didn't feel... Fuzzy enough, to be a dream. But it never feels like a dream when you're in the middle of it. You hurriedly push yourself into a more upright position, trying to kick the raggedy blankets off of your legs for more freedom of movement. "Halsin-" Your voice caught in your throat, leaving it as little more than a mousey squeak. Your chest felt tight, heavy. For a brief moment, there was a flicker of hope - he was alive! But as your eyes began to focus on the massive form of your once lover, you began to notice that some things were amiss. There were clusters and clumps of some dark mass, something not quite natural. Some of the clumps glowed and flickered with an eerie and dim bluish light, casting a foreboding shadow over your beloved's stoic - and entirely too-still - features. You recognised those growths - the telltale calling card of the shadows when they had wrenched their claws so deep into a living thing that nothing but a husk remained. You had seen it earlier that day; the hundreds of undead harpers, githyanki, dogs and birds that had assaulted you, your party, and the portal that had undone everything for you. The last stage before the host of the growths was devoured, and became nothing more than a shadow doomed to roam the desolated town, caught entirely in their own pain and grief. Though, the thought of that final form was pushed to the very back of your mind just at the moment it had popped in. Surely, though, if Halsin had managed to find your camp, there must be something of him left in there? As soon as the thought crosses your mind, you've moved to rest on your knees, bringing your face closer to his. "Halsin, you're alright..." There's something screaming at you in the back of your mind, telling you that this isn't right, that something is dreadfully, dreadfully wrong, but you elect to ignore it. For once, you just wanted to try and focus on the positive side. "You..." You couldn't quite place what it was about Halsin's voice that felt off to you - was it too deep? Too scratchy? Who cares, he's here, he's home. You didn't have to bear with that godsawful weight in your chest anymore, you could just move on, and think of this whole affair as nothing more than a blip on your adventure. You open your mouth to speak, but Halsin beats you to it. "Failed." His voice was so low it almost sounded like the chords in his throat were rupturing as the words left his lips - or perhaps they already had. It hits you like a stone to the head, and you freeze in place, paralysed by the realisation you should have had much earlier. This was not a dream, and Halsin was in front of you, but, he had been corrupted. Whatever drive he had to get back to you - whether it had originally been love, lust or something else - had now been twisted into something sick, something that longed to make you suffer as it was.

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, a thick hand was wrapping around your throat - squeezing, constricting, cutting off your air and your ability to cry out for help. Your hands dart to his wrist to try and alleviate some of the pressure, but you know that there's almost no point. With Halsin's great size, came great strength - you wouldn't be able to easily escape from this, he had the upper hand. You try anyway, clawing at his hand and forearm like a wild animal, trying to break skin and hurt him enough to have him flinch away from you. But that moment never comes. In fact, you could swear that he's applying more pressure to your throat. "Don't. Struggle." The grating voice of Halsin growls at you. You try to tell yourself that it's not him, but of course... the face looming above you would convince yourself otherwise. With the corners of your vision starting to blur and fade, you grow desperate. You begin to thrash and kick at him - and you manage to land a few good blows to the undead elf's ribs and stomach, not that it made much difference to the beast of a druid. You think at one point one of your feet dislodges a pole keeping your tent upright. At least, that seems to be the reasonable explanation for the structure collapsing on the both of you, obscuring your view even more. Your kicks start to weaken as Halsin applies even more pressure to your windpipe, obviously intent on robbing you entirely of your ability to breathe. You stop moving - in part to try and conserve what little oxygen you have left, but also because... What's the point in struggling against Halsin? Not only was he much stronger than you, but he was also... Right. You had failed him, despite the fact that you had tried your damndest to complete the task he had set you. Though it broke your hear to admit it to yourself, there was little you could do to deny it, even with the discussion you had had with Wyll earlier that night.

You had just about given in to the inevitable fate set before you, when the weight pressing down on your neck was just... Gone. You immediately sat up, spluttering as air finally reached your lungs, making you feel light-headed, but promising your survival. "Get the fuck away from them!" Karlach's roar was unmistakable as your scurried to pull the fabric of your tent off of your head to see what was going on; Karlach, greatsword in hand, was moving to swing at the corrupted Halsin - whilst Lae'zel, a determined look on her face, was mere moments away from doing the same, marching over from her own tent to join the fray. Gale was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. "Come, quickly," He ushered you over to his tent as he spoke. "Inside, Shadowheart will check you over in a moment," His gaze turned back to Karlach, Lae'zel and Halsin for a moment, watching as the Tiefling and Githyanki lay blow after blow into the flesh of the thing that had tried to kill you. They were only just able to keep him on his knees, and it looked like his skin was shredding where he had been hit. His only sounds acknowledging that he was being attacked were grunts of effort as he tried to through off their hits and get back to his feet - which did not work. He wasn't even bleeding; a greenish-blue liquid dripped languidly from his newly-formed wounds.

"Stop looking, you don't need to see this." Gale told you firmly, taking your shoulder and guiding you more forcibly into the tent. "That's not him, anymore... You know that, yes?" He tries to soothe you. "That wasn't Halsin - just an... Echo of him, if that." Despite his kind words, tears begin to streak down your cheeks. You feel Gale's arms wrap around you, and your legs give out for a moment. You can't do this. It's too much. How is one person meant to handle all of this - the mindflayer tadpoles, the fate and wellbeing of their companions, helping as many people as they can on the way through the environs they must travel - and still walk tall? It is too much of a weight, a burden you can no longer carry. This overwhelming grief is just the straw that breaks the Rothe's back. You don't remember much of what happens after that - besides the sobs that start to wrack your body, making you heave with each breath. Gale lowers you to the floor, and you can vaguely hear him saying something to you, though you can't quite make out the words. You don't try to figure out what they are, though. You just want this to stop - for the emotions that feel too big for your body to just cease, and leave you in peace.

Your companions come and go throughout the night, each taking a turn to sit with you, to try and soothe your sorrows. Nothing really works. After many hours - though it feels like days to you - the tears finally stop falling. You're exhausted, and can't bring yourself to move off of Gale's bedroll; and no one dares to try anyway. It's Wyll who's with you as you finally drift off into an exhausted sleep. He doesn't move to tell the others, though, in case you should wake and need his company. A frown is etched into his features as he watches you - he knows all too well how much this grief can tear someone apart from the inside. He makes sure that you've got a blanket over your shoulders to keep you warm. "Don't you worry... You'll still have us," He whispers, not even caring if you can't hear him. "No matter what, we'll stick by you... And we'll get you through this. For Halsin's sake, not just for yours..."

The druid would have wanted that much for his lover, at least.

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kelsstars · 2 years

Text

Now Or Never - Carl Grimes x Y/N (gender-neutral)

Warnings: SLOW BURN, smut (18+), receiving!y/n, receiving!carl, fingering, protected sex, loosing first times, angst (miscommunication), finding comfort, slight jealous!carl, slight jealous!y/n, swearing. All teenage characters are set to be 18-19, so a bit different than the original timeline.

Summary of the prologue: You and Carl have known each other since kindergarten. Yet after the whole world fell down in front of your eyes, the chances of meeting again would be slim to nothing. After 10~11 years of looking for a stable group of survivors, you found and now live comfortably in a place called Alexandria, with your friends Ron, Mikey and Enid. Until one day, when you sneak out, you come across two strangers from a group near your home and you happen to recognize a familiar face.

A/N: This will be one of my first fanfics that contains a first perspective Y/N gender neutral reader as I want to satisfy everyone with this! Feel free to send requests. :))

Words: idk but it’s beyond long. 😞

“Fuck..” You say as you look down at your leg. You were just ambushed by a zombie, barely getting away but luck is on your side today, as the walker got caught up on a trap you had previously placed some days before. Though, it did managed to rip your jeans a little, your breath quickens as you search for any scratch or bites. You were safe, but you never knew when you couldn’t.

‘I can’t do this, I need to get back inside. What if Ron finds out I went out?!’ You mentally told yourself.

Your friends in Alexandria were rather nice most of the times, but Ron had.. problems. His dad wasn’t the Dad Of The Year, nor would he be close to that title, so you believed it rubbed on Ron as years went on. You and Ron had always multiple fights about getting to explore outside the safety of the walls. Not only would he always bring up your traumatic upbringing up until Alexandria to make you stay inside, he would also comment that you would use it as an excuse to smoke cigarettes. Well, he wasn’t far off from the second argument, but you never actually smoke. Near the ‘safe zone’ of Alexandria, you would always light up a cigarette and leave it to burn on a empty tombstone. You don’t remember how long you had done it for, but you knew exactly why you did it. It was the grave of what you once were.

You reminisced of times when you went to school and you had to sit by your only friend that your memory refused to block. Carl Grimes. He was the sweetest boy since kindergarten until you were about 8 and he was 7, right before shit went down. You always wondered in the dead of night if he had lived as far as you did, and if he was dead, where was he buried. You wanted to be buried a long beside him, he was your first love after all, you two were inseparable, reading comic books every moment you had got in break, made friendships bracelets that you had eventually lost after 3 days because y’know how kids are, but your favorite time of all, making sleepovers at each others houses so you could stay up and watch the stars from his yard. It wasn’t his interest to begin with, you had always loved the stars and wanted to grow up as an astronaut, and when Carl had heard about such, he started to like them too because of you. You thought it was adorable and that was probably when you started to like him, but the day you were about to invite to your place for another sleepover, you saw him leaving school with his mom and another man, who you don’t remember well his face nor name, but you know that after he took Carl into his car, you never saw him again.

After the apocalypse started, you came running home as chaos was running right behind you. Cars crashing, people screaming and being eaten right in front of you, of course that can change someone for the worse. You arrived home with your dad immediately handing you a baggage with your stuff, food and water and you never looked back.

It would be nice to continue your inner dialogue and how you had lost your dad and future people as you watch the cigarette burn on the empty grave. But you hear voices not far from where you stood.

“Dad, where are you going? Wasn’t Alexandria that way?” A calm yet a slight raspy voice questions their parental figure, you figure he’s around Ron’s age since you have heard the teenagers in Alexandria voices change and go through changes.

‘Sigh’ - You hear. - “You have no idea, WE have NO idea these people are. They could be murderers for all I know, and my main mission is to keep everyone in the group at bay and in a safe place.” A much more deeper and scratchy voice coming behind you. You rushed to hide inside an open tree near the grave but the fallen leaves crunch under your steps, giving away your presence.

“That doesn’t answer my ques- Wait. Did you hear that?” You hear as the supposedly younger male clocks his gun. Welp, you fucked up this time.

You start praying to every god you can remember, even when you have never believed in such things, it’s not like you had the time to focus on religion after everything that has happened to you. But this was different, this is one the few times you had stumbled upon danger and unfortunately, you saw no way out unless a miracle happens.

“Carl, how many do you think there are hidden here?” Carl?! Huh. Ironic how you were thinking about your childhood friend and now you were getting hunted down by the person with the same name.

“I heard few footsteps, so I’d say a walker, I can handle it. Don’t worry.” The older figure, whose presumably his dad, gives a quick okay and you hear as he walks away and this supposed ‘Carl’ slowly approaches your hiding spot. You held your hands up to your mouth, hoping no breath or sound came out of your body.

“Pst pst psst..” You hear ‘Carl’ call out to you. How dare he?! But then again, he thinks you’re a walker and not a person, so being cat called should be least of your proble-

You look up to see a gun pointed right at your face outside the tree hole. For a few moments you can’t tell if you’re about to cry, scream or do anything. You’re just shocked.

“Who are you?” The male asks, obviously not in a friendly mood. It takes a few minutes to indulge and zone back into reality as you observe his body up and down. He has long brown hair, with a fringe that covers his right patched eye. Speaking of it, it seems he only had one baby blue eye, as his eyebrows furrowed, slight veins appear on his hands and he looks pretty wearing a sheriff’s hat. He had sweet little freckles that reminded you of someone you once loved and knew. Wait. You could not believe your own vision as you slowly piece together who the person in front of you might be.

“Carl?” You pause. “C-Carl Grimes?”

You watch as Carl’s eyes widen not breaking eye-contact, his face goes from shocked to an aggressive look once more, yet his voice sounds confused.

“How do you know my name?” His grasp on the gun seems to tighten.

“It’s me, Carl, Y/N (Y/L/N)! Remember us in school? We used to watch stars together before everything went to shit, do you not remember-“ You suddenly stay quiet.

The boy immediately lowers his gun, even tugging it back in his gun holder. You could tell he was about to cry because he stood there biting his lip with watery eyes. You hurriedly get up from your tree spot and hug him. Neither of you could not wrap your head around that either of you were alive.

Oh, how you wish you could kiss him and just break down on his sweet warms arms.

You break out of your thoughts as your hear Carl’s dad, Rick. It was nice to see a familiar face that reminded you of your old life, of course Rick was skeptical as to why you two were hugging, since he could not recognize you with everything that happened, but after a walk to Alexandria, where Rick’s group had already arrived, Rick seemed to have recognized you. There were many new people. You recognized a lot of their names, but for personal reasons. It made Carl amused to know you were involved in his life once again. And so were you! Having Carl communicate with your friends and his group bounding well with everyone in the community. Yet you have noticed that Enid seemed to get closer and closer to Carl, which set you off.

Presumably, from your calculations of days, 4 months had passed and your relationship with Carl had, unfortunately, rapidly declined. You would always have a quiet time every time you were paired up together in scavenger hunts, or even when the teenagers all met up to play games together. It broke your heart to know that for the first two weeks with him being back, you had catch up on everything you lived through all these years. And then it stopped. Or well, Carl stopped. He started to become more rude to you, every time you would show up, he would ignore you or lock himself up on his room. Him, Rick and Michonne had decided that the house you were staying at more comfortable for Carl’s young sister, Judith. You were happy at first but now it was hell to live through. As weeks went by, since Carl had stopped talking to you, it was the same routine of him running quickly to his room every single time he saw you.

It pissed you off.

Not only because your childhood friend and crush was avoiding you, but he still hung out with your other friends. Especially, Enid. You would always catch them reading comic books next to each other and even, listening to loud music right in Carl’s room, which happened to be right next to yours. You still liked Enid, she was your friend after all, but you never thought she would like Carl back because she would always talk about Ron to you. The day you confronted her about it around a month ago, and she admitted that she liked Carl and no longer shared feelings with Ron. If that wasn’t the tipping point of your jealousy, you don’t know what was.

In ‘revenge’, you started to hang out with Ron a lot more. But in reality, you didn’t even realize how much closer you had gotten, especially since you had a rocky friendship in the past. You were still a bit skeptical of his behavior but this was until one day you were playing checkers on your bed with Ron.

“Hey, Y/N, mind passing me that small butter knife over there?” Ron looked up from the game, clearly he must have been bored of not playing other games in your house because you had given most to Carl when he first settled in.

“Yeah, sure.” You lean over to reach your bed side table to grab the pen. “Is there a reason why?”

“Yeah, let’s write each others names on the big tree outside where you always hide away!” Ron seemed a bit too excited over this idea. He even turned his face away, from embarrassment of how enthusiastic he must have sounded to you.

You laugh at the idea. “Is this not what Michonne and Rick said they did so their love could live through forever?” You remembered when Daryl found out their initials on the tree they had carved their names on. You were always a fan of Daryl’s comments on Michonne and Rick’s relationship. In fact, he was not against it, but he still seemed against the idea of romantic affection being shown in front of him.

“Well, of course not. Pfft! We’re just friends…, right?” Ron sounded hopeful at the end. Too hopeful for your response to say contrary. You noted to yourself that his face seemed to turn red and redder the more you took to answer.

“Oh Ron, of course! You and your family first welcomed me with open arms and you have been one of my closest friends here.” You stopped as his face was giving the ‘continue’ look. “But-”

His face immediately went serious, but he started to put the checkers aside and slowly approach you as your back hit the headboard of you bed.

“It’s okay, Y/N, I’ve noticed how you’ve been approaching me and I can’t let you go. I’ve waited for this moment for years. These feelings didn’t disappear even when I was into Enid! Please, Y/N. Give me a chance to make you feel alright.” Ron says it so confidently, not even you have the words to say anything.

A brief silence occurs.

“I see the way you looked at Carl when you first arrived. I guessed immediately, he was the first love you talked about so much for the first few years you were here.” Your eyes widen. Shit, is this really the time to bring up your past right now?

“Ron, look. I’m sorry I can’t reciprocate your feelings, but is this the time to talk about him? You know more than anyone even I get disgusted by that nam-“

“LIES!” Ron suddenly screams at you. You flinched a little, it has been awhile since you had a fight so you forgot what he sounded like angry. “I SEE THE WAY YOU LOOK AT HIM! DON’T TRY TO TRICK ME.” He threw away the butter knife under your bed.

He had a point. Your head filled with butterflies whenever you saw him smile or having fun. Especially when you were out on your runs, where he would do a little smile whenever he killed a zombie cleanly.

“Y/N! One. Chance.” Ron looked up at you, cooping your cheeks with his hands. He was going to kiss you. Your first kiss was going to be Ron. Just the thought of that happening made your stomach twist, never have you thought of Ron in a romantic way, and it surely wouldn’t change now!

The door burst opens mid inner dialogue and Ron leaning to kiss you. It was.. Carl?

If you didn’t remember seeing Carl that upset, you sure would remember now. He seemed more hungry for murder as he looked at you when he first found you in the tree, a while back. He immediately pounces on top of Ron, preparing to get into a physical fight with him. But why was Carl this mad?

“WHAT THE FUCK, GRIMES?! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?” Ron tries to push Carl off of him but to no avail.

“NO ANDERSON, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?! DON’T YOU HAVE ENID OR A DEAD WALKER OUTSIDE TO BE SMOOCHING?” Carl basically barks back at Ron, both holding each other by the collar.

“OH, YOU WANT TO TALK ABOUT ENID? YOU BASICALLY COME HERE, STEAL MY EX AND THEN BREAK MY CRUSH’S HEART? YOU’RE AN ASSHOLE!”

“DON’T CONFUSE ME FOR YOUR STUPID FUCKING DAD. HE’S THE ASSHOLE, NOT ME.”

“YEAH? WELL, WHY DO YOU KEEP AVOIDING Y/N, HUH! YOU ACTED SO CARING AND THEN YOU JUST STOPPED. YOU BROKE THEIR HEART, BASICALLY PLAYING WITH THEIR FEELINGS. BUT THEN ACTING ALL SWEET TO MY GIR-“ Carl cuts him off before he continues spouting his thoughts.

“YOUR GIRL? YOU BROKE UP WITH HER! AND YOU KNOW DAMN WELL, WHY I AVOID Y/N, IT WAS YOU WHO TOLD ME IT WOULD MY WEIRD FEELINGS GO AWAY. THEY GOT STRONGER.” Carl and Ron kept going back and forth and-

Weird feelings? Wait.

“What?” You spoke out loud your own thoughts, the boys turn to look at you. Carl’s face turns slightly red as he realized what he just confessed. Ron looks confused and embarrassed.

“I… I need to talk to Carl. Now.” Your demeanor turns serious. This was it, you had your shot to talk through everything with Carl.

Now or never.

“But-“ You cut off Ron before he could finish.

“But nothing, Ron. Please, see your way out, and Carl, sit by me, this instant.”

Ron takes defeat as he walks out of the room, leaving with a death glare to Carl. Carl takes a minute to finally have the courage to sit by you. Finally, you can talk, face to face.

“Carl… Why have you been avoiding me? Be honest.” Your voice cracks mid sentence, you try to hide your tears from your so beloved who finally stood next to you.

“You want the full story?” You nod. “Alright.” He sighs before continuing.

“Ever since we started living together, it has been great, I got new friends, I got all my family from the outside and now all have their own houses and live comfortably. And especially-“ he carefully approached his hands near to yours. “I got to see and live in the same household as you.”

“I missed you so so much. And that day, it was one of the only days I have cried ever since this ordeal has begun. I cried when people died, but seeing that something from my old past life before this happened, gave me hope that there is good in this world, if you were still alive.” He scooted a little close to you, as he maintained eye contact. “I had realized as the small time we updated our lives and I got to know you again, that I fell for you. Once again.”

Your face feels itself warming up to his words, but you still had questions to ask.

“But why were you ignoring me, if you fell for me?”

“I…” His whole appearance changes. He starts twitching and crossing his legs. “I started feeling something weird happening to me. Like, I felt butterflies in my stomach when I saw you but, it was something else.”

“What was it?” You raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t.. say.” He looks away from you for the first time. “I went to Ron and Mickey about it, they said, I was ‘horny or excited’. I started having perverted thoughts about you and.. I felt bad because they both said that girls feel creeped out by guys who think that way.” You can see his ears turning red, he was blushing just from saying out his feelings. “They said that if I had hung out with Enid, since I didn’t like her nor does she like me, I could look at you normally, but it failed.”

It ticked you off that THAT was the reason he kept avoiding you. He got boners and thoughts from seeing you. It.. made sense, actually. He always left dinner as soon as he was done and going to his room right after. How did this not cross your mind?! He also did not know of Enid’s feelings and you were going to stay quiet about it.

“You know that, those are completely normal feelings, right?” You comment, and laugh right afterwards. It was cute to see him all bothered up because of you. “That is called feeling sexual attraction, it comes along when you first get romantic feelings. You can always NOT have sexual attraction even when you like someone, that’s valid but, it seems that isn’t your case.” You look up at him as he stares at you back, biting his lip.

“Does that mean that.. you don’t hate me for thinking of you in dirty ways?” He pauses as he tries to hide the fact that he is looking you up and down.

“Well, I’d be lying if I say I didn’t think of you the same way some times..” You also turn away from Carl, as you feel your face warm up.

You’re two touch-deprived and in need of each other’s love and affection teenagers. It seems that neither of your feelings left even when everything you knew turned upside down. Yet it made you feel happy that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. Actually no. You NEEDED him, and he desperately NEEDED you back.

“Hey, Y/N… Do you mind if.. I kiss you?” He makes brief pauses in the middle catching his breath. Which makes you wonder what could possibly be making his breath so unsteady, and then you look down at his pants. Ah, understandable. His dick was about as ready to burst, he was probably gonna come to your touch as soon as you started making out.

And that’s exactly what you did. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he put his hand carefully around your waist. You could tell you both had waited for this moment for a long time. To be honest, you had actually predicted this moment, which made you get some condoms from Daryl on his last run. He definitely looked at you weirdly when you handed him the paper of stuff you needed.

Carl starts moving from your sloppy make out down to your neck, leaving marks all over. You were loving it. You asked if you should both take off your clothes, and he wasted no time. Carl basically rushed to take off your shirt ad you took off his. Once it was done, he was looking directly at your revealed chest and you looking at his. He didn’t a have a six pack, and thank the heavens for that. He was just the perfect amount of slight shown abs and it matched him so swell. His smile grew a bit bigger as he observed your chest and he started sucking and softly biting around your nipples.

Where the fuck did he learn that from?!

You scratch his back, deepening your nails on his pale skin. You wanted to make sure your mark stayed on his body forever. He made you lay down on your bed and Carl began kissing your torso until where his lips and your pants met. He looked up for approval to take them off. God, his pretty eyes staring with desire at only you, made you go crazy. You gave a nod of approval, and he wasted no time taking them off and throwing them away on the floor, along with your underwear. He observed your hole, and began to explore it by playing around with his fingers. You noticed that he still didn’t take off that grin off his face, you weren’t complaining, in fact, made you as horny as him probably.

“Y/N, do you mind if I enter my fin-“

“Just do it, please!” You didn’t even let him finish the sentence. You were so desperate for his touch, it was driving you mad.

His smile only got bigger to know that you were in need of him, and he inserted his fingers. You gasp, as his long slender fingers explored inside you. You felt your breath getting heavier and heavier as he inserted two more fingers. If you couldn’t handle his fingers, how would you handle whatever monster was hiding in his pants. He suddenly took them out, making you look at him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I want to do it so bad.” Before you could ask what was it he was talking about, he put his tongue inside you. You twitch in excitement and can’t help but let moans escape your mouth. He is making out with your hole and both parties are enjoying it, he is more than happy to just know that you’re his first and he is yours. Carl stops for a moment, that thought just made him even more trouble than ever. His dick was about to rip through his pants. As he begins to take his pants to revealing a hungry red/pinkish colored dick, basically pulsating to enter you, you remember of your condom.

“Wait, wait!” Carl looks confused at you. “I have a condom! We can’t get another Judith just yet!” You both giggle and he managed to open the condom. He rolls it over his cock , as you take a moment to indulge in the mystery in Carl’s pants. It looked perfect for you, a match made in hell. You gave a slight slime at Carl as he looks up at you, daringly.

“Are you sure it’ll fit?” Carl question as he positions his tip to your entrance.

“We’ll make it fit, Carl, we both desire it.” You gave a reassuring statement. It was enough to make Carl loose his control.

Carl thrust into you, and as you are prepared to moan, he starts making out with you to keep the noise down. He just wanted to keep the monas to himself. He lets you adjusts and when you have calmed down, he starts moving again. With every thrust, you feel both your bodies connecting more and more.

“Carl, f-faster!” You start begging.

“Fuck, Y/N… You’re about to crush me with your walls. Are you sure you can handle me?” You nod and he grabs your hips. “Alright then, you asked for it.”

His speed rapidly increased and so did the intensity of every thrust. His hands felt gentle on your skin, moving along with your body structure. You can feel his dick inside you, twitching and you hear him whimper your name, the faster he goes.

“I think I’m gonna c-“

“Me too, baby, me too…” You can tell he’s out of breath, but he still makes effort to make you feel good. You feel as one of his hands travels to where your entrance is and starts playing with it. You started whimpering and moaning Carl’s name, louder and louder. He is enjoying seeing you so vulnerable to him.

With few last thrusts, you came at the same time, luckily, the condom didn’t rip inside you, but when taking it out, it made a mess on Carl’s cock. He was still hard somehow, and he was embarrassed at it. As he was about to get up from your bed to not make a mess, you approach your head near his dick.

“Y/N, what are you doin- Nghh!” He quickly stops his sentence as you start licking and sucking his dripping cum out of his dick. He calmly places a hand on your head, and starts bopping up and down. You can tell he’s getting close with the way he pits his head back. Your speed gradually gets higher and when he’s about to to come in your mouth, Carl pushes your head down as deep in your throat as possible. You swallow what ‘surprise’ he left you, as he lays next to your body, catching his breath after your intense first time.

After cleaning up, he tucks you in your bed as he cuddles with you under your cozy blankets.

“So… Does this mean we get to finally be together?” Carl breaks your comfortable silent.

“Well of course, I don’t want anyone to ever take yours kisses or take your attention away from me!” You pretended to be actually upset over that matter, as you snuggled your head onto his chest.

He laughs and pulls you in closer. “I’ll never let that happen. Not Ron, not Mickey, definitely not Enid.”

“Not now or ever.” He kisses your forehead as you both drift off to sleep.

#carl grimes #twd fanfiction #carl grimes smut #carl grimes twd #twd #the walking dead #the walking dead carl #smut #fanfiction #help me god #twd daryl #twd rick #rick grimes #alexandria #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes x reader

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blues824 · 10 months

Note

Hello! Could I request ADeuce, Rollo, Malleus and Jamil receiving boxes and little bags containing all kinds of chocolate and candy?

Gender neutral reader. Characters are pining for reader.

Ace Trappola

He was certainly curious as to what was in the rather large bag that the Prefect of Ramshackle was carrying around as they were searching for someone

Turns out, you were searching for him and when you spotted him, they rushed over to give him the gift bag.

When he opened it, there was a box of chocolates along with multiple different candies.

Honestly, he didn’t expect a gift to be given to him because of how shitty he usually treats you

But now he feels particularly shitty for not having a gift to give you in return

You can bet that he’s either taking you out to a local restaurant (not the Mostro Lounge) on a date to return the favor, or just getting you your favorite food and getting a movie for the two of you to enjoy in your room

Either way, there is food for you in return.

Deuce Spade

He is also very curious as to what was in the bag that you were carrying all over the place on campus

Well, imagine his surprise when he found out that the bag was for him, and that you were looking for him all this time

He opened it to reveal a box of assorted chocolates and a bunch of different candies

While sweets weren’t his favorite, he definitely would enjoy these when he needed a small break from studying

This man will definitely try to return the favor, considering all that you have done for him and Ace

Don’t be surprised if he gives you a similar bag of sweets or even a bouquet of your favorite flowers

It’s actually so adorable, how adorably awkward he is when he shows up to your door with either one in hand as he gives it to you and thanks you for the gift you had given him

He just wants to make sure that you feel appreciated and loved as well

Jamil Viper

Was not expecting you to be at the Basketball Team’s practice today, but he can’t say that he wasn’t excited to see you once it was over

When they were dismissed, he ran over to the bleachers where you were sitting and you gave him a hug as you told him that you were proud of how well he did.

This definitely made him flustered, but then he noticed the bag you were holding

You gave it to him, and he saw some of his favorite sweets and a box of chocolates, along with a few small bags of candy

Again, sweets aren’t his favorites, but they are now

He returns the favor by insisting on making you some homemade, warm food that you can enjoy with Grim

This man keeps the bag and the small note that came attached to it, and you cannot tell me differently

Will definitely blush or get a giddy smile on his face whenever he sees it on his desk as he’s doing his homework

Malleus Draconia

When he showed up at Ramshackle for your nightly walk, he noticed that you were beaming a bit more than usual

Turns out that you had a gift for him, and he was a bit surprised at this

Needless to say, he hasn’t had the joys of receiving a gift from a friend, so pardon his enthusiasm as he opens the bag

Inside, there was a box of chocolates as well as a few candies, and a small smile reached the prince’s lips as he took out a particular candy and looked at it

Then he looked at you with the same smile as he thanked you for the gift

We all know that he would go all-out for his gift to you, and we are right in assuming that because you get a full on necklace

A piece of jewelry with an expensive and authentic and glittery emerald; the heart of his hoard

You can’t turn it down either, otherwise Malleus here would think that you are turning him down and then all of Diasomnia would have to face his wrath and distress

Rollo Flamm

Definitely did not expect to see you at Noble Bell, considering it was quite far from NRC, but he does like the surprise

Well, the surprise came with another surprise as well as a hug, and Rollo found his face growing red.

Before he could whip out the handkerchief to cover his face, you handed him the bag you were holding before telling him that you would have to leave soon

The thought of your departure made his heart feel heavy, but he made quick work of looking at what was inside the bag

There were a few chocolates as well as a few candies

If this gift came from anyone else, he would remark on how they must have wanted him to get a cavity from over-indulging on them

But you hugging him before running off to catch your bus made him realize that this gift was special

Oh, you made his heart pound against his chest in ways he never thought possible

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octopotto · 11 months

Text

General Yandere! Silver Headcanons (TWST)

OCTO NOTE: SILVER DIDN'T COME HOME SO HERE'S HOW I'M COPING 😭😭

Late headcanons for the birthday boy!

Warnings: NOT PROOF-READ, the grammar here is a warning itself, Yandere behaviour, soft yandere, obsession, OOC madness, unhealthy behaviours, Lilia is an enabler, this is like a week late lol

**WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR TWISTED WONDERLAND

REMINDER: Yandere behaviour of any kind is unhealthy behaviour. It should not be something to seek out in real life. If you are experiencing any sort of inappropriate behaviour, please contact help/seek out help.

**The reader will ALWAYS be Gender-Neutral!

———————————-••———————————

- Soft

- So soft

- Like the softest

- And the goodest of boys

- Like why is he even going to NRC??

- Probably only attends NRC because of Malleus and Lilia like he legit does not fit in lmaoo

- Out of all of the TWST guys, he’s probably the most tamed and humane yandere out of all of them (which makes sense tbh).

- You guys could’ve met in many ways due to what the MC has to go through (thanks to a certain deadbeat crow).

- Silvers reaction to you at first could end up two ways:

One: After asking you if you’ve seen Malleus anywhere, he just moves on with his duties. This would be a slow-type of process. He would also lean towards the oblivious side when it comes to his feelings for you.

Two: it’s love at first sight.

- Going off the 2nd reason mentioned, since Silver is mostly likely the descendant/based on Aurora and Prince Phillip, he could technically fit into the ‘Disney-Princess stereotype’: where the princess would fall in love with a person who is kind to them.

- Regardless of either scenario mentioned, Silver is not the type to act on his feelings right away. He’s self-aware about how he feels about you, but wouldn’t be the type of person to go up to you and say “It’s meant to be!” Or “You’re my prince/ss! And we’re going to live happily ever after! UwU *sunshine and rainbows* *singing birds*”

- Silver knows that he likes you so he would seek out your company in order to get to know you better. Whether it be for lunch, studying, or just talking to you, he will make sure to spend time with you when he can.

- He’s just going to end up sleeping on your shoulder anyways lol.

- Sliver: *Literally almost collapsing on the ground while hanging out together* 😌😪😴😴

- You: *Wanting to wake him up but not having the heart to after seeing how peaceful he looks* 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

- Silver is also the type to use old-fashioned ways to win you over.

- Advice from his ever so-loving and caring father Lilia of course—

- Flowers sent by his little bird friends with a note containing romantic poems, tried greeting you with a little kiss on your hand, holding the door for you even if you you’re not even near the door yet (awkward loving eye contact while you’re speed walking to the door)

- You get the idea

- Speaking of Lilia, I 100% believe that he would enable Silver to act on his yandere tendencies (whether it’s on purpose or not).

- I mean cmon, if you were in Lilia’s shoes wouldn’t you want your own child to be happy with the one they love the most?

- Even if it’s illegal but who’s asking?

- He’s probably just doing this for the wedding that he totally did not plan in advance whaa—??

- Also, Silver probably doesn’t develop any yandere tendencies until the middle of y’all’s relationship tbh.

- If he does develop yandere tendencies before or early in the process, it’s most likely due to Lilia’s influence.

- Like I mentioned before, Silver is most likely the best— if not the BEST— yandere to end up with based on his overall personality.

- I know that yandere tendencies can lead characters to act ooc but for Silver, the stereotypical yandere is too extreme for his type of person.

- DOES NOT EXCUSE THE BEHAVIOURS OR ACTS.

- Again, very soft and gentle

- Would treat you with soft caresses and kisses, especially when cuddling.

- Would never use brutal force or inflict any sort of harm on you unless it’s by accident.

- Silver can’t and won’t harm you as it would put your life in jeopardy (doesn’t matter what it is).

- Daily naps always

- If you’re sleeping, he’s sleeping

- If he’s sleeping, you’re sleeping (or just lying there)

- Silver just can’t help but sleep in your presence. It’s not that you’re boring no way, you just give off this peaceful aura that enormously makes him sleepy.

- Basically when you’re around he has the best naps in the world.

- He rather sleeps in your dorm than his own just because of you. He’s probably seen the evolution of Ramshackle depending on when he acted on his feelings.

- Lilia just hanging upside down on a nearby branch, watching y’all from the distance and cooing how cute you guys are: 🥰🥰🙃🙃🥰🥰

- If there’s ever a joint class between the 1st and 2nd years, the teachers always make sure that you two are apart.

- Much to Lilia’s dismay if he hears about this.

- Because when you’re around, Silver ain’t getting nothing done. Not when your soft shoulder is the best pillow he has ever laid his head on.

- Besides your lap ofc—

- Also, a good listener!

- If you have a problem or you need to rant to someone, Silver is your guy.

- He doesn’t mind at all (he really likes your voice, happy or pissed off).

- Just don’t tell him specific details or else something might happen (and it won’t be pretty).

- He adores quality time as well as physical contact with you. Holding hands, sleeping next to each other, etc.

- He loves it when you play with his hair. He would intentionally lay his head down on your lap so you have easier access to his hair.

- Remember when Vil braided Silver's bangs back for the Fairy Gala Remix event?

- If you can do that, Silver will always go to you to do his hair.

- He would definitely let you experiment with his hair as well.

- Ponytails, pigtails, a little bun, he’ll love it all if it’s done by you.

- He would even let you dye his hair as well if you wanted.

- Hell, if you mentioned that you find long hair attractive, Rapunzel better watch out, she’s now competing with a sleepy-simp.

- If we’re going to dive into spoiler territory, it’s most likely won’t change the story lol.

- For Book 7, even if Malleus gives Silver his happily ever after with you, he still wouldn’t be happy.

- Silver might be ecstatic that you reciprocated his feelings, but he would rather have this in the real world instead.

- Not in a toxic dream world that Malleus made up due to overblot.

- Hell, I don’t even believe that dream would come true because Yuu is in another place entirely due to Malleus influence.

- Which motivates Silver to fix this problem even more.

- So happy to find you alright.

- Overall, Silver is just a huge simp for you.

- Not really violent unless necessary.

- Very loving and caring

- Will do everything in his power to make you happy.

- Best boi no debates

- TLDR: Silver’s a bottom lol

———————————-••———————————

OCTO NOTES: Okay I know this wasn’t really yandere but I feel that it would be too OOC for Silver.

Anyways! Thanks for reading <33 This is the first time that I wrote for Silver.

Also THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE 14 LIKES ON MY CLOUD STRIFE HEADCANONS!!❤️❤️ I LEGIT SCREAMED WHEN I SAW 1 LIKE LOL

I’ll work on part 2 of his headcanons soon don’t worry! Again thank you all so much!!

Heres the Cloud Strife headcanons if you're curious: Yandere! Cloud Strife HC's (Platonic)

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #cw yandere #yandere silver #yandere silver twst #twst silver #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twst headcanons #soft yandere #male yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere diasomnia #yandere scenarios

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starz222 · 1 year

Text

surprise! (pt. 2)

synopsis: planning nilou's birthday, your assigned baking partner, alhaitham, blurts out something unexpected. he finds out you're sweeter than the cake you both baked. contains: not proofread, literally rushed, sfw (implied nsfw at the end but i dont go into detail), a smidge suggestive, gender neutral reader, other characters, maybe ooc, mainly self indulgent. a/n: me desperately including cyno every chance i get (also him throwing shade at paimon) part 1 here !

Everyone received a handmade party hat from Paimon. The party hats had glitter on them and were made of cardboard. Streamers were attached to the pom-pom-topped portion of the cone. Everyone's pupils dilated when they set their eyes on them.

“Did the children make this?” Tighnari questioned, meaning no harm. “Hey! Paimon made that!” She huffed.

“It’s… something,” Alhaitham muttered.

“I know, I know. Just put them on. In any case, it’s for Nilou,” Dehya sighed.

“Paimon can hear you, ya’know!?” She stomped her feet in the air. “Whatever, just go to your places!” she sulked. The Traveler had planned that they would all sneak up on Nilou and surprise her. They used the same partners for the arrangements: Traveler, Dehya and Paimon, Tighnari and Cyno, and You and Alhaitham. A thought immediately appears in your mind — Oh great, the archons must hate me.

The lights turn off, and for a while, it’s an awkward silence. You and Alhaitham hid in a tight, cramped spot behind some boxes.

“Stop breathing so loud,” he whispered. “What do you want me to do? Stop breathing?” You elbowed him in the arm. “If that keeps you quiet, I’m not stopping you.”

The audacity. He called you cute earlier; now he’s telling you to stop breathing? Even from behind, you can still feel him towering over you. You wouldn't deny that you found him attractive; he checked nearly all the boxes for the qualities of your type, yet you just couldn’t raise his ego any higher. You thought he was cocky and proud enough.

[Name]’s so close. Alhaitham thinks to himself. His mind is cloudy and hazy; why does he always end up in situations like this? He couldn’t stand the absence of space between him and you. Of course, he ended up muttering things he didn’t even mean. When he first saw the spot you both were meant to hide in, he wanted to back out. He knew he would lose his mind in that small space with you.

Then suddenly, the lights switched on.

“Surprise!” They cheered, followed by Cyno’s deadpanned version— “Surprise.”

You both completely forgot about the surprise. When the lights turned on, Alhaitham realized what you guys looked like and the position you both were in. He immediately took a step back. You ran to Nilou, and Alhaitham followed behind you.

“This is amazing!” Nilou had stars in her eyes. “We’re glad you like it!” Paimon clears her throat, “Can Paimon—ehem, I mean, can we eat now?” Nilou nods, “Of course! You all worked so hard. Thank you!”

As you all make your way to the table, Dehya unexpectedly comes your way. She wraps her arm around your shoulder and says, "Hey, [Name], what's up with you and that scribe? Are you two dating, or what? You’ve both been acting really weird.” You appreciate her concern, but her words leave you puzzled. “Dating”, why is it that your heart flutters? You wave her off, “I’m not sure either.”

Everyone takes in the beauty of the feast, some, far too much. (Paimon’s drooling) “Traveler, can you control your pet?” Cyno hissed. “Hey! It’s not Paimon’s fault that the food looks sooo tasty!” She whined. "Let's save the arguing for later, now let's celebrate the birthday of our dearest friend, Nilou." Tighnari expressed. Nilou thanked him. "Let's sing happy birthday!" Paimon started clapping. Everyone had a look of uncertainty on their face, "If you all are uncomfortable with it, I don't mind." Nilou reassured the rest, to tell the truth, she didn't think that most of the people present would be willing to sing. "Nonsense, it's tradition." Dehya noted, of course she had two reasons. One — she wanted Nilou to be happy, and two — she wanted to make fun of Alhaitham and Cyno.

(Cue them singing and clapping, which I won't write bc im laughing too much imagining it 🥹 CYNO ALHAITHAM AND TIGHNARI WOULD BE 100% MONOTONE AND THE WAY CYNO AND ALHAITHAMS VOICE WOULD STAND OUT)

You can hear Paimon's embarrassed chuckle as Nilou cheered insisting, "That was fantastic." Dunyarzad asks "Alhaitham, would you do the honor of slicing the cake?" As he is the closest to the cake. "Sure," He says. Alhaitham proceeded to cut the cake into pieces and placed one on your plate. “Thank you," you muttered. You took a bite, the sweet frosting coating your lips. While you were focused on the cake, he was focused on you—on your lips. He fantasized about using his thumb to wipe the frosting from your lips as he stared at them. He didn’t know what came over him, but he gave into his impulses.

He looked around, he saw that their nation's god, Nahida, arrived. The rest had gone to greet her— no one could disturb you two.

Before you could leave, he grabs your jaw and turns you to face him. You look at him with confusion; you were practically redder than the cherries on the cake. He glides his thumb across your lips, wiping the frosting off your lips, and licks it off his finger. “You’re sweeter than the cake, [Name].” He stares at you, the way your ears turn red, and the way you melt in your seat. “You– you could’ve told me I had frosting on my lips!” He was stunned. Were you going to ignore the fact that he just did... that? “Right.” He stood up. “I’ll get you some tissues.”

“Wait.” You grab his hand. “There’s still a lot of this cake left.”

…

Nilou turned around, "Huh? Where'd they go?"

tags: @fabrebre, @whipped-for-fictionals taglist is open !

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petrichor-idyllic · 1 year

Text

MASTERLIST

RULES | TAGS

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED

THIS BLOG CONTAINS 18+ CONTENT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

All of my writing and works can be found here. I write for several fandoms and mainly write 'x reader' but I also have my own characters.

Please refer to my rules before requesting.

Requests can be as detailed as you want, but give me the preferred pronouns for the one-shot, or I will default use they/them.

The characters and universes I write for are listed below - character names in bold already have fics written about them, but I write for all on this list.

○ FLUFF | □ SPICE | ● ANGST | ■ SMUT |• HEADCANONS

◇ FEM! READER | ☆ GN! READER | 《》 MASC! READER

OUTERBANKS

THE MAZE RUNNER

MULTI-CHARACTER

(NOTE: Newt is canonically gay, confirmed by the author of TMR: James Dashner. Therefore, I will only write Masc and Gender-neutral reader out of respect for the character.)

THE 100

(NOTE: I have only seen the first two seasons pls don't shout at me.)

THE MARVEL CINEMATIC UNIVERSE

(Please request characters for this, there are far too many to list.)

PETER PARKER

RORY CULKIN CHARACTERS

CHARLIE WALKER (Scream 4) | EURONYMOUS (Lords of Chaos) | GABRIEL (Gabriel 2014) | CLYDE (Electrik Children) | MIKE (5lbs of Pressure)

INDIVIDUAL CHARACTERS

(These are one-off characters I will write for and what they are from.)

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY | Call of Duty

RODRICK HEFFLEY | Diary of a Wimpy Kid

MARCUS LOPEZ ARGUELLO | Deadly Class

MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS

CICADA: OUTER BANKS FANFIC IDEA

Mazz Introduction

THE MAZE RUNNER FANFIC IDEA

Vol and friends introduction

#🌿 petri's masterlist #obx netflix #outer banks #obx oc #obx #tmr minho #tmr thomas #tmr imagines #tmr fanfiction #the 100 #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfiction #r #wednesday #marvel mcu #mcu imagine #marvel #doawk rodrick

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brisquad-unit-4402 · 1 year

Text

zombie au with ike ft. luxiem - In Pursuit to and from the Sun

(i think this submission got lost in the sauce and i can't find it but at least i still have this screenshot)

lmao sorry i went off the grid for a sec. life happens, you know, applied for some vsf programs, went on a classified operative excursion away from my post and got a new writing software. i actually wrote the last of this on a helicopter returning from the mission so that’s why i didn’t proofread beforehand sorryyyyy. but more importantly I TOUCHED GRASS. guys. i touched so much grass. i touched so much grass i could replant a garden. call me a topiary, i touched that much grass. is this what it’s like to work at a dispensary? bc i touched so much grass

a few disclaimers: this fic is ike centric but contains general luxiem angst as a treat and may be read in a platonic or romantic tone, whichever you prefer. it's also another 10.7k words long so if you want to read but don’t have the time, use a like/rb as a bookmark. most importantly: heed the tags for this one, i kind of went off the deep end here

tags: platonic relationship, hurt no comfort, angst, zombie au, no happy ending, gender neutral reader

⚠️ major character death, suicidal thoughts, gore, infection, arson, and apocalypse-typical violence

continued au notes and commentary here (spoilers)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Ever since the initial zombie outbreak, you’ve been running around the country with your best friend Ike and the circle of close friends you both share. You’ve made peace with the fact that it will always be hard. You and your band hop around from town to wilds, with no real objective other than to survive. Every location has something to glean, after all. It’s just that the zombies are always on your tail, and there’s only so much looting to do before the chorus of dead can tear you and your family apart.

It’s deluded to pretend you’re the invulnerable main characters, though. You and your friends are in a townhouse currently being ambushed by a strain of zombies. You swear they’ve gotten more intelligent since your last encounter. A dense herd of bloodthirsty undead is one thing, but a dense herd of bloodthirsty undead that have a chance of understanding positioning is another. Closing doors is barely a second of relief now.

You were lucky to be in a room with Vox when you got ambushed. He lived his post-apocalyptic life with a rebar rod in his hand, wrested from a collapsed concrete building early in during the initial outbreak. He claimed to be a trained swordsman once, and even though the rebar was more of a club than a sword, you admit you would’ve been worse than dead if you didn’t have him by your side. You’re sure he’d be screwed without you, too. Now that the world’s gone to the dogs, you stay prepared with a pair of climbing picks that can clobber in zombie brains just as well as scale walls. Vox shoved zombies out of the way while your picks cleared a path to escape from the house out through the window, Vox in tow.

You and Vox reunite with Ike and Shu outside. The former keeps various kitchen knives hidden under his no-longer white mantle, and defends Shu from stragglers while he digs into his backpack. You notice his weapon, an iron fire poker, by his feet along with a bottle. He rips sheets off of an old Millwall brick to stuff inside the bottle.

“Blowing the place up,” Shu says, in case you didn’t make the connection already. His breath is ragged. “Where’s Luca and Mysta?”

Like a stage cue, you hear the rocket of gunfire the second he says it. Your hope is crushed. Noise attracts zombies, and Luca was the only one with a shotgun. If he pulled the trigger, the situation was even more dire than you thought.

Shu grits his teeth and repeats himself, intensity barely restrained. “Where is Luca and Mysta.”

“I’m going back in,” Vox declares.

Ike drives a knife into the head of a fallen body. Destroying the brain confirmed they wouldn’t regenerate, and he minimizes the risk as precise as a surgeon. He made short work of the zombies that hadn’t overrun the house yet, but you could see them flood the interior. “Don’t be stupid, Vox, that’s suicide.”

“You heard the gun!”

“And I said that’s suicide!”

“Not if someone goes back in!”

“How are you going to find them without getting yourself killed?” Vox opened his mouth, but no sound came out, and Ike took advantage of it. “That’s what I thought. Luca’s our muscle and Mysta’s a clever guy, you’ve seen him outsmart the zombies so many times before!”

“They know basic organization, Ike!”

“All the more reason not to go back in! Have some faith in your friends!”

Vox grants him an unholy leer through his haunting yellow eyes. “How dare you lecture me about faith when I’m trying to save their lives.”

His glare was lost. Ike focuses on confirming the dead stay dead. His back is turned from the swordsman as he chops a skull in two with a butcher’s cleaver. “Because no matter what, they’re going to get out, and they want you out just as much as they’re fighting.”

But Ike’s words were just as lost to Vox; you barely saw the trail of his blood-splattered haori before he ran back to the townhouse, rebar in hand and fury on display.

Shu shoves the remains of the Millwall brick into the cupholder of his pack, a battering ram for another day. He produces a box of matches instead. “It’s best to take them all out at once.”

You speak up. “But Vox just-”

“I know.” Shu’s lips purse. “And I’m not going to throw them. Not until I know they’re all safe.”

You watch as Vox speared through a living corpse, then threw its remains on the ground. The zombies are centered inside the house, but the windows are all covered. The door stays open as he passes through the threshold, but you can’t see a trace of him left.

Ike stabs through a brain close to you and Shu. You see him heft himself up, and the traces of a permanent dead remain on the ground. The head is split open with precision, and the brain blooms out from the skull. It leaks pink nerves and black rot among the blood, like a disgusting flower.

He passes by you, dead set on his goal. “You’re not going, Reader.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

“And don’t expect to.” Ike’s words are emotionless, but not cold. As much as he pushes away Vox, you know he cares for everyone in your group like brothers. He’s the least risky out of all six of you- after all, he’s tearing apart zombie brains without a complaint while you catch your breath and Shu stands watch.

You draw your climbing picks and follow him to the field of dead. “Let me help you.”

You feel useless just standing there, after all.

Though the task of confirmation is much calmer than fighting for your life, it’s still unenviable, and you have to admire how Ike distances himself seemingly so easily from it. You try not to look at their faces, but that’s just as impossible. After all, the brain is right between the eyes. That’s the worst part.

You made the mistake of looking into zombie eyes twice in your life.

The first was your first fight of the apocalypse; a zombie had you deadlocked in an aisle of an outdoors store, and only when it was within biting range did you drum up the courage to grab the first thing you saw- two fluorescent orange climbing picks, never used- and drive them into the writhing heart. You bolted then, too focused on escape than freezing, and those climbing picks proved themselves to be your best survival tool in combat and exploration.

The second was the first time you confirmed the dead, and those eyes, that face- skin and bone but youthful, blue bleeding through the iris like a cracked yolk, remains of eyeliner and mascara along her deteriorated features- she was a person, so young, so beautiful when she was alive, like she knew she had decades to go- sometimes you swear she’s the face you see at night when you remember how human and how simply unlucky this world is now. It’s simply unlucky, and being unlucky is simply brutal.

(You held back your tears when you bashed her brain in. Later that night you pulled your best friend Ike aside, and cried in mourning of a woman whose name you never learned. He didn’t complain then, either, and you only sobbed harder when you realized as much as he comforted you, he could never muster up the vulnerability to grieve himself.)

You club a pick into the forehead of the fresh, putrid dead. The other pries it open, and a third swipe pulverizes with finality.

It’s messy. When you drive your weapons into the skull there’s a crack of metal against bone, and a thin gush of blood that spurts out to your arms. Especially large openings reveal nodules of black rot spotted through the brain. If you focus, you can see the moist, moldy texture seep through the wrinkles of the brain, and if you were any less jaded it’d be enough to make you turn your head and hurl.

But the deed is done in only three stabs, and you cling onto that fact. The more mechanical the task is, the easier it is to drive yourself to just get it done. Club, pry, pulverize. Club, pry, pulverize.

You pass by one of Ike’s carvings as you move onto another body. His work is premeditated from habit; he usually does this deed while everyone else recuperates. A standard chef’s knife is his weapon of choice when he faces against zombies, but he keeps a cleaver sheathed to his side when he has the time to get precise. One good slash goes through bone. Bone sweeps through the brain, and the work is done, and he carries on to the next, messy on his mantle but clean in the cut.

There are only a few more bodies left untouched on the yard where you hear heavy steps on the grass and Shu’s voice cry out. “Luca!”

You and Ike snap up. Luca’s blond hair is matted to his face with blood and rot as Vox runs beside him. They look like they ran through a blender of decayed flesh, and considering the herd of dead inside the house, perhaps that isn’t so strange of a metaphor. Even as Luca sprints, he turns to pump shotgun lead to the predators when they get closer, and each corpse’s fall is punctuated by hot gunfire.

Shu calls out his name again frantically. The men return, and so do you and Ike, five missing one. “Luca, where’s Mysta?”

“It’s bloody,” Luca simply says. His breath is short, and he wipes at the mess of gore and hair on his forehead. All it accomplishes is smearing black and red together along his face and in a blotch along his arm.

“But where is he, I need to know!”

“And it’s so much.” He trails off. He stares into the side of the townhouse and beyond the distance. Strapped to his back is his go-to weapon, a baseball bat littered with nails, each with residue dripping off the spikes from freshly killed zombies. “There’s a lot. Oh, I’m feeling kind of- kind of cold.”

“He’s in shock,” Ike says. He takes Luca’s hand in his, but Luca doesn’t even react. “Oh, Luca. What happened?”

“Kind of a lot?”

“Where’s Mysta?”

“He…” Luca’s eyes dart to the center of the townhouse. “He’s stuck, because of me, isn’t he?”

“Alright, lay off the man.” Vox intervenes. “We’re done asking questions. Shu. Your matches. Light it up.”

“What?!” Shu screams at Vox. You’ve heard him yell, but never once have you heard him scream. Especially not with Vox sounding so detached. “No, are you crazy? Mysta is in there!”

“Light it up, Shu-“

“I said, no! No! No way, not a- not a fucking chance!”

“Shu, listen to me!” Vox thunders. “I’m sorry, but Mysta is gone.”

Shu stands his ground. His features are tense, and his ultraviolet eyes burn holes through the earth. “Not a fucking chance.”

“Mysta is gone,” Vox insists, and you hear his bassy voice break even lower. “I saw it myself.”

“He is not.”

“It was too overrun, it’s miraculous Luca even got out.”

“Mysta,” Luca says, and closes his eyes. Ike holds him upright and rubs his arm, as comforting as he possibly can in the worst situation, as much as possible when his own face is just as distraught as everyone else.

“And I wish with everything that I have that I could’ve gotten him out,” Vox continues, more of his own justification than anyone else. “And I wish I was just a little faster, and that they were a little further away, and, God, that he wasn’t trapped, but he was, and I wasn’t fast enough, I wasn’t close enough…”

Shu is murmuring his own protests to himself at this point, and feeling the pit in your stomach yourself, you reach to hold his hand. He jerks away like you’re made of lava. You feel ill. “You’re lying to me.”

“And he got bit, and he knew that meant death. And he ran, ran upstairs, to draw them away from us, and there were more, and he knew, he knew, he knew he was dead but we weren’t.”

Luca lets his head fall on Ike’s chest. Ike becomes his crutch, and holds him. “Mysta.”

“His distraction saved Luca’s life. And mine if I was slow.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He was a hero,” Vox says.

“Stop.” Shu’s eyes shut. He looks like stone about to break, paralyzed in denial as the proper grief is setting in. His hands dive and clasp around yours. He’s trembling. You squeeze back. “Don’t talk about him like he’s dead.”

“He was a hero, and our brother, and the sun. Please don’t devalue his sacrifice like that.”

“Oh my god.” Ike interrupts, and his face is paler than the dead. “Oh my god. Oh my god, Luca, don’t look.”

With one hand, he buries Luca’s head into the fabric of his mantle, and with the other, he points to the tallest point of the townhouse.

You crane your neck up and squint. The townhouse has one window peeking out from the room along one small wall. When you recognize the shapes through the window your legs nearly give out. Startling, saturated, unadulterated horror grips you. You see his hat.

“He’s still alive,” you whisper. “Or he rose. But he’s still surrounded.”

With revived desperation Vox grasps Shu by the shoulders. “Don’t devalue his sacrifice, Shu, you know better than anyone he never wanted to fall victim to that curse. Let him and the rest of the zombies pass on properly, like a hero should. Light the match, please. Please.”

You absorb the chaos as if you weren’t there. You’re detached. Nothing feels real, not even as Ike strokes Luca’s hair, distressed and staring at the window, while Luca is just as distanced as you are. Vox’s heroic resolve shattered as he recounted Mysta’s last moments, and Shu, the smart one out of your group, can’t even function anymore. You knew everyone considered themselves each other’s family, but Shu and Mysta were especially close, and it tears you apart to watch Shu finally grasp the terror of the townhouse ambush.

Shu lets go of your hands to cover his face. Through the gaps between bloodstained gloves, you can see the sparkle of tears. He’s crying. “This isn’t possible.”

“Do the right thing,” you say. “Do what he would’ve wanted.”

Shu stands so still. He looks up to the sky, as if it could all go back just by an hour. The clouds just kept rolling.

He picks up a bottle and lights a match.

“This can’t be happening.” A teardrop nearly flicks out the match, but he gathers his strength, and places it by the newspaper wick. The paper flares alive in caution orange.

Shu breathes in. You see his face is scrunched up from crying even as he tries to aim, and it’s like he’s aged years in a matter of minutes. His face has never truly been clean of dirt or gore in weeks, just like the rest of you, but even under the orange fire his eyes go dull. There’s weight under his eyelids, and his mouth is forced into a tight, shaky frown as he exhales.

“I’m so sorry.” Even when it was a zombie Shu always apologized before killing. He treats it as a blessing of what they once were. “I’m so, so sorry. I’m so sorry it had to be this way.”

Shu throws the molotov.

You lose track of Mysta’s silhouette as the townhouse goes up in flames.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The death of Mysta Rias was the death of the sun, and the world has been even drearier than the desolate land would have you think.

Everyone lives on edge frostily. It’s barely been a month since he passed, but the wound hesitates to close.

Ike is maybe the best adapted to your band of six now as five, but even then you can tell he’s not the same. He’s a champion of reservation. Every sweep of his knives into dead flesh are purposeful, every word spoken is calculated.

You think back on that night you cried in Ike’s arms the first time you confirmed the dead. You still haven’t seen him cry. Strange, since he was the type to get emotional at sappy movies and video games before the first outbreak. You’re worried, but he insists he can keep it together. To be fair, he’s doing an excellent job at not having a conniption, but the way that he acts so much more emotionally distant isn’t exactly inspiring confidence either.

But Vox, for all he puffs himself up about making sure no man gets left behind and all that heroic junk, hesitates far more than his honed swordsmanship would have you think now that Mysta’s gone. It hasn’t gotten in the way of surviving yet, but you have to wonder when it will. He’s gotten indecisive and requires time to think- great for planning, not so much for a live-or-die fight.

Luca’s the one that surprises you. You wouldn’t go so far as to call him happy when your band of friends started roaming the country together, but he was good natured, and was the first to pick himself up from a bad scrape. He had a sly, sideways curve to his lips whenever he laughed, but it’s been so long since you’ve heard it that you’re starting to forget the way his skin curves into smile lines.

He doesn’t smile at all, really. As optimistic Luca was, it was no secret Mysta was the other half of the laughter in your group, and now that Mysta was gone the morale was as well. Luca keeps up his positive attitude as much as he can but it’s rare, and it’s quiet when you see it.

You notice whenever someone lights the campfire, he’s never around to watch it, and no one makes him do it. You don’t think anyone’s ever talked about it out loud, nor has he ever let himself show it. But when he turns around to feel the warmth, Vox is always to his front, blocking off the bright blazes, and sits by him while he cooks game. You have a theory Vox hasn’t given up his hero complex yet, but for as tense as he gets by the fire Luca hasn’t had a breakdown yet either. Unless things change, you won’t bring it up. Your group has never experienced a loss quite like this in the zombie apocalypse, and all things considered, for as awful as the morale it could be much, much worse.

Speaking of much worse, Shu…

He was a wreck when Mysta passed away, and that’s putting it lightly. When you ran from the remains of the burning townhouse and into a forest, your footfalls were punctuated by Shu’s shortened breaths, and he held back hiccups as you left Mysta behind. By the time Vox figured you were safe from the horde and Ike’s feet gave out from exhaustion, Shu’s eyes were shut tight in disbelief.

You barely uttered a word to him before he fell back into sobs, and when you offered a hand he threw himself to you. It was disorienting. You always considered Shu the face of serenity and restraint even in your lives before the apocalypse, and after the outbreak he was always the one that could find the best path to follow for the greater good of all six of you. But now there were only five, and the grief was fresh.

But Shu howled. He clawed himself against your chest in inconsolable wails, and his face was contorted, sore and raw red in splotches of unmuted primality, nearly unrecognizable. There was an animal in your arms. Agonized.

“It’s not possible,” he heaved. His articulation was lost in his eruption. “It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be!”

You didn’t have any words to say, and clearly Shu didn’t either. He howled again as his bestial hands clutched around your arm. Nails dug through his gloves and into your skin, and if he clutched you any tighter he’d tear the flesh off the bone straight, a creature of despair. Screaming and howling, and soon enough he was choking on his own spit and the block of mourning in his throat, some ugly peals of tears and snot, and the remains of rot on his hands and blood against the hollows of his ghastly cheek; the ash left in his lungs and the smoke that lingered in his hair, and the flames that licked through his fingers and inside the bottle and outside the glass; the blazes that ate through the wood of the house, the very same hue as his brother’s favorite shirts, his hat, flickering a cycle of brightness and color and roiling heat until he knew the fire had swallowed up what remained of Mysta.

Shu had no choice but to scream. When his throat took away that privilege he mustered up what he could of his vocal chords and churned. All his mouth went dry but he still smacked his tongue against his gums and huffed out seethings and surges of thin breath through gritted teeth, more akin to wheezing than anything else he’d howled but the pure distress gone untouched.

He eventually exhaled himself into an uneasy sleep, but even in sleep his face was still struck with suffering. Rest was more like a pause to a realized horror than it was a reprieve. You and Ike cleaned him up and laid him sideways on the ground for the night- after all, it had been an awful day, and as the moon rose in the sky you know you wouldn’t be getting anywhere after the horrible events, much less with an unconscious Shu.

Luca spent the rest of his day detached from his own experience, even after the shock wore off. When Shu’s composure broke, Vox had attended to Luca, and they quietly wept together while Shu bawled. By the time Shu began to rest, Luca looked into the ground, water bottle in hand.

Vox approached you while Ike started a fire and prepared some rations for the rest of the group. “He’s not taking things awfully, but I’m concerned for him,” he said. “Luca, I mean.”

“I know you mean Luca,” you responded. You couldn’t hide your own exhaustion from the day either.

“As much as I hate to say it, Shu freaking out was to be expected. He and- and Mysta- those two- they were so close. And Luca, too. I thought he would freak out like Shu, but hell, Reader, I cried more than him. I know I get emotional and he’s better at keeping it down than me, but…”

Vox’s eyelids fluttered as he looked up at the dark sky. His eyes were red. “I’m just concerned, that’s all. It’s not like him.”

“Well, living without-” Your exhaustion dragged down your sentence before you could finish it. You thought you were well-adjusted to the death, but your voice caught before you could utter his name. You cleared your throat. “Living like this. There’s going to be a lot of weird changes, and everyone mourns differently.”

“I suppose you’re right.” But Vox didn’t look too pleased to hear that. “We need to protect him.”

“He does plenty of protecting himself. And we look out for each other regardless.”

“Then we should look out for him especially.”

“Of course. I don’t want him to get overexerted.”

“And let’s tap out of any interaction if we can, including looting. Last thing we need is to get into another big fight with the zombies, or worse yet, other survivors.”

“Avoiding fights has always been our M.O.” A chilled breeze ran through the forest. Vox fiddled with his haori. You stared right through him. “Sorry if this comes across as weird. But do you really think laying low is a good idea?”

“It’s dangerous to let anything interfere with us.”

“We’re in the zombie apocalypse, Vox, everything is dangerous. It’s not like I can just wave a wand and poof, we’re immune from the plague. Besides, we’re just two out of s- out of five. We’ll figure it out when it’s not so late, and Luca and Shu are in working condition.” You squinted. “Hey. Enough about them for a second. Has anyone ever asked you if you’re okay, Vox?”

“This isn’t about me.”

“Is now. How are you holding up?”

“What, do you want me to lie to your face? No one’s doing well.” He averted his eyes, and you knew he was averting the question. “I could ask you the same thing. Shu was intense.”

“Tired,” you said. “Just plain tired. I don’t even think I have the energy to properly grieve.” And just like the man standing before you, you averted your eyes as well. “I don’t think I want to either. I don’t know. I miss him a lot, but I don’t have the time to miss him. Not when the apocalypse is literally unfolding in front of us and there’s people taking the brunt of the loss way harder than I am. I wish I could give him the remembrance he deserves.”

Vox nodded slowly. He didn’t say anything in response, and the silence made you feel like you aged hundreds of years in his presence.

“You’re very observant, Reader,” he finally said. “And you spend a lot of time making your own conclusions before you act. That’s smart. But knowing too much prevents you from action, full stop.”

Campfire smoke curls around the chilly air and by Vox’s face. His head was still angled up to look at the sky, and the orange glow against his sharp features weathered him into a dreary oil painting. There was a gash between his cheek and ear where a tree branch hooked him while he evaded a zombie’s grapple, and the light illuminated the soft pink flesh exposed under the cut of skin. The corner of the gash met his thoughtful frown. “Every moment of life teaches you something. I’m wondering when it’ll be too much and we simply can’t go on the way we used to.”

“Might be soon.”

“Today definitely sped it along.”

The fire crackled. You and Vox sat there unmoving, too focused on the blaze and how controlled it was compared to the townhouse.

Even as the tinder burns, your thoughts were still so awry now that the group got smaller. Vox had a point about Luca. You needed to keep an eye out on him in case he’s putting on a brave front. Even then, you didn’t like how Vox deflected your concern, but prodding him would only make it worse, especially when the loss was so fresh.

Your thoughts drifted to Ike, and how you haven’t managed to share a word with him at all since the townhouse burning. He hasn’t cried, you recall, not a single time since the first outbreak. You admired his composure but now that Vox admitted his own fears for the others (and neglected to tell you the ones about himself), you can’t help the unease that settled into your stomach. What were his thoughts like? Everything went off the rails whenever you tried to collect yourself, but if Ike was able to keep it all under wraps, then his mind must be a storm.

Speak of the devil. Ike hands Luca a small can of beans, but the blond stayed by his lonesome. Your best friend took the empty seat beside you, and gives you and Vox your dinner.

You thanked him, and after savoring what little you had of your portion, you asked how he’s doing.

“Just gotta get through another day,” Ike responded.

Then he tipped the last of his beans into his mouth and stared at the fire, just as you did after talking with Vox. He was unreadable as ever, but the only thing you could glean from him with confidence is that he had just as much on his mind as you thought. Maybe even more.

You wished he would just tell you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

But grass grows over graves, and even if Mysta didn’t have a proper send off, time waits for no one.

Once Shu woke up, his face was a mess of bleariness and exhaustion. Something in his bright eyes froze over during the night. Amethyst faded to plastic.

“We’ll keep moving,” he declared, and his voice chilled you to the core. He called out the order as a leader, not a friend, without the care or delicacy he always granted to your group. His emotion died with Mysta.

(And you saw Vox ready himself to refute, but once he met those purple eyes filled with something unearthly, he shank under Shu’s presence.)

Days pass. All of them are spent on the road. The group spends as little time resting as possible just to get a few extra miles out to your next destination.

Shu and Luca say it’s to get away, but they end the sentence differently. Shu says to get away from the zombies. Luca doesn’t finish his thought at all.

It’s no surprise that Vox opposes it. The more distance between the group and the townhouse, the more he speaks his mind.

But Shu is determined to go further, just as much as Vox is convinced everyone needs to lay low.

And in all the time you’ve known these men, you’ve never seen any of them fight against one another quite like this. Vox always concedes, but not before Shu spits venom and he flings it right back. Their words are always about the plan, their future, where the group is going and why don’t they wait out the zombies instead of these hourly skirmishes on the road; but everyone can tell there’s more lying in subtext than the literal argument. You’ve seen the way Vox grits his teeth and musters up his courage whenever he’s about to tell Shu off, and you know that disgusted glare Shu gives Vox whenever he brings up hiding from the zombies.

Ike usually ends up being the one to break up their fights. One dismal evening while he lectured them both about teamwork and other platitudes, you and Luca sat next to each other. He’s a big guy, but he’s lost a lot of weight from rationing, and his expression looks like an abandoned dog more often than not these days.

He talks quietly, but plainly. “Shu hates me, doesn’t he?”

“What?” The bluntness startles you. “Luca, listen to yourself. He could never.”

“He could.”

“He wouldn’t,” you insist. “He’s gone through a lot, and he’s not taking it well, but I know it’s always because he wants to protect you. All of us.”

“So is Vox. But he just shuts him down without a thought. You ever wonder why, Reader?”

“To get away from the zombies,” you recite. That’s always his reasoning. Staying put in one place just means more time for zombies to gather at the scent of the living.

“So would finding a secure shelter, like how Vox says.” Luca sits with his knees close to his chest, and watches from a distance at the quelled fight. Vox says something, and you can see Shu’s face contort even though you can’t hear what he says. “But he doesn’t even listen to him. He doesn’t even listen to you, Reader, when you try to break it up.” He holds his legs closer to himself. “I don’t know if he’s ever listened to me. Or anyone.”

“He would if you told him you feel like that. He’d understand.”

“Would he really?” You nearly answer that before you realize the question is rhetorical. “You’ve got eyes, Reader. Be attentive like how I know you always are and look at how he looks at us. Me and Vox.”

You try to follow Luca’s request but Ike is speaking, and Shu’s eyes close.

He elaborates. “It’s not a nice look.”

“He’s stressed.”

“Then why doesn’t he ever look at you like that? Or even better, why does he listen to Ike only, and how come it never seems to stick?”

“He’s going through a lot.”

“We all are.”

Across the camp, you watch Ike run a hand through his hair. Shu is still talking, and Vox sighs.

“I think he blames us.”

You grab Luca’s arm. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s obvious anyways.”

“Because that’s our friend.”

“He hasn’t acted like one for a long time.”

“Because he’s lost so much.”

“We were all friends,” Luca snaps. “We lost just as much. Hell! I was in the house! We were together! And then we got separated, and unlike someone Vox actually tried to help him out until- and I should’ve- we saw him get bit, and I couldn’t- I just, I-”

Luca shuts himself up. Your hand falls from his arm to his palm and squeezes. No life returns your gesture.

You sit in the stagnant silence.

“I’m sorry.” Luca lowers his head. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Get it off your chest, Luca. I won’t hurt you.”

“No, I don’t think I should.” He unwraps his legs, and stands up from the ground beside you. “I’m not going to say it and be an awful friend, even if he’s acting like one.”

Before you could ask what the hell that was supposed to mean, Luca already turned his back, and you sat alone from the argument as he walked away from everything.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Despite all their bickering, Shu and Vox lead the group through travel. It’s more likely that the bickering is the exact reason why. The fire iron and rebar push aside the greenery, until Vox stops with his rebar casting the brush aside. “Fucking finally.”

You catch up and look across the hill. Buildings. This used to be a small rest town in a clearing between the hills before the outbreak, but now the bright signs are dimmed out and dirtied. Not a soul lurks in the abandoned town, including the dead.

“We’re not stopping,” Shu says.

“Piss off, Shu. I’m tired.”

“You’re never going to be well-rested.”

“Then how does safe sound?”

“Not possible no matter where you go.”

“But safer than on the road-”

“Guys,” Ike interrupts. “Quit acting like toddlers.”

Vox pouts and Shu squints. None of the three want to get the next word in.

So you speak up instead. “We’re running out of supplies. If we don’t find any more food soon, then we won’t even be able to continue on the road.”

“Reader has a point,” Ike agrees.

Shu’s expression sours. “Fine. We’ll look around, but make it quick. Camping out here is a great way to get robbed.”

“Then we’ll move together and keep watch for one another,” Vox declares, and he smiles. “Welcome to the correct side, Reader, Ike. It’s good to have you on board.”

Ike rolls his eyes. “Don’t drag me into your petty fights.” You fight the urge to quip he’s already in the mess as the mediator.

But the group traverses the hills and enters the remains of the town. The ground is littered with garbage strewn about in the haste for its citizens to flee town- or for the ill-fated, become the corpses dragging along the cement.

The zombies here shamble along independent from one another. That’s the best you could ask for. The only consistent thing about zombie behavior is their danger when in swarms. Alone, they’re nothing but fetid flesh barely clinging onto the skeleton, ready to fall into a hundred pieces at one strike, but when accompanied by others? Fodder makes up for each others’ weaknesses, and no matter how competent or skilled you are, one human is nothing to a crowd of zombies on the warpath.

The zombies of this town haven’t synced up with one another, and you’d like to keep it that way. While on the road, you’ve had plenty of skirmishes with small groups of zombies, but the last time your band faced off against a proper herd, you lost one.

A single zombie clambers to the front of your group. You hear metal against fabric as Ike pulls out his cleaver from its sheath, ready to do the deed, but before he can advance Shu already has his fire poker in his hands and the business end driven through the eyes of the zombie. He twists, assuring the brain is too punctured to allow the body to rise again, and the poker is back at rest. He barely even apologizes to the body as everyone trudges on.

Behind his back, Ike resheathes his weapon. He squints through his glasses, and you can read the confusion between his green eyes. Ike doesn’t meet your glance, but his expression is welcome, as unfortunate as it is. At least you’re not the only one that noticed how out of character Shu has been lately. You’re getting a sinking feeling about him.

However, the moment passes as soon as it appeared, and you and the rest of your friends rove onwards until you come across a set of stairs erring into the earth, surrounded by a dirtied glass entrance.

“Who would’ve thought?” You wonder aloud. “I never would’ve guessed this little town had a subway system.”

Vox raises his hand along the cool glass. “This could be good. The entrance is camouflage pretty well considering the damage of this town, and there might be some preserved food in vending machines. All we need to do is break ‘em.”

“And if there isn’t any food, it’s still a big area,” Ike adds. “Plenty of space and a roof over our heads.”

Luca looks down the staircase. It’s dark, but not unnavigable. The edges of the sidewalk are lined with yellow paint stripes, and features small lights along the walls from a backup generator, most likely. “It’s a good hiding place,” he says.

Luckily for everyone, Shu can already tell he’s defeated, and doesn’t put up much of a fight before you all descend down the stairs.

Not even ten minutes later Luca found a vending machine and smashed it apart with his spiked bat. Vox unwrapped a pack of Oreos with a smug smile.

The subway was no longer in operation and the trains themselves were abandoned, but you found a sign with a map of the station. The subway connected the major areas of the town together, and could be used as secret passages through the ruins.

And most interesting, there were even less zombies underground than under the sun.

“I wonder if the stairs confused them?” Luca says to himself. “Surely a few of them figured it out, since we killed some since we entered the subway, but it might be too complex for herds to come through. Or the architecture itself is confusing.”

You weren’t about to question it. This was one of the most peaceful environments you’ve entered since the outbreak, and there was no way you would ignore the moment to catch your breath, even if you can still cut through the tension with a knife.

You enter first watch with the drifting bond between everyone on your mind, and when Ike relieves you for his watch, you fall asleep in record time.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

An arm jostles you awake. “Reader. Wake up, zombies.”

You curse, albeit a little groggily, but in a flash you’re on your feet. You thumb under your sleeping pad and grab your climbing picks. “I thought we were safe?”

“Not at all.” Your eyesight adjusts after you start walking, but you can already recognize the voice as Ike. Out of the corner of your eye you can spot Shu trying to shake Luca awake, and Vox gathering everyone’s things together. “They’re flooding in fast. Herds of them. Like they’re all on the same wavelength.”

“Like the townhouse.”

It dawns on you and you say it without thinking. Ike’s shoulders freeze over. “Don’t say that. Not so loudly.”

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

“Get your things together. They’re not here yet, but they will be soon, around the corner we came.”

Vox approaches halfway through zipping a backpack together. “We should take the next right corridor. I remember that leads to a different exit.”

“You sure it’s not the same one the zombies are coming in through?” You ask.

“Positive.”

“We need to stay ahead of the herd,” Shu said, Luca in tow. “No fighting unless absolutely necessary. If we get started now we should be able to get away without overexerting ourselves. Ready?”

No words need to be exchanged. You leave the clearing just as you found it.

A collected groan follows behind you, and a chill runs down your spine. You’ve never heard so many zombies, and never so man all in harmony. The moans arrange together in the cavernous halls, bouncing off the cement and down the station.

The urgency rises once the cries grow closer. Vox breaks out in a run, then Luca, and Shu behind him.

“Right,” Vox calls, and dives at the turn. A zombie greets him. He drives his rebar into its head and flings it away without a second thought like a lancer.

The zombie smashes against a sight with arrows to different stations. Ike swerves out of the way. “Fork ahead, where now?”

“Right? I mean-” He goes one way to view a sign, then sprints the other. “Straight! Straight!”

The dead sing. You can’t think to look back but the smell of rot is suffocating.

Your foot falls under the concrete ground in time with your family, and in time with the stumbling zombies approaching faster than you’ve ever felt before.

Luca halts in his tracks, and you thump against his back. Your mouth parts to speak but your eyes fall upon the exit.

Or rather, the lack of exit.

Boulders of broken concrete hide the stairwell from daylight.

Hot breath strangles you, and you turn with your picks in hand. Swathes of the dead are fixated on your group.

Ike runs straight-on to the choir. You scream out as one reaches for him before he turns at the last fork in the road.

You cut your scream off halfway when you follow him without a second thought.

A hand covered in dirt and mold grasps against the sleeve of your jacket. You swivel and sink your pick into the limb, and the wrist pops off under your blade. The hand goes limp and falls from the fabric.

You hear footsteps behind you, and when Luca speaks up you’re full of relief even if only for a moment. “What now?”

“Just run,” You say back, more of a guess than an order.

Shu drifts in front of you. “Where are we?”

“Give me a moment, I’m trying to think!”

“We don’t have time, Vox!”

“I know, Shu, shut up!”

“Going left!” Ike shouts, and you all move without question.

But you realize only after the zombies cut away the turn that the station turns more decrepit on this side. The tunnels are lined with debris and the floor crumbles away along the painted stripes.

And before you can find a new route, you see a puff of dust from the ceiling.

“The roof!” You shout. You’re gasping to breathe now, and your words stumble upon the exhale.

Shu’s eyes roll up to the flickering light, and you both see the elongated crack above your heads. It’s been in decay for years. How unlucky. How simply, brutally, lethally unlucky.

“Hurry!” He pleads. He’s at the front of the pack, followed by Vox and Luca alongside each other. Ike trails behind you.

The crack in the roof follows your every footstep even as ancient instinct kicks in. Adrenaline shoots through your veins and pushes you forward, accompanied by bits of debris tangling in your hair. The flooring turns from concrete to tile, and with the dirtied mosaic comes a glimmer of hope. Surely you must be going the right way.

The zombies’ cries are loud, but the squeak of your shoe against the tiles is louder. There must be something beyond.

But the ceiling splintering out is the loudest of all.

It all happens at once:

The way that Shu turns at the sound and can’t even get one of his own out before he sees your face-

The powdered cement turning to hail in the blink of an eye-

Your war cry through gritted teeth as you launch off, the fastest you’ve ever run before-

A knife unsheathed in in warmth and frigidity in your midst-

Luca, hated, blamed, petrified.

Your brain catches up through the curtain of scrap. It’s all because of Luca. Even at his most vulnerable, you’ve never thought of him as weak. Nonetheless, his eyes are dead purple crusted against his ghost-white face, and his lips force open while a vein along his neck strains to scream out your name, but he lets out just one small, throaty heave. A miserable noise.

It silences you.

You know it, and he does too. A chunk of ceiling drops mere inches from your last step. Vox approaches, calls out your name before he’s even comprehended the truth before him. You see the dark in his pale eyes tighten into a thin reptilian pupil and he reaches out in desperation.

The last of the ceiling shatters. A broken crag hammers into his palm instead. All you hear is Shu finally get out the scream before the remains of the underground roof shuts you out from your family.

The dead rises in volume. The glimmer of hope evaporates.

You force yourself against the barricade, but your weight is no match for the pile of rubble, and you watch the zombies shamble forward with your back against the wall. The only person you have left brushes plaster away from his eyes with one arm and brandishes a knife in the other.

Ike Eveland looks like hell alive.

It would almost be hilarious if you weren’t facing a subterranean grave. His face is dirtied with mud and rubble, and the legs of his trousers are matted in blood, rot, and dirt, but even then, this is still your best friend. The years you’ve spent alongside him blend together. His once-delicate hands now bear countless scars from travel and fights, but the contours of his face are recognizable even through the dust that mars his skin.

This is an unwinnable situation. You’re locked in checkmate, but Ike stands next to you.

You speak. “No more exits, right?”

Ike swipes at his face again, and the sleeve of his mantle comes back grayer than before. “I think we both know how this ends, Reader.”

“Yeah. I do.”

You both watch the leading zombie shuffle one foot forward, and each of its followers mimic the motion.

You notice Ike’s hand against his face out of the corner of your eye. Then how his shoulders jerk up for a moment, before setting themselves in place, stony and rigid.

His words break your heart. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither.”

“I wish I could refuse all this- all this-”

He sniffs.

You move without thinking, and your mind is set. You wrap your arms around Ike.

He doesn’t even raise his hands. He just leans against your shoulder lifelessly, and lets the tears fall.

You rub his back as he hiccups into your shirt. How long has he been keeping this locked up? You ache for him and all his repression as his body goes limp against yours, the only thing keeping him standing.

“It’ll be okay.” That’s only a lie you can hope is the truth. “After all this. We’ll be okay. Shu and Vox and Luca, too. It’s a straight shot now that all the zombies are on us.”

“I’m going to miss you. All of you.”

“We’re together.”

“I’m sorry this is how it ends.”

“We still have options.”

He scoffs, even as his voice cracks through his quiet crying. “We’re trapped, Reader. There’s no way out.”

“We can still go out on our terms,” you say. You place your hand over his, the one that holds the knife. “Once we’re gone, the zombies are going to search for the other three.”

You squeeze one last time, and break away from the hug. You look upon the wave of dead flesh and rot, and draw your weapons. “I don’t want them to fight any more than they have to.”

“That’s hopeless.”

“It’s all I can do.”

“How are you so calm about this?”

“I’m not sure myself,” you admit. “It’s just that right now, I know I’m in a losing battle, and I accept that. But I don’t accept just laying down and dying like that.”

Your climbing picks cross together as you ready your eerily still mind. The blades scrape against each other. Metal sings. “And I just want to handle things calmly. After all this time, I learned that from you.”

“I don’t know how you can just remember things like that when we’re about to die.”

“I suppose I only die on my own terms. Hey.”

Ike stumbles to his feet. His knife is pointed to the ground. With a tranquility that evaded you all throughout the apocalypse, you steady his posture and guide the blade up to the dead beyond.

Your hand rises up his arm as his eyes close, and he silently murmurs to himself. You rub his shoulder. “You good?”

Ike exhales. His body lowers as he does, and with the breath comes a relaxed posture. This is the most at peace he’s been since the outbreak strangled the past world.

His eyelashes rise. Stormy green seas focus upon the staggering zombies.

“No.” Ike’s lip trembles. But he’s set on the zombies ahead, and a bolt of lightning crosses through his eyes. “But I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Good man.”

“There’s about five of them leading the pack in that corner. We can pick them off and get some more breathing room.”

“Understood, Mr. Tactical.”

“Don’t call me that.” Under the exhaustion and the fear and the grittiness that comes with crying, you hear some of that classic, joking exasperation. You snicker to yourself, but the bittersweet smile remains.

“Mr. Eveland, then.” Your sight hones in on one zombie to your right. Its jaw slides apart as it follows the scent of the fresh living. “It’s been an honor, Ike.”

“Likewise, Reader, we’ll do what we can.”

“Let’s go.”

At your command, you both launch off, laser-focused on the individual dead.

Ike kicks a corpse down to knock it prone, then rakes his knife into the skull, and that’s all you can see before you throw yourself into the fray.

A one-on-one is simple. The zombie in front of you holds out a decrepit hand, perfect for your climbing pick to detach. It stumbles at the force and grants you an opening to clobber its brain in.

Rinse and repeat.

You dive between the steps of your latest kills to divert attention in time to slay another and stay moving. The trick is to use gravity to your advantage. They aren’t smart enough to stand their ground, and when they inevitably fold from the pressure of your picks, it’s like the zombies present themselves for you can finish the job.

The next target swipes at you. You jut one pick down upon the corpse and one more meets the brittle skull. This gives you enough time to duck under a lunge, sweep the leg, and aim to kill.

Something grabs your leg before you plunge the pick in. A body, dismembered from the waist up.

You yelp as yellow-black teeth rise, and frantically kick. The zombie holds on tight, but when you regain your senses, it doesn’t even see the blade incoming before the soft brain squashes in. Splatters of gore and bits of chunky nerve endings sprays against your frame while your sweat mixes in with the stench of rot and muddy mildew.

You step back to reposition. Ike’s clothing is covered in blackened blood, and you watch him plunge his knife into the chests of whatever unfortunate beast approaches next. He twists and yanks out, then goes in for a final blow between the eyes. He has a rhythm established despite the shades of rot against his mantle and shirt. It almost looks routine.

His next victim’s head rolls to the ground and breaks apart like porcelain. The brain is still in place, but the elongated gash through the nervous system confirms it would never rise again.

But one gets the jump on Ike while his back is turned, and he yells out as he thrashes. He swivels on his heel. The zombie maneuvers around even as his hands push back in a fierce gridlock. It snaps its broken jaws in Ike’s face as it snarls, and sinks its claws in. Gunk travels through its saliva.

“I got your back!” While Ike retreats, you trip the dead that crawls in front of you, and dash to his side. You drag your picks into the nape and back of the zombie’s head, and the creature goes limp just in time for Ike to shove it against the wall.

Ike catches his breath, brushes his hand against his arm, and meets your concerned look with a nod in silent gratitude. “They’re gaining on us,” he says. “You don’t need to kill all of them, disabling them is fine!”

“Got it!”

But even that is easier said than done. There are so many zombies in the herd, it looks like you haven’t even left a dent, and your space is getting limited. You hack through the edges of the herd and pray that your wild swipes cut through a limb or two.

“We’re losing turf!”

“Yeah, and I- gaah!”

Ike heaves. Your switch flips from ‘kill zombies’ to ‘check Ike’.

You follow his rasp to the corner of the room, where the ceiling crashed down. His back is pressed against the tiled wall, and he struggles to peel off his mantle.

You don’t even need to ask. His hand clutches his arm, and the chunk of flesh missing from it.

“Holy shit, Ike!” You can’t even mute yourself. Millions of warning bells go off in your head. The internals are coated in a dark membrane from where it meets the oxygen in the air, less red than it is purple, and his veins beside the mutilation rise in an ugly green.

You reach your hands out as you rip off a cut of fabric from your sleeve. “No. No, this can’t be happening-“

He slaps your hand away before you can begin to bandage the blood loss, and immediately crumples. “Don’t do that! It’s the virus!”

“There’s no way it spreads that fast-“

“It will. I don’t want you to have that.” Ike sucks in air through his teeth as he sinks to the floor.

“How did you even-“ you cut yourself off. “It was the zombie that jumped you, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I didn’t even notice the pain when it happened.” He curses in his native language. The green in his veins rise, and branches sprout from the veins under his graying skin, like tree bark. The rapid decay of the outbreak. “Oh, that’s not good.”

The din of the battle behind you is entirely forgotten as you focus on the uneven flesh, the imprint of the bite upon his mangled arm, how nearly every level of the wound has turned to the same rot of the zombies.

Ike’s breathing is labored. The center of his shirt is soaked with the rot of those he killed, and rises and falls shakily.

He smacks his lips, and you’re struck with the realization that talking is a strain. “I have a favor to ask of you.”

You crouch by his side and nod.

“The sheath, on my belt,” he says. “Can you unfasten it?”

You comply without question even through your blurring eyes. I can’t refuse a request from a dead man, you think, and then the weight of your thought slams you.

Ike’s unscathed hand rises from the wound, coated in slick purple gore, and brushes against the handles of his knives. The membrane pools together into beads along the handle. His fingers stop at the last slot in his sheath, and the tip of the cleaver is dyed in the beginnings of the rot.

You think you’re about to vomit your heart out.

“No.” Your voice wavers. “No. No, I can’t do this.”

“You can,” Ike comforts you, and you feel even more like trash. You should be the one comforting him instead. “I trust you.”

And that’s what gets the tears to spill out from your eyelashes. “But I can’t kill you.”

“You said it best earlier. Dying on your own terms, right?”

“But I can’t kill you.”

“I don't want to be one of them,” he admits. “Look around, Reader, we’re surrounded, and we both know there’s no way out. And being one of them, it’s unnatural. It’s just messed up. If I’m going to die, I want to know I’m at rest. None of this- whatever all this is.”

His head lolls to the side. “And I want to see Mysta again.”

The chorus of the dead accompanies Ike’s heavy breathing and your weeping. You are a helpless child.

“I’ll help you,” Ike adds. “I’ll tell you how I usually confirm the dead. You’re my best friend. I trust you.”

It sickens you.

You let out a puff of air as you draw your palm over your eyes. The gore across your face smears over with your tears.

You take the cleaver in your hands.

“Thank you.”

“You deserve better than this.”

“It’s the best we can do. I’m glad.”

“This is so fucked up.” You draw the cleaver with both hands, as if that would end the shaking. Even as you shut your eyes, you can’t get your resolve in place.

“The trick is to be fast,” Ike says, and it disgusts you at how easily he says it. It disgusts you even more when you know the decay is spreading as he speaks, all the way into his raspy voice. “It’s all in the wrist. That’s what keeps it precise instead of clumsy. It’s where all the force is. Don’t swing wide. Just center it where you want to hit. How are you doing?”

“Not good.” Your breathing deepens, a last-ditch effort to remain calm. “I’m scared.”

You force your eyes open. The world floods in white, then falls into the blurred grays of the subway station.

Ike is already so much worse for wear. The bite is entirely blackened, and the discolored skin stretches from his arm to his shoulder, creeping along what little you can see of his neck.

His eyelids are shut, gentle aside from the furrow in his brow.

“Me too.”

Even with his feigned nonchalance, there is so much sorrow laced between his words.

“I’m going to miss you.”

“I’ll be safer,” Ike says, and even he doesn’t seem so convinced by it. “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you too.”

“You’ll always be my best friend.”

You raise the cleaver.

“Please tell Mysta I’m thinking of him. We all are, always.”

“We’ll be watching.”

Ike’s head is lowered, but you still see his attempt at a smile.

You black out as you swing.

There is no memory left of his last moment. It’s all too much to bear.

You cover your face, because looking at him is simply- just- too- much. Blood mixes in with your eyelashes, and you taste metal on your lips.

You don’t even have the energy to scream, or cry, or do anything. You are a husk, and you do not hear Ike’s cleaver clatter to the floor. There is nothing.

Your body moves without your command. You step back, and even though you refuse to look, you know you’re backing away from Ike. Your heart hammers, and so do your limbs. It spreads in droves, this pressure of heartbreak, constricting you and squeezing you apart.

Daggers fall into your skin. You snap out of your stupor.

But once you identify the daggers as teeth, you wish you didn’t.

You tear your hands away from your face as a glob of rot (his rot, you realize, and you can’t even begin to wrap your head around that) flicks out in an arc. The hammering- it’s claws raking against your flesh and tearing you apart like meat.

While you accompanied Ike in his last moments, the outbreak stopped for no one, least of all you. You are no invulnerable main character. You blocked out the roaring chorus as he lay, but it continued outside of your little bubble, and with your back turned they absorbed the last of your free space for a perfect siege.

You veer your head away out of instinct when the teeth pull away, and takes a bite of muscle out with it. The pain is blinding hot- you finally regain your voice in time to screech, but it drowns out through the zombie moans.

A second set of jaws snaps you up. Already your head is spinning, and when you see the sinew from the corner of your vision you resist the urge to faint. If you take a look at the broken skin and extruding vine-veins again, you know you’re going to black out again, and never wake up.

You force your sight to anything else.

You make the mistake of looking into zombie eyes for the third time in your life.

But this time you don’t retain the memory, either. Because for as little time you have left, how could you live knowing that your best friend’s peaceful green eyes snapped open in terror in his final moment?

You choke out, and whether it’s from pain or grief or pure fear, you can’t even tell. Just that it all mixes together into a toxic blend, the poison of your undoing.

And to think, you had the gall to meet such a grisly end head-on minutes ago.

On the ground, next to his limp foot, the steel edge of Ike’s cleaver winks at you.

It’s all in the wrist, he told you, and your blood burns into dust. But Ike is gone, now, and for as horrified as his melted remains were, he was certainly watching your every move.

And the infection is unnatural, and climbs along your shoulder, and there is no agony in the world like this fate.

And you wanted to see Mysta again.

With the last of your strength you regain your legs, and kick off one zombie from your leg. It topples and gives you enough time to shake off another that has you grappled.

The weight shift combined with your blood loss makes you hit the ground hard, but you scrape at the floor nonetheless. You are so weak, and you struggle, so focused on the glint of the blade that you ignore your skin crack apart like mud in a drought.

You reach, bloodied and battered, and so close to rest.

The washed light shines off the cleaver. Its reflection teases you as a monster snatches your foot and send you back into the horde like a toy.

You emit your final scream, and that too dies as hundreds of hands hold you back. Your body and blood is swallowed by the herd of dead.

When you can’t keep your eyes open anymore, the dark in your mind rearranges to replicate the cleaver. Then it flattens, and you see the haunted remains of Ike Eveland between it.

The only sound left is teeth meeting bone.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

#ike eveland x reader #ike eveland #ike eveland angst #luca kaneshiro #mysta rias #shu yamino #vox akuma #luxiem x reader #luxiem #nijisanji x reader #luxiem angst #4402 writes #bsprites #STEALTH PROTOMEN REFERENCE BABEY #this is a bit clumsy but i'm glad it was over 10k words i wonder if saying so much is just my style now #how much of a coinky dink is it that i was binging luca's twd streams and a bunch of southern gothic music when i was writing this #i'll post the full au notes i had operating tomorrow i think

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the-possum-writes · 8 months

Note

Heya! Is it ok if I request romantic headcanons of Fern with a fish princess reader please?

Fishy Buisness

❥Character: Fern Mertens

❥Tags: SFW, Wholesome, Friends to lovers, Fish!Reader, Gender neutral pronouns, Hcs

❥Synopsis: Fern kept practicing his fishing only to find most of the fishes he catches are already dead, when he decides to get to the bottom of this mystery it leads him to make a new friend.

❥For the past week, Fern had been practicing his fishing every day until he returned home with a proud smile and a clutch of fish. "Take a look at this bounty, boys! I guess my luck is changing for the better, huh?"

❥But upon closer inspection, the fish's eyes were evidently lifeless.

Finn is the first to comment, saying, "I don't know fern, they look like they were dead before you caught them."

"Yeah, did you get them from the market?" Jake plays it off.

"What? No! I just reeled them in this morning." Fern then starts questioning himself.

❥When he went back to his fishing spot as usual, Fern feels a tug on his line and reels it in only to find out that fish is dead too. "Then how are they biting the line??"

❥To figure out what was going on, he made a dummy that looked like him and connected a fishing pole to it. He placed the dummy in his normal spot while studying the river waters from atop a tree branch. From that height, he could notice turbulent waters near the fishing line and swim away upstream, following the turbulence until plunging in after whatever was in the water.

❥He caught the most surprising fish there; instead of the river monster he was expecting, Fern was greeted by a fish person with scales, fins, and everything. Despite being bipedal, they nevertheless maintained aquatic features that gave them an amphibian-like appearance.

❥"AHH! They scream, "PLEASE DON'T EAT MEEEEE, I DON'T TASTE GOOD.

"I don't want to eat you, I wanna know why you're leaving dead fish in my line." Fern raises his voice. He would have been shocked that he could yell underwater, but at the time, he was too furious to care.

❥"I'm sorry! I didn't know what to do with them after the monster assaulted the Coral Reef Kingdom, so I decided to give them to you and continue their life cycle." You explain your situation, which piqued Fern's curiosity and helped to calm him down.

"Just quit doing that! It's embarrassing that my brothers think I'm cheating at fishing. Fern speaks from his own perspective. "What is this monster you're talking about? Will you let me fish in peace if I kill it?"

❥You agree to Fern's demands and direct him to your kingdom of a neighboring coral reef where an invasive species of fish monsters is taking over. These fish monsters eat anything swimming nearby and mix up the water to the point where nothing can grow or be seen through the sand.

❥You'd be lying if you claimed you didn't have any doubts about his abilities, but Fern had no trouble killing the monsters and sending them swimming away. However, when he returned to you, he was still in poor condition.

❥"There, I need to go back and..." Fern passed in front of you, and you scooped him up before he could plunge into the deeper waters.

When Fern woke up, the first thing he noticed was the light sand intermingled with patches of green grass. He also noticed a small handcrafted basket made of a giant seashell and rope, which contained some seaweed salad and what he guessed was a paste that was intended for medical purposes. The words "Thanks" were scribbled in the sand but there was no other note left behind.

❥Fern returned to his fishing spot and had better luck the next several days; it seemed that schools of fish started to travel through the river more frequently. Even though he was successful in recovering his reputation at home, he couldn't help but think about the fish person.

❥In his thoughts, he justified his behavior by saying that he was returning to the spot where he had first awoken in order to catch different creatures, although this was only partially true.

❥Not long after he castes his line it immediately started tugging it, but just like before, instead of seeing a regular fish he was met with the sight of you.

❥"Hey."

He responds, "Hey."

"You returned, why?" You emerge from the water, resting your arms on the riverbank before laying your head.

He thinks for a moment, then says, "I don't know, I guess I was getting bored at my same spot. You sent those fishes my way, didn't you?"

You answer casually, making patterns in the sand to divert his attention. "Well, my part of the deal was to stop hitching dead fishes to your line."

"But now that you made things too easy for me, what fun is that anymore?" Fern grumbles.

At the sound of that, you turn your head. "Oh, you're more of a challenge kind of guy?" You put him to the test:

❥Fern doesn't require air, so you feel at ease knowing that you may swim without being in a rush. You led him to a special underwater stream. The unique location you led him to is a network of underground caverns teeming with aquatic life such as fish, crabs, and algae. "Only the toughest fish and marine animals can survive here because of the powerful currents; it would be lucky to even see one, let alone catch one."

❥He soon became hyper focused on the task, meanwhile you'd just sit back back and say. "Oh so close."

❥It quickly became routine to sit back and watch Fern attempt to capture fish with his bare hands; he was always within reach, but the fish always slipped his grip. He was also incredibly competitive; he'd go at it for hours, only pausing to eat a small photosynthetic lunch at the surface.

❥You would accompany him with your own catch of the day and serve it with a substantial serving of seaweed salad or some crab flesh on the side.

❥You two discuss a variety of subjects, including hunting techniques, animal species you have encountered or heard about, your explorations of sunken ships, and his exploits on dry land.

❥Fern gradually lost his sense of competition and came to enjoy your company to the point where he would come see you for more than just catching.

❥Finn is happy to see his grass brother in a good mood (he's also secretly pleased that they stopped eating fish every night, but he doesn't have the guts to admit it), while Jake jokes that he's been underwater for so long that he'll develop algae and smell like fish.

❥Once you finally met Fern's two brothers, you served them a seafood mixture. It's nice to finally meet you; Fern always talks about you.

"He does?"

❥Fern doesn't realize he has a strong crush on you until Jake points it out; of course, he believes he's joking, but Jake insists otherwise. "I'm being honest here; you two have good chemistry, and you'd understand if you noticed how they look at you," the speaker said.

❥He doesn't fully comprehend what Jake is getting at until the day he finally catches a fish in the cavern currents.

"I did it? I DID IT!! Hah take that! You thought I'd never make it did ya?!" Fern unknowingly flexes his catch in front of you out of excitement, but he immediately shut up when he saw nothing but fondness in your eyes and expression.

The hug caught him off guard too, almost letting go of his catch. "I always knew you were capable of it, it was just a matter of time." you confess.

❥Fern felt warm inside despite the chilly waters and your low body temperature. It didn't even bother him to release his rare catch in favor of returning the hug with a tight squeeze."Thanks, wouldn't have done it without you."

❥After that, you two became even closer. Talking about your pasts, insecurities, and even future plans. Before you knew it confessions were also made and feelings were reciprocated.

❥Dating was usually the same as hanging out as friends, with the main difference being the physical affection. Since you don't have hair, braiding Fern's hair is one of your favorite past times. Fern would sit on the bank of the river and splash the water at his pointy feet.

❥You crafted the two of you identical seashell bracelets for your one-year anniversary.

❥Fern would try to take you on a romantic boat ride into the sea but he looses a paddle midway and you offer to pull it since you're great at swimming, but he insist on being a gentleman and offers to tug it instead.

❥Since you already met Fern's family it was your turn to have him meet your family, or in this case the citizens of your kingdom. A large array of fishes and sentient sea life where three of them in particular are the equivalent of your "royal" staff. "This oyster is Sheila my maid, that octopus over there is Otto he's the chef and that old sea slug is Ralph, he's the butler if you couldn't tell by the snazzy bow tie."

❥Fern didn't know much about your status as royalty but he soon came to learn that your title of princess is mostly self proclaimed, with your crown being handmade with seashells that are stylized more like a protective helm.

❥Fern doesn't know how, but you introduce him to every creature that frequents your coral reef by name (he isn't sure if that's their real names or if you named them)

It's then that he realizes how lonely you are being the only fish person in an underwater kingdom but you reassure him that. "Ever since I met you, I never really felt that lonely anymore."

#finn mertens x reader #adventure time x reader #reader insert #adventure time #fern mertens

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khoipyan · 1 year

Text

“ I don’t know what’s worse, the pounding of my head or the pounding of my heart. “

You loathe Valentine's day because you’re terribly afraid of rejection on such a romantic date; February 14th. Still, you try and shoot your shot.

gender neutral (you/your), angst, romantic (but one-sided), no physical desc. of reader

characters; octavinelle

notes; the title is inspired by.. my friend saying a thing with a scaramouche tupperbot, haha… it was a while ago and it was to feed me scaramouche content BUT the line was so good so i held it in my head for a while.

attempt .

All happy couples should perish.

Just kidding, you wouldn’t actually wish for those who were granted with love to be rid of it. However, something made you wonder if you can try to get your own.

Was it even possible for somebody like you? Would you be turned away or humiliated if you confessed your true feelings? It was a daunting possibility that you could just be discarded like roses that have withered away past their prime, but something poked at you to just give it a try.

“Try it once, it can’t hurt. Or maybe it will, and you’ll crumble into several pieces.”

Why must this decision be so difficult? However, if something urges you to confess... You only live once, so let’s give it an attempt.

azul ashengrotto .

A man like Azul is intelligent, cunning, hardworking, etc. You could go on about his tasteful qualities that made you so interested with him in the first place.

Such a guy like him needed something special, but not too overwhelming of course. Just a valentines card and a box of chocolates! It was simple, plain, and cute. Also traditional and cliché, but it would make your heart jump if you would receive such a gift.

You hoped Azul would feel that way if he was presented with the romantic offering as well.

Or, WERE hoping, anyways.

—✦—

“I’m… sorry?” Azul gawked at you. He had never expected this to begin with.

“Didn’t you read the card, and did the chocolates in the heart shaped container not make it clear? or—“

“No, i knew perfectly well what you meant. however, I’m apologizing. I was simply shocked because you were the last person I’d expect to catch such feelings for me.”

What the hell did that even mean? Tell me Azul. “Are you saying, no? You don’t return my feelings?”

You could tell he felt just the tiniest bit of pity, but ultimately looked unbothered by his decision. “Yes. I’m sorry to disappoint, but it’s a no from me.”

Oh my, It felt like you just voted off a stage or something by an unimpressed judge, despite giving it your all. “Oh. Ahaha. We-well, do you still want the chocolates—?”

Azul waved his hand in a, 'No thanks' way. “Ah, I appreciate the gesture, however it’ll be a ‘no thanks’. You may keep them, eat them, throw them away. It doesn’t matter to me what you do with them. Again, I’m sorry to dissa…” Azul trailed off. He started looking around the now-empty room, however you were nowhere to be seen.

It’s not like you were even listening anymore at this point, the message was clear. No was a no, and there was no point in trying to change his mind. While Azul had been talking, you'd taken the liberty of walking off midway.

—✦—

If only there were some way to know how you could know what a person likes, or maybe—! Gah, just forget it. He already made up his mind.

Instead of taking the chocolates, he took the stupid letter. So much for important, hm?

Oh Azul. What did it take to be the one for you? Did it take a high level of intelligence like Riddle’s? Or maybe, a hardworking demeanour with a passionate heart? What did it take to win over your heart?

Why should you bother asking this, anyways? It’s not like you could ever put these questions to good use.

jade leech .

The (seemingly) calmer set of the leech twins has his own charm. He may be devious at times (as once stated by Azul), but he had a flattery that could make anybody fall to their knees and bow to him. He’s so sickeningly polite with his actions and words, how could you not? Not fall to your knees and bow to him, I meant,

‘He doesn’t seem like a guy who would want to attract much attention,’ You had thought. This theory of yours wasn’t exactly wrong. Despite always being seen with Azul and his own twin, you didn’t exactly know the biggest things about him. Hell, you didn't even know any of the trio’s secrets at all.

But given this information of his secluded nature, you wouldn't go too much for his present. Just a love letter, handwritten by yours truly (AKA you). It took everything not to start crying (tears of adoration) out of nowhere as you thought of the tall, teal-haired man.

You poured your most of your heart into this letter, and made sure to finalize it by sealing it in a dainty little envelope with a rose sticker. Why settle for a heart sticker when you could one-up yourself with a floral adhesive? You WOULD have scouted for a mushroom sticker, but you couldn’t really find any no matter where you looked.

—✦—

“My my, what’s this?” Jade asked, smiling away his usual false politeness.

You blinked at his question, “A letter! You know, since it’s Valentine’s day and all of that.”

Jade seemed just a tad interested in what the letter had to say, so he carefully opened it up, not wanting to blemish the note that you worked so hard on. It would be rude of him to do that, after all. However, you started to notice his smile had faltered just a little when reading the contents of what you wrote. When he was finished, Jade tucked the letter back into the envelope and handed it back to you with one hand. “My apologies, however I cannot reciprocate these feelings.”

Slightly bowing, you blurted out an apology. “It’s alright—! I just made everything awkward, sorry.” It was indeed awkward. He just rejected you so casually.

Jade shook his head and laughed, putting his index and thumb on his chin. “No worries. We can, however, still be acquaintances if you would like.”

You grasped the letter in your hands with a fist. Is this some kind of fancy way of friend-zoning you? Because it seriously sucked. “Yeah, sure! I don’t mind.”

Truthfully, you did mind because you didn’t think you could ever look him in the eyes ever again.

—✦—

If that couldn’t have gone well, what else was next? You were going mental and LIVID over the fact that Jade that rejected you. No, not JUST because he rejected you, but how he was so respectful and polite about it.

How ironic, that it was what made you even FALL for him in the first place.

Unfortunately, it is what it is. You’ll soon find yourself falling out of love, and one day you’ll look back to ask yourself;

‘Was any of this worth it?’

floyd leech .

Floyd leech, the more disorderedly set of the leech twins who won over your heart. From a constant battle of, ‘uh oh, it’s Floyd,’ to ‘oh, it’s Floyd!’, he was finally able to subdue you with his chaotic allure. The more you hung out with him, the more infatuated you got. He’s unpredictable with his mood, for sure, but somehow always managed to make your day better. Just a little grin from him to you, and you could swear you died inside a little.

You decided to get Floyd a shrimp plush. Not because you're a 'Shrimpy' (well, you ARE according to Floyd), but because you remember he loves squeezing things. Plus, you doubt he'd tend to flowers if you got him any, considering him. Would he even put in effort to take care of the plush?

—✦—

"And, well, you see, I really like you!" Those words spoken were from you, handing him the soft plush. Unfortunately, you had fumbled over a few BUT you felt that it was a pretty solid confession.

floyd stared at you. Small movement, just stared with the plush in his arms. Looked down at the soft shrimp, looked up at you.

No smile, no grin. No chaos.

And then the laugh came, "Oo. Shrimpy's confessin' to me? Well, you're gonna be bummed out then." He said, still laughing.

It felt like he was laughing at you.

Floyd was indeed laughing very hard, however, seemed to take note of your expression. "Eh, eh! Just to be clear! I'm not- Pfft, laughing at ya! I'm laughing to lighten the mood so that you don't take this too hard." He settled down, still grinning widely. "Sorry, but no thanks."

Ouch.

"Buuut! You don't mind if I keep the plush though, right? Kinda soft and looks funny, but also really cute! You got a good eye for stuff, Shrimpy. Next time, you're sure to be accepted!" Floyd held out the plush with both hands in front of you. It was indeed cute, however you're not sure if you can even truthfully say it is anymore.

"Err, if you wanna keep it, sure."

"Yay! Thanks Shrimpy, you're the best."

As Floyd went on and on, you couldn't help thinking to yourself. 'If I'm the best, why don't you love me back?' It's not fair, now is it?

—✦—

As you waved goodbye to Floyd and his new plush, you instantly put your face into your hands. Not out of embarrassment, but of shame. You really thought...

Thought wrong.

But there's no use whining about it, especially in front of Floyd. You'll grow over him soon, right? He'd squeeze you hard if you complained about it to him anyways, plus it's not something you would talk about to somebody who turned you down.

You sighed, looking at the floor.

'I wished that Floyd adored me as much as my gift.'

( due to be edited at anytime )

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yanderes-galore · 6 months

Note

Hey, I wasn't able to request a thing, may I request some hcs for yandere aranea with a human darling on the meteor?

Sure! I'm not going to mention 'GAME OVER' in this so this will just be her during the Dream Bubbles. I'm rusty with her so I hope I got her character right :( (I tried, I'm sorry-)

If anyone has tips on how to write her I'd love to hear them!

Yandere! Aranea Serket with Human! Darling

Pairing: Matesprit ❤️

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Mind control mention, Stalking, Thoughts of murder/Attempted murder, Violence, Jealousy, Possessive behavior, Forced relationship/Matespritship.

Aranea truly means well in her actions.

She's a Light player which leads her into long winded rants about information before eventually talking about herself.

She doesn't even mean to rant at times and many of her group aren't on the best of terms with her.

Meenah has been the closest troll she could call a friend.

Aranea serves as a guide like most Light players.

She's described to be a "nicer Vriska" by Terezi.

However she has shown she's more powerful in psychic abilities than Vriska.

Both Serkets have also been able to obtain God-Tier.

Aranea has potential to be dangerous yet she's very gentle, nice, and considerate.

Issues start to arise when she gives up morals to obtain her goals.

Aranea actually wouldn't be too bad if her darling was a human.

Despite her strength I don't believe she can use her mind control powers to control humans from what I remember.

She can control trolls but can only put humans to sleep.

She can still use this to her advantage.

You most likely met Aranea first in your dreams.

You're a human who has achieved God Tier similarly to your friends.

Which has allowed you to reside on the meteor with the surviving trolls.

When you could get rest you recall seeing Aranea.

When she speaks to you she's rather calm and nice.

As you speak with her through Dreams/Dream Bubbles she appears as a friend to you.

Honestly, Aranea most likely knows you longer than you do her.

A lot longer, actually.

Maybe she's yearned to befriend you for awhile now? Or maybe she's even felt a bit flushed for this human?

Either way, Aranea feels happy to speak and ramble to you while you visit the Bubbles.

Although her obsession doesn't entirely start until the meteor itself passes through the Dream Bubbles.

This way you can't blip out when you wake up as you're already awake.

Aranea finds it a shame she's contained to these Dream Bubbles and can't follow you around on your journey most of the time.

Aranea feels connected to you because you actually bother to listen to her lore dumping.

This may be because you're used to Rose and Kanaya explaining certain info to you.

Although you do make it known if she begins rambling too off topic.

Aranea is at least happy you look to her for info.

She wants to help you and the others take on Lord English.

That and she really does wonder if she feels some sort of attraction to you.

She's aware that Jake, another human, has flushed feelings for her.

Yet she isn't really interested in him in that way (other than manipulation potential).

She would rather try such a thing with you.

The biggest glaring issue is the fact she's dead and you aren't.

It's a thought that nags at her while she speaks with you.

Aranea's red flags are well hidden.

She never tells you more than she wants to let on.

She simply tries to play the role of "Dream Bubble Guide" and friend to you as you roam the confusing Dream Bubbles.

Yet what you don't know is she's stalking you... carefully seeing how to manipulate your friends into her goals and have you as her red love.

Aranea acts very curious about you.

She may already know a lot about you yet she loves to hear you talk about human culture.

Plus, if she wants you as her Matesprit, she needs to know how to treat you.

While she mostly acts as a guide for you to follow, she's also protective.

Aranea can heal as a Sylph, so she'll be sure you're always in a healthy condition.

Aranea may be irritated when you speak to others as I imagine she'd be jealous.

She doesn't want others being so close to you as she doesn't have many to talk to anyways.

Meenah most likely teases Aranea about her red love towards you.

Meanwhile Aranea is defensive because you're a human she has a crush on.

In terms of how she could keep you all to herself, I thought of three ways.

One is after her resurrection as she feels she can finally be with you since you'd both be alive.

Another is her putting you to sleep and dragging you deeper into the bubbles with her, since she can't mind control you.

Then there's the significantly darker one of... having you killed.

You can't leave her if you're a ghost!

Aranea is a yandere who doesn't show she is on until it's too late.

Although the fact you're God Tier makes it harder.

She seems like her love language would be ranting about her obsession.

She tells you thoughts and ideas she's had in long winded rants once she has you.

Meenah would actually be surprised Aranea had it in her to take what she wants, let alone a human Matesprit.

Perhaps she's rubbed off on her...

Or maybe Aranea was always secretly like this.

By the time you realize Aranea is bad news, she's already caught you in her web.

She tries to tell you she wasn't manipulating you!

She's just been... so lonely out here.

You'll get used to her, she's sure of it!

Just relax... and she'll find a way to be happy with you, even if you're a living human and she's a dead troll.

Just... don't think about leaving her.

She may need to put you to sleep again if you try to fight the plans she has in store for you and your friends.

#yandere homestuck #yandere aranea serket #yandere homestuck x reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 4 months

Note

I don't know if anyone has asked for this yet, but can we have a Nutcracker (preferably male) reader and/or ballerina (Preferably female) reader being besties and just doing little performances for everyone in the circus. This can either be romantic or platonic Reader(s) x TADC, I don't mind! Go crazy with it! Go wild! I love to read ur headcanons and stuff so much man/pos

Gangle, Kinger, Jax, Caine x reader who hosts shows!

two things! i couldnt decide on the gender of the reader so you can read it as both or either </3 other thing, i still dont take reqs for the entire cast (nothing against you this is a blog wide rule/character limit) so i went ahead and ran the request through a wheel to randomly select characters with that said, i hope you enjoy!

CAINE:

i think, given that hes the circus ringmaster of the circus as well as generally being in control of things thanks to his status of an ai, he tends to host your shows... might even make the other circus members watch. whether you want to read this as platonic or romantic, he just does it because he wants to support you and allow your talent to be seen...! though he might get rather.... loud about it. ive said it so many times but im ready to say it again, he would be your number one fan and hes going to be very clear about it. probably throws roses to the stage for you when youre done with your performance... cheers and claps the loudest... hell, if youre comfortable with it, he might just wear a shirt with your name and face on it..! truly your number 1 fan

JAX:

i think if this is platonic, depending on how close you guys are he might try to disrupt the show by being a jackass. generally being annoying and trying to get a reaction out of you... though i dont think he would do this if you guys are actually. close or good friends and/or dating... now practice? thats something else... definitely a case of him being able to see that you enjoy what you do and you have passion and dedicate himself so he might just try to contain himself and his need to be an asshole and cause havoc.. i think if asked what he thought he would seem a little neutral about it, hes not going to praise you excessively or be mean.. jax doesnt seem like the type to gush over someone or something no matter how much he liked it.. best youd get out of him is a "good job,".. definitely one that hinges off of how close you guys are and how much respect and boundaries are set up between you two

KINGER:

i think he might be a toned down caine, looks like he would give you a rose after your performance.. though if youre not a flower person i think he would swap the rose out for something else. while caine might be barely containing his excitement throughout your performance, kinger is much more likely to be able to sit still and quiet... although still very much consumed by you, perhaps even sitting on the edge of his seat in an attempt to get a better look at you. i think he would notice a lot of smaller details and stuff you put in your shows, such as costumes or decoration, too... maybe its self projection, but i think he bounces between being clueless to having a really really keen eye when it comes to things... also the fact i love the hc of "clueless/chaotic/commonly zoned out character noticing something vital or making a smart point for a moment before reverting back to status quo" is one of my favorite tropes.... loves watching you practice

GANGLE:

i think she might actually help you with costumes and stage decorations! sure her thing is mostly art and you might have to recruit the help of ragatha for some things but i think gangle would be more than willing to help you out... plus it gives her something to do, and it means spending time with you! and thats always nice! very receptive to the stuff you have to say but i think she might try to offer some alternatives to make things visually look more appealing... as for actual performances i think she would love them! she strikes me as a theatre kid, and your sort of thing is adjacent i think... might gush to you about the show and how you did, though its often that she might trail off and become sheepish if she feels she was getting too into her ramble.. generally very sweet, though, but due to her shyness shes not going to do more than the rest of the crowd (throwing flowers, clapping louder than everyone else, ect ect ect)

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #caine x you #jax x reader #jax x you #kinger x reader #kinger x you #gangle x reader #gangle x you

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